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Cornell University Library 
 DC 137.2.132 
 
 The youth of the Duchess of Angouleme.b 
 
 III 
 
 3 1924 024 293 064 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
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 the Cornell University Library. 
 
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 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924024293064 
 
FAMOUS WOMEN OF THE FRENCH COURT. 
 
 From the French of Imbert de Saint-Amand. 
 Each with Portrait, i2mo, $i.sj. 
 
 THREE VOLUMES ON MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE AND THE END OF THE OLD REGIME. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE AT THE TUILERIES. 
 
 MARIE ANTOINETTE AND THE DOWNFALL OF ROYALTY. 
 
 THREE VOLUMES ON THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CITIZENESS BONAPARTE. 
 
 THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL. 
 
 THE COURT OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 FOUR VOLUMES ON THE EMPRESS MARIE LOUISE. 
 
 THE HAPPY DAYS OF MARIE LOUISE. 
 
 MARIE LOUISE AND THE DECADENCE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 MARIE LOUISE AND THE INVASION OF 1814. 
 
 MARIE LOUISE, THE RETURN FROM ELBA, AND THE HUNDRED DAYS. 
 
 THE PERIOD OF THE RESTORATION. 
 THE YOUTH OF THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME. 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME AND THE TWO RESTORATIONS. (In Prep- 
 aration.) 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF BERRY AND THE COURT OF LOUIS XVIII. (In Prepara- 
 tion.) 
 
at. Lh 
 
 ami. ihate^e I Jhanlotte, 
 
THE YOUTH 
 
 Duchess of Angouleme 
 
 IMBERT DE SAINT-AMAND 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 ELIZABETH GILBERT MARTIN 
 
 WITH PORTRAIT 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 > 1892 
 
DC 
 X 32. 
 
 /\U^^7 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction 1 
 
 FIRST PART 
 THE CAPTIVITY 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Temple Tower' 45 
 
 I\. Madame Elisabeth 52 
 
 III. The Death of Madame Elisabeth 68 
 
 IV. Solitude 78 
 
 V. The Last Days oi? Louis XVII 90 
 
 VI. The Mitigation of Captivity 110 
 
 VII. New Severities 135 
 
 VIII. The Negotiation with Austria 142 
 
 IX. The Departure from the Temple 149 
 
 SECOND PART 
 
 THE EXILE 
 
 I. The Journey to the Frontier 157 
 
 II. Basel 164 
 
 III. Vienna 170 
 
 IV. Louis XVIII 183 
 
 y 
 
VI CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 V. The Emigres 192 
 
 VI. Mittau 202 
 
 VII. The Arrival of Marie Therese 215 
 
 VIII. The Marriage ' 223 
 
 IX. The End of the Sojourn at Mittau 236 
 
 X. The Departure from Mittau 247 
 
 XI. The Sojourn in Prussia and Poland 254 
 
 XII. The Second Sojourn at Mittau 268 
 
 XIII. Hartwell 272 
 
 XIV. The End of the Exile 287 
 
THE YOUTH 
 
 Duchess of Angouleme 
 
THE YOUTH OF THE DUCHESS OF 
 ANGOULEME 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 IF there are nations which have not glory enough, 
 there are others which, as an offset, have too 
 much. It may be said of French annals that in this 
 respect they sin by excess. Our illustrious country 
 has three legends, all of which — the legend of roy- 
 alty, the republican legend, and the imperial legend 
 — occupy many grand pages — pages which, how- 
 ever, contradict each other and deprive our nation 
 of that character of unity which is as essential to the 
 life of nations as to that of individuals. The adage, 
 "Happy are the nations that have no history," 
 should not be taken literally. But the fact must 
 be recognized that nations which have too much his- 
 tory are not happy. 
 
 It is the misfortune of France' that she has been 
 divided against herself. United, she would have 
 been able, as in the days of Louis XIV., to defy all 
 Europe and repel every invasion. It is singular to 
 
 1 
 
THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 note how successfully the smallest countries, pro- 
 viding that all hearts beat in unison, resist the most 
 powerful forces. Switzerland has been able to make 
 itself respected by all conquerors. The Sun-King 
 was never able to subjugate Holland. With the 
 troops that he had been obliged to leave in Vendue, 
 Napoleon might have been able to win the battle of 
 Waterloo. If account be taken of our internal dis- 
 sensions, it may be said that France has more than 
 once been vanquished not so much by foreigners as 
 by itself. 
 
 When one passes from the study of the first 
 Empire to that of the Restoration, a new nation 
 seems to have come into existence. Neither the 
 flag nor the ideas, neither the passions nor the mem- 
 ories, are the same. Two men of different countries 
 are less unlike than an imperialist and a legitimist. 
 What community of principle could exist between a 
 volunteer of 1792 and a Chouan, between a grenadier 
 of the Imperial Guard and a soldier of Condi's 
 army ? To one Napoleon is a hero ; to the other he 
 is a monster. To one Waterloo is a disaster; to the 
 other, a victory. To one the Revolution is a deliver- 
 ance; to the other it is the abomination of desolation. 
 The same words do not mean the same things. 
 What one calls fidelity the other calls treason. The 
 selfsame act is characterized as virtuous or as crimi- 
 nal, according as one looks at it from the point of 
 view of one camp or the other. Between contradic- 
 tions so violent as these the historian feels in some 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 degree those anxieties which, during the Hundred 
 Days, tormented Marshal Ney, the bravest of the 
 brave ; he needs a strict conscience and great calm- 
 ness if he would preserve in his judgments that 
 absolute impartiality in the absence of which history 
 would be but a discredited pamphlet, like every- 
 thing else that bases itself on purely partisan spirit. 
 
 These reflections occur to us as soon as we begin 
 the third series of "The Women of the Tuileries." 
 It will perhaps be said that we are inclined to 
 attach an exaggerated importance to women. In 
 our opinion they have too often been neglected in 
 history. Without deep study of the character and 
 life of Marie Antoinette it is impossible to under- 
 stand the Old Regime or the Revolution ; and yet it 
 is only within the last twenty years that history has 
 become seriously interested in this most touching 
 and interesting figure. M. Thiers gave hardly any 
 pages to the Empress Josephine. Nevertheless, we 
 think that, without that woman, Bonaparte would 
 never have been the Commander-in-Chief of the 
 Army of Italy, First Consul, or Emperor. As to 
 Marie Louise, feeble as her image seems at the first 
 glance, we believe that her career illustrates both 
 the culminating point and the decline of Napoleon 
 better than any of the commentaries. 
 
 In later times history has made great progress. 
 From science it has borrowed the processes of 
 analysis and synthesis; from art, the feeling for 
 the picturesque and local color. Michelet said: 
 
THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 "History is a resurrection," and this motto has 
 become the watch-word of his disciples. They have 
 undertaken to revivify not only things, but persons ; 
 not only bodies, but souls. " In history, " said Mgr. 
 Dupanloup, " it is souls only that are interesting to 
 me. Facts, common occurrences, riots, battles, 
 victories, defeats, treaties, and all that sort of thing 
 one is obliged to know, but all this amounts to little 
 without the history of souls. It is really only the 
 history of souls that touches and illumines." The 
 developments of psychology ought, indeed, to inten- 
 sify our application to the study of feminine char- 
 acters. The new historic school, inaugurated by 
 men of genius whose obscure disciple we are, has 
 employed the methods of philosophy j painting, and 
 the dramatic art. Considering that the life of peo- 
 ples is a series of grandiose dramas, now brilliant 
 and now dismal, it has undertaken to dispose the 
 scenery and light up the stage, to bring to life again, 
 not merely the principal actors, but the secondary 
 ones and even the supernumeraries, and is persuaded 
 that if local color is faithfully preserved, if descrip- 
 tions are exact, if monuments and places where 
 events took place appear plainly before the reader, 
 if, especially, characters are studied conscientiously, 
 an historical work, while adhering scrupulously to 
 truth, may yet be made as attractive as a play, an 
 historical romance, or a novel. 
 
 The period we are about to study might inspire 
 an artist or a poet as well as an historian. We 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 open our recital in the Prison of the Temple on the 
 day when Marie Antoinette, leaving her daughter, 
 her son, and her sister-in-law hehind her, departed 
 from it to the Conciergerie ; we shall end the tale at 
 Goritz, in the chapel of the Franciscans, on the day 
 when the Count of Chambord, buried at the side of 
 Charles X. and the Duke and Duchess of Angouleme, 
 bore the white flag like, a shroud into his tomb. 
 There are captivities, exiles, revolutions, and assas- 
 sinations in this history; dramas in which the 
 characters are courtiers, soldiers, and the people; 
 adventures that recall the heroines of Walter Scott; 
 tragedies in the manner of iEschylus and Sophocles ; 
 hosannas and anathemas; smiles, tears, splendid 
 fetes, and sombre scenes ; contrasts to describe which 
 would require the powers of a Shakespeare, and 
 lessons which would have been worthy of the elo- 
 quence of a Bossuet. 
 
 The two principal heroines of this period are the 
 Duchess of Angoule"me and the Duchess of Berry. 
 We shall try to group around these two princesses 
 the persons who play a part — either with the Bour- 
 bons in exile, or the Bourbons on the throne. One 
 cannot well understand the Restoration unless he 
 identifies himself for a moment with the ideas, ha- 
 treds, and prejudices that existed at the time. One 
 needs to ask himself : " What should I have thought 
 if my relatives had been guillotined ; if I had fought 
 in the ranks of the Vendean army or that of Conde" ; 
 if the education I received at my mother's knee, and 
 
THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the religious and political principles imbibed in 
 infancy, if my interests, my passions, and those of 
 my family and friends, and my entire surroundings 
 had inspired me with a horror of the French Revo- 
 lution and the Empire which was its continuation ? " 
 To the SmigrSs the conqueror at Austerlitz was but 
 a crowned Jacobin — a Robespierre on horseback. It 
 was he who had prevented repentant France from cast- 
 ing herself into the arms of her rightful sovereign. 
 It was he, the friend of Barras, who had prevented 
 the Convention from going down under the weight 
 of public contempt and indignation. It was he who, 
 on the 13th Vend&niaire, had trained his guns upon 
 the honest people of Paris from the steps of Saint 
 Roch; who had fought beside former Septembrists 
 and the gendarmes of Fouquier-Tinville. It was he 
 who had sent Augereau, the author of the hateful 
 coup d'e*tat of the 18th Fructidor to the Directory. 
 To him were due those transportations to Cayenne 
 in iron cages, those horrible proscriptions, described 
 as dull guillotines, which were worse than death 
 itself. It was he who had assassinated the Duke 
 d'Enghien. It was he who, through his insensate 
 ambition, had roused all Europe and left France far 
 smaller than when he became its master. It was he 
 who had brought upon the country the indignity of 
 invasion, which it had not known for ages. 
 
 On the contrary, in the belief of legitimists, roy- 
 alty was a paternal, tutelary, civilizing, and repar- 
 ative government. In 1792, they said perfect free- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 dom had been granted by Louis XVI., and all that 
 had been done since the time of the martyr-king 
 had been not merely useless, but disastrous. If one 
 wants to know what the legitimists thought in 1814 
 of the Emperor and the Empire, let him re-read 
 Chateaubriand's famous brochure, Buonaparte and 
 the Bourbons. If persons who had received favors 
 from Napoleon could express themselves about him 
 as Madame de Kimusat has done, what must those 
 have thought and said who, like certain of the 
 SmigrSs, had always been his implacable enemies? 
 What, in respect to him, must have been the ideas 
 of the orphan of the Temple, the daughter of Louis 
 XVI. and Marie Antoinette, the Duchess of Angou- 
 leme? We take sides with no regime and are 
 equally averse to the White and the Red Terror; 
 our aim is absolute impartiality; but we try to repro- 
 duce faithfully the circumstances which surrounded 
 the heroines whose lives and character we wish to 
 retrace. 
 
 The Duchess of Angoule"me and the Duchess of 
 Berry are two types which offer a singular contrast. 
 The first is always austere; the other, often frivolous. 
 But each had generous aspirations and patriotic 
 sentiments. The heroism of the one is grave and 
 religious; that of the other has something pagan 
 about it: the first is like a saint; the second like an 
 amazon ; but as regards presence of mind and perfect 
 coolness they are equally worthy of their ancestor, 
 Henry IV. The two princesses represent legitimist 
 
8 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 France, — one on its grandiose and the other on its 
 gracious side. As a living symbol, the first personi- 
 fies the sorrows and catastrophes of royalty: at the 
 courts of Louis XVIII. and Charles X., the other 
 means youth and the future, radiance and the dawn. 
 
 A, perfectly consistent character, free from incon- 
 sequence and contradictions, as well as from the 
 levity and. fickleness of her sex, possessing a just 
 mind, an intrepid heart, and a soul without fear and 
 without reproach ; guiltless of a single bad action or 
 wicked thought; counting among her seventy-two 
 years, three of semi-captivity in the Tuileries, three 
 years and four months of captivity and unutterable 
 anguish in the Temple, and more than forty spent 
 in exile, the daughter of Louis XVI. is assuredly 
 one of the most majestic and pathetic figures in all 
 history. As Chateaubriand has said: "A weak and 
 suffering woman has often borne as heavy a load as 
 the strongest one. There is no heart that is not 
 moved when it remembers her. Her sufferings 
 reached such a height that they have become one of 
 the grandeurs of France." The just man of whom 
 Horace speaks has no more energy and moral force 
 than this woman. One might say of her: Impavi- 
 damferient ruince. 
 
 The orphan of the Temple pardons, but she does 
 not forget. The tortures that crucified her youth 
 have cast a black veil over her whole life. The 
 Tuileries appears to her only as a fatal spot which 
 recalls the mournful days between the 20th of June 
 
INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 and the 10th of August. During the entire Restora- 
 tion she refuses to pass Place Louis XV., the square 
 of crime, on which were erected the scaffolds of her 
 father, her mother, and her aunt, the incomparable 
 Madame Elisabeth. In her manners and turn of 
 mind the Duchess of AngoulSme resembles Louis 
 XVI. rather than Marie Antoinette. Her character, 
 like that of her father, is a mixture of goodness and 
 rusticity. She has not her mother's elegant instincts 
 and feminine charm. The society of the Little 
 Trianon would have distressed her beyond measure. 
 She thinks that the crown should not be an ornament, 
 but a burden. She cares nothing for theatres, orna- 
 ments, and fe"tes. Her voice is somewhat harsh. 
 Piety is the foundation of her soul. Nothing equals 
 her faith unless it be her courage. Her feelings are 
 deep, but not sentimental. The romantic side of 
 suffering offends her. Annoyed by hearing herself 
 called the modern Antigone, she mistrusts what 
 might be called literary tears and emotions made to 
 order. Taught in the school of misfortune and 
 versed in all the palinodes of courtiers by hard expe- 
 rience, she dislikes to make a spectacle of her griefs. 
 She hides them in the depths of her heart as in an 
 impenetrable sanctuary, and confides her regrets and 
 troubles to God alone. She thinks that a grief like 
 hers needs neither comment nor publication. Noth- 
 ing is affected in the Duchess of Angoule'me, nothing 
 theatrical, nothing factitious. All is sincere, all is 
 austere, and all is true. This is what gives that 
 
10 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 grandiose figure, more worthy than attractive, more 
 rude than gracious, a something truly noble and 
 imposing. 
 
 The Duchess of Berry presents herself under a 
 different aspect. By her romantic disposition and 
 taste for the arts, she recalls the heroines of the 
 court of the later Valois. She is a woman of the 
 Renaissance rather than of the nineteenth century. 
 A worthy descendant of the Bearnais, she has his 
 good-humor and his valor, his gaiety and grace. 
 Amiable, good,' and charitable, unaffected and not 
 conceited, unprejudiced and not spiteful, fond of 
 room and liberty and sunlight, half Neapolitan, half 
 French, she patronizes men of letters, painters, and 
 musicians. She prevents the Tuileries from resem- 
 bling a barracks or a prison. The court is brightened 
 by her smile. Louvel's poniard interrupts her 
 career of joy and pleasure. On the dismal night of 
 February 13, 1820, she is sublime in her sorrow 
 and despair. This widow of twenty-one years 
 excites universal sympathy. She is flattered and 
 exalted to the skies when, in the course of the same 
 year, she gives birth to the son whom courtiers call 
 the child of Europe, the child of miracle. 
 
 The catastrophe of 1830 comes. The Duchess 
 of Berry is not disheartened. In spite of Charles 
 X. and the Duke and Duchess of AngoulSme, she 
 plunges without hesitation into the most daring 
 adventures. A reader of Walter Scott, one would 
 say she wanted to add a chapter to the Jacobite 
 
INTRODUCTION 11 
 
 exploits of Diana Vernon, Alice Lee, and Flora 
 Maclvor. She is reproached with having put faith 
 too readily in the promises of her partisans; but 
 how many oaths had been taken to her and her son ! 
 Is an imaginative, an emotional woman inexcusable 
 for thinking she is still in the age of knights and 
 troubadours ? The legend of the Duchess of Angou- 
 l^me is the Temple, and that of the Duchess of 
 Berry is La Vendue. The daughter of Louis XVI. 
 all alone, sweeping her own room, mending her only 
 gown, escaping as by miracle from a band of jailers 
 and tormentors; and the mother of the Count of 
 Chambord, disguising herself as a servant, walking 
 barefoot through a crowd of spies and gendarmes, 
 crouching for sixteen consecutive hours without 
 eating and almost without breathing in the nar- 
 row hiding-place of the house of the Demoiselles 
 Duguigny, at Nantes, both affect the heart with 
 tenderness and pity. 
 
 To the end of their lives the Duchess of Angou- 
 lSme and the Duchess of Berry retained their char- 
 acteristics and ways of doing things. In her latest 
 exiles, the daughter of Louis XVI. was what she 
 had been in the Temple and the Tuileries, an august 
 princess, a noble Christian, a saint. The mother of 
 the Count of Chambord never ceased for an instant, 
 either before or after her misfortunes, to be a lovable 
 and attractive woman. Catastrophes under whose 
 weight so many other princesses might have suc- 
 cumbed, could not break the springs of her spirit. 
 
12 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Like Homer's Andromache, she smiled even amid 
 her tears. When, toward the end of her career, so 
 fertile in vicissitudes of every kind, one saw her 
 entertain with such affability and grace, or was 
 present at the banquets, balls, concerts, and private 
 theatricals she gave at her palace in Venice, her wit, 
 her good humor, and gaiety caused surprise. Nobody 
 could imagine himself in the presence of a woman 
 who had gone through so many trials, exiles, and 
 revolutions — of a wife whose husband had been 
 assassinated, and a mother whose son had been 
 deprived of his heritage. No princess in prosperity, 
 no sovereign on the throne, displayed more amenity, 
 more charm, or more enjoyment than this proscribed 
 woman. 
 
 Before beginning the study we are now approach- 
 ing, let us cast a rapid and comprehensive glance at 
 the career of the two women who are its principal 
 heroines. 
 
 II 
 
 The daughter of Louis XVI. was born at Ver- 
 sailles, December 19, 1778. Her birth nearly cost 
 her mother's life. "Poor little girl," said Marie 
 Antoinette, " you were not wished for, but you shall 
 not be less dear. A son would have belonged more 
 particularly to the State. You will be mine; you 
 shall have all my care, you shall share my happiness 
 and lighten my griefs." On the day when the 
 young Princess made her first communion, her father 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 addressed her these words which she was never to 
 forget: "Remember, my daughter, that religion is 
 the source of happiness, and our support in the 
 troubles of life. Do not believe that you will be 
 sheltered from them. You are very young, but you 
 have already seen your father more than once 
 afflicted." Trials had come very early to the future 
 orphan of the Temple. In June, 1789, she lost her 
 brother, the first Dauphin, who died of consumption, 
 like the monarchy. During the terrible night of 
 October 5-6, she awoke, all in a tremble, at the 
 moment when her mother was escaping, half -dressed, 
 from her chamber, while the populace were rushing 
 into it and thrusting their bloody pikes into the 
 royal couch. In the morning she was at Marie 
 Antoinette's side when the Queen was forced to 
 make her appearance on the great balcony of the 
 chateau of Versailles, in obedience to the orders of an 
 infuriated multitude. "No children," shouted the 
 mob. No children, ... as if the madmen dreaded 
 lest the sight of innocence might lessen their fury. 
 A few minutes later, the poor little Princess, in the 
 same carriage with her father and mother, that car- 
 riage preceded by pikemen carrying the heads of the 
 murdered body-guards, made the fatal journey from 
 Versailles to the Tuileries, vestibule of the prison 
 and the scaffold. She accompanied her parents at 
 the time of the flight to Varennes. She saw the 
 heroic Dampierre fall, crying as he died, "Long 
 live the King!" After June 20, 1792, when the 
 
14 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTTLEME 
 
 populace had invaded the royal residence, a National 
 Guard said to the Queen, pointing to the young 
 Princess as he did so : " How old is Mademoiselle ? " 
 Marie Antoinette replied : " She is at an age when 
 such scenes cause only too much horror." On 
 August 10, the poor child left the Tuileries, cling- 
 ing to her mother's hand; and in the narrow box of 
 the Logographe, only eight feet square by ten feet 
 high, for sixteen hours together, in suffocating heat, 
 lacking air and lacking food, she witnessed the 
 death-struggle of royalty. When she was confined 
 in the Temple she was not yet fourteen. She 
 entered it with her family, August 13, 1792. She 
 remained there until December 18, 1795. Deprived, 
 one after another, of her father, her brother, her 
 mother, and her aunt, she was at last left alone in 
 her prison. Subjected in a place of anguish and 
 torture to the rigors of solitary confinement, a pun- 
 ishment not then inflicted on the greatest criminals, 
 she escaped the fate of the unfortunate Louis XVII. 
 only by a miracle of -moral force and physical energy. 
 However, the hardships of her captivity were les- 
 sened at the close of 1795. Some friendly persons 
 were allowed to enter the dungeon of the Temple. 
 But the young Princess remained inconsolable. " It 
 would have been better for me to share the fate of 
 my relatives," she said, "than to be condemned to 
 weep for them." She regretted that she too had not 
 ascended the scaffold. It was decided to exchange 
 her for the Conventionists whom Dumouriez had 
 
INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 delivered up to Austria. But exile seemed to her 
 no sweeter than captivity. "I would prefer," she 
 said, "the smallest house in France to the honors 
 which everywhere else await a princess so unhappy 
 as I." Some one said to her just as she was cross- 
 ing the frontier: "Madame, France ends here." 
 Her eyes filled with tears. "I leave France with 
 regret," she exclaimed, "for I shall never cease to 
 regard it as my country." 
 
 She arrived in Vienna January 9, 1796. She had 
 just completed her seventeenth year. Her beauty, 
 sanctified by misfortune, possessed a touching charm 
 which inspired respectful admiration. She lived for 
 nearly three years and a half in the Austrian capital, 
 where she was not really free. She wanted to rejoin 
 her uncle, Louis XVIII. She wanted to marry her. 
 cousin, the Duke of AngoulSme, in accordance with 
 the last wishes of her father and mother, while the 
 court of Vienna proposed to give her to the Arch- 
 duke Charles. Their object was to detain her as a 
 sort of hostage, and use her marriage with an Aus- 
 trian prince as a means of promoting the dismember- 
 ment of France. She defeated all these combinations 
 by her presence of mind, firmness, and patriotism. 
 In May, 1799, she was finally permitted to rejoin 
 her uncle, Louis XVIII. , at Mittau, in Courland, 
 and in the following month she was married there 
 to the Duke of AngoulSme. A caprice of the Czar 
 Paul drove her and her uncle from this asylum 
 where she had found comparative repose, and which 
 
16 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 she left in January, 1801. She crossed Lithuania 
 during a wintry storm, amidst a driving snow. It 
 was then that people began to call her the French 
 Antigone. "Nothing extorts a complaint from 
 her," wrote Count d'Avaray at this period. "She 
 is an angel of consolation to our master and a model 
 of courage to us all. Ah! how well the daughter of 
 Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette has profited by 
 the lessons and examples of her childhood!" This 
 was an eventful journey for the exiles : after Mittau, 
 Memel, Koenigsberg, and Warsaw; back to Mittau 
 again, and then, in England, Godsfield Hall and 
 Hartwell. In 1814, a gleam of light appeared in 
 this sombre destiny. -On Annunciation Day, March 
 25, the Duchess of Angoule'me, who was then at 
 Hartwell, learned that her husband had made a 
 triumphal entry into Bordeaux. On April 24, she 
 landed with Louis XVIII. at Calais. Her long 
 exile was at an end. She arrived at Paris with the 
 King on May 3, in an open carriage drawn by eight 
 white horses; the streets were strewn with flowers 
 and the houses hung with verdure. Indescribable 
 enthusiasm and universal emotion were shown as 
 she passed by. When she crossed the threshold of 
 the Tuileries, that fatal palace which she had never 
 seen since August 10, 1792, two hundred women 
 dressed in white and adorned with lilies, kneeled 
 before her, saying: "Daughter of Louis XVI., give 
 us your blessing ! " Overcome by emotion, she 
 fainted away. 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 This pathetic scene drew tears from every eye. 
 We are men before we are royalists, imperialists, or 
 republicans. Pity belongs to no party. Napoleon 
 used to say: "Imagination rules the world." It is 
 certain that the Duchess of AngoulSme's presence 
 beside her uncle exerted a moral force and influence 
 of the greatest value to that Prince. The conqueror 
 of Austerlitz had shown France the majesty of glory. 
 That of misfortune made its appearance with the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. Of 
 all the persons belonging to the royal family, this 
 holy woman most impressed the crowd, because, 
 unlike Louis XVIII. and the Count of Artois, who 
 had been abroad during the death-struggle of mon- 
 archy, she had shared all the anguish of the martyred 
 King and Queen, at the Tuileries, Varennes, and in 
 the dungeon of the Temple. 
 
 The Duchess of AngoulSme was already a legend- 
 ary figure. She was at Bordeaux when the first 
 Restoration came to grief; perhaps, had she been 
 with her uncle, she might have prevented Napoleon's 
 re-entry into Paris. At Bordeaux she made the 
 most energetic efforts to defend the royal cause, and 
 even the imperial troops admired her firmness and 
 her courage. Nevertheless, she was obliged to go 
 into a new exile, which lasted only three months. 
 On July 27, 1815, she returned to the Tuileries, but 
 this time with a feeling of profound sadness. March 
 20 had robbed her of many illusions. The recanta- 
 tions that went on during and after the Hundred 
 
18 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOVLEME 
 
 Days showed her human nature under a discourag- 
 ing aspect. A Frenchwoman, she was humiliated *hy 
 the foreign occupation; a royalist, she considered 
 the presence of a regicide in the councils of Louis 
 XVIII. as a disgrace to royalty. 
 
 February 13, 1820, she was at the bedside of the 
 Duke of Berry, who had been stabbed. "Courage, 
 brother," she said to him; "but if God calls you to 
 Himself, ask my father to pray for France and for 
 us." On the day after the birth of the Duke of 
 Bordeaux, which had been a great consolation to her 
 afflicted spirit, one of her household said to her : 
 "Your Royal Highness was very happy yesterday." 
 "Yes, very happy yesterday," she answered in a 
 melancholy tone, " but to-day I have been reflecting 
 on the destiny of this child." In 1823, her hus- 
 band's successes in the Spanish campaign gave her 
 pleasure, but in thinking of the deliverance of 
 Ferdinand VII., her mind reverted to the sad fate 
 of Louis XVI. One of her letters ends with the 
 touching exclamation: "It is proved, then, that an 
 unfortunate king may be rescued." 
 
 The Duchess of AngoulSme had foreseen the revo- 
 lution of 1830. When Charles X. parted with M. 
 de Villele, she had said: "It is true, then, that you 
 are allowing VillMe to leave you. My father, to-day 
 you are taking the first step down from the throne." 
 She was travelling when the King signed the orders 
 which were the cause of his fall. She was unable to 
 rejoin him until after the three days of July. In 
 
INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 1830 as in 1815, fate had removed the only woman 
 who might have saved the royal cause. 
 
 A new and final series of exiles then began for 
 the unfortunate Princess which was not to end with 
 her life, for she is exiled even in her grave. At 
 Lullworth, Holyrood, Prague, Kirchberg, and Goritz, 
 she remained what she had always been, a model of 
 resignation and dignity. Chateaubriand has said: 
 " The most precious moments of our life were those 
 whi&h Madame the Dauphiness permitted us to 
 spend near her. Heaven had deposited a treasure 
 of magnanimity and religion in the depths of that 
 soul which even the prodigalities of misfortune 
 couid not exhaust. For once, then, we met a soul 
 sufficiently lofty to permit us to express, without 
 fear of wounding it, what we think concerning the 
 future of society. One could talk about the fate 
 of empires to the Dauphiness, because she could, 
 without regret, see all the kingdoms of earth pass 
 away at the feet of her virtue, as many of them had 
 dwindled into nothingness at the feet of her race." 
 
 The Duchess of AngoulSme lost her husband June 
 1, 1844. The Count of Chambord induced her to 
 remain with him. He was more attached to her 
 than to his own mother. As her husband, after the 
 abdication of Charles X. had found himself King for 
 a moment before abdicating himself, she was never 
 addressed except as Queen. Men of all parties held 
 her in profound esteem. Some time after the revo- 
 lution of February 24, 1848, she received a visit 
 
20 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 from M. Charles Didier, a republican. "Madame," 
 said the traveller, " you cannot possibly have failed 
 to see the finger of God in the downfall of Louis 
 Philippe." "It is in everything," she answered. 
 Her interlocutor was struck with the patriotic senti- 
 ments she displayed. "One might have supposed," 
 he has written, "that after suffering so much in 
 France and at the hands of Frenchmen, she must 
 hold the country and its inhabitants in aversion; 
 but nothing of the kind. Strange phenomenon! 
 The more she has suffered in France and by France, 
 the more she is attached to it. She will permit no 
 one to assail it in her presence ; she never speaks of 
 it herself but with love and regret. Her last wish, 
 as she often says, is to be buried in France. Surely 
 a more ardent patriotism was never seen; such a 
 passion for one's native land recalls that of Foscari, 
 who adored Venice in the midst of the tortures that 
 Venice inflicted on him." The death of the daughter 
 of Louis XVI. was as saintly as her life had been. 
 She breathed her last sigh at Frohsdorff, October 18, 
 1851, aged seventy-two years and ten months. She 
 was buried at Goritz, in the Franciscan chapel, at 
 the side of Charles X. and the Duke of AngoulSme. 
 This inscription was placed on her sepulchral stone : 
 " vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite, et 
 videte si est dolor sicut dolor mens ! " — O, all ye that 
 pass by, attend and see whether any sorrow is like 
 unto my sorrow ! 
 
 We have just summarized the career of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 Duchess of AngoulSme. Let us briefly examine that 
 of the Duchess of Berry. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Marie Caroline Ferdinande Louise came into the 
 world at Naples, September 5, 1T98. Her grand- 
 father was the King of the Two Sicilies, and her 
 grandmother, Marie Caroline, sister of Marie Antoi- 
 nette, Queen of France. Her father, the brother 
 of the Princess Marie Amelie, afterwards to be 
 Queen of the French, was Francois Xavier Joseph, 
 who was Prince Royal of Naples at the time of 
 her birth, and became King of the Two Sicilies 
 in 1825. Her mother was the Austrian Archduch- 
 ess Marie Clementine, daughter of the Emperor 
 Leopold II., and aunt to the Archduchess Marie 
 Louise, the future wife of the Emperor Napoleon. 
 The infancy of the Duchess of Berry was marked 
 by revolutions and catastrophes. At two years old 
 the little Princess had already crossed the sea 
 twice, flying with her family and returning with 
 them to Naples. In 1806, she departed again for 
 Palermo. Her grandfather was then reigning in 
 Sicily only. After the events of 1815, he regained 
 possession of his double sceptre. The destiny of 
 the Princess shone at this time with the most vivid 
 lustre. In 1816, she espoused the Duke of Berry, 
 second son of Monsieur, who was to reign under the 
 title of Charles X., and nephew ef Louis XVI. and 
 
22 THE DUCHESS OF ANQOULEME 
 
 Louis XVIII. The Bourbons of France and Naples 
 thrilled with joy. 
 
 On May 30, the young and charming Princess 
 made her triumphal entry into the harbor oi Mar- 
 seilles, in a gilded barque, manned by twenty-four 
 rowers dressed in white satin, with blue and gold 
 scarfs, sitting upon a crimson velvet dais. The 
 same woman will be tracked like a wild beast six- 
 teen years later, and will make her escape in the 
 disguise of a servant. The boat advances through 
 a forest of other vessels covered with verdure. All 
 the windows are adorned with women, flags, and 
 garlands. Cannons roar, bells peal, the whole city 
 rings with acclamations. Marseilles rivals Italy in 
 enthusiasm and sunshine. The Duchess, whose 
 progress across France has been a series of ovations, 
 arrives at the picturesque and poetic forest of Fon- 
 tainebleau on June 15. There she finds the royal 
 family at the crossroads of La Croix and Saint 
 Herem. It is a day of enchantments and illusions. 
 The next day, Corpus Christi, the impatiently 
 expected Princess makes her solemn entry into 
 Paris. She passes through streets strewn with 
 flowers, where she sees temporary altars, triumphal 
 arches, and memorials both religious and monarchi- 
 cal. The prefect of the Seine addresses her in these 
 words, to which the future will give an ironical 
 contradiction : " August Princess, issue of the same 
 blood as our own Princes, tried like them by afflic- 
 tion, triumphant like them over the vicissitudes 
 
INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 which have desolated the world, new pledge of their 
 lawful rights and of a return to principle, behold 
 the intoxicating joy of a- whole people whose desires 
 and hopes invoke a succession of princes, doubly- 
 issuing through you from an adored race. Increase 
 the happiness of an august family whom we long to 
 see flourish, even at the expense of our lives. These 
 walls were the cradle of your noble ancestors. May 
 they offer you nothing but pleasure and happiness, 
 as they will never cease to present the image of love 
 and devotion to their sovereigns ! " 
 
 The marriage is celebrated at Notre Dame, June 
 17. Perhaps the ancient metropolitan church has 
 never been so resplendent. Paris is enchanted with 
 the Princess. The Princess is enchanted with Paris. 
 She and her husband install themselves at the 
 Elyse"e, a more agreeable, commodious, -and gayer 
 abode than the Tuileries. There she leads a happy 
 life and looks confidently toward the future. She 
 does not meddle with politics, but dances, amuses 
 herself, visits the studios, the theatres, and the 
 court, troubles herself very little about etiquette, 
 and seems more like a private person than a prin- 
 cess. But gloomy presentiments very soon trouble 
 her youthful, almost infantine, gaiety. July 13, 
 1817, she is delivered of a daughter who dies the 
 next day ; September 13, 1818, of a son prematurely 
 born, who lives but two hours. This date of the 
 13th is to reappear in her destiny. 
 
 Paris is at the height of the carnival on February 
 
24 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 13, 1820. It is the last Sunday before Lent. For 
 several days balls and spectacles have succeeded each 
 other with extraordinary animation. The Duke and 
 Duchess of Berry go to the Opera. They receive a 
 most cordial welcome. The representation is very 
 brilliant, but the Duchess, slightly fatigued in con- 
 sequence of a ball she had attended the previous 
 evening, leaves before it is over. The Duke goes 
 with her to her carriage, but just as he is about to 
 re-enter the hall, he is stabbed with a poniard. The 
 Duchess hears her husband's agonizing cry. Her 
 carriage is still before the door. She hastily descends 
 from it, at the moment when the Duke, drawing the 
 weapon from his wound, gives it to M. de Me"snard, 
 exclaiming: "I am a dead man. A priest! . . . 
 Come, my wife, let me die in your arms ! " The 
 Princess is covered with her husband's blood. She 
 is at first taken to the small salon belonging to her 
 box. The crime has been so quickly done that the 
 news of it has not yet reached the body of the theatre. 
 The second act of a ballet is going on. Through a 
 pane of glass which looked into the box from the 
 salon, the dances could still be seen. Joyous music 
 was sounding while the victim lay dying. The 
 King does not arrive until five o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. "Pardon the man who stabbed me! "says the 
 Duke to him. " Holy Virgin, intercede for me. . 
 O my country ! . 1 . Unhappy France ! " An hour 
 later he renders hij last sigh. He was born Janu- 
 ary 24, 1778. 
 
INTBODUCTION 25 
 
 Pregnant with an infant who will be the Duke of 
 Bordeaux, the widow of twenty-one years in her long 
 mourning veil excites universal sympathy and pity. 
 Persuaded that it is her mission to give France a 
 king, and religious after the Italian fashion, she 
 believes herself especially protected by Saint Louis. 
 She has seen in a dream this ancestor of whom the 
 Bourbon family is so proud, and he has promised her 
 a son. 
 
 The Child of Europe, the Child of Miracle, as 
 the newly born was called, came into the world at 
 the palace of the Tuileries, September 29, 1820. 
 Royalist France experienced a delirium of joy. All 
 the poets, with Victor Hugo and Lamartine at their 
 head, composed enthusiastic odes that resemble 
 hymns of thanksgiving. On all sides the Duchess 
 of Berry is treated as a heroine, as a providential 
 being who holds a rank midway between a woman 
 and an angel. The chivalrous and sentimental 
 rhetoric of the period passes all bounds in its hyper- 
 boles of praise. During the last ten years of the 
 Restoration, the popularity of the Princess is im- 
 mense. People say that a more amiable woman was 
 never seen. Her daughter and her son, two inter- 
 esting and beautiful children, form her double 
 coronet. The Orleans family show her a respectful 
 tenderness. She is the movement, life, and anima- 
 tion of the court. Thanks to her, the Marsan Pavil- 
 ion at the Tuileries becomes an enchanting residence. 
 The little court, as her narrow circle of personal 
 
26 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 adherents is called, is the most agreeable and brill- 
 iant of social centres. She sets the fashion. She 
 protects commerce and the arts. She saves the 
 Gymnase theatre by permitting it to be called the 
 theatre of Madame. She rides in the first omnibus 
 that comes along. She makes the coast of Dieppe a 
 fashionable resort. She is a beneficent fairy whose 
 wand of gold and diamonds brings good fortune to 
 all whom it touches. This Princess who seems as 
 if she were made to preside at tournaments and to 
 inspire the chroniclers of the Renaissance, and yet 
 who is modern by the eclecticism of her ideas, her 
 scorn of etiquette, her kindly familiarity, her bour- 
 geois gaiety, and her simple tastes and habits, smiles 
 equally on imperial and royalist celebrities. If 
 any woman could disarm the hatreds and rancors of 
 the most implacable enemies of the monarchy, it 
 would be she. 
 
 In 1828, the fascinating Duchess makes a tri- 
 umphal journey in Vendue. The defenders of throne 
 and altar greet her with acclamations. Old relics of 
 Catholic and royal armies, standards riddled with 
 balls and worn by battles, cemeteries where the 
 white flag drapes the tombs of those who died for 
 the King in the battle of giants, as Napoleon called 
 that formidable struggle whose B6re"sina was the 
 passage of the Loire, bells ringing in every parish, 
 frenzied cries of joy, incessantly renewed ovations, 
 all excite the imagination of the Princess, who 
 passes through the region on horseback. The peas- 
 
INTRODUCTION 27 
 
 ants, seeing how fearlessly she manages her horse in 
 the midst of the discharges of musketry which salute 
 her as she passes, cry : " Ah ! the brave little woman ! 
 that one isn't afraid ! " She considers every peasant 
 a knight-errant, who, if need were, would shed the 
 last drop of his blood for her, and she promises the 
 Vende"ans that if fortune ever should forsake her, 
 she will come back to seek an asylum and confide to 
 them the royal cause. Her journey in 1828 will be 
 the germ of her expedition in 1832. 
 
 The Duchess of Berry is valor itself. When she 
 sees Charles X., whom old age had rendered dull 
 and heavy, yield so readily to the revolution, she 
 becomes irritated and indignant. On July 29, 1830, 
 she is in the upper story of the palace of Saint Cloud, 
 looking through a spyglass toward Paris, whose 
 monuments define themselves in the distance against 
 a cloudless sky. All at once, she no longer sees the 
 white flag on the roof of the Tuileries. Another 
 standard has replaced it. "Ah! my God!" she 
 cries, "I perceive the tricolored flag!" At Saint 
 Cloud, as at Rambouillet, she entreats Charles X. to 
 let her start for Paris with her son. The old King 
 obstinately refuses. "Very well," says she, "I will 
 not take Henri; I will go alone." All her entreaties 
 are in vain. They keep her back by force. The 
 cause of the elder branch of the Bourbons is forever 
 lost! 
 
 On arriving in Scotland, the Duchess is unable to 
 endure exile beneath that misty and gloomy sky. 
 
28 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 The castle of Holyrood, the melancholy abode of the 
 Stuarts, inspires her with profound repugnance. 
 Moreover, she is unwilling that the Bourbons of the 
 elder branch should end like the descendants of 
 Charles I. and James II. Prudent counsels seem to 
 her marks of weakness and cowardice. She quits 
 the society gathered around Charles X., because it 
 is out of harmony with her ardent soul, and goes 
 to prepare, under the brilliant skies of Italy, a 
 kind of romantic imitation of the return from Elba. 
 The most sensible of the legitimists vainly seek to 
 dissuade her from her enterprise. She listens only 
 to lovers of adventure, to hot heads, to officers who 
 have resigned from the royal guard and who fret at 
 their enforced inaction, to penniless nobles. They 
 tell her that the monarchy of July is dying in its 
 cradle, and that the mother of Henri V. would have 
 but to touch the soil of France to be able to say, like 
 Caesar: Vent, vidi, vici. She believes it. The 
 mirage of the emigration has deceived her. She 
 naively imagines that she is going to be the greatest 
 heroine of modern times ; that she will surpass the 
 glories of Jeanne d'Arc and Jeanne Hachette; that 
 she will be ableto reconquer the most beautiful crown 
 in the universe for her son, and thus justify all the 
 adulations of which she had been the object in her 
 prosperous days. Joyous and full of confidence, she 
 "sets out on her adventurous expedition as if it were 
 a hunting-party, and -impatiently awaits the danger 
 which has charms for a nature so nervous and 
 desirous of emotions. 
 
INTRODUCTION 29 
 
 April 26, 1832, at three o'clock in the morning, 
 she embarks near Massa on the Carlo Alberto, a ship 
 which she has chartered. In the night of April 
 28-29, she arrives in the straits of Planier, in Pro- 
 vence. But what a difference since the day, sixteen 
 years before, when she entered the harbor of Mar- 
 seilles in such majestic pomp! But this contrast 
 only stimulates her. She finds nothing discourag- 
 ing. The rising prepared by the Marseilles voyagers 
 is a failure. She is entreated to leave France; she 
 refuses, and by night and on foot, walking silently 
 under a moonless and starless sky, she starts for 
 Vende'e, where she intends to fight. All her pro- 
 jects come to nought. Instead of a general armed 
 rising, there are only partial movements which the 
 troops of King Louis Philippe easily repress. A 
 fugitive, hunted by the police, obliged to disguise 
 herself as a peasant and soil her hands with dust 
 lest their whiteness should betray her, she enters 
 Nantes on a market day, June 9, 1832, with only 
 one companion, Mademoiselle Eulalie de Kersabiec, 
 disguised like herself, and takes refuge in the house 
 of the Demoiselles Duguigny, rue Haute-du-Chateau. 
 She will live there five months, in a garret on the 
 third story, using a folding-chair by way of a bed, 
 never stirring out of doors, and fearing to be dis- 
 covered at every minute. 
 
 At six in the evening of November 7, 1832, as the 
 Princess is looking at an unclouded sky through the • 
 dormer window of her garret, she hears the noise of 
 
30 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 many footsteps. They are those of troops coming 
 to surround the house. It happens to have, and it 
 was on that account the Duchess had chosen it as a 
 refuge, a secret hiding-place, an old relic of the 
 Terror of 1793, which during the judicial drownings 
 at Nantes had more than once offered an asylum to 
 fugitive or proscribed persons. It is contrived in 
 one of the garrets of the third story. The wall of a 
 chimney built in one of the corners of the garret 
 closes it in front, and at the back is the exterior wall 
 of the house, on which rest the rafters that form the 
 upper part of the hiding-place. The back of the chim- 
 ney, which may be opened at will, gives access to it. 
 This retreat is about eighteen inches wide at one of 
 its extremities, and from eight to ten at the other, 
 and from three to three and a half feet long. The 
 height goes on decreasing toward its narrowest 
 extremity, so that a man could hardly stand erect at 
 that part even by putting his head between the 
 rafters. It is here that the Duchess crouches down 
 with three other persons, — Count de Mesnard, M. 
 Guibourg, and Mademoiselle Stylite de Kersabiec. 
 She has but just entered it when the garret is invaded 
 by soldiers and police commissioners. The whole house 
 is searched. Sappers and masons sound the walls 
 and floors with great blows of hatchets and hammers. 
 They strike so hard that pieces of plaster loosen and 
 fall on the Duchess in the hiding-place, where she 
 listens to the oaths of the men, who are tired and 
 furious over their futile search. " We are going to 
 
INTRODUCTION 31 
 
 be torn to pieces," she says in a whisper to her com- 
 panions in this close captivity; "all is over. Ah! 
 my poor children ! And yet it is on my account that 
 you are in this frightful position. " The search re- 
 laxes. It is believed that the Duchess has escaped. 
 Even she hopes she will be saved. But an unex- 
 pected incident ruins all. The weather is cold. 
 The gendarmes who remain in the garret kindle a 
 large fire in the chimney which forms part of the 
 hiding-place. Presently the wall becomes too hot 
 to be touched by the hand. The back is reddened 
 by the flames. The prisoners are threatened with 
 suffocation or burning alive. 
 
 Already the gown of the Duchess has taken fire 
 twice. She has extinguished it with her hands, 
 without complaining of the burns, whose scars she 
 bears for a long time. It catches fire again. She puts 
 it out. But the back of the chimney creaks. "Who 
 is there?" says a gendarme. Mademoiselle Stylite 
 de Kersabiec responds: "We surrender; we are 
 going to open the back of the chimney; put out the 
 fire." It is half-past nine in the morning. The 
 prisoners have been without food and almost with- 
 out air, and suffering unspeakable agonies for sixteen 
 hours. A few seconds longer, and they would have 
 died. The gendarmes kick the faggots aside, and the 
 Duchess comes out first, touching perforce the still 
 scorching hearth. 
 
 Behold this elegant, admired, and adulated Prin- 
 cess, this enchantress who has passed under so many 
 
32 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 triumphal arches and been so often buried under an ■ 
 avalanche of flowers, this graceful magician, this 
 good fairy who has presided at such magnificent 
 and brilliant fStes at the Elysee and the Tuileries, 
 at Compiegne and Fontainebleau ; behold the heir- 
 ess of Saint Louis, Henri IV., and Louis XIV., 
 the Regent of France, stepping from her hiding- 
 place on still burning cinders, her dress in rags, 
 her hands and feet all blistered; behold her a pris- 
 oner, delivered up, sold for a little gold by the 
 most infamous of traitors, by a man whom she had 
 loaded with benefits, by Deutz, that new Judas, to 
 whom Victor Hugo has addressed this avenging apos- 
 trophe : — 
 
 " O wretch I did nothing in thy soul then say 
 That to be banned is reverend for aye ; 
 That breasts at which we once have nourished been 
 We may not smite : the valet of a queen 
 May sell her not to other wretch at will : 
 That, queen no more, she is a woman still I " 
 
 The thing is done ; the bargain concluded by M. 
 Thiers with this traitor is consummated. The Duch- 
 ess loses neither her self-possession nor her dignity 
 in this fatal moment. Sixteen hours of torture have 
 not been able to exhaust her courage. She sends 
 for General Damoncourt. He enters: "General," 
 she says calmly, " I have done what a mother could 
 to reconquer the inheritance of her son." He offers 
 his arm to conduct her to the chateau of Nantes, 
 where she is to be incarcerated. "Ah! general," 
 
INTRODUCTION 33 
 
 she exclaims, giving a final glance at the back of the 
 fatal chimney before quitting the house, " if you had 
 not made war on me in the Saint Lawrence style, 
 which was rather ungenerous in a soldier, by the 
 way, you wouldn't have me under your arm at this 
 moment." 
 
 From the chateau of Nantes the prisoner is taken 
 to the citadel of Blaye. The story of her touching 
 captivity there will be narrated by one of her physi- 
 cians, the witty Doctor Meniere. Nothing gives a 
 better idea of the Duchess than the journal kept by 
 this physician, a sagacious observer, but benevolent 
 and at times even affected by his illustrious and 
 always amiable patient. Among her jailers, if such 
 a name may ever be applied to heroes, there were a 
 general and a young officer, both of whom afterwards 
 became marshals of France. One of them was to be 
 the victor of Isly, and the other of the Alma. Each 
 of them has given an account in his letters of the 
 captivity of the Duchess and her psychological con- 
 dition, with its alternations of anger and gaiety, of 
 groans and smiles. Her situation becomes more 
 complicated through an incident which no one had 
 foreseen and in which her enemies find their account. 
 The government learns that she is pregnant, and 
 decrees that the child shall be horn in the citadel of 
 Blaye. At Paris, the ministers of Louis Philippe 
 have decided that the accouchement shall be verified 
 by their functionaries. They fancy it will be a 
 triumph for the monarchy of July. 
 
34 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTJLEME 
 
 The Duchess of Berry is in despair. But how is 
 she to deny the evidence ? She is obliged to submit. 
 Then she owns that she has contracted a secret mar- 
 riage with a Neapolitan diplomat, Count Lucchesi 
 Palli, and on May 10, 1833, she is delivered of a 
 daughter in the citadel of Blaye. She leaves her 
 prison, at last, on June 8, and embarks for Sicily. 
 After so many sufferings she is free. But Charles 
 X. has a grudge against her. It is not easy to bring 
 about a reconciliation between her and the old mon- 
 arch. Chateaubriand undertakes this delicate nego- 
 tiation : " Yes, " he writes, " I will depart on the last 
 and most glorious of my embassies ; I will go, on the 
 part of the prisoner of Blaye, to find the prisoner of 
 the Temple; I will go to negotiate a new family 
 compact, to bear the embraces of a captive mother to 
 her exiled children, and to present the letters by 
 which courage and misfortune have accredited me to 
 innocence and virtue." 
 
 Poor mother ! Even her own family were not very 
 grateful for all she had endured on behalf of her 
 son's cause. Princesses are certainly unfortunate 
 in the France of the nineteenth century. If they do 
 not resist revolutions, they are accused of weakness ; 
 if they struggle, their resistance is accounted folly. 
 Charles X., who had been so timid in 1830, regarded 
 the energy of a woman as an indirect criticism of his 
 own conduct, and the austere Duchess of AngoulSme, 
 who understood the Vende'an expedition, and admired 
 the courage of the heroine, could not comprehend 
 
INTRODUCTION 35 
 
 the feminine weakness of which so cruel an advan- 
 tage had been taken by the ministers of Louis 
 Philippe. However, the little court of the exiled 
 monarch adopted a milder view. The reconciliation 
 took place, but it was more official than actual. 
 The political career of the Duchess of Berry was 
 ended. She no longer saw her son except at long 
 intervals, a few days in a year, while the Prince 
 never quitted, we might say, the Duchess of Angou- 
 l§me, who was like a second mother to him, more 
 influential and more regarded than the real one. 
 
 The Duchess of Berry passed in comparative tran- 
 quillity the last years of a life whose beginnings and 
 whose prime had been so stormy. She lived very 
 happily with Count Lucchesi Palli, by whom she 
 had several children, and who regarded her with all 
 the deferential esteem of a prince-consort. But in 
 Styria, where she owned the chateau of Brunse"e, 
 near Gratz; and in Venice, where in 1843 she 
 bought the fine Vendramini palace, on the Grand 
 Canal, she received with extreme affability, and the 
 elegance of her entertainments recalled the epoch 
 when she inhabited the Elyse"e and the Pavilion of 
 Marsan. In 1847, she gave private theatricals at 
 Venice, and among the actors and spectators were 
 twenty-seven persons belonging to imperial or royal 
 families. Generous beyond her means, she expended 
 a great deal, but her son paid the debts she had con- 
 tracted through excessive charity. In her place, a 
 woman of severe character would have lived in per- 
 
36 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 petual mourning; a vindictive woman would have 
 conceived a horror of human nature. The Duchess 
 of Berry, on the contrary, after so many catastrophes, 
 sorrows, and deceptions, lost not one of those, gra- 
 cious and attractive qualities which had caused her 
 success in France. She continued to love literature 
 and the arts, society and the world. Up to the very 
 end she preserved that benevolence, indulgence, and 
 amenity which characterize veritable great ladies. 
 A princess from head to foot, she always played her 
 part with exquisite distinction, as well in exile as on 
 the steps of the throne. She had found out that 
 grievances are not well-bred. A complaint against 
 destiny seemed unworthy of a race so noble as hers. 
 In the latter years of her life, nevertheless, she 
 was subjected to trials no less painful than those of 
 her youth. March 26, 1854, the Duke of Parma, 
 the husband of the Princess Louise, her daughter by 
 the Duke of Berry, was mortally wounded by the 
 stiletto of an assassin. Louvel's crime was thus 
 repeated after an interval of thirty-four years. The 
 husband and the son-in-law of the Duchess of Berry 
 passed through the same majestic and pious death- 
 agony. After having blessed his four children, — 
 Prince Robert, Princess Marguerite, Princess Alixe, 
 and Count de Bardi, — the Duke of Parma expressed 
 the same sentiments as Louvel's victim. A few days 
 after the tragic death of his brother-in-law, the 
 Count of Chambord wrote : " He who has just been 
 so cruelly stricken had no words but those of for- 
 
INTRODUCTION 37 
 
 giveness for his murderer, and never ceased until 
 his last sigh to show admirable faith, piety, courage, 
 and Christian resignation. This is our only consola- 
 tion under an affliction as frightful as it was unfore- 
 seen." In 1864, two new misfortunes came to rend 
 the heart of the Duchess of Berry. February 1, 
 she lost her good and charming daughter, the Prin- 
 cess Louise of France, Duchess of Parma, who died 
 at the age of forty-four; and exactly two months 
 later, on April 1, her husband, Count Hector Luc- 
 ehesi Palli, Duke Delia Grazia. This double afflic- 
 tion reduced her to despair. 
 
 "I have been so tried," she wrote, "that my poor 
 head feels the effects of it. It made me nearly mad 
 to lose my good and saintly daughter; but the kind 
 attentions of the Duke had calmed me somewhat 
 when God recalled him to himself. -He died in my 
 arms like a saint, surrounded by his children, smiling 
 at me, and pointing to heaven. Yes, dear friend, 
 you are right in saying that our only consolation is 
 to raise our eyes to heaven, where those we love 
 await us. But for us, on earth, what sorrows! " 
 
 As the woman who had known so many griefs and 
 endured so many trials advanced in life, her relig- 
 ious sentiments became more strongly marked. Mis- 
 fortune, that great master, had given her so many 
 lessons! She could make so many reflections on 
 human vicissitudes, this great-niece of Queen Marie 
 Antoinette, this widow of an assassinated prince, 
 this mother of a disinherited prince, this mother-in- 
 
38 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 law of a poniarded son-in-law, this daughter-in-law 
 of Charles X., this cousin-german of the Empress 
 Marie Louise, this niece of Queen Marie Amelie! 
 She died suddenly at Brunse"e, April 16, 1870, of 
 apoplexy, the same death as that of her grandmother, 
 Marie Caroline, Queen of Naples. She was seventy- 
 one years old. If she had been living in 1873, no 
 doubt she would have given her son different coun- 
 sels from those he followed. But Providence had 
 decided that the mission of the elder branch of 
 Bourbons was finished in France. 
 
 On the whole, what interesting types the Duch- 
 ess of AngoulSme and the Duchess of Berry are! 
 What personifications of one of the most instructive 
 and affecting epochs of history! What souvenirs, 
 dramas, and legends are suggested by the names of 
 these two women! The Duchess of AngoulSme is 
 the Temple, the Terror, the Exile, the Restoration, 
 at first with its infatuations, and afterwards with 
 its bitterness, its deceptions, and its cataclysms. 
 The Duchess of Berry is hope speedily disappointed, 
 illusion quickly dispelled; the enchantment of a 
 society which was amiable and gracious in spite of 
 its weaknesses, errors, and infatuations; the spell 
 of an epoch when great faults were committed, 
 but which was able to unite the elegance of the 
 old regime to the guarantees of modern liberty, 
 to make both the court and the tribune brilliant, 
 to produce a marvellous harvest of great achieve- 
 ments, and recommend itself to posterity by an 
 
INTRODUCTION 39 
 
 incomparable group of men of talent and genius. 
 The Duchess of Angoule"me is the purity of tra- 
 dition, the majesty of the past, the legend of sanc- 
 tity and sorrow. The Duchess of Berry, a type 
 less venerable but more feminine, is the image of a 
 convulsed society, the transition between the past 
 and the future, the woman of contrasts, who some- 
 times appears all glittering in brocade and the crown 
 diamonds beneath the vaulted roof of Notre Dame, 
 and sometimes in a peasant's gown on the road to 
 Nantes, or vainly seeking refuge in the narrow 
 hiding-place of the mysterious house of the Demoi- 
 selles Duguigny. By turns she is the triumphant 
 betrothed, the nattered wife, the idolized mother, the 
 fugitive, the vanquished, the proscribed, who, after 
 anguish of all descriptions, falls into the snares of 
 treason and infamy. Around these two women, the 
 principal actors in this great historic drama, what 
 unlike figures group themselves : the executioners of 
 the Terror, the Smigres, the soldiers of the royal 
 guard, the Vendeans, the innumerable courtiers of 
 the Tuileries and the rare courtiers of the Exile, 
 who assist respectfully at the last days and the 
 obsequies of the old French monarchy! 
 
 There is another woman whom we shall have to 
 consider also, for she likewise is a woman of the 
 Tuileries, where she resided in her childhood, from 
 1820 to 1830. This is the Princess Louise of 
 France, who was born September 2, 1819, a year 
 before her brother, the Duke of Bordeaux. Old men 
 
40 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 who lived in Paris at the time of the Restoration 
 recall the sympathy aroused by the pretty little 
 Princess when she was seen at the Tuileries, run- 
 ning along the terrace beside the water, holding her 
 brother by the hand, or walking beneath the trees 
 in the beautiful park of Saint Cloud. Her mother 
 idolized her. From the citadel of Blaye the prisoner 
 wrote to the author of the CrSniS du Christianisme : 
 "I beg you to convey to my dear children the 
 expression of my affection for them. Tell Henri 
 especially that I count more than ever on his efforts 
 to become daily more worthy of the admiration and 
 love of the French people. Tell Louise how happy 
 I would be to embrace her, and that her letters are 
 my only consolation. " After the revolution of 1830, 
 the young Princess never quitted her aunt, the 
 Duchess of AngoulSme, until her marriage. Cha- 
 teaubriand, who in 1833 made a journey to Prague, 
 the asylum of the exiled Bourbons, wrote at that 
 time : " I saw the brother and sister, like two pretty 
 gazelles, straying amidst the ruins. Mademoiselle 
 resembles her father somewhat; her hair is fair, and 
 her blue eyes have a fine expression. There is in 
 her entire person a blending of the child, the young 
 girl, and the princess. She looks at you, she lowers 
 her eyes, she smiles with native coquetry; one is at 
 a loss whether to tell her a fairy tale or to address 
 her respectfully as one would a queen." 
 
 On November 10, 1845, a year before the marriage 
 of her brother, the Count of Chambord, the Princess 
 
INTRODUCTION 41 
 
 Louise espoused the hereditary Prince of Lucca, a 
 scion like herself of the house of Bourbon, whose 
 father reigned in the duchy of Lucca while waiting 
 for the reversion of that of Parma, to which the 
 Empress Marie Louise had only a life title. The 
 widow of Napoleon died in 1847, and the Duke 
 Charles Louis, ceding the duchy of Lucca to Tus- 
 cany, became Duke of Parma. He was driven out 
 of his new dominions by an insurrection in 1849, 
 and abdicated in favor of his son, Charles III., hus- 
 band of the Princess Louise of France. The analo- 
 gies between the destinies of this Princess and her 
 mother are striking. Like the Duchess of Berry, 
 she mourned her husband, stabbed by an assassin; 
 like the Duchess of Berry, she energetically defended 
 the rights of her son. But while the Duchess of 
 Berry had been regent only in name, the Duchess of 
 Parma was so in fact from 1854 to 1860, in the name 
 of her son, the young Duke of Parma. She gov- 
 erned the country with rare intelligence. But 
 fatality pursued her race. The movement for unity 
 swept away the little throne of Parma. Duke 
 Robert had the same fate as his uncle the Count of 
 Chambord, and in 1860, in spite of his mother's 
 protests, his states were annexed to the new king- 
 dom of Italy. 
 
 The history we are beginning is a funeral oration, 
 but one which has its gay and luminous passages ; a 
 tragi-comedy wherein, as in human life, smiles blend 
 with tears, hope with discouragement, joy with sor- 
 
42 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 row. We shall not draw our materials simply from 
 books, memoirs, manuscripts, newspapers, official 
 acts, and private letters. We shall seek informa- 
 tion, hitherto unpublished, from many persons hon- 
 ored by intimacy with the princesses of whom we 
 desire to paint true portraits, and not fancy sketches. 
 The great advantage of dealing with subjects near 
 our own time is that one may consult ocular wit- 
 nesses of most of the events which must be described, 
 and that the check exercised by these persons neces- 
 sitates an absolute respect for truth. Formerly, 
 writers hesitated to treat contemporary history. 
 To-day, they prefer it to that of distant ages. Every 
 time a man who has had a part to play dies, we say: 
 " What a misfortune not to have profited enough yet 
 by his souvenirs ! " Is not history like a vast legal 
 inquiry, which demands that the greatest possible 
 number of witnesses shall be summoned ? 
 
 The eighteenth century is known at present, not 
 merely in its ensemble, but in its minute details. 
 It is the nineteenth that demands investigation. If 
 one brings to such studies that partisan spirit which 
 has the sorry privilege of spoiling all it touches, he 
 will accomplish nothing serious ; but if he remains 
 faithful to the motto: "Truth, nothing but the 
 truth, all the truth"; if he observes conscientiously; 
 if while compassionating sufferings and recounting 
 extenuating circumstances together with the faults 
 he chronicles, he bases his conclusions on the laws 
 of morality, justice, and honor, — he may fearlessly 
 
INTRODUCTION 43 
 
 treat subjects which at first glance appear difficult. 
 Doubtless, what relates to the private history of 
 celebrated princesses needs particularly delicate 
 treatment. Their biographers ought never to forget 
 what is due to women ; above all, to unhappy women. 
 But to continue after their misfortunes the flattery 
 of which they were the victims in their days of 
 prosperity would not be to pay a real homage to 
 their memory. Respect does not exclude freedom, 
 and the historian ought never to transform himself 
 into a courtier. 
 
FIRST PART 
 THE CAPTIVITY 
 
 THE TEMPLE TOWER 
 
 THE most ardent revolutionists and those most 
 wrought upon by hatred and regicidal passions 
 were not able to pass the tower of the Temple when 
 the Terror was at its height, without experiencing 
 certain qualms. The vast skeleton of stone dating 
 from the twelfth century and recalling the baleful 
 history of the Order of Templars, wore an aspect 
 more dismal and fantastic than ever. This dungeon, 
 which succeeded Versailles and the Tuileries, for the 
 descendants of Louis XIV. seemed a fatal spot — 
 where Louis XVI. had not been since the morning 
 of January 21, 1793, but where his Queen, Marie 
 Antoinette, her sister-in-law, Madame Elisabeth, 
 her daughter, Madame Royale (the future Duchess 
 of AngoulSme), and his son, whom the royalists of 
 France and all Europe styled Louis XVII., but 
 whom his jailers called Capet, still remained. It 
 was known in a vague sort of way that the royal 
 
 45 
 
46 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 family endured indescribable sufferings in this 
 accursed abode, and tears came into the eyes of 
 royalists as they gazed at its gigantic walls: more 
 than one republican sought in vain to escape a like 
 emotion. Persons who had seen the royal family 
 resplendent in gala carriages on days when they 
 made triumphal visits to the good city of Paris, 
 could not avoid" reflections on the vicissitudes in 
 human affairs, and on catastrophes which no har- 
 binger of misfortune would have ventured to fore- 
 bode. They recalled May 24, 1785, the day when 
 the Queen, who had been delivered on the previous 
 March 27, of the child destined to be called Louis 
 XVII., had come to the Temple in a very different 
 fashion. On that day the brilliant goddess — for, 
 according to P£re Duchesne himself, people then 
 regarded her as a divinity — made a ceremonious 
 entry into Paris for the purpose of being churched. 
 Her carriage, drawn by eight white horses, was 
 escorted by fifty body-guards. The cannons of the 
 Invalides thundered. She went to Notre Dame, then 
 to Sainte Genevieve, and afterwards to the Tuileries, 
 where she dined. In the evening she went to the 
 Temple to supper. The entertainment ended by 
 fireworks which the Count of Aranda set off, in the 
 Queen's presence, on the top of his house situated 
 on the Place Louis XV. What reflections are not 
 awakened by those words : the Temple and the Place 
 Louis XV. ! 
 Marie Antoinette had always felt an instinctive 
 
THE TEMPLE TO WEB 47 
 
 repugnance for the sombre dungeon around which so 
 many gloomy memories lingered. She beheld it with 
 vague uneasiness, as if affected by a presentiment. 
 Nothing could be more dismal than this edifice, 
 this scene prepared beforehand for ,the most sinister 
 of historical dramas. It formed a quadrangular 
 dufigeon one hundred and fifty feet in height, 
 not counting the roof, and its walls were nine feet 
 thick. It was flanked at each of its corners by a 
 round tower, and accompanied on its north side by 
 a small but solid mass of masonry, surmounted by 
 two much lower towers. This pile, which was called 
 the little tower, leaned against the large one, but 
 had no interior communication with it. A profound 
 melancholy overspread the tomb-like monument. It 
 bore neither inscription nor ornament, but, freezing 
 and accursed in appearance, it seemed like a spot 
 haunted by spectres. 
 
 The interior was, if possible, more gloomy still. 
 The large tower was built in four stories, vaulted, 
 and supported in the centre by a column rising from 
 the bottom to the top. The ground-floor, where the 
 municipal officers had their quarters, formed but one 
 large room. The same thing was true of the first 
 story,, which was occupied by the body-guards. The 
 second story, where the King had dwelt, and which 
 was now the prison of his son, had been divided into 
 four rooms by partitions. The third, an exact repro- 
 duction of the second, was occupied by Marie 
 Antoinette, her daughter, Madame Royale, and her 
 
48 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 sister-in-law, Madame Elisabeth. The ante-cham- 
 ber, just above that of the apartment of Louis XVI., 
 was preceded like it by two doors, one of oak and 
 the other of iron. Its paper-hangings represented 
 cut stones, laid one upon another. From^these one 
 passed into the Queen's chamber, hung with paper 
 covered with pale zones of green and blue, and dimly 
 lighted by a grated window, concealed by an awn- 
 ing. The floor was tiled in small squares. A clock 
 on the chimney-piece represented Fortune and her 
 wheel. Mere chance had provided this really sym- 
 bolic timepiece. Marie Antoinette and the young 
 Marie Th^rese (Madame Royale) occupied this cham- 
 ber in common, and adjoining it was the turret 
 which served as their dressing-room. The Queen's 
 bed stood just over the place where that of Louis 
 XVI. had been on the floor below, and her dress- 
 ing-room above the turret used as an oratory by 
 Louis XVI. The chamber was furnished with 
 Marie Antoinette's bed, her daughter's reversible 
 couch, a mahogany commode, a small sofa, a mir- 
 ror forty-five inches by thirty-six, and a wooden 
 screen with four leaves. At the left was Madame 
 Elisabeth's chamber, containing an iron bedstead, a 
 commode, a walnut table, a fireplace, a mirror forty- 
 five inches by thirty-two, two chairs, two armchairs 
 covered with chintz, and two candlesticks. The 
 fourth story, which comprised but one large room, 
 was not occupied, but served as a storage place for 
 disused furniture and boards. Between the battle- 
 
THE TEMPLE TOWER 49 
 
 ments and the roof there was a gallery where the 
 prisoners sometimes walked. The spaces between 
 the battlements had been provided with solid win- 
 dow-blinds, so that it was impossible to see or to be 
 seen thence. 
 
 Marie Antoinette left the Temple for the Concier- 
 gerie at two in the morning. At that moment our 
 present recital begins. The narrator shall be the 1 
 heroine of this study, Marie The're'se of France, 
 Madame Royale, the future Duchess of AngoulSme. 
 This young girl of fourteen kept a journal in her 
 captivity which she called "A Narrative of what 
 occurred at the Temple from August 13, 1792, 
 until the death of the Dauphin, Louis XVII." 
 Sainte-Beuve says of it: "She wrote it in a terse, 
 correct, and simple style, without a mannerism 
 or a superfluous word, as beseemed a profound heart 
 and an upright mind, speaking in all sincerity 
 of real griefs, of those truly ineffable griefs which 
 surpass words. In it she unaffectedly forgets her- 
 self as far as possible. All party spirit is disarmed 
 and expires in reading this narrative, and gives 
 place to profound pity and admiration. Gentleness, 
 piety, and modesty animate the pages of this injured 
 maiden." 
 
 Marie Th^rdse thus describes the terrible night of 
 August 2, 1793: "August 2, at two o'clock in the 
 morning, they came to wake us up in order to read 
 my mother the decree of the Convention, which 
 ordered that, upon the requisition of the Procureur 
 
50 THE DUCHESS OF AN&OULEME 
 
 of the Commune, she should be conducted to the 
 Conciergerie for her trial. She listened to the read- 
 ing of this decree without being affected or saying a 
 single word. My aunt and I at once asked to follow 
 my mother, but this favor was not granted. While 
 she was packing up her clothes the municipal officers 
 did not quit her ; she was even obliged to dress in 
 their presence. They demanded her pockets, which 
 she gave them. They rummaged them and took all 
 they contained, although it was nothing of impor- 
 tance. They made a packet of the contents, which 
 they said they would send to the revolutionary 
 tribunal, where it would be opened before her. 
 They left her nothing but a handkerchief and a 
 smelling bottle, lest she should faint. My mother, 
 after tenderly embracing me and recommending me 
 to be courageous, to take good care of my aunt, and 
 to obey her like a second mother, renewed the 
 instructions my father had given me; then, throw- 
 ing herself into my aunt's arms, she intrusted her 
 children to her care. I made no answer, so greatly 
 frightened was I at the thought that I was seeing 
 her for the last time ; my aunt said a few words in a 
 very low tone. Then my mother went away with- 
 out looking at us, fearing, doubtless, that her cour- 
 age might abandon her. She stopped again at the 
 foot of the tower, because the municipal officers 
 made a proces verbal there, in order to relieve the 
 doorkeeper of responsibility for her person. In 
 going out she struck her head against the wicket, 
 
THE TEMPLE TOWEB 51 
 
 having forgotten to stoop: some one asked if she 
 had hurt herself. " Oh, no ! " she said ; " nothing can 
 hurt me now." 
 
 It was thus that Marie Antoinette left the fatal 
 dungeon where she had passed a twelvemonth of 
 tears and anguish. When she learned that she was 
 to be transferred thither, on August 13, 1792, she 
 had exclaimed: "I always begged the Count of 
 Artois to have that villanous tower of the Temple 
 torn down; it always horrified me." 
 
II 
 
 MADAME ELISABETH 
 
 MARIE THERESE had now no companion in 
 captivity except Madame Elisabeth. "My 
 aunt and I," she has written in her journal, "were 
 inconsolable, and we spent many days and nights in 
 tears. It was a great consolation not to be separated 
 from my aunt, whom I loved so much; but alas! all 
 changed again, and I have lost her also." The 
 daughter and sister of Louis XVI. were to remain 
 together in the great tower of the Temple until May 
 9, 1794, when Madame Elisabeth departed to the 
 Conciergerie, the vestibule of the guillotine. Dur- 
 ing nine months the young woman was to exhort her 
 youthful niece and inspire her with the principles 
 destined to be the rule of her whole existence. The 
 Princess was the disciple of her aunt, who, if one 
 may say so, was more than a mother to her. Madame 
 Elisabeth! The mere name is like a symbol of 
 piety. There are few figures in history as sympa- 
 thetic and as sweet as hers; very few heads sur- 
 rounded with so pure and luminous a halo. Born 
 May 3, 1764, Madame Elisabeth was twenty-nine 
 years old when Marie Antoinette confided her 
 52 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 53 
 
 daughter to her as she left the Temple for the Con- 
 ciergerie. The Queen knew by experience what 
 devotion, courage, and sanctity filled the heart of 
 her sister-in-law. Losing both father and mother 
 before her third year, Madame Elisabeth had poured 
 out upon her brothers, and especially upon the eldest, 
 who was afterwards to be styled Louis XVI., the 
 affection she would have felt for her parents. In 
 all the splendor of her youth and beauty, she had 
 refused the most brilliant marriages. "I could 
 marry no one," she said at the time, "but the son of 
 a king, and the son of a king must reign over the 
 dominions of his father; I would no longer be a 
 Frenchwoman, and I am not willing to cease being 
 so. I would rather stay here, at the foot of my 
 brother's throne, than ascend any other." She had 
 been unwilling to seek a shelter from danger by 
 following her brothers and her aunts into volun- 
 tary exile. " To go away," said she, " would be 
 both barbarous and stupid." Voluntarily associating 
 herself with all the agonies of the downfall of 
 royalty, she had been admirable for firmness, pres- 
 ence of mind, and coolness during the Varennes 
 journey. On August 20, 1792, when ' an immense 
 crowd invaded the palace of the Tuileries, she had 
 clung to her brother, declaring that nothing should 
 induce her to leave him. Some of the assassins, 
 mistaking her for Marie Antoinette, tried to thrust 
 her through. "Stop! It is Madame Elisabeth!" 
 cried several voices. "Why did you undeceive 
 
54 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTTLEME 
 
 them?" said the heroic Princess. "This mistake 
 might have saved the Queen." At the Temple she 
 was, as the Duchess of Tourzel has said, "the con- 
 solation of her august family, and notably of the 
 Queen, who, less pious than she when they entered 
 the Temple, had the happiness to imitate that angel 
 of virtue." Mgr. Darboy, whose end was as tragic 
 as that of Madame Elisabeth, has said : " From this 
 common captivity must be dated the intimate friend- 
 ship established between the Queen and Madame 
 Elisabeth ; the piety of the one and the virile resig- 
 nation of the other formed a precious bond and 
 mutual encouragement. Madame Elisabeth became 
 a second mother to her nephew and niece, whom she 
 surrounded with the most delicate and devoted cares. 
 The unfortunate Louis XVI. likewise frequently 
 recommended them to consider her as such, and 
 when, on the day before his death, he parted from 
 them for the last time, he placed them, and the 
 Queen also, once more under the protection of his 
 sister, the angel-guardian of the dismal prison." 
 
 Every morning in the Temple, Madame Elisabeth 
 recited this prayer which she had composed there: 
 "What will happen to me to-day, my God? I 
 know not; all that I know is that nothing will 
 happen which Thou hast not foreseen, regulated, 
 willed, and ordained from all eternity. That suf- 
 fices me. I adore Thy eternal and impenetrable 
 designs; I submit to them with all my heart for 
 love of Thee. I will all, I accept all, I make a sac- 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 55 
 
 rifice to Thee of all, and I unite this sacrifice to that 
 of my Divine Saviour. I ask Thee in His name and 
 hy His infinite merits for patience in my afflictions 
 and the perfect submission that is due to Thee for 
 all Thou wiliest or permittest." God must have 
 granted this prayer. Madame Elisabeth was to carry 
 resignation, patience, and forgiveness of injuries to 
 a truly sublime perfection. Let us return now to 
 the journal of her niece, who learned in her school 
 to become a saint likewise. 
 
 " On the day after my mother's departure, " writes 
 Marie The'rese, " my aunt earnestly entreated, in her 
 own name as well as mine, to be allowed to rejoin 
 her; but she could not obtain this, nor even learn 
 any news of her. As my mother, who had never 
 drunk anything but water, could not endure that of 
 the Seine, because it made her ill, we begged the 
 municipal officers to permit that of Ville-d'Avray, 
 which was brought daily to the Temple, to be sent 
 her. They consented, and took measures accord- 
 ingly; but another of their colleagues arrived who 
 opposed it. A few days afterward, in order to 
 hear from us, she sent to ask for several things that 
 were of use to her, and among others some knit- 
 ting, because she had undertaken to make a pair 
 of stockings for my brother ; we sent her all the silk 
 and wool we could find, for we knew how well she 
 loved to be employed; she had always been accus- 
 tomed to work incessantly except at the hours when 
 she had to appear in public. Thus she had made an 
 
56 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 enormous quantity of furniture covers, and even a 
 carpet, besides an infinity of coarse woollen knitted 
 things of all descriptions. We collected then, all 
 we could; but we learned afterwards that nothing 
 was sent, because they said they were afraid she 
 would do herself harm with the needles." 
 
 Marie Ther&se was not less anxious about her 
 brother's fate than about that of her mother. The 
 child lived just underneath her, on the second floor 
 of the great Temple tower, and yet all tidings of 
 him were denied her. But the persecutor of the 
 innocent victim, Simon the cobbler, raised his voice 
 so high that his oaths and blasphemies could be 
 heard on the third story. What crowned the afflic- 
 tion of the pious Princess was that they sought to 
 corrupt the child as well as to persecute him. " We 
 heard him singing the Carmagnole, the Marseillaise, 
 and a thousand other horrible things with Simon 
 every day," writes Marie ThdrSse. "Simon put a 
 red cap on his head and a revolutionary jacket on 
 his body; he made him sing at the windows so as to 
 be heard by the guards, and taught him to utter 
 frightful curses against' God, his family, and the 
 aristocrats. Happily, my mother did not hear all 
 these horrors. What pain they would have caused 
 her! Before her departure they had sent for my 
 brother's clothes; she had said she hoped that he 
 would not leave off wearing mourning; but the 
 first thing Simon did was to take off his black 
 suit. The change in his food, and ill treatment, 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 57 
 
 made my brother ill toward the end of August. 
 Simon fed him horribly, and forced him to drink a 
 great deal of wine, which he detested. All this 
 soon brought on a fever; he took medicine which 
 disagreed with him, and his health was completely 
 ruined." 
 
 The young Princess was also suffering about this 
 time. "In the beginning of September," she says, 
 " I had an indisposition which had no other cause than 
 my anxiety about my mother's fate. I never heard 
 a drum without fearing another second of September. 
 We went up on the roof of the tower every day. 
 The municipal officials visited us three times daily 
 without fail ; but their severity did not prevent our 
 getting news from outside, and especially of my 
 mother, because we have always found some kindly 
 souls in whom we inspired interest. We learned 
 that my mother was accused of receiving commu- 
 nications from without. We threw away at once 
 our writings, our pencils, and all that we might still 
 be writing, fearing that we might be forced to un- 
 dress before Simon's wife, and that the things we 
 had might compromise my mother; for we had always 
 kept ink, paper, pens, and pencils in spite of the 
 most rigorous searches made in our rooms and fur- 
 niture. The municipals came to ask for underwear 
 for my mother, but were not willing to give us any 
 news of her. They took away from us the scraps of 
 tapestry she had made, and those on which we were 
 working, under the pretence that mvsterious char- 
 
58 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 acters and a secret way of writing might be concealed 
 in them." 
 
 Meanwhile, the captivity of the two Princesses 
 constantly became more rigorous. "Every day," 
 says Marie The"r£se, " we were visited and searched 
 by the municipals ; on September 4, they arrived at 
 four o'clock in the morning to make a thorough 
 search and take away the silverware and china. 
 They carried off all that we had remaining, and not 
 finding it agree with their list, they had the base- 
 ness to accuse us of having stolen some, when it 
 was their own colleagues who had concealed it. 
 They found a roll of louis behind the drawers in my 
 aunt's commode, and they took possession of it on 
 the spot with extraordinary eagerness." 
 
 The two captives were soon deprived of almost 
 everything. No manner of consideration or respect 
 was any longer shown them. Their jailers were 
 bent on treating them like criminals. September 
 21, 1793, at one o'clock in the morning, Hubert, 
 the substitute for the Communal attorney, presented 
 himself with several municipals at the Temple to 
 put into execution a decree ordaining that the two 
 Princesses should be more tormented than they had 
 been. They were to have but one chamber thence- 
 forward, and Tison, who was still doing their heavy 
 work, was to be imprisoned in one of the turrets. 
 The captives were to be reduced to what was strictly 
 necessary, and no one except the person who brought 
 them wood and water was to enter their chamber. 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 59 
 
 "We made our own beds," writes Marie TherSse in 
 her journal, " and were obliged to sweep the cham- 
 ber, which took a long time, so little were we used 
 to it at first. We had no longer any one to wait 
 upon us. Hubert said to my aunt that equality was 
 the first law of the French Republic, and that as no 
 other persons detained in prisons had servants, he 
 was going to take away Tison. In order to treat us 
 still more severely, we were deprived of whatever 
 was convenient, for example, of the armchair used 
 by my aunt; we could not have even what was 
 necessary. When our meals arrived, the door was 
 closed abruptly so that we might not see those who 
 brought them. We could not obtain any news, 
 unless by listening to the street-crier, and that very 
 indistinctly, although we listened closely. We were 
 forbidden to go up on the tower, and they took away 
 our large sheets, fearing lest, in spite of the thick 
 bars, we should get down from the windows; that 
 was the pretext. They brought us coarse and dirty 
 sheets." 
 
 A decree of the Commune dated September 22, 
 1793, provided that the nourishment of the prisoners 
 should be greatly reduced. At the first meal which 
 followed this decree, Madame Elisabeth, far from 
 complaining, said to her niece : " This is the bread of 
 poor people, and we are poor also. How many un- 
 fortunates have still less ! " 
 
 Let us now read in the journal of Marie The"r3se 
 the account of the examination to which she was 
 
60 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOVLEME 
 
 subjected some clays before her mother's execution : 
 " October 8, at noon, as we were busy in setting our 
 chamber to rights and dressing ourselves, Pache, 
 Chaumette, and David, members of the Convention, 
 with several municipals, arrived. My aunt did not 
 open the door until she was dressed. Pache, turning 
 to me, asked me to go down stairs. My aunt wished 
 to follow me, but she was refused. She asked 
 whether I would come up again. Chaumette assured 
 her of it, saying: 'You may rely on the word of a 
 good republican; she will come up.' I embraced 
 my aunt, who was all in a tremble, and I went 
 down. I was very much embarrassed. It was the 
 first time I had ever found myself alone with men. 
 I did not know what they wanted, but I recom- 
 mended my soul to God. " 
 
 Madame Elisabeth trembled. Never, since her 
 arrival at the Temple, had she been quite alone 
 there. Deprived, one after another, of her brother, 
 her nephew, and her sister-in-law, was she also to 
 lose the last companion of her captivity ? Was her 
 niece also to be torn away and not return? Thus 
 far, those who had gone down had not come up 
 again. 
 
 "When I came where my brother was," adds the 
 young Princess, "I embraced him tenderly; but 
 they tore him out of my arms, and told me to go 
 into the other room. Chaumette made me sit 
 down; he placed himself opposite me. . . . He 
 questioned me afterwards about a multitude of 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 61 
 
 villanous things of which my mother and my aunt 
 were accused. I was overwhelmed by such horror, 
 and so indignant, that in spite of the fear I experi- 
 enced I could not help saying that it was infamous. 
 There were some things which I did not under- 
 stand; but what I did understand was so horrible 
 that I wept with indignation. They interrogated 
 me about Varennes, and put many questions to 
 which I replied as best I could without compromis- 
 ing anybody. I had always heard my parents say 
 that it was better to die than to compromise any one 
 whomsoever. At last, at three o'clock, my examina- 
 tion ended; it had begun at noon. I ardently 
 entreated Chaumette to let me rejoin my mother, 
 saying truly that I had asked it of my aunt more 
 than a thousand times. 'I can do nothing about it,' 
 he said to me. 'What, sir, can you not obtain per- 
 mission of the Council-General?' 'I have no au- 
 thority there.' He then had me taken back to my 
 room by three municipals, advising me to say nothing 
 to my aunt, who was also to be obliged to go down 
 stairs. . . . On arriving, I threw myself into her 
 arms ; but they separated us and bade her descend. 
 She came up again at four o'clock. Her examina- 
 tion had lasted only one hour, and mine three. 
 That was because the deputies saw they could not 
 intimidate her, as they had hoped to do a person of 
 my age; but the life I had led for more than four 
 years, and the example of my parents, had given me 
 more strength of soul." 
 
62 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 M. Ferrand has said (in the Moge historique de 
 Madame Elisabeth, published at Ratisbonne in 1794): 
 "All the infamies of which they were about to 
 accuse the Queen with regard to her son, were 
 uttered and repeated before the angelic Elisabeth, as 
 they had been before her niece. They constrained 
 innocence to listen to horrors which outraged nature 
 and caused it to shudder. Doubtless they did not 
 natter themselves that they could obtain an avowal 
 contrary to truth. But could they even have hoped 
 to surprise certain words which it would be possible 
 to pervert? Madame Elisabeth's defence was like 
 that of Marie Th^rese: true, simple, pure as them- 
 selves. After an examination which did not fulfil 
 the expectations of the tormentors, but which will 
 excite execration throughout all time, the two Prin- 
 cesses found themselves once more together, but still 
 terrified by the images with which their chaste 
 imaginations had been sullied. 'O my child!' 
 exclaimed Madame Elisabeth, extending her hands 
 to her niece. A sad silence expressed better than 
 any words the sentiments they experienced. For 
 the first time, they avoided each other's glance. At 
 last their lips opened to let the same words escape, 
 and they fell on their knees, as if it were theirs to 
 expiate all that they had blushed to hear." 
 
 What had become of Marie Antoinette ? The two 
 captives, who had at first received some tidings of 
 the unfortunate Queen, were soon to be plunged 
 into complete uncertainty. A few tender-hearted 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 63 
 
 persons had during several weeks found means at 
 the risk of their lives to convey news to them from 
 the Conciergerie by the aid of Turgy, one of those 
 employed in the interior service of the Temple tower. 
 One of Louis XVI. 's former personal attendants had 
 been courageous enough to make his way inside the 
 Conciergerie. Madame Richard, wife of the prison 
 porter, had taken him by the hand, and, leading him 
 aside, had said: "Trust yourself to me. Who are 
 you? What brings you here? Hide nothing from 
 me." Encouraged by this friendly invitation, Hue 
 made himself known to this woman. She responded 
 kindly to all his questions. "You see the motive 
 which brings me," he said to her. "To give the 
 Queen news of her children, and to inform them and 
 Madame Elisabeth of the Queen's condition, is my 
 only object. It is meritorious in you to second me." 
 Madame Richard promised him and kept her word. 
 She apprised Marie Antoinette that Francois Hue 
 had penetrated even into her prison. "What! even 
 here!" cried the Queen. Success had justified the 
 hardihood of the devoted servitor, and for several 
 weeks he had the consolaton of procuring news 
 of the captive of the Conciergerie for the captives 
 of the Temple. But this soon came to an end. 
 Turgy, the medium of this mysterious correspon- 
 dence, was suspected and sent away from the Tem- 
 ple. Madame Elisabeth addressed him this last note : 
 " October 11, at 2.15. I am very much afflicted; take 
 care of yourself until we are more fortunate and 
 
64 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 can reward you. Take with you the consolation of 
 having well served good and unhappy masters. 
 Advise Fiddle [Toulan] not to risk himself too much 
 for our signals [by the horn]. If by chance you see 
 Madame Mallemain, give her news of us, and tell 
 her I think of her. Adieu, honest man and faithful 
 subject." Two days later, October 13, Hue was 
 arrested. Madame Elisabeth and her niece no 
 longer heard anything. Everybody shrank from 
 adding to the anguish of the Temple the immense 
 grief contained in the message: "The Queen has 
 ascended the scaffold." Marie Therdse has written 
 in her journal: "My aunt and I were ignorant 
 of my mother's death; although we had heard her 
 condemnation cried out by a streekcrier, the hope so 
 natural to the unhappy made us think they had 
 spared her. We refused to believe in a general 
 desertion. Moreover, I do not yet know how things 
 occurred outside, nor whether I shall ever leave this 
 prison, although they give me hopes of doing so. 
 There were moments when, despite our hopes in the 
 Powers, we experienced the keenest anxieties on 
 account of my mother, seeing the rage of this 
 unhappy people against all of us. I remained in 
 this cruel doubt for a year and a half; it was then 
 only that I learned of the death of my venerated 
 mother. " 
 
 Let us see now what took place in the Temple 
 after the execution of the Queen, still leaving the nar- 
 ration to the young captive, whose story is more af- 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 65 
 
 fecting than all the memoirs : " We learned the death 
 of the Duke of Orleans from the street-criers ; it was 
 the only piece of news that reached us during the 
 winter. However, the searches began anew, and we 
 were treated with great severity. My aunt, who had 
 had a cautery on her arm ever since the Revolution, 
 had great difficulty in obtaining what was necessary 
 for dressing it; they refused for a long time to give 
 it; but at last, one day, a municipal officer remon- 
 strated against the inhumanity of such a proceeding, 
 and sent for ointment. They deprived me also of 
 the means to make the decoction of herbs which my 
 aunt made me take every morning for my health. 
 Not having fish any longer, she asked for eggs or 
 other dishes suitable for fast days ; they were refused 
 with the remark that to 'equality ' there was no 
 difference between days; that there were no weeks 
 any longer, but only decades. They brought us a 
 new almanac, but we did not look at it. 
 
 "Another day when my aunt asked for fast-day 
 food, she was told: 'But, citizeness, you don't seem 
 to know what has happened; only fools believe in 
 all that nowadays.' She did not ask again. The 
 searches were continued, especially in November. It 
 was ordered that we should be searched three times 
 a day. One of them lasted from four until half-past 
 eight o'clock in the evening. The four municipals 
 who made it were thoroughly drunk. No idea can 
 be formed of their remarks, insults, and oaths, dur- 
 ing four hours. They took away trifles, such as our 
 
66 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 hats, cards with kings on them, and some books with 
 escutcheons; however, they left our religious books 
 after making a thousand impure and stupid speeches. 
 . . . They said 'thou ' to us all winter. We de- 
 spised all the vexations; but this last degree of 
 rudeness always caused my aunt and me to blush." 
 
 In the midst of so many sufferings, the young 
 Marie Ther&se still had one supreme consolation: 
 the presence of Madame Elisabeth. Even into the 
 gloom of the prison this holy woman shed a nameless 
 pure and gentle radiance. The Temple merited its 
 name; it was verily a sanctuary, the sanctuary of 
 piety and sorrow. The conversations between aunt 
 and niece often took place in darkness. The calm- 
 ness of night gave a still more persuasive, affecting 
 accent to the exhortations of the sublime instruc- 
 tress. "The sufferings of this life," said she, "bear 
 no proportion to the future glory they enable us to 
 merit. Has not Jesus Christ gone before us carry- 
 ing His cross? Remember, my child, the words 
 your father addressed you on the eve of the day 
 when, for the first time, you were to receive the 
 blood of the Lamb. He said to you: 'Religion is 
 the source of our happiness and our support in 
 adversity; do not suppose you will be sheltered 
 from it; you know not, my daughter, what Provi- 
 dence has designed for you. ' " 
 
 No preacher's sermons could have impressed the 
 imagination or touched the heart of Marie The"rdse 
 more profoundly than the counsels of Madame Elisa- 
 
MADAME ELISABETH 67 
 
 beth. The young captive read and re-read the 
 prayer-hooks they had been allowed to keep, and on 
 which the conduct of her aunt was a living com- 
 mentary. "My aunt," she says in her journal, 
 "kept the whole Lent, although deprived of Lenten 
 food; she ate no breakfast; at dinner she took a bowl 
 of coffee with milk (it was her breakfast which she 
 kept over), and in the evening she ate nothing but 
 bread. She bade me eat whatever they brought me, 
 as I had not reached the prescribed age for absti- 
 nence ; but nothing could be more edifying for her. 
 She had not failed to observe the duties prescribed 
 by religion, even when refused fasting diet. At 
 the beginning of spring they took away our candle, 
 and we went to bed when we could not see any 
 longer." With the springtime, arrived the period 
 when the orphan of the Temple was to be deprived 
 forever of the consolations of Madame Elisabeth, and 
 to remain alone in her prison. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE DEATH OP MADAME ELISABETH 
 
 FOR several weeks nothing had happened at 
 the Temple. The two captives might have 
 believed the tormentors had forgotten them. But 
 what occurred on the 9th of May? Marie Ther&se's 
 journal tells us: "On that day, just as we were 
 going to bed, they drew the bolts and came to knock 
 at our door. My aunt said that she would put on 
 her dress ; they replied that they could not wait so 
 long, and knocked so hard one would think they 
 were breaking in the door. She opened it when she 
 was dressed. They said to her: 'Citizeness, be so 
 good as to go down stairs.' 'And my niece? ' 'She 
 will be attended to afterwards. ' My aunt embraced 
 me, and to calm me said she was going "to come up 
 again. 'No, citizeness,' said some one, 'you are 
 not coming up again ; take your cap and go down. ' 
 Then they heaped insults and rude speeches on her ; 
 she endured them patiently, put on her cap, em- 
 braced me again, and told me to preserve courage 
 and firmness, to hope in God always, to profit by 
 the good religious principles my parents had given 
 me, and not fail to observe the last injunctions of 
 68 
 
THE DEATH OF MADAME ELISABETH 69 
 
 my father and mother. She went out. On arriving 
 below she was asked for her pockets, which had 
 nothing in them; this lasted a long time because the 
 municipals drew up a report in order to discharge 
 themselves of responsibility for her person. At last, 
 after many insults, she departed with an usher of the 
 tribunal, got into a cab and arrived at the Concier- 
 gerie, where she passed the night." 
 
 The next day, May 10, 1794, Madame Elisabeth 
 appeared before the revolutionary tribunal. Dumas, 
 the president, asked" her the following questions: 
 " What is your name ? " — " Elisabeth Marie. " " Your 
 age ? " — " Thirty years. " " Where were you born ? " 
 — " At Versailles. " " Where do you reside ? " — " In 
 Paris." Then the act of accusation was read: — 
 
 " Antoine Q.uentin Fouquier states that the people 
 owe all the evils under whose burden they have 
 groaned for centuries to the Capet family. • It was 
 at the moment when excessive oppression had caused 
 the people to break their chains, that this entire 
 family joined their forces to plunge them anew into 
 a still more cruel bondage than that from which they 
 had escaped. The crimes of every sort, the accumu- 
 lated villanies of Capet, the Messalina Antoinette, 
 the two Capet brothers, and of Elisabeth are too well 
 known to make it necessary to retrace the horrible 
 picture here. They are written in the annals of the 
 Revolution in characters of blood, and the unheard-of 
 atrocities exercised by the barbarous SmigrSs or the 
 bloody satellites of despots, the murders, conflagra- 
 
70 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 tions, and ravages; in short, these assassinations 
 unknown to the most ferocious monsters which they 
 commit upon French territory, are still ordered by 
 this detestable family for the sake of delivering 
 a great nation to the despotism and fury of a few 
 individuals. Elisabeth has shared in all these 
 crimes; she has co-operated in all the plots and 
 conspiracies formed by her infamous brothers, the 
 profligate and shameless Antoinette, and the entire 
 horde of conspirators gathered around them. . . . 
 
 " Elisabeth had planned with Capet and Antoinette 
 the massacre of the citizens of Paris on the immortal . 
 10th of August; she kept vigil in the hope of wit- 
 nessing this nocturnal carnage, and by her discourse 
 encouraged the young persons whom fanatical priests 
 had conducted to the palace for that purpose. . . . 
 In fine, since the deserved execution of the guilt- 
 iest tyrant who ever disgraced human nature, she 
 has been seen inciting to the re-establishment of 
 tyranny, and lavishing, with Antoinette, the homage 
 of royalty and the pretended honors of the throne on 
 Capet's son." 
 
 After reading the act of accusation, the president 
 interrogated Madame Elisabeth. These are some of 
 the questions and answers : — 
 
 "Would you tell us what prevented you from 
 going to bed on the night of August 9-10 ? " — "I did 
 not go to bed because the constituent bodies had 
 come to acquaint my brother with the agitation and 
 disorder existing among the inhabitants of Paris." 
 
THE DEATH OF MADAME ELISABETH 71 
 
 "Did you not assist the assassins sent by your 
 brother to the Champs Elyse'es against the brave 
 Marseillais by dressing their wounds yourself? " — "I 
 never knew that my brother had sent assassins against 
 any one whatever; if I happened to give aid to any 
 injured persons, I was led to dress their wounds by 
 humanity alone ; I had no need to inquire the cause 
 of their injuries in order to busy myself in relieving 
 them; I made no merit of doing so, and I do not 
 imagine that any one can impute it to me as a 
 crime." 
 
 President Dumas responded: "Will the accused 
 Elisabeth, whose plan of defence is to deny all she 
 is accused of r have the honesty to admit that she has 
 cherished in young Capet the hope of succeeding to 
 his father's throne, and has thus incited to royalty ? " 
 — "I talked familiarly with that unfortunate child, 
 who was dear to me on more than one account, and 
 naturally I administered the consolations which 
 seemed to me calculated to compensate him for the 
 loss of those who had given him life." 
 
 Chauveau-Lagarde had the courage to defend the 
 accused afterwards. He said that her replies, far 
 from condemning her, ought to procure honor for her 
 in the sight of all, since they proved nothing but 
 the goodness of her heart and the heroism of her 
 friendship. The intrepid advocate ended his speech 
 by saying that instead of a defence he had nothing 
 to offer for Madame Elisabeth but his apology; but 
 that, finding it impossible to find one worthy of her, 
 
72 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 he had but one observation left to make, namely, 
 that the Princess who had been the most perfect 
 model of all virtues at the court of France, could 
 not be the enemy of the French. 
 
 Then President Dumas furiously apostrophized 
 Chauveau-Lagarde, reproaching him with audacity 
 in daring to speak of the " pretended virtues of the 
 accused, and thus corrupting public morals." It 
 was easy to see that Madame Elisabeth, who until 
 then had remained tranquil, and as it were, insensi- 
 ble to her own danger, was moved by those to which 
 her defender had just exposed himself. 
 
 Afterwards, the president put the following ques- 
 tions to the jurors : " Is it certain that there existed 
 plots and conspiracies formed by Capet, his wife 
 and family, his agents and accomplices, in conse- 
 quence of which there have been provocations to for- 
 eign war on the part of allied tyrants, and to civil 
 war in the interior, that aid in the shape of men and 
 money has been furnished to the enemy, troops have 
 been assembled, arrangements been made, and chiefs 
 appointed to assassinate the people, annihilate lib- 
 erty, and re-establish despotism? Is it established 
 that Elisabeth is convicted of all this ? " The jurors 
 having responded affirmatively, the holy Princess was 
 condemned to death. That very day, at four in the 
 afternoon, she left the Conciergerie to be taken to 
 the scaffold. 
 
 As she was leaving the tribunal, Fouquier-Tin- 
 ville said to the president: "It must be admitted, 
 
THE DEATH OF MADAME ELISABETH 73 
 
 however, that she has not uttered a complaint." 
 "What has Elisabeth of France to complain of?" 
 answered Dumas, with dismal and sarcastic mirth. 
 "Haven't we formed a court of aristocrats to-day 
 that is worthy of her? Nothing need prevent her 
 from thinking herself still in the salons of Versailles 
 when she finds herself surrounded by a loyal nobility 
 at the foot of the sacred guillotine." 
 
 The court of aristocrats mentioned by the public 
 accuser comprised the twenty-three victims con- 
 demned to perish on the same scaffold as the Prin- 
 cess; among others, the Marchioness of Se"nozan, 
 aged seventy-six ; the Marchioness of Crussol d'Am- 
 boise, aged sixty-four ; Madame de Montmorin, widow 
 of the Minister of Foreign Affairs; her son, aged 
 twenty; M. de Lome'nie, former Minister of War; 
 and the Countess Rosset. The twenty-four victims 
 were led into the hall of the condemned, to await 
 the fatal cart. There Madame Elisabeth exhorted 
 her companions in torture " with a presence of mind, 
 an elevation, and an unction which fortified them 
 all," as her niece has said. Madame de Montmorin 
 exclaimed through her sobs : "I am most willing to 
 die, but I cannot see my child die." "You love 
 your son," said Madame Elisabeth on this, "and you 
 are unwilling that he should accompany you ! You 
 are going to find the happiness of heaven, and you 
 desire him to remain on this earth where there is 
 now nothing but torments and afflictions ! " At 
 these words the poor mother, filled with the ecstasy 
 
74 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 of martyrdom, clasped her boy in her arms : " Come ! 
 come ! " she cried, " we will ascend the scaffold 
 together." 
 
 Madame Elisabeth resumed her pious exhortations. 
 "We are not asked to sacrifice our faith, like the 
 ancient martyrs," said she; "all that is demanded 
 of us is to abandon our miserable life ; let us make 
 this poor offering to God with resignation." 
 
 Thus spoke the saintly Princess in the hall of the 
 condemned to death — that long, narrow, gloomy 
 hall, separated from the clerk's office by a door and 
 a glass partition, and furnished only with wooden 
 benches placed against the wall. The sight of the 
 Conciergerie recalled to her memorj' all that Marie 
 Antoinette had suffered there. As yet no one had 
 found courage to tell the sister of Louis XVI. how 
 the martyr-queen had perished. Her uncertainty con- 
 cerning the fate of the august victim was to last for 
 several minutes longer. She was about to be led to 
 the Place of the Revolution — the place where, as 
 she knew, her brother had been executed, and where 
 a remark made by some one in the crowd was soon 
 to apprise her that the Queen had also suffered. 
 
 The last summons is heard. The doors of the 
 prison open. Madame Elisabeth rides in the same 
 cart with Madame de Se"nozan and Madame de 
 Crussol d'Amboise. When she is passing the Pont 
 Neuf, the white handkerchief that covers her head 
 falls off. All eyes turn toward her bare head, and 
 recognize the calmness and serenity of her features. 
 
THE DEATH OF MADAME ELISABETH 75 
 
 On reaching the Place of the Revolution, — formerly 
 Place Louis XV., — she alights first. The twenty- 
 three other victims follow her. All are ranged in 
 front of the guillotine. All are admirable for their 
 courage. The exhortations of the Princess have 
 been fruitful. The first name called by the execu- 
 tioner is that of Madame de Crussol d'Amboise. 
 She bows to Madame Elisabeth, and says: "Ah! 
 Madame, if Your Royal Highness would deign to 
 embrace me, I should have all that I desire." " Will- 
 ingly," replies the Princess, "and with all my 
 heart." The other condemned women obtain the 
 same honor. As for the men, they kiss respectfully 
 the hand of Louis XVI. 's sister. The executions 
 begin. Several heads have already fallen when a 
 jeering voice from the crowd pressing around the 
 guillotine cries : " It is all very fine, this salaaming 
 to her; there she is now, like the Austrian woman! " 
 Madame Elisabeth understands. Thus she learns 
 the fate of her sister-in-law, and says to herself, 
 " May we meet again in heaven ! " 
 
 The victims ascend the scaffold one after another, 
 and receive the baptism of blood with a pious recol- 
 lection like that of the faithful approaching the table 
 of the Lord. While the knife is severing the heads, 
 Madame Elisabeth recites the De Profundis. She 
 is to be executed last. The tormentors doubtless 
 hope that the sight of twenty-three heads falling 
 before her own will deprive her of courage and 
 dignity to meet her death. They are disappointed 
 
76 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 in their expectation. Dying as she had lived, 
 Madame Elisabeth is sublime up to the last hour, 
 the last minute of her saintly existence. When the 
 twenty-third victim comes to bow before her: " Cour- 
 age and faith in the mercy of God ! " says the sister 
 of Louis XVI. Her turn has come at last. 
 
 A sovereign mounting the steps of her throne 
 would be less majestic than the pious Princess 
 climbing those of the scaffold, the pedestal of an 
 undying glory. As they are fastening her to the 
 fatal plank, her fichu falls to the ground and 
 allows a silver medal of the Blessed Virgin to 
 be seen. The executioner's assistant, instead of 
 replacing the fichu on her bosom, attempts to remove 
 this pious emblem. " Cover me, sir, in the name of 
 your mother ! " These are the last words of the 
 Princess. Her head falls, but this time the crowd 
 does not give way to its habitual fury. The cries 
 of " Long live the Republic ! " are not heard. Every- 
 body feels that the blood of innocence has just been 
 shed. 
 
 It was not until several months later that Marie 
 The*r$se learned the fate of her venerated aunt. 
 When the news was told her, she would not believe 
 it; such a crime seemed incredible, even after all 
 the atrocities of the Terror. Then she wrote in her 
 journal this profoundly touching page, an affecting 
 tribute of eternal gratitude and admiration : " Marie 
 Philippine Elisabeth He*l(me, sister of King Louis 
 XVI., died May 10, 1794, aged thirty years, after 
 
THE HEATH OF MADAME ELISABETH 77 
 
 having been always a model of virtue. She gave 
 herself to God at the age of fifteen, and thought of 
 nothing but her salvation. Since 1790, when I was 
 better able to appreciate her, I saw nothing in her 
 but religion, love of God, horror of sin, gentleness, 
 piety, modesty, and a great attachment to her family, 
 for whom she sacrificed her life, never having been 
 willing to leave the King and Queen. In a word, 
 she was a princess worthy of the blood from which 
 she sprang. I cannot say enough concerning the 
 kind actions she performed towards me, and which 
 ended only with her life. She considered and cared 
 for me as if I were her daughter ; and for my part, I 
 honored her as a second mother; I had promised her 
 all the love of one. They say that we resemble 
 each other very much in countenance. I feel that 
 I have somewhat of her character. May I have all 
 her virtues, and go to rejoin her and my father and 
 mother in the bosom of God, where I doubt not they 
 are enjoying the rewards of a death so meritorious 
 for them!" 
 
IV 
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 WHEN Madame Elisabeth departed, Marie 
 Therese found herself alone in her prison. 
 One after another she had lost all her companions in 
 captivity, — her father, her brother, her mother, and 
 her aunt. Thenceforward began the separate system 
 of confinement, isolation, solitude. What did she 
 then experience ? She herself shall tell us. 
 
 " I was left in great desolation when I saw myself 
 separated from my aunt; I did not know what had 
 become of her, and no one would tell me. I spent 
 a very wretched night, and yet, although I was very 
 anxious about her fate, I was far from believing that 
 I was to lose her in a few hours. Sometimes I 
 persuaded myself that she was to be sent away from 
 France ; but when I remembered how they had taken 
 her, all my fears revived. The next day I asked 
 the municipal officers what had become of her; they 
 said she had gone to take the air; I renewed my 
 request to rejoin my mother, since I was separated 
 from my aunt, and they replied that they would talk 
 about it." Marie Antoinette had been dead for 
 seven months, and her unhappy daughter did not yet 
 78 
 
SOLITUDE 79 
 
 know she was an orphan ! Not one, even among the 
 most savage Terrorists, had dared to give her the 
 fatal news. 
 
 "They came afterwards," adds the young captive, 
 " to bring me the key of the wardrobe containing my 
 aunt's linen ; I asked to send her some, as she had 
 none; they told me it could not be done. Seeing 
 that whenever I asked the municipals to take me to 
 my mother or to give me news of my aunt, they 
 always replied that they would talk about it; and 
 remembering that my aunt had told me that if ever 
 I was left alone it would be my duty to ask for a 
 woman, I did so out of obedience, but with repug- 
 nance, feeling sure that I would either be refused, 
 or obtain some vile woman. In fact, when I did 
 make this request to the municipals, they told me it 
 was unnecessary. They redoubled their severity, 
 and took away the knives they had given me, saying : 
 'Tell us, citizeness, have you many knives ? ' — 'No, 
 gentlemen, only two.' 'And have you none in your 
 dressing-case, nor any scissors? ' — 'No, gentlemen.' 
 Another time they took away my tinder-box ; having 
 found the stove hot, they said: 'Might one know 
 why you made a fire?' — 'To put my feet in hot 
 water.' 'What did you light the fire with?' — 
 'With the tinder-box. ' ' Who gave it to you. ? ' — 'I 
 do not know.' 'Precisely; we are going to take it 
 away from you. We do it for your good, lest you 
 might fall asleep and burn yourself near the fire. 
 You have nothing else ? ' — 'No, gentlemen. ' Their 
 
80 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 visits and such scenes as this were frequent; hut 
 except when I was positively interrogated I never 
 spoke, not even to those who brought my food." 
 
 On the day following Madame Elisabeth's death, 
 a man to whom the municipal officers showed great 
 respect, presented himself in the prison of the young 
 Princess. She did not know him. Suspecting that 
 she was in the presence of some powerful individual, 
 she did not speak a word to him, but merely handed 
 him a paper on which these lines were written : " My 
 brother is ill; I have written to the Convention for 
 permission to nurse him; the Convention has not 
 yet answered me; I reiterate my request." The 
 man was Robespierre. After giving him the paper, 
 the prisoner went on reading without raising her 
 eyes to his face. She thus describes the visit in her 
 journal: "One day there came a man — I think it 
 was Robespierre; the municipals showed him great 
 respect. His visit was a secret for the people in the 
 tower, who either did not know who he was, or were 
 unwilling to tell me; he looked at me insolently, 
 glanced over my books, and after searching with the 
 municipals, he went away." 
 
 After her aunt's departure, Marie TherSse spent 
 nearly fifteen months alone, a prey to sadness and 
 the most painful reflections, asking for nothing, and 
 mending even her own shoes and stockings. This 
 graceful and affecting captive in her sixteenth year 
 impresses the imagination and moves the heart. 
 One thinks of her at night, in her cruel solitude, 
 
SOLITUDE 81 
 
 listening to some distant noise which may be a 
 signal of deliverance, but is more probably a signal 
 of death. She pays close attention. It is a passer-by, 
 who, in going through the adjoining streets, hums 
 at the risk of his life some royalist refrain, whose 
 echo reaches the prisoner. At other times hawkers 
 cry their odious pamphlets and shameless journals 
 in the darkness, or drunken men chant the Marseil- 
 laise or howl the Ca ira. But there is one angelic 
 voice whose pious harmonies rise above all these 
 human discords. It is that of Madame Elisabeth; 
 the ear does not hear it, but the soul does. The 
 dead woman still speaks. Befuncta adhue loquitur. 
 And through the silence of solitude and the dark- 
 ness, the echo of this mysterious and sublime voice 
 from beyond the tomb, penetrates the dismal Temple 
 tower and inspires the orphan with the true senti- 
 ments of a Christian. Madame Elisabeth continues 
 in death the work she began in life, and it is she 
 who gives her niece the moral and material energy 
 indispensable to endure such tortures. 
 
 In the month of September, 1795, the Duchess of 
 Tourzel, being authorized to pay the prisoner a visit, 
 asked how it was that a person so sensitive as she 
 did not succumb under such a weight of sorrows ; to 
 which question the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie 
 Antoinette answered: "Without religion it would 
 have been impossible. Religion was my only re- 
 source, and it procured for me the only consolations 
 of which my heart could be susceptible. I had 
 
82 THE DUCHESS OF 4NG0ULEME 
 
 preserved my Aunt Elisabeth's books of devotion, I 
 read them, I recalled her counsels to mind, I sought 
 never to deviate from them, and to follow them 
 exactly. On embracing me for the last time and 
 inciting me to courage and resignation, she posi- 
 tively enjoined me to ask that a woman might be 
 placed with me. Although I infinitely preferred 
 solitude to any one they would have given me at the 
 time, my respect for my aunt's wishes did not per- 
 mit me to hesitate. They refused, and I was very 
 glad of it. 
 
 " My aunt, who foresaw only too clearly the mis- 
 fortunes in store for me, had accustomed me to wait 
 on myself and to need no assistance. She had so 
 regulated my life that every hour was occupied; the 
 care of my room, prayer, reading, work, — all had 
 their own time. She had habituated me to make my 
 bed alone, to comb my hair, and dress myself; more- 
 over, she had neglected nothing which could contrib- 
 ute to my health. She made me sprinkle water about, 
 so as to freshen the air of my room, and had also 
 required me to walk very fast for an hour, with a 
 watch in my hand, in order to prevent stagnation 
 of the humors." 
 
 The young girl , followed these prescriptions of 
 moral and physical hygiene to the letter. It was 
 this that saved her, almost as if by miracle. " For 
 myself," she says in her journal, "I asked nothing 
 but mere necessaries; sometimes they were rudely 
 refused. But I could at least keep myself clean ; I 
 
SOLITUDE 83 
 
 had soap and water. I swept the room every day; 
 I had it done by nine o'clock, when they came to 
 bring my breakfast. I had no lights; but in the 
 long days I suffered less from this privation. They 
 would no longer give me books; I had only pious 
 ones and some travels which I had read a thousand 
 times; I had also some knitting, which bored me 
 dreadfully." 
 
 Despite an energy truly wonderful in so young a 
 person, the daughter of Louis XVI. came very near 
 dying in the Temple, like her brother. " When she 
 heard the general alarm beaten," says the Duchess 
 of Tourzel in her Memoirs, "she experienced a 
 gleam of hope ; for in her sad condition, any change 
 seemed for the better, since she had no fear of death. 
 One day she thought she had reached the term of her 
 troubles, and she beheld death approaching with the 
 calmness of innocence and virtue. She was so ill 
 that she lost consciousness, and when she awoke as 
 from profound slumber, she knew not how long she 
 had remained in this state. Notwithstanding all 
 her courage, she owned to us that she was so weary 
 of her profound solitude that she said to herself: 'If 
 they should end by putting any person with me who 
 was not a monster, I feel that I could not avoid 
 loving her. ' " 
 
 On the day when Robespierre fell — the 9th Ther- 
 midor (July 27, 1794) — Marie ThdrSse, alarmed by 
 the tumult whose echoes reached the Temple, thought 
 herself lost. "I heard them beat the general alarm," 
 
84 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 she says, " and sound the tocsin ; I was very uneasy. 
 The municipals who were at the Temple did not 
 budge. When they brought my dinner, I dared not 
 ask what was going on." 
 
 Barras, who had been appointed commander-in- 
 chief of the armed forces by the Convention at the 
 time when, threatened by the riot this Assembly 
 seemed about to perish, marched at noon upon the 
 H6tel-de-Ville, then occupied by the insurgents ; he 
 outlawed them, and arrested Robespierre and his 
 accomplices. Hardly had he been overthrown than 
 Bar&re — the Anaereon of the guillotine, as he was 
 called — inveighed against him in the Convention, 
 then in permanent session. "He had the audacity," 
 says Barras, in his still unpublished Memoirs, "to 
 ' accuse the tyrant of wishing to re-establish the 
 son of Louis XVI. on the throne, and of planning 
 on his own behalf to marry Mademoiselle, the 
 daughter of that monarch. ..." In consequence 
 of BarSre's statement, and in accordance with 
 that system of lies intended for the people which 
 the most widely diverse governments seem to pass 
 from one to another with the same end of decep- 
 tion in view, the committee spread a rumor that 
 the captives of the Temple, the unhappy children of 
 Louis XVI., had escaped. The two committees, the 
 majority of whom were still Jacobins, had dissem- 
 inated this false report in order to cast a suspicion 
 of royalism on the Thermidorian party. 
 
 Barras wished to see with his own eyes how things 
 
SOLITUDE 85 
 
 really stood. At six in the morning of the 10th 
 Thermidor he went to the Temple, accompanied by- 
 several members of the committees and deputies 
 from the Convention, in full uniform. He wished 
 to show himself, at the head of his cortege, at the 
 principal military stations of Paris and cause the 
 troops to renew their oath to be faithful to the Con- 
 vention. He came to a halt at the Temple station, 
 where he doubled the guard, commanded the munic- 
 ipal officers to remain permanently and exercise the 
 strictest vigilance, and then went up into the great 
 tower, where he successively saw Louis XVII. and 
 his sister. 
 
 This is what Marie The"r£se wrote in her journal 
 concerning this visit : " The iOth Thermidor, at six 
 in the morning, I heard a frightful noise at the 
 Temple; the guard called to arms, the drum beat, 
 and the doors opened and closed. All this racket 
 was occasioned -by a visit from certain members of 
 the National Assembly, who came to assure them- 
 selves that all was quiet. I heard the bolts of my 
 brother's chamber drawn. I sprang out of bed and 
 was dressed when the members of the Convention 
 reached my room. Barras was among them; they 
 were in full dress, which astonished me, because I 
 was not accustomed to see them so, and was always 
 fearing something or other. Barras talked to me, 
 calling me by my name ; he was surprised to find me 
 up, and said several things to which I made no an- 
 swer. They departed, and I heard them haranguing 
 
86 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the guards under the windows and telling them to be 
 faithful to the National Convention. There were 
 many shouts of: 'Long live the Republic! Long 
 live the Convention! ' The guard was doubled." 
 
 Some hours after the visit of Barras to the Temple, 
 Robespierre and his principal accomplices were con- 
 ducted to the scaffold, amid cries of joy and curses 
 from the people. The next day, 11th Thermidor, 
 the committees pf Public Safety and General Secu- 
 rity ratified the choice which had made Barras guar- 
 dian of the children of Louis XVI. They decreed 
 that " Citizen Laurent, member of the Revolutionary 
 Committee of the Temple, should be put provision- 
 ally in charge of the tyrant's children." The two 
 committees united in enjoining "the most exact 
 surveillance." 
 
 Laurent was installed on the day of his appoint- 
 ment, 11th Thermidor, toward half-past nine in the 
 evening, by several members of the municipality. 
 His first care was to visit the prison of Marie 
 The"r$se. "I was in bed," she says, "without any 
 light, and not asleep, so anxious was I about what 
 was going on; some pne knocked on my door to 
 show me to Laurent, commissioner of the Conven- 
 tion, who had been given charge of my brother and 
 me. I rose, and these gentlemen made a thorough 
 search, showing Laurent everything, and then going 
 away. 
 
 " The next day at ten o'clock, Laurent entered my 
 room, and asked me politely whether I needed any- 
 
SOLITUDE 87 
 
 thing. He came three times a day, always behaved 
 with civility, and did not say 'thou' to me. He never 
 searched the bureaus and commodes. I very soon 
 asked him for what interested me so keenly, news 
 of my parents, of whose death I was ignorant, and 
 also to be re-united to my mother. He answered with 
 a very sad expression that that was not his affair. 
 
 " The next day some men in scarfs came, to whom 
 I put the same questions. They also answered that 
 it was not their affair, and that they could not 
 understand why I did not want to remain here, 
 because it seemed to them that I was very well off. 
 'It is frightful,' I said to them, 'to be separated 
 from my mother for a year without learning any 
 news of her or of my aunt either.' 'You are not 
 ill?' — 'No, sir; but heart sickness is the most cruel 
 of all.' 'I tell you we can do nothing about it; I 
 advise you to be patient, and to hope in the justice 
 and goodness of the French people. ' I said nothing 
 more." 
 
 Meanwhile a certain change for the better took 
 place in the attitude of the guardians of the Prin- 
 cess. In speaking of Laurent, she says: "I have 
 nothing but praise for his manners during all the 
 time he was in service. He often asked if I needed 
 anything; he begged me to tell him what I would 
 like, and to ring whenever I required something. 
 He gave back my tinder-box and candle. 
 
 "At the end of October (1794), at one o'clock in 
 the morning, I was asleep when some one knocked 
 
THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 at my door; I arose in haste and opened it trem- 
 bling with fear. I saw two members of the committee 
 with Laurent; they looked at me and went away 
 without saying anything. 
 
 ~" The winter passed quietly enough. I was satis- 
 fied with the civility of my guardians ; they wished to 
 make my fire and gave me all the wood I wanted, 
 which pleased me. They also brought the books I 
 asked for; Laurent had already procured me some. 
 My greatest grief was that I could obtain no news of 
 my mother and my aunt; I dared not ask for any 
 concerning my uncles and my great-aunts, but I 
 thought of them incessantly." 
 
 Notwithstanding the comparative amelioration in 
 the rigors of her captivity, Marie Ther&se continued 
 to see nobody except her guardians at the hours 
 when they brought her meals, and from time to time 
 the commissioners of the Convention, who came to 
 make sure that she was still a prisoner. The Duch- 
 ess of Tourzel has written in her Memoirs : " I asked 
 Madame one day if she had never been put to incon- 
 venience during the time of her profound solitude. 
 'My person occupied me so little,' she replied, 'that 
 I did not pay it much attention. ' It was then that 
 she spoke of the fainting-fit which I mentioned 
 above, adding such affecting remarks on the slight 
 esteem she had for life that no one could listen to 
 her without profound emotion. I cannot recall 
 these details unmoved ; but I should reproach myself 
 if I did not make known the courage and generosity 
 
SOLITUDE 89 
 
 of this young Princess. Far from complaining of all 
 she had had to suffer in that horrible tower which 
 reminded her of so many woes, she never voluntarily 
 spoke of it, and her memory could never efface from 
 her heart the love of a country she always held so 
 dear." Her parents had taught her to forgive inju- 
 ries. She was as good a Frenchwoman as she was a 
 Christian, and her patriotism alone was equal to her 
 religion. 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 
 
 WE have just narrated what took place on the 
 third floor of the great tower of the Temple 
 after Marie Antoinette departed to the Conciergerie. 
 Let us now examine what occurred on the second 
 floor of the same tower. Dante's infernal regions 
 present no more horrible spectacle than that of the 
 tortures to which the son of Louis XVI. was sub- 
 jected. His dungeon was not an ordinary prison. 
 It was a sort of foul and repulsive kennel, a place of 
 abomination and desolation, a sepulchre full of 
 terrors, wherein the poor little captive united to the 
 consciousness of life the agonies of a never-ceasing 
 death. The poisonous atmosphere he breathed 
 deprived him of all appetite and corrupted the mis- 
 erable food they brought him. His chamber was no 
 better than a pestilential sewer, infested by rats and 
 mice. Great black spiders crawled over his bed at 
 night. To rid himself of their hideous contact he 
 would rise and sit on his chair, passing the night 
 with his elbows resting on the table. At other 
 times he would fill his hat with the scraps of meat 
 and crusts of bread left from his meals and place 
 90 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 91 
 
 it in the middle of the floor. There the rats and 
 mice would gather around it and leave him to get a 
 few minutes of repose. 
 
 It is said in the work of Simien-Despr£aux, who 
 was informed by Gagnie", chief cook at the Temple, 
 that "the young Prince led an apathetic existence 
 amid repulsive uncleanliness. . . . His arms, thighs, 
 and legs grew singularly long at the expense of his 
 breast and body ; three tumors, to which no one con- 
 descended to pay the least attention, developed them- 
 selves on his knee, his wrist, and his arm. An acrid 
 and violent humor gathered in them and corroded 
 the flesh; a sort of eruption ate into his neck, and 
 his beautiful chestnut hair seemed to take root, if 
 one may say so, in the cavities formed by the puru- 
 lent humor. . . . His whole neck, from its lower 
 extremity up to the roots of the hair was covered 
 with a persistent eruption, made more painful still 
 because the wretched child, carrying his fingers 
 thither by a natural impulse, scratched it inces- 
 santly, and made the wounds bleed with his nails, 
 which had grown very long." 
 
 People supposed that M. de Beauchesne had ex- 
 hausted the subject of Louis XVII. 's martyrdom in 
 his eloquent and affecting book. They were mis- 
 taken. The work published by M. Chantelauze 
 under the title: Louis XVII. , his childhood, im- 
 prisonment, and death in the Temple; after unpub- 
 lished documents of the National Archives, has given 
 many new details of this captivity, the most touching 
 
92 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTJLEME 
 
 and doleful made known to us by history. The cob- 
 bler Simon had assuredly been a cruel persecutor to 
 the son of Louis XVI., but the unhappy child had 
 learned to long for this tormentor. Solitary confine- 
 ment was still more terrible than the presence of such 
 a monster. Simon's wife may have been a vixen, but 
 still she sometimes took pity on the little prisoner, 
 and even though she ill-used him, she washed and 
 combed him, she made his bed and swept his room. 
 But on January 19, 1794, the odious guardian, 
 obliged to choose between his functions at the 
 Temple and his position as member of the Council- 
 General, abandoned the first to preserve the second. 
 It was then decided that the cobbler should have no 
 successor. The Simon household disappeared, and 
 after January 20, 1794, the royal child underwent 
 the severest hardships of solitary confinement. It 
 was considered that the whole of the second floor of 
 the great tower would be much too large a prison for 
 him. His quarters were restricted, therefore, to 
 a single room, that at the back, which had been 
 formerly occupied by Clery. The door separating 
 this room from the antechamber was cut in two, 
 breast high, furnished with bars and gratings and 
 iron plates, and secured with nails and screws. On 
 the lower part of the door, at the same height, was 
 fastened a table with two leaves, above which was a 
 wicket of iron cross-bars, closed with a solid pad- 
 lock. Through this wicket the child's coarse meals 
 were passed, watery soups in which a few lentils 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 93 
 
 floated, scraps of dry boiled beef, black bread, and 
 a jug of water, but never any wine. On the edge 
 of this table the little prisoner had to place the 
 earthen vessel which he had used. 
 
 Never any fire on the hearth, never any light at 
 night. Darkness, solitude, and terror. Behold the 
 descendant of so many kings, the heir of Saint 
 Louis, Henri IV., and Louis XIV., trembling in 
 every limb, and more to be pitied than the sorriest 
 of beggars. Behold in him the type of grief, a liv- 
 ing corpse, laden with the proof of how far human 
 misery may extend. His legs, on account of the 
 swelling of his knees, are squeezed as in a vice by 
 pantaloons too narrow, which he is compelled to 
 wear both day and night, as he does his ragged gray 
 jacket. Poor child! His dull, his frightful soli- 
 tude is interrupted only hj the nightly rounds of the 
 commissioners who come to make personally sure of 
 his presence in the dungeon. "Are you asleep, 
 Capet? Get up! Come here!" And the little 
 prisoner starting out of sleep, almost dead with fear, 
 jumps out of the foot of his bed, and runs with bare 
 feet across the icy floor. " Here I am, citizen ; what 
 do you want of me?" — " To see you ; now go back 
 to bed, little whelp." These were the only times 
 when he saw human faces. Treated as if he had the 
 plague or were a leper, he did not even see the hand 
 of the person who thrust his meagre pittance through 
 the hole cut in the door. He never heard any sound 
 but the drawing of the bolts that shut him in. His 
 
94 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTJLEME 
 
 moral sufferings were not less atrocious than his 
 physical ones. 
 
 In spite of all that had been "done to stultify and 
 debase him, he still retained sufficient intelligence 
 to compare the present with the past, to remember 
 all that he had lost and to be conscious of the depths 
 of the abyss into which he had been precipitated. 
 Listen to the narrative of the victim's sister: "I 
 knew they had had the cruelty to leave my poor 
 brother alone. It was an unheard-of barbarity, which 
 is surely unexampled, to abandon, in this way, an un- 
 fortunate child of eight years, who was already ill, 
 and keep him shut up in his chamber, under lock 
 and bar, with nothing to aid him except a wretched 
 bell which he never rang because he was so afraid of 
 the people he might have summoned, and preferred 
 to do without rather than ask his persecutors for the 
 least thing. He was in a bed which had not been 
 shaken up in six months, and which he was no 
 longer strong enough to make; fleas and other 
 insects covered it, and his linen and person were 
 full of them. His stockings and shirt had not been 
 changed for more than a year. His window, closed 
 with chains and bars, was never opened, and no one 
 could stay in his chamber on account of the foul 
 odor. It is true that my brother neglected himself; 
 he might have taken a little more care of his person, 
 and at least washed himself, since they gave him a 
 jug of water; but this unhappy child was dying with 
 fear; he never asked for anything, so much had 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 95 
 
 Simon and his other keepers made him tremble. He 
 did nothing all day long. They never gave him any 
 light. This condition was most injurious to his 
 mind as well as his body. It is not surprising that 
 he fell into a frightful consumption. That he had a 
 strong constitution is proved by the time his health 
 remained good, and his long struggle against so 
 many cruelties." 
 
 While Madame Elisabeth was still in the tower, 
 there had been a time when Marie The"rese thought 
 her brother had left the prison. "On January 19," 
 she says in her journal, " we heard a great noise in 
 my brother's apartments, which made us conjecture 
 that he was going to leave the Temple, and we were 
 convinced of it when, by looking through the key- 
 hole, we saw some parcels taken away. On the fol- 
 lowing days we heard the door open and people 
 walking in the chamber, and we remained persuaded 
 that he had gone. We supposed that some distin- 
 guished person must have been put down stairs ; but 
 I afterwards knew that it was Simon who departed. 
 Being forced to choose between a place as municipal 
 officer and that of guardian to my brother, he had 
 preferred the first." 
 
 The noise which had occasioned the error of the 
 two captives was made by the men who were at 
 work for two days on Louis XVII. 's narrow dun- 
 geon. They finished it January 21, 1794, the first 
 anniversary of Louis XVI. 's death. 
 
 From time to time Marie Th^rese obtained tidings 
 
.96 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 of her brother through certain compassionate souls, 
 the turnkey Baron, and Caron the kitchen servant. 
 But they did not tell her all. It would have caused 
 her too much suffering. Why did they not allow 
 her to go down to the second floor, to open the 
 door of the room where the poor child was groaning, 
 and succor, console, care for, and save him? She 
 would have been his good angel, she would have 
 rescued him from misery and death. All that was 
 necessary to accomplish this work of deliverance and 
 salvation was for her to descend a few steps, and she 
 was forbidden to do sol What a torture for this 
 sublime young girl who would so willingly have 
 given her life to save that of her brother ! 
 
 When Barras visited the Temple, July 27 (10 
 Thermidor II.), he wished to see the little Prince. 
 The iron door of the dungeon was unfastened, and 
 it turned upon its rusty hinges for the first time in 
 more than six months. The frightened child ex- 
 claimed: "I have no fault to find with my keepers." 
 Barras, stupefied by the horrible sight he witnessed, 
 responded : " For my part, I shall make lively com- 
 plaints about the filthy condition of this chamber." 
 He afterwards questioned the young Prince veiy 
 gently about the state of his health. 
 
 The little prisoner complained of very severe' pains 
 in his knees and of not being able to bend them. 
 Barras saw for himself that a tumor had produced 
 great damage there, and that the condition of the 
 child, who had lost appetite and could not sleep, was 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 97 
 
 hopeless. Crushed and broken down by suffering, 
 his body bent double like that of an old man, his 
 eyes dull and his face pallid, the son of kings looked 
 like a spectre. Where now were the days when, 
 under the trees of Versailles, the Tuileries, or Saint 
 Cloud, he seemed so graceful with his soft, deep 
 eyes, his curling hair, his transparent complexion, 
 brilliant and glowing as if lighted by an inward 
 flame? What had become of that radiant, angelic 
 child, beautiful as his mother or as the day? Job's 
 dunghill was less lamentable than the sewer where 
 groaned this little innocent. 
 
 In spite of the reaction that was beginning, the 
 men of Thermidor were still savages. As a rumor 
 was spreading to the effect that a change for the 
 better was to be made in the condition of the chil- 
 dren of Louis XVI., the Committee of General 
 Security had just declared in presence of the Con- 
 vention that it had issued no instructions that could 
 be so construed. "The Committee," said they, 
 "have absolutely no thought of ameliorating the 
 captivity of Capet's children. The Committee and 
 the Convention know how the heads of kings are 
 made to fall ; but they do not know how their chil- 
 dren are to be brought up." 
 
 In spite of the injunctions of Barras, Laurent, 
 the new guardian of Louis XVII., either through 
 negligence or fear of compromising himself, allowed 
 a month and four days to elapse before cleaning the 
 wretched child's room. September 1, 1794, with 
 
THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the assistance of several persons, and especially of 
 Gagnie", the chief cook, he unclosed the iron door 
 and broke the round wicket. The little prisoner 
 trembled like a leaf on hearing the sound of the 
 hammers and the grinding of the bolts. They found 
 him extended on his miserable pallet, pale, livid, 
 with lack-lustre eyes, bent back, arms and legs far 
 too long for his age, his wrists and ankles swollen 
 by tumors, and the nails of his hands and feet as 
 long as those of a wild beast. On a little table lay 
 his dinner which he had not touched. Gagnie" said to 
 him: "Monsieur Charles" — they no longer called 
 him Capet — " why don't you eat ? You ought to 
 eat." "No, my friend," replied the child; "no, I 
 want to die." Caron, the cook's assistant, cut his 
 hair which had stuck fast in his sores. His nails, 
 which were as hard as horn, were likewise trimmed. 
 They took off his vermin-covered clothing and 
 installed him in the chamber formerly occupied by 
 his father until his own should be thoroughly 
 cleansed. Some of the window-blinds were removed, 
 so that more light could enter, and the sashes were 
 opened to admit air. Clean linen was substituted 
 for his half-rotten sheets. One of the two beds in 
 his sister's apartment was brought down stairs and 
 the little prisoner .laid upon it. A surgeon came 
 from time to time to wash and dress his sores. 
 When his room had been cleaned the child was put 
 back there, but they left him all alone. 
 
 Marie The"r£se still had no communication with 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 99 
 
 her brother. She was destined never to see him 
 again. It was formally forbidden that the brother 
 and sister should take their walk at the same time. 
 Not only were they never to be allowed to meet, but 
 their guardians were bidden to conceal from them 
 that they were detained in the same place. Louis 
 XVII. never heard any tidings of his sister, and if 
 Marie Ther£se occasionally obtained a few details 
 concerning him, it was only through some departure 
 from the strictest orders. No change in their food 
 had yet been permitted. The decree of Septem- 
 ber 23, 1793, which condemned them to the same 
 wretched fare as was given to thieves and assassins, 
 had been rigorously observed. Even the half-bottle 
 of wine to which Louis XVII. was entitled by this' 
 decree, and which was given to his sister, was with- 
 held from him. And during all this time, the mu- 
 nicipal officers and the jailers were feasting from 
 morning to night at the expense of the State. 
 
 Weakened and ricketty as he was, no longer more 
 than a sort of phantom, the unhappy child was still, 
 in the eyes of all Europe and of many Frenchmen, 
 His Most Christian Majesty, the King of France and 
 Navarre. Even in Paris itself the poor little pris- 
 oner had numerous partisans. This puny child 
 alarmed the terrible Convention. At no price would 
 they grant him his liberty. In the session of January 
 22, 1795, CambacerSs, in the name of the two Com- 
 mittees, read a report which concluded thus: "An 
 enemy is much less dangerous when he is in your 
 
100 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 power than when he has passed into the hands of 
 those who sustain his cause or have embraced his 
 party. Let us suppose that Capet's heir should find 
 himself in the midst of our enemies ; you would soon 
 find him present at every point where our legions 
 had enemies to combat. Even should he cease to 
 exist, he would be found again everywhere, and this 
 chimera would long serve to nourish the guilty 
 hopes of Frenchmen who are traitors to their coun- 
 try. . . . There is little danger in holding Capet's 
 family in captivity; there is much in expelling 
 them. The expulsion of tyrants has almost always 
 prepared the way for their return, and if Rome had 
 detained the Tarquins, she would not have had to 
 combat them." 
 
 Meanwhile the Vende"ans were fighting in the 
 name of Louis XVII., and in Paris the secret police 
 agents declared there was a rising public sentiment 
 in favor of the young Prince. His name was spoken 
 in market-places and suburbs. Everybody felt inter- 
 ested in what was done at the Temple. Sometimes 
 it was said the little prisoner had been abducted, 
 and sometimes that he was soon to be proclaimed 
 king. These verses were posted up in the National 
 Garden : — 
 
 " Guilty nation, gone astray, 
 And to cruel plagues a prey, 
 Wouldst thou from thy bosom chase 
 Famine, dearth, and all their race ? 
 Put the baker's journeyman 
 In his father's shop again." 
 
THE LAST DATS OF LOUIS XVII 101 
 
 A certain change for the better had been effected 
 in the treatment of the son of Louis XVI. Gomin, 
 appointed Laurent's assistant, November 8, 1794, 
 and Lasne, who replaced Laurent, April 1, 1795, 
 showed him a respect to which he had long been 
 unaccustomed. His cruel solitude was interrupted 
 now and again. They brought him cards and 
 chatted with him. They took him up to the plat- 
 form of the tower to breathe a little fresh air. But 
 all this came too late. Crushed by anguish, the 
 child was irrevocably doomed. The attentions of 
 Gomin and Lasne could not possibly avail. The 
 Duchess of Tourzel writes in her Memoirs : " Gomin 
 told me that when the young Prince was placed in 
 their hands his neglected condition not only made 
 him painful to behold, but occasioned most disa- 
 greeable troubles to himself. He had fallen into a 
 state of continual absorption, spoke little, and was 
 unwilling either to walk or to occupy himself with 
 anything whatever. And yet he had some surpris- 
 ing flashes of genius. He liked to quit his room, 
 and was pleased when they took him into the coun- 
 cil-chamber and seated him near the window. Poor 
 Gomin, who in spite of his good-will was unskilled 
 in the care of the sick, did not at first perceive that 
 this absorption proceeded from a malady by which 
 the poor little Prince had been attacked, and was 
 the result of ill treatment and the lack of air and 
 exercise, even more necessary to this child than to 
 another; for in speaking of the beauty of face which 
 
102 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOVLEME 
 
 outlasted his life, he praises the two rosy apples on 
 his cheeks, which but too plainly announced the 
 internal fever wasting him. But he was not slow 
 to perceive that all the child's joints were swollen, 
 and he asked more than once to have a doctor exam- 
 ine him. No attention was paid to his entreaties, 
 and Desault, chief surgeon at the H6tel-Dieu, was 
 not sent there until his aid had become entirely 
 useless." 
 
 On May 6, 1795, Doctor Desault, one of the most 
 celebrated physicians of the day, arrived at the 
 Temple, and lavished all his cares on the innocent 
 victim. The young Prince showed his gratitude to 
 the good doctor by breaking the silence he observed 
 with his jailers and the municipal commissioners. 
 When these persons announced that the visit must 
 end, the child, unwilling to ask them to prolong it, 
 held fast to the tail of Desault's coat. But the 
 doctor's death was to precede that of the young 
 invalid. "Desault," says the Duchess of Tourzel, 
 " experienced the keenest emotion on beholding the 
 deplorable state to which the august and unfortunate 
 child had been reduced. He had the greatest desire 
 for his recovery, and employed all his skill to that 
 effect. His whole mind was bent on it; he slept 
 neither day nor night, and spent all his time in seek- 
 ing some means by which it might be accomplished. 
 His imagination became so overheated that his health 
 suffered in consequence. He experienced great 
 physical disturbance which his fear of being super- 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 108 
 
 seded by some one whose sentiments would be dif- 
 ferent, made him undertake to quell; his humors 
 inflamed, and he was attacked by a dysentery which 
 carried him to the grave in a few days." Desault 
 fell seriously ill in the night of May 29-30, and 
 died on June 1. Strange rumors got into circula- 
 tion concerning this sudden death. Some claimed 
 that the doctor had been poisoned because he refused 
 to poison the little Prince. Others tried to spread 
 the absurd report that having obeyed a secret order 
 to administer slow poison to the young invalid, he 
 had been poisoned in his turn so as to efface the 
 traces of his crime. 
 
 Louis XVII. finally reached the end of his mis- 
 eries. "My brother's malady grew worse daily," 
 writes Marie : The'rdse ; " even his mind felt the 
 effects of the severity used towards him, and insen- 
 sibly weakened. The Committee of General Secu- 
 rity sent Doctor Desault to attend him ; he undertook 
 his cure, although he recognized that the malady 
 was very dangerous. Desault died, and was suc- 
 ceeded by Dumaugin and Surgeon Pelletan. They 
 entertained no hopes of his recovery. He was given 
 medicines which he swallowed with difficulty. 
 Happily, his malady did not cause him much suffer- 
 ing; it was a case of prostration and decline, rather 
 than of acute pains." Alas! this final sentence 
 testifies to an illusion on the part of the young Prin- 
 cess. The wretched child experienced the most 
 cruel tortures to the very end of his life. "How 
 
104 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 unhappy I am to see you suffer like that ! " said 
 Gomin to him. "Console yourself," replied the 
 little martyr; "I shall not suffer always." A few 
 minutes before yielding up his soul, he turned his 
 head toward his two guardians, and feebly mur- 
 mured his last words : " Put me in a place where I 
 shall not suffer so ! " 
 
 Marie Th6r&se ends her journal in the Temple by 
 mentioning this death in the following words : " Thus 
 died, June 9, 1795, at three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 Louis XVII., aged ten years and two months. The 
 commissioners wept bitterly, so much had he made 
 himself beloved by them for his amiable qualities. 
 He had possessed much intelligence, but the prison 
 and the horrors he had been subjected to had greatly 
 altered it; even if he had lived, it is to be feared 
 that his mind would have been affected. 
 
 " I do not believe that he was poisoned, as people 
 said and continue to say; that is false according to 
 the testimony of the physicians who opened the 
 body, and found riot the least trace of poison. The 
 drugs he had been using in his last illness were 
 analyzed and found innocuous. The only poison 
 which shortened his life was uncleanliness joined to 
 horrible treatment, cruelty, and the unexampled 
 severity exercised towards him. 
 
 " Such has been the life and death of my virtuous 
 relatives during their sojourn in the Temple and 
 other prisons. 
 
 "Done at the Temple tower." 
 
THE LAST DATS OF LOUIS XVII 105 
 
 The death of the poor little Prince was concealed 
 from Marie The"rese for a considerable time. The 
 child was lying inanimate within a few steps of her, 
 in the very room beneath her own, and she did not 
 know it; she was as ignorant of this death as she 
 still remained of those of Marie Antoinette and 
 Madame Elisabeth. When, several weeks later, she 
 learned that she had lost her mother, her aunt, and 
 her brother, she remained inconsolable because she 
 had not been able to nurse the innocent victim who 
 had suffered so much. 
 
 During all the nights preceding his death the poor 
 child had been left alone. His guardians were 
 permitted to see him only in the daytime. He 
 breathed his last sigh in Lasne's arms at three in the 
 afternoon. If he had expired in the night, he would 
 have passed away in absolute solitude. The bar- 
 barous regulation which forbade his being watched 
 at night was not repealed until he had been dead 
 some hours. His body was placed on a stretcher, 
 carried to the cemetery of Saint Marguerite, and 
 thrown into the common grave. Thus ended the 
 descendant and heir of Louis XIV. 
 
 Even this did not fill the measure of calamities 
 and painful memories for the daughter of Louis 
 XVI. She was still to be tormented all her life by 
 importunate claimants who called themselves Louis 
 XVII., and pursued her with incessant demands. 
 She declared one day that she had received letters from 
 twenty-eight different persons, each of whom said he 
 
106 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 was her brother. The history of these pretenders 
 does not enter into the design of this study. M. 
 Chantelauze, in his conscientious and remarkable 
 work, and M. Ernest Bertin, in some excellent 
 articles published in the Dibats of January 17, 27, 
 and 81, 1885, have annihilated the fables which can 
 no longer play on public credulity. It was Regnault 
 Warin, a writer completely forgotten now, who 
 settled the vocation of most of the pretended Louis 
 XVII.s by a romance called Le Oimetiire de la Made- 
 leine, which he brought out in 1798. In it he pre- 
 tends that two of Charette's emissaries had brought 
 a child stupefied by opium into the Temple, conceal- 
 ing him inside a hobby-horse presented to the little 
 Prince, and that having substituted this child for 
 Louis XVII. , the latter was carried away in the 
 packing-basket that had contained the wooden horse. 
 According to the same romance, Louis XVII. , after 
 having been first called for and then rejected by the 
 Venddan army, embarked for America, was captured 
 at sea, brought back to France, and thrown into 
 prison, where he died. " The romancer killed Louis 
 XVII.," says M. Ernest Bertin; "the claimants did 
 not carry their plagiarism so far. The wooden horse 
 was what chiefly impressed their imaginations, and 
 all of them got into it to make their escape from the 
 Temple." 
 
 The most famous of these pretenders was Naun- 
 dorff, who died in Holland, August 10, 1845. In 
 August, 1850, his widow and orphans summoned the 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 107 
 
 Duchess of AngoulSme and the children of the Duke 
 of Berry before the Seine tribunal to claim their 
 descent from Louis XVI. They lost their cause in 
 1851, appealed it in 1874, and lost it again. Those 
 interested in this strange trial may read the details 
 of it in the Gazette des Tribunaux. 
 
 The work of M. Chantelauze confirms by definite 
 facts and probable arguments the conclusions reached 
 by French magistrates. The historian has made 
 special use of the testimonies collected by Count 
 Angles, prefect of police, during an inquest ordered 
 by Louis XVIII. at the beginning of the second 
 Restoration, whose special aim was to seek out, 
 interrogate, and recompense all persons who had 
 shown any humanity in their dealings with the pris- 
 oners of the Temple. M. Chantelauze discovered 
 the reports of these interrogatories in the pigeon- 
 holes of the National Archives, and they furnished 
 him the means whereby to destroy the legends of the 
 false Louis XVII. The testimony of Simon's widow 
 and the dumbness of the child who died in the 
 Temple, had been relied on to prove it possible that 
 the son of Louis XVI. might have escaped. Simon's 
 widow had alleged, in 1817, that Doctor Desault, on 
 seeing the corpse of the pretended Louis XVII. , 
 had said he did not recognize the body of the young 
 Prince. Now, this woman had either forgotten or 
 did not know that Desault died June 1, 1795, eight 
 days before Louis XVII. The story of .the dumb 
 child, was no better founded. Numerous persons, 
 
108 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 among them Gomin and Lasne the keepers, and 
 Commissioners Bellanger and Dumont, declared they 
 had heard Louis XVII. speak during his last days. 
 Two of the pretended sons of Louis XVI., Riche- 
 mont and Naundorff, asserted that they had been 
 rescued by the Count of Frotte\ Richemont said 
 his rescue was effected in June, 1794. Now, in a 
 letter addressed to a Mrs. Atkym, in March, 1795, 
 M. de Frotte* speaks regretfully of the impossibility 
 of such a deliverance. Naundorff affirmed that he 
 had been saluted as king in the midst of Charette's 
 soldiers. Now, in 1796, Charette in an official proc- 
 lamation accused the republicans of having caused 
 Louis XVII. to perish in prison. 
 
 Yes, the true Louis XVII. , as we believe, is the 
 unhappy child who died in the Temple, June 9, 
 1795. But is not the very fact of the doubts that 
 have been entertained about his death and the 
 mystery that surrounds his remains in the common 
 grave a striking one ? How could the son of Bour- 
 bons and of Hapsburgs, the heir of Saint Louis, 
 Henri IV., and Louis XIV., the child whose cradle 
 had been encircled by so many adulators, the Dau- 
 phin of ideal beauty and rare intelligence, who was 
 never shown to the crowd without exciting general 
 admiration and enthusiasm, disappear thus into si- 
 lence and profound darkness! Who are they who 
 identify the descendant of so many kings ? Are they 
 high and mighty lords, or personages entrusted with 
 great court appointments ? No ; they are poor peo- 
 
THE LAST DAYS OF LOUIS XVII 109 
 
 pie, obscure wardens, men of the lower classes. 
 Compare the death of Louis XVII. with his birth. 
 How many things had changed in ten years ! what 
 more striking example than this of worldly vicissi- 
 tudes ! 
 
VI 
 
 THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 
 
 THE news of Louis XVII. 's death caused a pro- 
 found impression. Worn out by its own fury, 
 even the Convention felt its anger lessen and its 
 hatred weaken. June 18, 1795, a deputation from 
 the city of Orleans came to its bar to demand that 
 the daughter of Louis XVI. should be set at liberty, 
 in a petition which contained these words : " Citizen 
 representatives, while you have broken the chains of 
 so many victims of a suspicious and cruel policy, a 
 young unfortunate condemned to weep, deprived of 
 all consolation, all support, reduced to lament for 
 all she held most dear, the daughter of Louis XVI., 
 still languishes in the depths of a horrible prison. 
 So young and yet an orphan, so young and yet over- 
 whelmed by so much bitterness and so many griefs, 
 how painfully she has expiated the misfortune of her 
 august birth ! Alas ! who would not take pity on so 
 many woes, so much affliction, on such innocence 
 and youth?" 
 
 The petition terminated thus : " Come, let us all 
 surround this enclosure; form a pious cortege, ye 
 Frenchmen susceptible to pity, and ye who have 
 110 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 111 
 
 received benefits from this unhappy family; let us 
 mingle our tears, lift our supplicating hands and 
 demand liberty for this young innocent, and our 
 voices will be heard; you will surely grant it, 
 citizen representatives, and Europe will applaud 
 that resolution, and this day will be for us, and for 
 all France, a day of joy and gladness." 
 
 A few weeks earlier the authors of such a petition 
 would have been condemned to death, and now they 
 were allowed to express their wishes at the bar of 
 the Convention. An undeniable reaction in people's 
 minds had set in. From this period the severity of 
 Marie Th6re"se's captivity was notably relaxed. We 
 find the details of these ameliorations in Francois 
 Hue's book: Les Dernier -es Annies de Louis XVI ; 
 in the Duchess of Tourzel's Memoirs; and in two 
 masterly works, M. de Beauchesne's Louis XVII., 
 and the Vie de Marie ThSrise de France by M. 
 Nettement. 
 
 The solitude of the Temple orphan came to an 
 end. A decree of the Committee of Public Safety, 
 dated June 13, 1795, decided "that a woman should 
 be placed with the daughter of Louis Capet to serve 
 as her companion," and the Committee, making its 
 choice between " three women commendable for their 
 moral and republican virtues, " selected " Citizeness 
 Madeleine Elisabeth Rene'e Hilaire La Rochette, wife 
 of Citizen Bocquet de Chantereine, living in Paris 
 at No. 24 rue des Hosiers, section of the Rights of 
 Man." This woman was about thiity years of age. 
 
112 TBE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 In the references with which she was furnished, it 
 is said: "Her manners are gentle and good, and her 
 appearance modest. Although she has lived a long 
 time in the country, she is not out of place in the 
 city. Her associates, without being very brilliant, 
 have always been very select. She speaks French 
 well, and writes it easily and correctly. She knows 
 Italian also, and a little English. The study of 
 languages, history, geography, music, and drawing, 
 and the useful and amusing labors proper to her sex 
 have been the occupation of her life. Her commune, 
 which she never left until within a few monchs, is 
 that of Gouilly, near Meaux. She was notable there 
 for her popularity, and her patriotism has never been 
 suspected." 
 
 Marie The'r&se heartily welcomed Madame de 
 Chantereine. At last she met a woman who would 
 tell her the truth concerning those she held so dear. 
 The following dialogue took place between the 
 young Princess and her new companion : " Where is 
 my mother?" — "Madame has no longer a mother." 
 "And my brother ?" — " And no brother." "And 
 my aunt?" — "And no aunt." ^'What! Elisabeth 
 too ? But of what could they accuse her ? " 
 
 July 28, 1795, Madame de Chantereine wrote to 
 the Committee of Public Safety: "Citizen repre- 
 sentatives, I have deferred writing you until now, 
 in order to gain time and means to give you correct 
 ideas of my conduct toward the daughter of Louis 
 Capet, with whom the Committee has placed me. 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 113 
 
 From the first moments of my arrival I flattered 
 myself that my attentions would be successful; 
 to-day I dare assert that they have surpassed my 
 hopes; I owe this to the excellent sentiments of 
 my companion. I can but praise her, although I aid 
 her but little. Her estimable virtues are even pre- 
 cocious. Her amiable qualities and her talents need 
 only to be developed and exercised. She unites 
 firmness and energy of soul to a touching sensibility 
 of heart." 
 
 The amelioration in the young prisoner's condition 
 coincided with Madame de Chantereine's arrival at 
 the Temple. A decree of June 20, 1T95, permitted 
 some clothes to be given to the daughter of Louis 
 XVI. At last she could discard her puce-colored 
 silk frock which was all in tatters, and which she 
 had constantly been mending for more than a year. 
 "Her dress was now very suitable," says Gomin the 
 keeper. " In the morning, while in her chamber, she 
 wore a white dimity gown; in the daytime, one of 
 nankeen; on Sundays she wore cambric, and on all 
 solemn holidays she put on a green silk robe. Her 
 beautiful hair, so abundant that the fashionable 
 women of the period declared she wore a wig, hung 
 down as of old in a pleasing negligence, confined 
 sometimes by a ribbon and sometimes by a fichu 
 fastened at her forehead." 
 
 The young Princess was provided with paper, 
 pencils, India ink, brushes, Velly's History of 
 France, Fontenelle's The Worlds, the works of 
 
114 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Racine and Boileau, and the letters of Madame de 
 SeVigne" and Madame de Maintenon. Her keepers 
 were permitted to let her go down into the Temple 
 ' garden. A little spaniel which Laurent had given 
 her followed her. The young captive could then 
 be seen from the upper windows of the neighboring 
 houses. 
 
 Quite close to the tower and the garden there was 
 a large oval-shaped house, known as the Rotunda, 
 which was within the Temple precincts. The loyal 
 Francois Hue made haste to hire a room in it, so as 
 to be able to look at the Princess when she walked 
 in the garden. He says : " I could see Madame from 
 my windows, and I could be seen there ; she could 
 even hear a song sung in my room which announced' 
 that her prison doors were soon to open : — 
 
 " ' Be calm, unhappy one, 
 These doors will open soon ; 
 Soon from thy chains set free, 
 'Neath radiant skies thou'lt be. 
 Yet when from this abode 
 Of grief thou tak'st thy road, 
 Remember that e'en there, 
 True hearts made thee their care.' 
 
 " The author of this ballad was M. Lepitre, a 
 municipal officer. I also brought Mademoiselle de 
 Bravannes there so that her music might afford some 
 diversion to this angel of sweetness and virtue. 
 Besides a composition of her own called the Com- 
 plaint of the Young Prisoner, of which both words 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 115 
 
 and music were produced for the occasion, she sang 
 various other pieces. People sang also in the win- 
 dows of the houses on the rue de la Corderie, which 
 ran along the Temple enclosure on the tower side. 
 In spite of their sympathy for the Princess, the two 
 keepers, Gomin and Lasne, felt it their duty to ap- 
 prise the Committee of Public Safety of this har- 
 monious conspiracy. They wrote as follows, August 
 11, 1795: "Citizen representatives, we have noticed 
 to-day that a ballad has been sung from the win- 
 dows in the rue de la Corderie, which look into the 
 garden. As it seemed to us that this romance was 
 sung when the young prisoner was seen, we walked 
 in a different direction. Health and fraternity." 
 
 August 15, 1795, the name-day of Marie The'rSse, 
 the singing began again at the window of Francois 
 Hue's room in the Rotunda. The Princess was 
 pleased with this attention, and walked longer than 
 usual in the garden. Two days later, Gomin was 
 summoned before the Committee of Public Security. 
 "So they are giving concerts," some one said to him. 
 "Citizens," he replied, "it is an actress who is 
 rehearsing her parts." The matter was dropped for 
 the time being. But the government indirectly 
 warned Francois Hue that the homage paid to mis- 
 fortune would be respected only if things went no 
 farther. Thereupon the singing ceased, and did not 
 begin again until several weeks later. On August 
 25, in honor of the feast of Saint Louis, Marie 
 The're'se hoped to hear again the song which had 
 
116 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 moved her so much on Assumption Day. In this 
 expectation she went down to the garden, but she 
 heard no music, and was saddened and made uneasy 
 by 4he silence. 
 
 September 3, 1795, the third anniversary of the 
 massacres, those horrible preludes to still greater 
 crimes, the young captive was visited at the Temple 
 by two women for whom she entertained great affec- 
 tion, but the sight of whom recalled most painful 
 memories. These were the Marchioness of Tourzel, 
 who had been governess to the royal children, and 
 was given the rank of Duchess by Louis XVIII., in 
 1816, and her daughter Pauline, who had been the 
 childish companion of the Princess. 
 
 The Marchioness of Tourzel, the daughter of the 
 Duke of Croy-Havre\ and a Montmorency-Luxem- 
 bourg, was at this period forty-six years old. She 
 was a model of piety, devotion, and courage. On 
 the day after the taking of the Bastille, she suc- 
 ceeded, as governess to the children of France, the 
 Duchess of Polignac, who then emigrated. Her 
 susceptibility to the afflictions of the royal family, 
 and the sight of the abandonment in which they 
 were left by the departure of so many of those who 
 had surrounded them, induced Madame de Tourzel 
 to accept this perilous position. As her daughter 
 has written in her Souvenirs de quarante ans, "she 
 resigned herself to the sacrifice demanded of her. 
 At that time it was a sacrifice and a very great one ; 
 many of the woes hidden by the future might already 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 117 
 
 be foreseen." Marie Antoinette said to the new 
 governess: "Madame, I have confided our children 
 to friendship; I confide them now to virtue." Ma- 
 dame de Tourzel witnessed the scenes of October 5-6, 
 1789, the whole Varennes journey, the tragedies of 
 June 20 and August 10, 1792, and all the agonies 
 of the death-struggle of royalty. She followed the 
 royal family into the box of the Logographe and the 
 convent of the Feuillants. It was in the latter that 
 the Queen, before whom some one had just named 
 the Temple, said to her in an undertone : " You will 
 see that they will put me into that tower, and make 
 it a real prison for us. I have always had such a 
 horror of that tower that I have begged the Count of 
 Artois a thousand times to have it torn down, and 
 it was surely a presentiment of all we are to suffer 
 there." And as the governess of the royal children 
 sought to banish such an idea from the hapless 
 mother's mind, Marie Antoinette replied: "You 
 will see whether I am mistaken!" Alas! she was 
 not. 
 
 Madame de Tourzel had entered the Temple with 
 the royal family, August 13, 1792. But, to her 
 great despair, she was torn away from there during 
 the night of August 19-20, for she longed for cap- 
 tivity as others long for liberty. It was only as by 
 miracle that she escaped the blade of the Septem- 
 brists. During the examination to which she was 
 subjected, she was reproached for having accom- 
 panied the Dauphin, her pupil, to Varennes. She 
 
118 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 was courageous enough to reply: "I had taken an 
 oath never to leave him ; I could not separate from 
 him. Moreover, I was too much attached to him 
 not to endeavor to preserve his life, even at the cost 
 of my own." At the Force prison, a man, observing 
 a ring on her finger, asked her to read aloud the 
 motto on it. She complied: "Domine salvum fac 
 Regem Delphinum et Sororem ! Lord, save the King, 
 the Dauphin, and his sister! " The crowd appeared 
 angry. Some one cried out: "Throw the ring on 
 the ground!" "Impossible!" returned the govern- 
 ess of the children of France. "All I can do, if 
 you dislike to see it, is to put it in my pocket. I 
 am tenderly attached to Mgr. the Dauphin and to 
 Madame. For several years the former has been 
 under my especial care, and I love him as my own 
 child; I cannot deny the sentiments of my heart, 
 and I am sure you would despise me if I were to do 
 what you propose." 
 
 Madame de Tourzel and her daughter Pauline 
 were again incarcerated in March, 1794, and did not 
 leave their prison until the end of October of the 
 same year, three months after the death of Robes- 
 pierre. She hardly says a word concerning this last 
 captivity in her Memoirs. It is only the afflictions 
 of the royal family that concern her. " We had the 
 grief of weeping for Madame Elisabeth, that angel 
 of courage and virtue. She was Madame's support, 
 aid, and consolation. We experienced the keenest 
 anxiety for the young Princess. We imagined that 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 119 
 
 sensitive heart, all alone in the horrible tower, left to 
 herself, and without consolation in the midst of the 
 greatest griefs the heart can feel. Our own hearts 
 were torn with anguish at the thought of her situa- 
 tion and that of our dear little Prince, both treated 
 with unexampled barbarity, and deprived even of the 
 comfort of weeping together over the miseries that 
 overwhelmed them. We never even thought of 
 complaining of our own lot, for we were too much 
 occupied with that of the young King and Madame." 
 
 On the 3d of September, 1795, Madame de Tour- 
 zel, after many requests, at last obtained from the 
 Committee' of Public Safety an authorization to 
 enter the Temple with her daughter and pay a visit 
 to Madame Royale. "I asked Gauthier," she writes 
 in her Memoirs,' "if Madame had been made ac- 
 quainted with the losses she had sustained. He 
 said she knew nothing about them, and during the 
 whole way from the Committee, which sat in the 
 Hotel de Brienne, to the Temple, we were dreading 
 our probable task of apprising her that she had lost 
 all she held most dear in the world. 
 
 " On arriving at the Temple, I presented my per- 
 mission to Madame's two keepers, and asked for a 
 private interview with Madame de Chantereine. 
 She told me that Madame knew the extent of her 
 misfortunes and that we might enter. I begged her 
 to inform Madame that we were at the door. I 
 dreaded the effect that might be produced on the 
 Princess by the sight of two persons who, at her 
 
120 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 entrance into the Temple, accompanied those who 
 were dearest to her, and whose death she was forced 
 to lament. Happily, the emotion she experienced 
 had no injurious results. She advanced to meet us, 
 embraced us tenderly, and led us to her chamber, 
 where we mingled our tears over the objects of our 
 regrets. " 
 
 It is easy to understand that the interview 
 between the young Princess and her former govern- 
 ess must have been pathetic. What dismal things 
 they had to tell each other! If the daughter of 
 Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, the niece of 
 Madame Elisabeth, and the sister of , Louis XVII., 
 could recount the dramas of the Temple to Madame 
 de Tourzel, the latter could relate those of the Force 
 prison ; she could speak of the Princess of Lamballe, 
 whose companion in captivity she had been up to 
 the hour of her massacre. The governess of the 
 children of France had suffered as much as the 
 royal family. Of how many victims was she not 
 about to retrace the tragic end! What fatal tidings 
 had she not to give the youthful captive! Oh! 
 what a glance into the past ! What sinister details ! 
 What oceans of tears ! Can one imagine more pain- 
 ful confidences, a more heartrending dialogue ? The 
 very surroundings, that fateful, horrible tower itself, 
 lent additional sadness to the words exchanged. 
 The mere sight of Madame de Tourzel reminded the 
 prisoner of all the catastrophes of terrible years : of 
 the October Days, the Varennes journey, of June 20 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 121 
 
 and August 10, of the assassination of the Swiss, 
 the arrival at the Temple, and the September mas- 
 sacres. 
 
 Madame de Tourzel, on her part, experienced sen- 
 timents of admiration, veneration, and tenderness, 
 on beholding the orphan of the Temple. She would 
 have liked to kneel at the feet of the heroic and 
 angelic Princess, whose brow seemed to her sur- 
 rounded by an aureole. She says: "We had left 
 Madame feeble and delicate, and on seeing her again 
 at the end of three years of unexampled woes, we 
 were greatly astonished to find her beautiful, tall, 
 and strong, and with that air of nobility which is 
 the chief characteristic of her appearance. Pauline 
 and I were struck with her likeness to the King, 
 the Queen, and even Madame Elisabeth. Heaven, 
 which destined her to be the model of that courage 
 which, while detracting nothing from sensibility, 
 nevertheless renders the soul capable of great actions, 
 did not permit her to succumb under such a weight 
 of sorrows. 
 
 " Madame spoke of them to us with angelic sweet- 
 ness. We did not perceive the faintest touch of 
 bitterness against their authors. The worthy daugh- 
 ter of her royal father, she compassionated the 
 French people, and continued to love the country 
 where she had been so unhappy. In reply to my 
 remark that I could not help desiring her departure 
 from France, so as to see her delivered from her 
 frightful captivity, she sorrowfully responded: 'I 
 
122 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 still feel consolation in living in a country that 
 possesses the remains of what was dearest to me on 
 earth.' And in a heart-breaking tone she added: 
 'I should have been much happier to share the fate 
 of my beloved relatives than to be condemned to 
 bewail their loss.' " 
 
 Marie TherSse spoke first of the martyr-king. 
 "My father," said she, "before leaving us forever, 
 made us all promise never to think of avenging his 
 death, and he was very sure that we would consider 
 it a sacred duty to fulfil his last desire. But my 
 brother's extreme youth made him anxious to pro- 
 duce a still stronger impression on him. He took 
 him on his knee and said: 'My son, you heard what 
 I have just said, but as an oath is something still 
 more sacred than a promise, lift your hand and swear 
 that you will accomplish your father's last will. ' " 
 
 "After speaking of Louis XVI., the orphan spoke 
 of Louis XVII. and the ill usage to which he was 
 subjected daily. ' That barbarous Simon, ' said she, 
 'maltreated him in order to force him to sing the 
 Carmagnole and other detestable songs, so that the 
 Princesses could hear him; and although he had a 
 horror of wine, he forced him to drink it whenever 
 he wished to intoxicate him. ' That is what occurred 
 on the day when he obliged him to repeat in pres- 
 ence of Madame and Madame Elisabeth the horrors 
 that were brought up during the trial of our unhappy 
 Queen. At the close of this atrocious scene, the 
 wretched little Prince, who was beginning to get 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 123 
 
 sober, approached his sister and took her hand to 
 kiss it; the hideous Simon, seeing this, begrudged 
 him that slight consolation and carried him hastily 
 away, leaving the Princesses dismayed by what they 
 had just witnessed. " 
 
 The young captive afterwards related with pro- 
 found emotion all she owed to her aunt, Madame 
 Elisabeth. "These details, so interesting to hear 
 from Madame's lips," says the governess of the chil- 
 dren of France, "affected us to tears; we admired 
 the courage of that holy Princess, and the foresight 
 which included all that could be useful to Madame. 
 . . . Not content to occupy herelf with her own 
 dear ones,*she employed her last moments in prepar- 
 ing those condemned to share her fate to appear 
 before God; she practised the most heroic charity up 
 to the very moment when she went to receive the 
 recompense promised to virtue as tried and brilliant 
 as that of this holy Princess had been. Madame 
 had difficulty in believing that she had really lost 
 her. She had never believed that fury could be 
 pushed to such a point as to shorten the life of a 
 Princess who could never have taken any part in the 
 government. ... It was different with the Queen. 
 She had too often seen her spitefully entreated ; her 
 courage, and her title as mother to the young King 
 were too much feared to permit any hope to be enter- 
 tained of reunion with her. Hence their farewells 
 had been heartrending." 
 
 After conversing thus about her family, Marie 
 
124 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Th6r§se asked for tidings of all those who had been 
 attached to her, as well as to the Queen and the 
 royal family, and especially of the young girls she 
 had formerly seen with her governess. She forgot 
 nothing which could interest them. Madame de 
 Tourzel and her daughter afterwards took leave of 
 the Princess, promising to return to the Temple 
 three times every ten days, as the Committee of 
 Public Safety had given them permission to do. 
 
 The same authorization was granted to the Baron- 
 ess of Mackau, under-governess to the children of 
 France, whose daughter, the Marchioness de Bom- 
 belles, had been Madame Elisabeth's best friend. 
 Gomin has thus described their first visit to the 
 Temple: "Madame de Mackau, who was very old, 
 and wh6se health had declined through her long 
 imprisonment, appeared to be suffering and hardly 
 able to stand. Madame, who had been notified of 
 her arrival, yielded to her impatience, and running 
 to meet her, threw herself into her arms. The 
 former under-governess tried to excuse herself for 
 not having reached the tower before Madame had 
 quitted her apartment. 'What! ' cried Madame, 
 'could I have deferred for a moment the pleasure of 
 embracing you?' 'It is true,' replied Madame de 
 Mackau, 'that Madame has come down stairs much 
 faster than I could have gone up. ' 'It is three years 
 one month and one day since I had the happiness of 
 seeing you, ' cried the Princess, embracing her gov- 
 erness ; then, taking her arm she passed it under her 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 125 
 
 own with affectionate grace, and thus assisted her to 
 walk." Having conducted her to the third story of 
 the tower, she expressed herself nearly in these 
 words: "Let us weep, but not for my relatives; 
 their task is ended and they have received its recom- 
 pense; no one will ever take away the crown God 
 has now placed on their heads. Let us pray, not for 
 them, but for those who caused them to perish. As 
 for me, these bitter years have not been unfruitful ; 
 I have had time to reflect before God and with my 
 own self. I am stronger against evil. I am far 
 from confounding the French nation with those who 
 have torn from me all I loved best in the world. 
 Certainly, I should be charmed to leave my prison, 
 but I would prefer the tiniest house in France to 
 the honors which would everywhere else attend a 
 Princess so unfortunate as I." 
 
 On the day following her first visit to the Temple, 
 the Marchioness of Tourzel wrote a letter to Louis 
 XVIII. In his response he charged her to sound 
 Marie Therdse concerning his desire to marry her to 
 his nephew, the Duke of AngoulSme, the son of the 
 Count of Artois. This marriage harmonized so well 
 with the attachment the young Princess bore towards 
 her family, and even towards France which had 
 treated her so badly, that she was inclined to it on 
 her own account. " Another motive which appealed 
 powerfully to her heart, " adds Madame de Tourzel, 
 "was the express wish of her father and mother to 
 conclude this marriage immediately on the return of 
 
126 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the Princes, and I repeated to her the Queen's own 
 words at the time when Their Majesties honored me 
 with their confidence by speaking of their projects 
 in this matter. ' Some persons have taken pleas- 
 xire in giving my brothers unfavorable impressions 
 of my sentiments toward them. We shall prove the 
 contrary by giving my daughter's hand at once to 
 the Duke of AngoulSme in spite of her extreme 
 youth, which might have made us wish to defer it 
 longer. ' " 
 
 Marie Th6re"se listened with emotion, and asked 
 why her parents had never spoken to her of the 
 projected marriage. Madame de Tourzel responded: 
 "It was a prudential measure on their part, so as 
 not to occupy your imagination with thoughts about 
 marriage, which might have interfered with your 
 application to study." 
 
 From the moment when she was made acquainted 
 with the wishes of her father and mother, the 
 orphan considered herself definitely affianced to the 
 young Prince thus designated to her choice. The 
 idea of uniting her misfortunes to those of her family 
 and of being still useful to her country by averting 
 the claims which her marriage to a foreign prince 
 might give rise to, had made on her, moreover, a 
 strong impression. Some days later, when a rumor 
 got about to the effect that the young Princess was 
 soon going to Vienna to marry the Archduke 
 Charles, Madame de Mackau said to her: "If this 
 political measure should contribute to bring Madame 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 127 
 
 back to France, I should rejoice at it." "Ah!" 
 replied Marie Thirdse, "I know nothing of any- 
 political measures but the last will of my parents ; 
 I will never marry anybody but the Duke of Angou- 
 leme." 
 
 Madame de Tourzel visited the Temple regularly. 
 The former governess of the children of France was 
 on sufficiently good terms with Madame de Chante- 
 reine, but she felt, nevertheless, something of that 
 rivalry which nearly always shows itself among 
 those who surround princesses, even when they are 
 exiles. "Madame de Chantereine," she says, "did 
 not lack intelligence, and appeared to have received 
 some education. She knew Italian, and this had 
 been pleasant for Madame, to whom it had been 
 taught. She was skilful in embroidery, which was 
 a resource for the young Princess, to whom she gave 
 lessons in it. But, having been brought up in a 
 little provincial town where she shone in society, 
 she had acquired an air of self-sufficiency and such 
 a high idea of her own merit that she thought she 
 ought to be Madame's mentor, and assumed a famil- 
 iar tone which the kindliness of that Princess pre- 
 vented her from noticing. Pauline and I tried to 
 teach her due respect by that which we exhibited, 
 but in vain. She had so little notion of what was 
 becoming that she thought herself authorized to take 
 commanding airs which made us sick to see. She 
 was very susceptible, moreover, liked to be paid 
 court to, and looked very unfavorably on us when 
 
128 THE DUCHE88 OF ANGOULEME 
 
 she saw that our intercourse with her was restricted 
 to mere politeness. Madame had become attached 
 to her, and lavished the kindest attentions on her 
 during a violent nervous attack she experienced one 
 day when we were at the Temple. She seemed to 
 be attached to Madame, and under the actual circum- 
 stances we could not be otherwise than happy to find 
 near her a person whom she seemed to find agree- 
 able, and who must be admitted to have had good 
 qualities. She left us alone with Madame during 
 our first visits to that Princess ; but afterwards she 
 always joined us." 
 
 All that had taken place at "the Temple was highly 
 interesting to Madame de Tourzel ; but what occu- 
 pied her most was the fate of Louis XVII. She 
 sometimes doubted whether the child were really 
 dead. " Not being able to endure a loss so grievous 
 to me," she says, "and feeling some doubts whether 
 it were , true, I wanted to make positively sure 
 whether all hope need be given up. From my child- 
 hood I had known Doctor Jeanroi, an old man over 
 eighty, of singular probity, and profoundly attached 
 to the royal family. He had been appointed to be 
 present when the young King's body was opened, 
 and being able to rely on the truth of his testimony 
 as I would upon my own, I begged him to call on 
 me. His reputation had caused him to be selected 
 by the members of the Convention in order that his 
 signature might strengthen the proof that the young 
 King had not been poisoned. This worthy man 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 129 
 
 refused at first to go to the Temple to examine the 
 causes of death, warning them that if he found the 
 least trace of poison he would declare it even at 
 the risk of his life. 'You are the very man whom 
 it is essential for us to have,' said they, 'and it is for 
 this reason we have preferred you to any one else. ' ' 
 
 Madame de Tourzel asked the old physician if he 
 had known the young Prince well before he entered 
 the Temple. Jeanroi replied that he had seldom 
 seen him, and added: "The face of this child, 
 whose features had not been changed by the shadows 
 of death, was so beautiful and interesting that it is 
 never out of my mind. I should recognize him per- 
 fectly were I to see a portrait of him." Madame 
 had a portrait which was strikingly like him. She 
 showed it to Jeanroi, who exclaimed: "There can 
 be no mistake about it; it is" himself ; no one could 
 deny it." 
 
 The governess of the children of France looked 
 at the different rooms of the tower with emotion, as 
 if they were the stations of a Calvary. One day 
 Marie TherSse offered to conduct her to the second 
 story, where Louis XVI. and Louis XVII. had 
 dwelt. The Princess entered there with pious re- 
 spect, followed by Mademoiselle Pauline de Tourzel. 
 The death of the young King was so recent that 
 his governess had not sufficient courage to visit the 
 place where he had suffered so much. But she went 
 with the Princess into the apartments of the little 
 tower where she had herself been imprisoned from 
 
130 THE DUCHESS OF ANQOULEME 
 
 August 13 to August 20, 1792. Marie ThfoSse said 
 to her: "If you have the curiosity to examine the 
 register lying on that tahle, you may see the report 
 made by the Commissioners from the time we entered 
 the Temple. " Madame de Tourzel did not wait for 
 a second invitation. She began at once to turn over 
 the pages of the register. There she saw the reports 
 daily addressed to the Convention concerning the 
 -royal family, and especially those relating to the 
 illness, death, and burial of Louis XVII. "They 
 convinced me but too well," she says, "that not 
 the slightest hope of the young King's life could 
 be reasonably entertained." 
 
 Madame de Tourzel's untiring devotion found 
 means to establish a correspondence between Marie 
 The"r§se and Louis XVIII. , and to give the Prin- 
 cess a letter from the Prince. She says: "It was 
 the reply to a very affecting letter which Madame 
 had written him on the day after I visited her for 
 the first time. The King wrote in the most affec- 
 tionately paternal tone, and she was very anxious to 
 preserve his letter, but had no means of doing so. 
 I risked my life whenever I burdened myself with 
 one of these communications, and it would have been 
 the same thing had any one discovered a letter from 
 His Majesty in Madame's apartments. She burned 
 it, but with great reluctance, and I was extremely 
 sorry to have to ask such a sacrifice." Francois 
 Hue also succeeded in conveying a letter from Louis 
 XVIII. to the Princess, and to inform her of the 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 131 
 
 substance of another in which Charette, in express- 
 ing the sentiments of the Catholic and royalist army 
 of the Vendue, protested that he and his companions 
 in arms would shed their last drop of blood to liber- 
 ate the august captive. 
 
 Meanwhile, public opinion was becoming more 
 favorable to the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie 
 Antoinette. Pamphlets asking for her delivery 
 were circulated, and an almanac was published at 
 Basle in which, under a pseudonym, M. Michaud 
 wrote as follows: "Marie The"r£se is at liberty to 
 walk in the courtyards of the Temple. The two 
 commissioners who are continually on guard take 
 off their hats when they approach her, and treat her 
 with the respect inspired by the memory of what 
 she was and the sad spectacle of what she is now. 
 Several persons visit her every day, and she seldom 
 dines alone. She occupies herself a good deal with 
 a goat she has, which knows and follows her famil- 
 iarly. One day one of the commissioners called 
 this faithful animal to see if it would not follow 
 him also, but, to the gentle amusement of Marie 
 The"r6se, it would not. A dog is another faithful 
 companion to the young prisoner, and seems much 
 attached to her." 
 
 When the Princess went down into the Temple 
 garden, she was allowed to take drawing-materials 
 and sketch the different aspects of that fatal yet hal- 
 lowed tower which was at once a prison and a sanct- 
 uary. The sympathetic concerts had begun again 
 
132 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 in neighboring houses. They were denounced in 
 this fashion by a person named Leblanc: "During 
 the past four months concerts have been given 
 from time to time in the Rotunda of the Temple, 
 in the garrets, on ±he fourth floor reached by stair- 
 case number four. This lodging had been occupied 
 by worthy people who were paid very high to give 
 it up. For the last two ' decades ' 1 the concerts have 
 been repeated much more frequently in this local- 
 ity. Very elegant women, and men with tucked-up 
 hair come there to contemplate Capet's daughter at 
 their leisure ; on her part, she never fails to walk in 
 the garden of the Temple as soon as she learns that 
 the royalist assembly is complete. Then the partisans 
 of the defunct court make all manner of protesta- 
 tions of devotion and respect for her royal person. 
 The concert place not proving large enough to con- 
 tain all this illustrious company, they go in great 
 numbers to a house in the rue Beaujolais, No. 12, 
 whose windows likewise command a view of the 
 Temple garden, and there, as in the garrets of the 
 Rotunda, they publicly repeat the same gestures, 
 signals, and marks of attachment to the daughter of 
 Marie Antoinette. . . . On. the 1st Vendemiaire 
 there was a concert at about five in the afternoon, 
 the hour at which they ordinarily commence, and 
 the adoration and the telegraphic signs were kept up 
 until the end of the day. Persons attached to 
 
 1 Under the Republic the days were divided into periods of ten 
 each instead of into weeks. 
 
THE MITIGATION OF CAPTIVITY 133 
 
 various theatres are believed to have been recog- 
 nized there, and since the date mentioned, carriages, 
 which were almost unknown in this quarter, roll 
 through it frequently. Something like a hundred 
 persons have been known to assemble at a time in 
 the places above mentioned. They are successively 
 and continually relieved by others." 
 
 How interesting and pathetic these improvised 
 concerts are! Kindly emotions spread from street 
 to street, from house to house. Passers-by stop and 
 breathe a sigh. The people, once so furious, are 
 returning to better sentiments. All mothers pity 
 the young orphan, and as they think of her fate, 
 they say : " Great God ! If such a thing should ever 
 happen to my children!" The prisoner descends 
 the gloomy stairway and appears in the garden. 
 She is sixteen years old, and slender in figure. Her 
 features, extremely delicate in her infancy, have 
 become beautiful. Her eyes are expressive, and her 
 once fair hair is now of a chestnut hue. She wears 
 it long and unpowdered. How beautiful and sym- 
 pathetic she seems ! Her candor and ineffable grace, 
 her gentle and melancholy smile, the premature 
 gravity of her expression, all inspire a blended 
 admiration and respect. If people dared, the young 
 captive would be greeted with applause. The con- 
 cert goes on, and the affecting ballads whose har- 
 monious echoes arrive at her ears like a consolation, 
 charm and soothe her sadness. 
 
 Even the aspect of the prison is less sinister. 
 
134 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 The sight of compassionate faces diminishes the 
 moral sufferings of the young captive. Tears have 
 their poesy, and the orphan finds in her regrets I 
 know not what bitter and penetrating delight. The 
 Temple no longer horrifies her. She clings to it as 
 to a consecrated spot. There she seems to see the 
 features and hear the voices of her beloved dead. 
 Her vividly impressed imagination makes them live 
 again. She questions them, and they answer her 
 from beyond the tomb. And then the Temple is in 
 France, and the daughter of kings loves her country 
 so much ! A sort of struggle goes on in the depths 
 of her soul. On the one hand she is impatient to 
 rejoin her uncle Louis XVIII. ; on the other, it will 
 cost her much to go far away from a place where 
 her parents have given her such noble and affecting 
 examples, and she sometimes asks herself if captivity 
 is not preferable to exile. 
 
VII 
 
 NEW SEVERITIES 
 
 MARIE THERESE was gradually accustoming 
 herself to her fate when new anxieties sud- 
 denly came to plunge her into sufferings which 
 reminded her of her most wretched days. The con- 
 servative and royalist reaction that was beginning 
 had inspired her with great though transitory hopes. 
 There had been a moment when she might have 
 thought she need not go into exile to obtain free- 
 dom, and that the explosion of monarchical senti- 
 ment would be great enough to bring about an 
 immediate restoration. She was told the most 
 cheering news: that the Convention was moribund 
 and had neither authority nor credit ; that the popu- 
 lace was humbled since Prairial ; 1 that the royalist 
 agencies had begun their underhand labors ; and that 
 the cruel executions at Quiberon had rendered the 
 men of Thermidor as opprobrious as the partisans 
 of Robespierre. Paris, still more irritated than the 
 provinces against the revolutionists, was becoming 
 the headquarters of all political and social reaction. 
 
 1 The ninth month of the French Republican Calendar, from 
 May 20 to June 18. 
 
 135 
 
136 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 The energy of the Jeunesse DorSe, 1 the principles of 
 the middle classes, always inimical to the Jacohins, the 
 polemics of the press which, since the 9th Thermidor, 
 had relentlessly attacked the Septembrists, all contrib- 
 uted to make the capital a centre of agitation which 
 the royalists sought to turn to advantage. The 
 orphan of the Temple knew that out of the forty- 
 eight sections of which the Parisian National Guard 
 was composed, forty-three had declared against the 
 Convention, and implicitly against the Republic. 
 A shower of journals, pamphlets, brochures, gave 
 the former instruments of the Terror not a moment's 
 respite. The Convention had just resolved that 
 two-thirds of the new legislative body that would 
 succeed it must necessarily be Conventionists. This 
 resolution produced a veritable hue and cry. The 
 sections protested vigorously against it. With a 
 single exception, they all opposed the decrees of the 
 Convention, and were willing even to resort to arms 
 against .them. Marie The"rdse, who was acquainted 
 with all the details of this reactionary movement, 
 and much impressed by the marks of sympathy peo- 
 ple accorded her with impunity, thought it not 
 impossible that she might go directly to the Tuileries 
 from the Temple. She was encouraged in these 
 blissful dreams, which were to be followed by a 
 rude, awakening. 
 
 1 The name given in 1794 to those rich young men who united 
 in order to support the Thermidorians, the party that overthrew 
 Robespierre. 
 
NEW SEVERITIES 137 
 
 From the 12th Vend^miaire, Year IV. (October 4, 
 1795), a great tumult became evident in Paris. 
 There were disturbances in the evening, and seri- 
 ous events were predicted for the morrow. In the 
 morning of the 13th Venddmiaire, Madame de 
 Tourzel and her daughter went to^ the Temple and 
 conversed with Marie Thdrdse concerning the hopes 
 they entertained from the royalist movement. The 
 day passed in comparative quiet, but towards half- 
 past four in the afternoon explosions were heard. 
 Gomin came to tell the Princess that they were fir- 
 ing cannon, and that having gone up to the roof of 
 the tower he had heard a grand fusillade. Madame 
 de Tourzel says in her Memoirs: "It was evident, 
 since we had heard no talk concerning this, that 
 what was occurring was not in our favor, and Gomin 
 cautioned us not to wait until nightfall to return 
 home. We kept putting off our departure, being 
 unwilling to leave Madame; but it had to come at 
 last. She bade us adieu very sadly, for she was 
 thinking of the sorrows that might be caused by this 
 fatal day, and we promised to return the next day if 
 there were the slightest possibility of doing so. 
 
 " We went home silently, and in great anxiety as 
 to what was going on in the streets of Paris. We 
 saw nothing alarming until we reached the Place de 
 Grdve, where there was an enormous crowd strug- 
 gling and suffocating in the effort to escape more 
 quickly. We asked a man who seemed less excited 
 than the others whether we could safely cross the 
 
138 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 bridges to return to the Faubourg Saint-Germain. 
 He advised us to keep away from the quays, cross 
 the Pont Notre Dame promptly, and make our way 
 into the interior of Paris. Crossing the bridge was 
 terrible; we could see the smoke and flame of the 
 cannon incessantly discharged." 
 
 Each report echoed in the heart of Marie Therdse. 
 "I am weeping over the blood shed at this moment," 
 she .said to Gomin. The men who were struck by 
 the bombs were her friends, the royalists, but her 
 compassion extended to both camps, the victors and 
 vanquished alike, for all were Frenchmen. Doubt- 
 ful about the result of the struggle, she was a prey 
 to the keenest anxiety, and fervently asked God to 
 put an end to the fratricidal combat which ensan- 
 guined Paris. 
 
 Meanwhile cannons were thundering simultane- 
 ously in the rue Saint-Honor^, on the Quai du 
 Louvre, and the Pont Royal. A man whose name 
 was still unknown to the orphan of the Temple, but 
 who was to exercise an immense influence on her 
 destiny as well as on that of France and the entire 
 world, a man who was to delay the Bourbon res- 
 toration for more than eighteen years, was making 
 his first appearance on the scene of politics, and 
 signalizing his de"but as by a thunder stroke. 
 This unknown son of a poor Corsican gentleman, 
 had been an officer in the armies of Louis XVI. 
 Having been a royalist, he had become a republican, 
 and was one day to make himself Emperor. The 
 
NEW SEVERITIES 139 
 
 Republic was saved by a future Csesar. In addition 
 to the troops of the Convention, he had fifteen hun- 
 dred individuals under his orders who called them- 
 selves the patriots of 1789, and who had been 
 recruited among the iSans-culottes, the pikemen, and 
 the former gendarmes of Fouquier-Tinville. He 
 hurled them upon the steps of the church of Saint- 
 Roch to dislodge the men of the sections. 
 
 These had no artillery, and imagined that they 
 needed none, their heads being turned by the exploits 
 of the Vende"an peasants, who had often seized the 
 enemy's cannon without other weapons than their 
 cudgels. But they were soon to learn their error. 
 Bonaparte's great argument, cannon, was to be the 
 victor. He swept the whole length of the rue Saint- 
 Honor^, and from the upper end of the Pont Royal 
 demolished the royalist columns advancing from the 
 Faubourg Saint-Germain. At six in the evening the 
 victory of the Convention was complete; the strug- 
 gle had lasted but an hour and a half. 
 
 Madame de Tourzel and her daughter went to the 
 Temple the following day and gave the young Prin- 
 cess the news she was impatiently expecting. " We 
 could tell her of none but afflicting events," she says. 
 " The Convention, which was in deadly fear lest the 
 sections should march against it, completely lost its 
 head; any one who chose entered the Committee of 
 Public Safety and offered his advice. Bonaparte, 
 who had carefully examined all that was going on, 
 who knew how disorderly were the movements of the 
 
140 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 sections and that terror pervaded all minds, promised 
 the Convention to turn the affair to their advantage, 
 providing they would leave him free to act. He had 
 cannon brought up to the rue Saint-Honor^, and dis- 
 persed the troops of the sections in a moment with a 
 rain of grapeshot. This was the beginning of his 
 fortune. Fear and stupor took the place of hope; 
 the soldiers insulted passers-by, and every one trem- 
 bled at the thought of the possible results of this 
 ruthless day." 
 
 The illusions in which Marie Therese had been 
 living for some weeks were dissipated. When she 
 learned that the Convention had triumphed, she 
 thought the crimes of the Terror were about to 
 recommence. For some time longer she was per- 
 mitted to receive Madame and Mademoiselle de 
 Tourzel, who came on foot every morning to the 
 Temple, unaccompanied by a servant, and did not 
 return home until night. But this consolation was 
 among those of which the young prisoner was speed- 
 ily deprived. The Convention had come to the end 
 of its stormy career. At half-past two, October 26, 
 1795, the President declared the last session ad- 
 journed, adding: "Union and amity between all 
 Frenchmen is the way to save the Republic." 
 " What is the hour ? " asked a deputy. " The hour 
 of justice ! " replied an unknown voice. The terri- 
 ble Assembly dispersed. October 29, the Council of 
 Ancients and the Council of Five Hundred assem- 
 bled, one at the Tuileries, and the other in the Hall 
 
NEW SEVERITIES 141 
 
 of the Manage: the five Directors afterwards installed 
 themselves in the Luxembourg palace. 
 
 At first the new government manifested great 
 severity toward the royalists. Lemaitre, one of 
 their agents, was condemned, November 8, 1795, 
 and died bravely, after refusing to make any dis- 
 closures. Madame de Tourzel was arrested at the 
 same time on a charge of conspiracy. She was 
 subjected to a minute examination, and was three 
 times kept in close confinement in a prison for 
 twenty-four hours together. As soon as she was 
 released she hastened to the Temple, but was 
 informed at the door that she was henceforward 
 forbidden to cross its threshold. Marie The'r&se and 
 Madame de Chantereine were also interrogated, but 
 the official who conducted their examination became 
 fully persuaded that both had remained entirely 
 ignorant of the recent movement in Paris. Never- 
 theless, rigorous measures were taken. The same 
 decree which forbade Madame de Tourzel and her 
 daughter to enter the Temple, forbade Madame de 
 Chantereine to leave it. All intercourse between 
 her and her family was interdicted, and she was 
 treated like a suspected person. The concerts in 
 the neighboring houses were not renewed. Alarmed 
 by these changes, Marie ThdrSse began to dread the 
 return of the Terror. Sometimes she thought her- 
 self fated to execution, and sometimes to unending 
 captivity. And yet the hour of her release was 
 about to strike. 
 
VIII 
 
 THE NEGOTIATION WITH AUSTRIA 
 
 EVER since June, 1795, the question of liberat- 
 ing the daughter of Louis XVI. had been seri- 
 ously entertained. Austria had opened negotiations 
 with the Convention having that end in view. As 
 this power was at war with France, the business was 
 not transacted directly between the two countries, 
 but was managed in Switzerland, by the intermedi- 
 ation of M. Bourcard, chief of the regency of Basel, 
 between Baron Degelmann, Austrian Minister to 
 Switzerland, and M. Bacher, first secretary to the 
 French Embassy. The Cabinet of Vienna at first 
 proposed a sum of two millions as a ransom for the 
 young Princess, but the offer was refused. Several 
 prisoners whose release was greatly desired by the 
 Convention were held in custody by the Austrian 
 government, and it proposed to exchange her against 
 them. On 12 Messidor, Year III. (June 30, 1795), 
 Treilhard thus expressed himself in the Convention, 
 on behalf of the Committees of Public Safety and 
 General Security: — 
 
 " The triumph of the French people, the hopes of 
 all enlightened men, and the opinion of the whole 
 142 
 
TEE NEGOTIATION WITH AUSTRIA 143 
 
 world, sanction the Republic. It would be madness 
 to doubt its stability. The moment has arrived, 
 then, when it is fitting to consider the daughter of 
 the last King of the French. An imperative duty, 
 that of the safety of the State, prescribed the seclu- 
 sion of this family. To-day you are too strong for 
 this rigorous measure to be indispensable. Your 
 committees propose that an act of humanity shall 
 be made tributary to the reparation of a great in- 
 justice. The most foul and odious treachery has 
 delivered a minister of the Republic and certain 
 representatives of the people to a hostile power; 
 and by a violation of the rights of nations, the same 
 power has caused the arrest of citizens vested with 
 the sacred character of ambassadors. In this ex- 
 change, therefore; we cede a right in order to ter- 
 minate an injustice. It behooves the Viennese gov- 
 ernment to reflect well on these considerations; it 
 may choose between its attachment to the ties of 
 blood and its desire to prolong a useless and hateful 
 vengeance. It does not appear to us that this mat- 
 ter need become the subject of a negotiation; it 
 will be sufficient that you explain yourselves, and 
 the French generals will be charged to transmit your 
 declaration to the generals of the Austrian army." 
 
 A decree in conformity with these sentiments was 
 at once drawn up by the recording officer, and 
 adopted before the close of the session. It was 
 conceived in the following terms : " The National 
 Convention, after listening to the report of its 
 
144 TEE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Committees of Public Safety and General Security, 
 declares that on the very instant when the five 
 representatives of the people, the Minister, the French 
 ambassadors, the principal prisoners delivered by 
 Dumouriez to the Prince of Cobourg, the postmaster 
 Drouet, captured on the Flemish frontiers, the am- 
 bassadors Maret and Semonville, arrested in Italy 
 by the Austrians, and the persons of their suite who 
 were either delivered up to Austria or arrested and 
 detained by its orders, shall be set at liberty and 
 arrive on French territory, the daughter of the last 
 King of the French shall be handed over to the per- 
 son delegated to receive her by the Austrian govern- 
 ment." 
 
 There are few things so curious as this affair to 
 be found in the history of diplomacy. The mere 
 names of the persons to be exchanged for the orphan 
 of the Temple give rise to a multitude of reflections. 
 Among the prisoners surrendered by Austria figures 
 Drouet, the postmaster of the Varennes journey, who 
 by recognizing Louis XVI. at Sainte-Menehould and 
 pursuing him to Varennes, had caused his arrest 
 and thus been the cause of the downfall of royalty. 
 It was this Drouet who, on becoming a member of 
 the Convention, proposed in 1793 that all English 
 persons found in France should be condemned to 
 death, exclaiming from the tribune: "This is the 
 time for bloodshed. What do we care for our rep- 
 utation in Europe? Let us be brigands, since the 
 welfare of peoples demands it." Sent as commis- 
 
TEE NEGOTIATION WITH AUSTRIA 145 
 
 sioner of the Army of the North, he was at Mau- 
 heuge when it was besieged by the Prince of Co- 
 bourg. Seeing that the place was about to be taken, 
 he essayed to make his way through the enemies' 
 camp, but fell into their hands and was incarcerated 
 in the fortress of Spielberg. Happily, the young 
 Princess was not to be confronted with the prisoners 
 against whom it was intended to exchange her. 
 What impression would have been produced on her 
 by the sight of Drouet, who had left so terrible 
 a trace on her memory? The strange caprices of 
 a period fertile in revolutions and surprises made 
 Drouet sub-prefect of Sainte-Menehould, during the 
 reign of Napoleon, and in 1814 he received the cross 
 from the Emperor's hands. Under the Restoration, 
 the law concerning regicides included his case, and 
 he concealed himself at Macon under the name of 
 Merger. There he led a very secluded and pious 
 life, and it was not until his death, April 11, 1824, 
 that it became known at Macon that Merger, whose 
 manners had been so peaceable and edifying, was in 
 reality Drouet the Conventionist. 
 
 Another of the prisoners was also to have a singu- 
 lar destiny, — Beurnonville, once a Minister of the 
 Terror, afterwards a Marquis and a Marshal of 
 France under the Restoration. Having been ap- 
 pointed Minister of War a few days after the murder 
 of Louis XVI., he was sent, April 1, 1793, to the 
 Army of the North with four commissioners of the 
 Convention — Camus, Bancal, Quinette, and La- 
 
146 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 marque — to seize the person of Dumouriez, who 
 was accused of maintaining relations with Austria. 
 Warned of his danger in time, Dumouriez arrested 
 the minister and the four commissioners and deliv- 
 ered all five to the Prince of Cobourg. They were 
 held as prisoners of Austria until exchanged for 
 Marie TherSse. In 1796, Beurnonville became com- 
 mander-in-chief of the Army of the North ; in 1800, 
 ambassador to Berlin; in 1802, ambassador to 
 Madrid ; in 1814, a member of the Provisional Gov- 
 ernment. In full favor under the Restoration, he 
 followed Louis XVIII. to Ghent, and was named 
 Marshal of France in 1816, and Marquis in 1817. 
 - The two ambassadors of the Convention, to Na- 
 ples and to Constantinople, who had been arrested 
 in Italy and detained in captivity by Austria, were 
 also among those exchanged for the daughter of 
 Louis XVI. : Maret, the future Duke of Bassano, 
 Napoleon's Minister of Foreign Affairs ; and Semon- 
 ville, the pre-eminently clever man whom Napoleon 
 made a councillor of State, ambassador to Holland, 
 and senator, and who was afterwards one of the 
 favorites of the Restoration and grand referendary 
 of the Chamber of Peers during the reign of Louis 
 Philippe. How many revolutions are recalled by 
 the mere names of these different personages ! 
 
 But to return to the details of the negotiation. 
 Conformably with the decree passed by the Conven- 
 tion, June 30, 1795, General Pichegru, commander- 
 in-chief of the Army of the Upper Rhine, com- 
 
THE NEGOTIATION WITH AUSTRIA 147 
 
 municated the proposal of exchange to the Austrian 
 general, Stein. The Emperor of Austria at first 
 experienced an extreme repugnance to accede to it, 
 but he ended by accepting it in principle. In a note 
 transmitted to Pichegru by the Austrian general, 
 Clairfayt, he said : " Since it is but too true that in 
 the midst of the violent catastrophes which succeed 
 each other in the French Revolution I ought to con- 
 sult nothing but my tender affection for my cousin, 
 I desire you to make known to the French general 
 that I accede in the main to the proposition made me. 
 But there is another proposition which I think it 
 well to add to that contained in the document re- 
 mitted to General Stein; its object is the mutual 
 exchange of numerous prisoners of war about whom, 
 notwithstanding my reiterated demands, they have 
 stubbornly refused to concern themselves." 
 
 The negotiations at Basel were long and difficult, 
 and terminated only under the Directory. Before 
 their conclusion, Baron Degelmann, representing the 
 Cabinet of Vienna, transmitted to M. Boscher, the 
 representative of France, a note by which the Aus- 
 trian government designated the person it desired to 
 accompany the young Princess on her journey : " It 
 is understood," says this note, "that so young a 
 person must not be left, during a long journey, with- 
 out a companion already known to her and possessing 
 her confidence. It is likewise understood, that this 
 companion should be acceptable at the place where 
 she is going. The virtues of Madame de Tourzel, 
 
148 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 and the prudence for which she is renowned, would 
 render her more agreeable to the Austrian court 
 than any lady not known there. Compliant our- 
 selves concerning the rendition of several state 
 prisoners and those who share their detention, we 
 may hope that they' will not be less so in France with 
 regard to a choice which suggests itself so naturally 
 that it has been anticipated by many." 
 
 There was no longer anything in the way of the 
 deliverance of Marie Th6r£se. A decree thus 
 worded was passed by the Directory November 27, 
 1795 : " The Ministers of the Interior and of Foreign 
 Affairs are commissioned to take the necessary 
 measures to accelerate the exchange of the last King's 
 daughter against citizens Camus and Quinette, and 
 other agents or deputies of the Republic, to appoint 
 an officer of gendarmes fit and proper for such duty 
 to accompany the daughter of the last King, and to 
 give her as a companion that one of the persons 
 devoted to her education who pleases her best." 
 
 Benezech, Minister of the Interior, went to the 
 Temple the following day, to announce to the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette that 
 her chains were at last to be broken. 
 
IX 
 
 THE DEPARTURE PROM THE TEMPLE 
 
 WHEN Benezech, Minister of the Interior, ap- 
 prised Marie The'rSse, November 28, 1795, 
 that she was soon to leave the Temple, the young 
 prisoner was greatly moved. She might have experi- 
 enced joy had permission been given her to rejoin 
 her uncle, Louis XVIII., but the idea of going to 
 Vienna, where she knew not what awaited her, 
 caused her anxiety. She thought the Emperor of 
 Austria had not done what he should to save Marie 
 Antoinette, and the policy of the Austrian govern- 
 ment awoke suspicions in the daughter of the martyr- 
 queen which the future was to justify. Whether 
 she had a presentiment of the snares that would be 
 laid for her in Vienna and the quasi-captivity she 
 was to undergo there, or whether, a Frenchwoman 
 at heart, she was saddened by the thought of living 
 in a strange land, at all events, she received the 
 tidings of her approaching deliverance without en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 There was at this period more than one latent 
 royalist, more than one high official in government 
 circles, who looked forward to a possible Bourbon 
 
 149 
 
150 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Restoration. "Was not Barras himself to intrigue one 
 day with Louis XVIII.? Benezech, possibly still 
 more through kindness of heart than through inter- 
 ested motives, secretly sympathized with the royal 
 family. The youth, the virtues, the misfortunes, and 
 the grace of the orphan of the Temple touched him 
 profoundly. He showed her great respect, and 
 asked what persons she desired to accompany her to 
 Vienna. Without a moment's hesitation the young 
 Princess named Madame de Tourzel, Madame de 
 Mackau, and Madame de &e"rent, formerly lady of the 
 bedchamber to Madame Elisabeth. 
 
 The Minister gave Marie The'r&se room to hope 
 that her choice would be ratified by the Directory 
 without any difficulty. He added that he would 
 attend to all the preparations for her departure, and 
 would send her two persons through whom she could 
 order the dresses she wished to have made. Two 
 members of the administrative commission of police 
 presented themselves at the Temple the next day 
 for that purpose. In spite of their insistence, she 
 limited herself to pointing out such things as were 
 strictly necessary, a small quantity of linen under- 
 wear, some shoes, and the simplest materials. She 
 was unwilling to receive more from the government. 
 As they represented that on arriving at the court of 
 Austria she would need an outfit suitable to her 
 rank, she replied : " If they will permit me to take 
 a few souvenirs which remind me of that rank, let 
 them return the things which belonged to my mother 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM THE TEMPLE 151 
 
 and me, and which were taken away from us a few 
 days after our arrival at the tower." These included 
 body-linen and some gowns and laces. The seals 
 placed on the chest of drawers in which these objects 
 had been deposited were removed, but Marie The*- 
 r&se's wish was not granted. 
 
 Meanwhile public sympathy with the orphan of 
 the Temple was constantly increasing. Benezech 
 dared propose to have her travel across France in an 
 open carriage drawn by eight horses, surrounded by 
 persons designated by herself. The suggestion was 
 not well received, but the very fact that it was offered 
 to the Directory by a minister proved the reaction 
 that had taken place. The same thing is attested 
 by Francois Hue in these terms : — 
 
 "At this epoch certain members of the National 
 Convention who felt, in common with a majority of 
 the inhabitants of Paris, a keen interest in the fate 
 of Madame Royale, whose death was desired by a 
 few regicides, extorted a decree in her favor in 
 accordance with which the Executive Directory 
 passed a resolution of which M. Benezech, Minister 
 of the Interior, gave me a copy. This minister sent 
 me also another resolution which, in consequence of 
 Madame's having deigned to request that I should 
 follow her to Vienna, authorized me to accompany 
 her, and even to remain near her, without incurring 
 the penalties of the laws against emigration on 
 account of this journey. 
 
 " M. Benezech had spoken to me with emotion-con- 
 
152 TEE DUCEES8 OF ANGOULEME 
 
 cerning the fate of the young Princess, whom he 
 never called by any other name than Madame Roy- 
 ale. Seeing that I looked at him with surprise, he 
 said: 'This new costume is simply my mask; I am 
 even going to reveal one of my most secret thoughts 
 to you : France will never regain tranquillity until 
 the day when it resumes its former government. 
 Therefore, when you can do so without compromis- 
 ing me, lay the offer of my services at the King's 
 feet, and assure His Majesty that I shall be zealous 
 in caring for the interests of his crown.' " 
 
 To sum up, the Directory showed real good will 
 toward the daughter of Louis XVI. Nevertheless, 
 it did not permit Madame de Tourzel to accompany 
 her. It mistakenly supposed the former governess 
 of the children of France to favor the idea of a 
 marriage between the Princess and an Archduke, 
 and that the Austrian government would make use 
 of such a matrimonial alliance in order to advance 
 claims on a portion of French territory. The choice 
 of Madame de Tourzel, like that of Madame de 
 Serent, was rejected, and the governess had not even 
 the consolation of bidding adieu to her former pupil. 
 As to Madame de Mackau, her health not permitting 
 her, to her great regret, to accompany the young 
 Princess, her place was taken by her daughter, 
 Madame de Soucy. The other two persons who 
 escorted Marie The"rSse were the honest and respect- 
 ful keeper, Gomin, for whom she had nothing but 
 praise, and M. Me'chain, an officer of gendarmes who 
 had been highly recommended to her. 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM THE TEMPLE 153 
 
 December 16, 1795, Benezech, Minister of the 
 Interior, presented himself at the Temple and an- 
 nounced to the Princess that she was to depart on the 
 18th, at half-past eleven in the evening. She made 
 her own preparations for the journey on the 17th, 
 but not with the alacrity and pleasure that might 
 have been expected. She selected the small quan- 
 tity of linen and other apparel that she wished to 
 take, and had the rest distributed to the employees of 
 the Temple as memorials of her. Then she put on 
 her best gown and descended into the garden, where 
 she saluted, by way of farewell, the persons who 
 were in the habit of making signs of sympathy and 
 respect from the windows of neighboring houses. 
 This adieu of the young captive, who by a smile and a 
 grateful gesture thanks the compassionate souls who 
 have not the happiness of speaking to or approach- 
 ing her, but who find means to send her their good 
 wishes and their homage by the movements of their 
 heads and the expression of their faces, is full of a 
 penetrating poetry worthy to inspire the brush of a 
 great painter. 
 
 The Directory had decided that the departure of 
 the young Princess should take place at night. It 
 had its reasons for preventing her from passing 
 through the streets of the capital in broad daylight. 
 The mere sight of her might cause a revolution — 
 the revolution of pity. No discourse could be so 
 eloquent as the aspect of this young girl, a living 
 legend, the legend of innocence and virtue, of youtli 
 
154 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 aDd misfortune. Her face alone touched the heart. 
 How much greater still would have been the gen- 
 eral emotion could people have read the depths of 
 her soul, could they have known all the trials re- 
 served for this gentle victim in the future ! She 
 had not reached the last station of her Calvary. 
 How many exiles, how many revolutions, what 
 sufferings of every description, the daughter of 
 Louis XVI. was to yet undergo! Providence had 
 decreed that the chalice of bitterness should never 
 be taken from her lips. 
 
 The moment of departure arrives. It is the 18th 
 of December, 1795. It is eleven o'clock at night. 
 Minister Benezech, who has left his carriage in the 
 rue Meslay, knocks at the Temple door. He hands 
 to Lasne the keeper and to the civil commissioner 
 a duplicate of the decree of the Executive Directory, 
 followed by this declaration : " The Minister of the 
 Interior declares that Citizens Gomin and Lasne, 
 commissioners placed on guard at the Temple, have 
 delivered to him Marie TheV&se, daughter of the last 
 King, in the enjoyment of perfect health; which 
 delivery was made to-day at eleven in the evening, 
 declaring that the said commissioners are well and 
 duly discharged of the keeping of the said ThdrSse 
 Charlotte. — Signed Benezech. — Paris, this 27th Fri- 
 maire, Year IV. of the Republic, one and indivisible." 
 
 The Princess, with Gomin at her side, is waiting 
 for the Minister in the Council Hall on the ground- 
 floor of the tower. She leaves it after bidding adieu 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM THE TEMPLE 155 
 
 to Madame de Chantereine. Her apartment on the 
 third floor is empty. This inscription which she 
 had written in the antechamber with the point of a 
 needle or a scissors may be read there : — 
 
 "Marie TherSse Charlotte is the most unhappy 
 person in the world. She can obtain no tidings of 
 her mother, nor even be reunited to her, although 
 she has asked a thousand times. 
 
 " Long live my good mother, whom I love much, 
 and of whom I can obtain no news ! " 
 
 In her own chamber were these words which she 
 had chalked on the wall : — 
 
 " O my father, watch over me from heaven ! 
 
 " O my God ! pardon those who caused the death 
 of my parents ! " 
 
 A few days afterward a regicide Conventionist, 
 KovSre, visited the Temple tower and read this last 
 inscription. He turned pale, and as he has himself 
 recorded, remorse drove him from the apartment. 
 
 Marie TherSse has crossed the threshold of the 
 Temple. She takes Benezech's arm. Gomin and 
 the Minister's valet follow her, carrying a package 
 and a carpet-bag. A sentry is under arms, but he 
 has his instructions, and does not budge. The sol- 
 diers on guard also remain motionless. Their officer 
 alone comes forward and salutes. The night is dark, 
 the neighboring streets are empty, the approaches of 
 the Temple silent. "I am sensible of your atten- 
 tions and your respect," says the Princess to Bene- 
 zech, "but even at the hour when I owe you my 
 
156 THE DUCHESB OF ANGOULEME 
 
 liberty, how can I refrain from thinking of those 
 who have crossed this threshold before me? It is 
 just three years four months and five days since 
 these doors closed upon my family and me ; to- 
 day I go out the last, and the most wretched of 
 all." 
 
 At the moment when she departed thus from the 
 fatal precincts of the Temple, Marie TheVtise recalled 
 all she had suffered there : her entry into the tower 
 by torchlight, the adieus of Louis XVI. as he was 
 going to the scaffold, the day when she was sepa- 
 rated from her brother, the days when Marie Antoi- 
 nette and Madame Elisabeth departed, and that on 
 which she learned at the same time the death of 
 three beings so dear to her heart. All these sinister 
 dates renewed themselves in her mind. And yet, 
 it was not without regret that she left the dungeon 
 which had been the sanctuary of faith and of sorrow. 
 Just as some persons cannot tear themselves away 
 from a tomb above which they have prayed, so the 
 child of martyrs was loath to leave the abode where 
 her parents had given her such admirable examples. 
 If she had at least had the certainty of revisiting the 
 Temple, to kneel there and pray God for the execu- 
 tioners of her family ! But no, that consolation was 
 not granted her. Eighteen years later, when the 
 unfortunate Princess returned to France, Napoleon 
 had caused the tower to be demolished, and not a 
 stone of it remained. 
 
SECOND PART 
 THE EXILE 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO THE FRONTIER 
 
 IT is December 18, 1795 — 27 Frimaire, Year IV. 
 It is half-past eleven o'clock at night. Marie 
 The"rSse of France, leaning on the arm of Benezech, 
 Minister of the Interior, leaves the precinct of the 
 Temple by the rue de la Corderie, opposite the tower, 
 and walks through this street. She finds the Minis- 
 ter's carriage at rue Meslay, and gets into it with 
 him and Gomin the keeper. The street is empty. 
 No one sees the daughter of kings depart. The car- 
 riage starts and arrives at rue Bondy, behind the 
 Opera House (the present theatre of the Porte Saint- 
 Martin). The Princess, the Minister, and Gomin 
 leave the carriage. Just in front of them stands the 
 travelling berlin in which Marie TherSse is to be 
 taken to the frontier. On the front seat of this ber- 
 lin are Madame de Soucy, the daughter of the Baron- 
 ess of Mackau, and Me"chain, the officer of gendarmes, 
 who, like Gomin, is to accompany the young Princess. 
 
 167 
 
158 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 She takes leave of Benezech, thanks him, and gets 
 into the carriage with Gomin. " Adieu, Monsieur ! " 
 she says. Then she departs into exile. Benezech 
 pulls out his watch. It is midnight. The 19th of 
 December, 1795, is beginning. On this day, the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, born 
 at Versailles December 19, 1778, enters her eigh- 
 teenth year. 
 
 The young Princess travels incognito, under the 
 name of Sophie. The government has instructed 
 Me"chain, the officer of the gendarmes, to conduct to 
 Huningue two women and a man (Marie Therdse, 
 Madame de Soucy, and Gomin) ; one of these women 
 is to pass for his daughter, and the other for his wife, 
 the man for his confidential servant. His orders are 
 to allow no one to speak with them in private. He 
 is to occupy himself especially with the younger 
 of the two women, designated under the name of 
 Sophie, and to take excellent care of her health. 
 
 Marie The'rSse has herself written the account of 
 her journey. At nine in the morning, December 19, 
 she breakfasts at Guignes. At Nogent-on-Seine she 
 is recognized by the innkeeper's wife. She is treated 
 with much respect. The street and courtyard are 
 thronged with people. They are affected on seeing 
 the daughter of Louis XVI. and load her with bene- 
 dictions. She passes the night at Gray. 
 
 She sets out again the next morning and travels all 
 day and all night of December 20-21. At nine in 
 the morning, December 21, she arrives at Chaumont 
 
THE JOURNEY TO THE FRONTIER 159 
 
 and alights for breakfast. There she is recognized, 
 and an immense and sympathetic crowd throng the 
 approaches of the room where she takes her repast ; 
 when she re-enters the carriage, everybody follows 
 her with good wishes and respectful homage. The 
 22d, she reaches Vesoul at eight in the evening, hav- 
 ing accomplished only ten leagues during the day for 
 lack of horses. She enters Belfort the 23d at eleven 
 o'clock in the evening and sleeps there. The 24th, 
 she departs at six in the morning, and arrives at 
 nightfall at Huningue. There she alights at the Cor- 
 beau tavern and is installed in the second story. The 
 innkeeper, M. Schuldz, knows who she is, and 
 receives her with marks of profound respect. 
 
 The Directory had given M. Francois Hue permis- 
 sion to rejoin the Princess at Huningue. After the 
 10th of August, this former officer of the King's bed- 
 chamber had been called by Louis XVI. to the honor 
 of remaining in attendance on him and the royal 
 family. In the will made in the Temple tower, 
 December 25, 1792, the unhappy monarch had writ- 
 ten : " I should think I had calumniated the senti- 
 ments of the nation if I did not openly recommend 
 to my son Messieurs Chamilly and Hue, whose 
 genuine attachment has led them to shut themselves 
 up with me in this sad abode, and who have expected 
 to be its unfortunate victims:" 
 
 Frangois Hue, accompanied by Madame de Soucy's 
 young son and Meunier and Baron, employees of the 
 Temple, as well as by a chambermaid and a little dog 
 
160 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 belonging to Marie There-se, had left Paris an hour 
 after the young Princess. They reached Huningue 
 several hours later than she did. "My pen," he 
 says, " can but feebly express what I felt when the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. deigned to speak to me for 
 the first time since my departure from the Temple. 
 She gave me at this moment a letter she had written 
 to the King, her uncle, ordering me to see that it 
 reached His~Majesty. This was not the only time I 
 received the same commission, and, on one of these 
 occasions, the confidence with which Madame hon- 
 ored me was so great that she commanded me to 
 read the letter with which she had entrusted me. 
 Who would not preserve an eternal souvenir of the 
 sentiments this Princess testified towards His Majesty 
 when imploring his clemency in favor of the French, 
 and even for the murderers of her family in these 
 expressions : ' Yes, uncle, it is she whose father, 
 mother, and aunt they have caused to perish, who on 
 her knees begs from you their pardon and peace ' ? " 
 
 December 25, the Courbeau hotel was surrounded 
 by a crowd the whole day long. An order to keep 
 the door closed was issued. The Princess was re- 
 quested not to open her windows. She wrote a let- 
 ter to Madame de Tourzel, concerning which that 
 lady has said : " Madame wrote me from HuniDgue 
 before quitting France. I carefully treasured this 
 letter and that I received from her from Calais, 
 when she re-entered France, as precious monuments 
 of her kindness and the justice she never ceased to 
 
THE JOURNEY TO THE FRONTIER 161 
 
 render that profound attachment I have vowed to 
 her until my latest hreath." After writing to 
 Madame de Tourzel, the Princess made a sketch of 
 the room she was occupying. The wife of the inn- 
 keeper, Madame Schuldz, came up to present her 
 two children, who offered the Princess flowers. 
 
 Meanwhile the moment when the exchange was to 
 be made was drawing nigh. The French prisoners, 
 among whom were Drouet, Beurnonville, Camus, 
 Bancal, Quinette, Maret, and Se"monville, had just 
 been brought from Fribourg to the village of Riehen, 
 chief town of the bailiwick of the same name, belong- 
 ing to the republic of Basel, on the left bank of the 
 Rhine. It had been agreed that they should not be 
 confronted with Marie Th6r&se, and that the Princess 
 should be delivered to the Austrian government by 
 M. Bacher, first secretary of the Embassy of the 
 French Republic to Switzerland, in a house very near 
 Basel, belonging to a M. Reber. The Prince of Gavre 
 and Baron Degelmann were to receive her on behalf 
 of the Emperor of Austria. 
 
 December 26, M. Bacher, coming from Riehen, 
 arrived at the Courbeau hotel, Huningue, at about 
 half-past four in the afternoon. There he learned 
 that Marie The"rese refused to accept the rich trous- 
 seau which the Directory had caused to be made 
 for her in Paris. The republican diplomat showed 
 great respect to the daughter of Louis XVI., and 
 wrote to his government: "I have just seen the 
 daughter of the last King of the French ; she mani- 
 
162 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 fests the keenest regret at seeing herself on the point 
 of quitting France ; the honors which await her at 
 the court of Austria affect her less than her regrets 
 at leaving her country." The young Princess thanked 
 M. Bacher and took leave of the innkeeper and his 
 family, who had treated her with affectionate respect. 
 She left them some small mementoes, and said to 
 Madame Schuldz, who was pregnant : " If you have 
 a daughter, I beg you to let her bear my name." 
 Gomin, who was soon to leave the august orphan, 
 could not avoid weeping. To reward him for his 
 devotion, the Princess gave him the following lines, 
 written by herself : " In spite of my chagrin, this 
 journey has seemed agreeable to me on account of 
 the presence of a kind-hearted person whose goodness 
 has long been known to me, but who has carried it 
 to the highest degree by the manner in which he has 
 behaved, and the active way in which he has served 
 me, although assuredly he could not have been 
 accustomed to do so. It must all be attributed to 
 his zeal. I have known him for a long time; this 
 last proof was not necessary in order to gain him 
 my esteem ; but he has it more than ever in these 
 final moments. I can say no more; my heart feels 
 strongly all that it ought to feel, but I have no words 
 wherewith to express it. I conclude, however, by 
 conjuring him not to be too much afflicted and to 
 take courage ; I do not ask him to think of me, I am 
 sure he will do so, and I answer for as much on my 
 own part." When giving this paper to Gomin, the 
 
THE JOURNEY TO THE FRONTIER 163 
 
 young Princess said : " I do not know whether I 
 shall be able to speak to you again at Basel, and I 
 want to fulfil my promise now. Adieu ; do not weep, 
 and above all have confidence in God." The inn- 
 keeper threw himself at her feet and asked her bless- 
 ing; she seemed like a saint to him. Then she 
 entered a carriage, and departed sorrowfully from a 
 French town. At the moment when she crossed 
 the frontier, some one said: "Madame, France ends 
 here." Her eyes filled with tears. "I quit France 
 with regret," said she; "for I shall never cease to 
 regard it as my country." The exile had begun. 
 
II 
 
 BASEL 
 
 AT the moment when she was delivered up to 
 Austria, the daughter of Louis XVI. did not 
 suspect all the intrigues with which she was already- 
 surrounded, and the snares which were to he spread 
 for her feet. The Austrian government was not act- 
 ing as a liberator. ,It wanted to make a hostage of 
 the young Princess, an instrument of its policy and 
 its ambitions. Louis XVIII. had much reason to 
 complain of the Austrian court at this period. As 
 head of the House of France, and as uncle of Marie 
 The"r§se, he was perfectly entitled to demand that 
 his niece should join him at Verona, in accordance 
 with her own desire, instead of being kept at Vienna, 
 where her presence could only be explained by the 
 ambitious designs of Austria. As has been said, this 
 power had the intention of marrying her to an Arch- 
 duke and profiting by this marriage to reclaim cer- 
 tain portions of French territory. Several weeks 
 earlier, Louis XVIII. had sent the Count of Avaray 
 to Switzerland to meet the young Princess, whose 
 liberation was expected from one day to another. 
 Having learned that she was to pass through Inns- 
 164 
 
BABEL 165 
 
 pruck, M. d'Avaray repaired to that town, where he 
 was at first well received by the Austrian authorities. 
 But while thus allowed to hope for the complete suc- 
 cess of his mission, a courier was despatched to 
 Vienna to inform the Emperor that the envoy of 
 Louis XVIII. proposed to conduct the Princess to 
 Verona. Orders were at once transmitted to the 
 Prince and Princess of Gavre, who had been com- 
 missioned to receive the daughter of Louis XVI. at 
 Basel, that no one should see the young Princess 
 while on the road. M. d'Avaray was obliged to leave 
 Innspruck and return to Verona. At the same time, 
 Thugut, the Austrian Prime Minister, who was 
 always very hostile to France, said to the Duchess of 
 Gramont, who was impatient for Marie Th^rese's 
 arrival at Vienna, that possibly the young Princess 
 would receive no French persons. Such were the 
 sentiments of the government which, while ostensi- 
 bly offering an asylum to the orphan of the Temple, 
 was really preparing for her a new captivity compli- 
 cated by exile. 
 
 Marie Theresse left Huningue at four o'clock in 
 the afternoon, December 26, 1795, to proceed to 
 Basel. She was in the same carriage as Madame 
 de Soucy. M. Bacher, first secretary of the Embassy 
 of the French Republic in Switzerland, Mechain the 
 officer of gendarmes, Francois Hue, Gomin, Baron, 
 and a lady's maid followed in another carriage. The 
 neutrality of the Helvetic cantons, and their inter- 
 mediate position between France and the Austrian 
 
166 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 dominions, naturally pointed them out as the spot 
 where the exchange of the daughter of Louis XVI. 
 against certain French prisoners detained by Austria 
 should take place. It had been arranged that the 
 delivery of the Princess to the Austrian authorities 
 should be effected at a country house belonging to 
 a rich merchant named Reber, close to Basel, and 
 very near the Saint Jean gate. The Prince of 
 Gavre and Baron Degelmann, Austrian Minister in 
 Switzerland, had already arrived with six carriages 
 when Marie Therese entered the gate. The Prince 
 of Gavre addressed her a compliment, to which she 
 responded graciously, and then he handed to M. 
 Bacher, secretary of the French Embassy in Switzer- 
 land, an act thus worded: "I, the undersigned, in 
 virtue of the orders of His Majesty the Emperor, 
 declare that I have received from M. Bacher, the 
 French commissioner delegated for this purpose, the 
 Princess Marie TheYSse, daughter of Louis XVI." 
 Provided with this act, the republican diplomat 
 repaired instantly to Riehen to deliver the French 
 prisoners exchanged against Madame Royale without 
 being confronted with her. M. Hue then asked 
 permission to speak with the Princess. "I have 
 been commissioned," said he, "by the Minister of 
 the Interior, to deliver to Madame on the neutral 
 territory of Basel, two trunks containing a trousseau 
 intended for Her Royal Highness. Does Madame 
 wish me to open them? " " No," replied the Prin- 
 cess; "return them to my conductors (MM. Me"- 
 
BASEL 167 
 
 chain and Gomin), begging them to thank M. Bene- 
 zech in my name. I am sensible of his attention, 
 but I cannot accept his offers." 
 
 Marie The"rese then bowed to Baron Degelmann, 
 bade adieu to Me"chain and Gomin, and with Ma- 
 dame de Soucy and the Prince of Gavre, entered 
 an imperial carriage drawn by six horses, which, 
 followed by five other carriages drove into Basel 
 through the Saint Jean gate. It was about seven 
 in the evening, and the moon was shining brightly 
 in a clear sky. An officer of the Swiss army, Adju- 
 tant Kolb, rode beside the carriage of the Princess. 
 As they left Basel, he took command of a detach- 
 ment of Swiss cavalry which was to escort them as 
 far as the frontier. During the night Marie The'r^se 
 arrived at Laufenburg, a town seven leagues from 
 Basel, where the suite appointed for her by the Em- 
 peror was awaiting her. 
 
 Laufenburg is one of the four "forest towns" of 
 Upper Austria. This name is given to four German 
 towns situated on the Rhine above Basel, in the 
 vicinity of the Black Forest: Rheinfel, Waldshut, 
 Seckingen, and Laufenburg. In the morning, the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. entered a church for the 
 first time since August, 1792, and prayed God not 
 only for her family, but for their persecutors and 
 executioners. Having found at Laufenburg the 
 women the Emperor had sent to attend upon her, 
 she continued her route toward the Tyrol. On the 
 way she passed a place where a part of Condd's 
 
168 TBE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 army were quartered for the time being. An officer 
 of this army, the Count of Romain, has written in 
 his Souvenirs d'un officier royaliste: "We were in 
 our winter quarters when we learned of the happy 
 deliverance of the daughter of Louis XVI. This 
 Princess, whose safety had so long been the dearest 
 object of our wishes, passed through our quarters 
 without our being able to enjoy the happiness of 
 seeing her. This caused much bitter feeling." How- 
 ever, M. Berthier, an aide-de-camp of the Prince of 
 Conde", accidentally encountered Marie Th^rese on 
 the highroad, and notwithstanding the injunction 
 to keep out of her sight anything that might remind 
 her of France, the Prince of Gavre permitted this 
 officer, who was in uniform, to approach the car- 
 riage. The daughter of Louis XVI. transmitted 
 through him" the kindest expressions of good will 
 to the Prince of Conde - and his companions in arms. 
 In the Tyrol she stayed two days at Innspruck, at 
 the castle of her aunt, the Archduchess Elisabeth, 
 and arrived at Vienna, January 9, 1796. 
 
 The young Princess had not been without anxiety 
 during her journey. "Why do they give me no 
 news from Verona ? " she reflected. " Why do they 
 not let me go there to rejoin my uncle and my King? 
 Is not my place at his side ? What does the House 
 of Austria, so often at strife with the House of 
 France, propose to do with me at Vienna? They 
 treat me with great respect, they observe a princely 
 etiquette toward me, they place imperial carriages 
 
BABEL 169 
 
 with six horses at my disposal. But would I not 
 prefer to all this idle ceremony liberty and the right 
 to go to my uncle ? The asylum prepared for me by 
 Austria will doubtless be a gilded prison, but it will 
 be a prison none the less." 
 
Ill 
 
 VIENNA 
 
 THE Emperor Francis II., born February 12, 
 1768, was nearly twenty-eight years old when 
 the daughter of Louis XVI. arrived in Vienna. On 
 March 1, 1792, he had succeeded his father, the Em- 
 peror Leopold, son of the great Empress Maria The- 
 resa, and brother of Queen Marie Antoinette. In 
 1790, he married Marie ThdrSse of Naples, born in 
 1772, the daughter of Ferdinand IV., King of the 
 Two Sicilies, and Marie Caroline, daughter of Marie 
 Theresa and sister of Marie Antoinette. Marie The'- 
 rSse of France, the daughter of Louis XVI. and 
 Marie Antoinette, was therefore, the cousin-german 
 not only of the Emperor Francis II., but also of the 
 Empress Marie The'rese of Naples. 
 
 On the day of her arrival in Vienna, the young 
 Princess was received by a high official of the Empe- 
 ror and conducted to one of the finest apartments of 
 the imperial palace, which had been assigned her. 
 There she received a visit from the Emperor and 
 Empress, who gave her a cordial welcome. After 
 some weeks of repose and meditation she made her 
 appearance at court. She had put on mourning, not 
 170 
 
VIENNA 171 
 
 having been allowed to do so in the Temple. The 
 Emperor gave her an establishment like that of the 
 archduchesses. The Prince of Gavre was appointed 
 grand-master of the household, and the Countess of 
 Chanclos grand-mistress. At this period the Emperor 
 Francis II. had only two children, — the Archduchess 
 Marie Louise, who had just passed her fourth birth- 
 day, as she was born December 12, 1791 ; and the 
 Prince-imperial, Archduke Ferdinand, born in 1793. 
 The daughter of Louis XVI. became attached to the 
 little Archduchess, who was one day to be the Em- 
 press of the French, and during the three years she 
 spent at Vienna she devoted much attention to this 
 child, for whom was reserved a destiny so extraordi- 
 nary. Marie Louise was only seven when the orphan 
 of the Temple left Vienna, but she remembered 
 always that she had seen the daughter of the mar- 
 tyred King and Queen. When conversing with the 
 plenipotentiaries of Charles X. in her little court at 
 Parma, she recalled this souvenir which had left 
 a profound impression on her youthful mind. 
 
 From the time when Marie Th^r&se arrived in 
 Vienna she inspired an interest bordering on venera- 
 tion in all classes of Austrian society, and especially 
 in the refugee French royalists, by her youth so full 
 of trials and disasters, the precocious yet majestic 
 gravity that characterized the pleasing melancholy of 
 her countenance, and the touching beauty to which 
 grief had imparted a nameless sanctity. As has been 
 said by M. Fourneron, the author of a remarkable 
 
172 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Histoire gSnSrale des Emigris pendant la Revolution 
 franpaise, "it was a joy which thrilled the SmigrSs, 
 shivering in their chilly rooms. This grave and 
 coldly beautiful young girl, who had known all gran- 
 deur and all wretchedness, and who, the sole survivor 
 of a once most happy family, represented the excess 
 of human anguish, this pale Christmas rose blossomed 
 at last amongst them." 
 
 Yet, in spite of the sympathies she aroused, Marie 
 Th£rdse experienced many difficulties and annoy- 
 ances in Vienna. First came the removal of the 
 Marchioness de Soucy, her travelling companion, 
 whose society she had found agreeable, and for whom 
 she had a great affection. The young Princess vainly 
 expressed her desire to retain this lady, who, like her 
 mother, the venerable Madame de Mackau, formerly 
 assistant governess of the children of France, had 
 always shown the profoundest devotion to the royal 
 family. Madame de Soucy, having obtained a pri- 
 vate audience with the Emperor, was alike unsuc- 
 cessful in preferring this suit. "My cousin is 
 strongly attached to your mother," said the sov- 
 ereign; "and she has not left me in ignorance of 
 your own devotion to her person. I am sorry to 
 separate you, but the state of war between the two 
 countries necessitates this measure." Perceiving that 
 the Marchioness had a paper in her hand, he added : 
 " Is that paper for me, Madame ? " " No, Sire," she 
 answered, weeping ; " it is my farewell letter to the 
 Princess." "Entrust it to me, Madame," replied 
 
VIENNA 173 
 
 Francis II. "I will remit it to my cousin." The 
 rigidity of German etiquette required that it should 
 pass through the hands of the Countess of Chanclos, 
 Marie The'rSse's grand-mistress of the household. 
 The Princess, not being permitted to see Madame 
 de Soucy, was obliged to content herself with writ- 
 ing the following letter : " I have received your let- 
 ter, Madame, through Madame de Chanclos ; I was 
 much affected by it. I will speak to the Emperor 
 about you : he is good ; but you -know I feared that 
 the state of war between the two nations would 
 separate us. The same thing has happened to all 
 the rest of the French. I beg you to console that 
 faithful servant of my father, M. Hue ; I am sure the 
 Emperor will not abandon him. I am sure of your 
 courage also. I will pray for your successful jour- 
 ney. Say everything that is kind for me to your 
 mother. I thank you for the sacrifice you made in 
 leaving your country and your family to follow me, 
 and I shall never forget it. Adieu ! rely always on 
 the affection of Marie Th^rSse Charlotte." 
 
 An exception was made in the case of Francois 
 Hue, and he was authorized to remain in Vienna, 
 where he was considered as an emigre. But Meunier 
 the cook and the waiter Baron, two employees of the 
 Temple who had made the journey with him, were 
 sent back to France, January 20, 1796. Madame de 
 Soucy, her son, and her lady's maid left Vienna Jan- 
 uary 23. 
 
 The daughter of Louis XVI. was not free. After 
 
174 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 having been the prisoner of the French Republic, she 
 was now that of Austria. As if it were not enough 
 for this girl of barely seventeen to have endured the 
 most horrible captivity in the Temple dungeon for 
 three years and a half, she was again surrounded by 
 snares of every description. Her pretended liber- 
 ators were not in reality her friends. She was 
 sequestrated in the imperial palace at Vienna as a 
 sort of hostage, and they sought to make her re- 
 nounce her country and her family in order to con- 
 vert her into an instrument of Austrian intrigues 
 and ambitions. But the august orphan did not per- 
 mit herself to be misled by their brilliant offers. She 
 would accept neither the coronet of an archduchess 
 nor the diadem of a queen. The husband selected 
 for her by her father and mother before they died 
 was the only one to whom she was willing to yield 
 her heart ; she preferred exile and poverty with him 
 to a throne with any other. 
 
 This apparently frail young girl already possessed 
 an indomitable moral force. Misfortune had given 
 her a precocious experience which kept her on her 
 guard against threats and flattery alike. She re- 
 mained more than three years in Vienna without 
 deviating from the line of conduct she had marked 
 out for herself. Her modesty, her gentleness, and 
 firmness commanded the respect of all. Beholding 
 her, people felt themselves in the presence of a supe- 
 rior nature, a veritable Christian, a young girl who 
 already possessed the virtues of the valiant woman 
 
VIENNA 176 
 
 of Scripture. The Austrian government deceived 
 itself in supposing that by banishing Frenchmen 
 •from the Princess they could make her forget France. 
 This heroine of duty who, like her father, her mother, 
 and her aunt, had pardoned her persecutors and 
 prayed for her tormentors, was all the more attached 
 to her country because of what she had suffered 
 there. In Austria she pined for France, where, never- 
 theless, she had been so ill-treated and unhappy. 
 From the depths of her heart she longed that the 
 nation she had so much cause to complain of might 
 prosper and be glorious, and she never mentioned 
 it but with affectionate emotion. Never did a harsh, 
 severe, or recriminating word pass her lips. The Gos- 
 pel had taught the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie 
 Antoinette to forgive injuries. 
 
 An excellent work by a promising historian, M. 
 Alfred Lebon, gives some curious information con- 
 cerning this period in the life of Marie The"r£se. It 
 is entitled: L'Angleterre et V Emigration frangaise. 
 The author has had access to the correspondence of 
 Wickham and Lord Macartney with the British gov- 
 ernment. Wickham was an English agent whom 
 the Cabinet of London had sent to Switzerland, that 
 rendezvous of intriguers, diplomatists, and conspira- 
 tors, to arrange the preliminaries of a Bourbon res- 
 toration which, having been accomplished under the 
 auspices of England, would have assured that coun- 
 try a peace conformable to its desires. Lord Mac- 
 artney had been accredited to Louis XVIII. by the 
 
176 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 English government, and had arrived at Verona, 
 August 6, 1795, a few days after the appearance of 
 the manifesto in which the exiled Pretender notified- 
 France and Europe of his royal intentions. 
 
 In a despatch dated January 31, 1796, Lord Mac- 
 artney thus expressed the sentiments of the French 
 royalists of Verona in regard to Austria : " Although 
 greatly irritated hy the way in which the Prince of 
 Cond^ has been treated and the resulting disappoint- 
 ments to the insurrection in the southwest, they 
 seem still more exasperated by the mean policy of 
 the court of Vienna and the manner in which it 
 has monopolized Madame Royale, who, as they say, 
 was smuggled away from her family by a contra- 
 band trade with the French Republic ; for they 
 express their firm conviction that none other of the 
 powers in coalition could have taken any part in the 
 transaction or known anything about it. Sir Mor- 
 ton Eden has probably informed Your Lordships 
 that Madame de Soucy was separated from the 
 Princess soon after her arrival in Vienna, and that 
 she is not permitted to have any French attendants. 
 The Bishop of Nancy, who is now the King's chargi 
 d'affaires in that city, has not yet been authorized 
 to see her. Nevertheless, means were found before 
 she left Paris to acquaint her with her uncle's sen- 
 timents and his desire that she should avoid binding 
 herself by any engagement, so as to be free to marry 
 her cousin, the Duke of AngoulSme. At the same 
 time she learned that it was the Emperor's intention 
 
VIENNA 177 
 
 to give her to one of his brothers ; hence she is com- 
 pletely on her guard so far as relates to the conduct 
 she should observe at Vienna." 
 
 Louis XVIII. could not congratulate himself on 
 the sentiments of the Austrian court. There was 
 a long-standing rivalry between the Hapsburgs and 
 the Bourbons which the misfortunes of Louis XVI. 
 and Marie Antoinette had not obliterated. The 
 Vienna Cabinet was presided over by a man who 
 loved neither monarchical nor republican France. 
 Baron Thugut, who was almost as hostile to the 
 imigris as to the Jacobins, considered them frivo- 
 lous and superficial, and sometimes arrogant, in spite 
 of the lessons of adversity. He found fault with 
 their boasting, their illusions and fruitless disturb- 
 ances, and thought that a royalist restoration would 
 in reality afford few guarantees to Austria. What 
 he would have liked was a dismemberment of France 
 and to see it treated like a second Poland by the 
 Powers. It is said that this anti-French Minister 
 thought of forcing the daughter of Louis XVI. 
 and Marie Antoinette to become a party to his 
 Machiavellian schemes. His only object in marry- 
 ing her to an Archduke, either Charles or Joseph, 
 was to use the marriage for the benefit of Aus- 
 tria. It is even insinuated that he did not recoil 
 from the idea of dispossessing Louis XVIII. and 
 transforming the Archduke who should become the 
 husband of Madame Royale into a candidate for the 
 tin-one of France. As a Bourbon and a possible 
 
178 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 competitor for the rights of this future royalty, the 
 King of Spain was sounded by the Vienna Cabinet 
 on the subject of this combination. The Duke of 
 Havr6, who had remained the representative of 
 Louis XVIII. at Madrid in spite of the peace con- 
 cluded between the French Republic and Spain, 
 wrote to the Baron of Flachslanden, April 5, 1796 : 
 " This is very disquieting. Do you not see a plan 
 of dismemberment,. and a movement to bring it about 
 safely by means of a marriage which would give, if 
 not a title, at least a pretext for reclaiming in the 
 name of the Princess, as her inheritance, the owner- 
 ship of the conquered or donated provinces which 
 have not formally recognized the Salic law? Is it 
 not even possible that they would carry their plans 
 so far as to invest Madame with the throne of 
 France?" Such, it seems, was the ulterior aim of 
 Austria, and it is claimed that Thugut had secret 
 emissaries in Parisian cafe's who drank to the health 
 of Louis XVI.'s daughter as Queen of France and 
 Navarre. 
 
 If this combination should not succeed, the Aus- 
 trian Minister hoped at least for some sort of dis- 
 memberment. The Salic law, applicable to the 
 Kingdom of France, had not formerly been so to the 
 Kingdom of Navarre. True, Louis XIII. had issued 
 an edict declaring Navarre an integral part of France. 
 But Austria, none the less, hoped to press success- 
 fully Madame Royale's pretended rights, as sole 
 daughter of France, over this portion of French 
 
VIENNA 179 
 
 territory, contenting itself, if needful, with some 
 other piece of the same territory. 
 
 Marie Th^rese, whose sole ambition was to do what 
 was right, indignantly rejected all combinations of 
 the sort. The more unfortunate was her family, the 
 more was she minded to cling to it, and what pleased 
 her most in her projected union with the Duke of 
 AngoulSme was that it would allow her to remain a 
 Frenchwoman. 
 
 Mgr. Lafare, Bishop of Nancy, who had replaced 
 the Count of Saint-Priest as Louis XVIII.'s chargS 
 d'affaires at Vienna, perceived clearly that Austria, 
 even while pretending interest in the French imigrSs, 
 in nowise desired a Bourbon restoration in France. 
 The Pretender wrote thus to the bishop : " I am revolted 
 by M. de Thugut's duplicity. When the weak resort 
 to deception, it is in a manner excusable ; but when 
 the powerful do so, one hardly knows whether the 
 horror or the contempt they excite, is greatest. Tor 
 my part, I feel both." 
 
 Marie The"rdse was equally offended by the pro- 
 ceedings of the Austrian court. August 31, 1797, 
 Louis XVIII. wrote to the Count of Saint-Priest: 
 "I think my niece does not like being at Vienna. 
 So I am advised by the Bishop of Nancy, and, more- 
 over, she speaks in nearly all her letters of her desire 
 to be with me. Whether it is to be attributed to her 
 discontent with the place where she is, or whether 
 the really pleasing letters of my nephew have made 
 an impression on her heart, at all events she has 
 
180 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 written one to him which so far as I can remember 
 my own youth would have turned my head at 
 twenty-two ; so much the more reason for striking 
 the iron while it is hot." 
 
 In September, 1796, the young Duke of Angou- 
 leme had written to his betrothed : " The sentiments 
 which my dearest cousin has engraven on my heart 
 are at once my happiness and my torment. The 
 delays which retard the hopes that incessantly 
 occupy me, fill me with the keenest pain. It seems 
 to me as if I were being deprived of days all of which 
 I long to devote to your happiness." The Prince 
 had vainly sought an authorization from the Austrian 
 court to repair to Vienna. In spite of the pressing 
 and repeated invitations of his betrothed, he had not 
 even been able to go there secretly. 
 
 Mgr. Lafare wrote to Louis XVIII., August 29, 
 1798: "Madame The"rese is not cordial with the 
 Empress since her arrival. It is a part of my duty, 
 Sire, to apprise you that Madame is very decided in 
 character, very thoughtful, and very much attached 
 to the determinations she has thought best to take. 
 She has settled ideas concerning several persons ; she 
 will never like any but those of whom she has a 
 favorable opinion." And again, on December 30, of 
 the same year: "Madame The'rSse takes a very 
 gloomy view of everything. I have tried to lessen 
 Madame's distrust of the future and reanimate her 
 hopes. I communicate the favorable details I receive 
 from France, and these communications light up, 
 
VIENNA 181 
 
 momentarily at least, the sombre tints of her hor- 
 izon." 
 
 As M. Fourneron very acutely remarks, " this mel- 
 ancholy indicates a surer judgment and a more cor- 
 rect appreciation of things on the part of the young 
 girl than on that of the bishop and the majority of 
 the SmigrSs. Nor did her good sense deceive her as 
 to the estimate to be placed on persons." 
 
 Louis XVIII. continued to complain of Austria. 
 The Countess of Artois having asked to be allowed to 
 spend a few days with Marie Therese, and having been 
 refused, the Pretender wrote to the Count of Saint- 
 Priest : " The response of Vienna to my sister-in-law's 
 request to pay a short visit to her niece, her future 
 daughter-in-law, is utterly barbarous." 
 
 It was useless for Louis XVIII. to demand his niece. 
 And as the Bishop of Nancy, his charge d'affaires at 
 Vienna, was also unsuccessful in his efforts, he sent 
 the Count of Saint-Priest back to that city, and on 
 June 2, 1798, gave him the following instructions, 
 the' Count being still in Russia : " The marriage of 
 my nephew, the Duke of AngoulSme, with Madame 
 Th6r£se, my niece, has always been one of my fond- 
 est desires : but until now I have not been able to 
 accomplish this union, not because the court of 
 Vienna formally opposes it, but because I have had 
 no settled abode. The Emperor Paul has removed 
 this obstacle by giving me an asylum at Mittau. 
 However, his further support is very necessary for 
 me, because, although I have just said that the court 
 
182 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 of Vienna does not formally oppose the marriage, 
 still, I am not certain that they would deliver up my 
 niece upon my unsupported demand. I therefore 
 commission M. de Saint-Priest to influence the sensi- 
 tive heart of His Imperial Majesty in favor of so 
 touching a union, and to induce him to make the 
 affair his own. Then I should have no further 
 trouble from Vienna, and should feel certain that the 
 Emperor Francis would raise no more difficulties." 
 Louis XVIII. was obliged, therefore, to implore the 
 Czar's intervention to put an end to the ill-will and 
 the refusals of the Austrian Emperor. Through mere 
 pertinacity he ended by obtaining the deliverance of 
 the young Princess, thanks to the pressing instances 
 of M. de Saint-Priest. She quitted Vienna, May 3, 
 1799, taking with her no kindly souvenirs of the 
 forced hospitality she had received there since Janu- 
 ary 9, 1796, and went to rejoin her uncle, Louis 
 XVIIL, at Mittau. 
 
IV 
 
 LOUIS XVIII 
 
 MARIE THERESE of France was about to be- 
 come the household guest of her uncle, Louis 
 XVIII., and to live in the society of the Smigris. 
 Before relating the story of the arrival of the young 
 Princess at Courland, we shall say a few words con- 
 cerning the Pretender and the emigration. 
 
 On the death of the young Louis XVIL, the Count 
 of Provence, the brother of Louis XVI. and of the 
 Count of Artois (the future Charles X.), had taken 
 the title of King and the name of Louis XVIII. 
 Born at Versailles, October 17, 1755, his father was 
 the grand-dauphin, the son of Louis XV., and his 
 mother was Marie Josephine of Saxony. He married 
 Marie Josephine Louise of Savoy, daughter of Victor 
 Amadeus III., King of Sardinia, May 14, 1771, and 
 never had a child. In the last years of the old regime 
 he passed for a wit, was very proud of his erudition, 
 a great lover of Latin poetry, quoting Horace at 
 every turn, loving power as much as the King, his 
 brother, disliked it, clever, calculating every step and 
 every word, a diplomatic prince, on good terms with 
 the philosophers, a courtier of public opinion, boast- 
 
 188 
 
184 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 ing of his precocious experience, and believing him- 
 self destined to play a great part. 
 
 His wife, who was rather insignificant in appear- 
 ance but did not lack intelligence, had no influence 
 at court. From 1780, one of her maids of honor, a 
 certain Countess of Balbi, became the favorite of the 
 Count of Provence, but without giving real cause for 
 scandal. This lady, the daughter of one Caumont- 
 Laforce and a Mademoiselle Galard, of Be"arn, was 
 the wife of the Count of Balbi, a noble Genoese, colo- 
 nel of the Bourbon regiment and the possessor of a 
 large fortune. She was more intellectual than beau- 
 tiful, but being ambitious and intriguing, her glowing 
 eyes, her extreme cleverness, her maliciously brilliant 
 conversation, and her inexhaustible gaiety long enabled 
 her to exercise considerable influence over the Count 
 of Provence. 
 
 The Prince had remained with the royal family 
 until June 20, 1791, the day when they left the 
 Tuileries to begin the fatal journey to Varennes. 
 He quitted the Luxembourg palace at the same time, 
 having been ordered by his brother to rejoin him at 
 Montme*dy, by way of Longwy and the Low Coun- 
 tries. But, more prudent than Louis XVI., whose 
 mistake had been to awaken suspicion by taking too 
 many persons with him, he not merely observed the 
 precaution of not travelling in the same carriage with 
 his wife, but did not even go by the same road. 
 Having no companion but the Count of Avaray, 
 whom he afterwards considered as his preserver and 
 
LOUIS XVIII 185 
 
 who became his favorite, he was not recognized 
 during his flight; and while his brother's journey 
 resulted so disastrously, his own was a complete 
 success. 
 
 The Count of Provence went to Germany in the 
 early days of the emigration, and installed himself 
 very near Coblentz in a castle placed at his disposal 
 by his maternal uncle, the Elector of Treves, Clement 
 Wenceslas of Saxony. There he entered into rela- 
 tions with the Prince of Conde - and organized a mili- 
 tant policy. There, also, he quarrelled with the 
 Countess of Balbi, who committed imprudences in 
 which Archambaud of Pe"rigord, brother of the 
 future Prince Talleyrand, was concerned. If one 
 may believe what the Duchess of Abrant&s says 
 about it in her Memoirs, the Count of Provence 
 wrote at this time to his favorite : " Caesar's wife 
 should not even be suspected," and she maliciously 
 replied: "You are not Csesar, and you know very 
 well that I have never been your wife." 
 
 The Count of Provence afterwards sought shelter 
 from the King of Prussia, who permitted him to 
 occupy the castle of Hamm, a little town on the 
 Lippe, in Westphalia, near Diisseldorff. There he 
 heard of the death of Louis XVI., declared himself 
 Regent of France, and formed a ministry. Before 
 the close of 1793, he left Westphalia to rejoin the 
 Countess of Artois at Turin, where she had taken 
 refuge near her father, Victor Amadeus III., King of 
 Sardinia. But as this Prince did not care about 
 
186 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 keeping so compromising a guest at court, he was 
 obliged to accept the asylum offered him at Verona 
 by the Republic of Venice. There he established 
 himself in the character of a nobleman inscribed on 
 the golden book of the Republic and was well received. 
 There, too, he was apprised of the death of Louis 
 XVII., and from that time was recognized as the King 
 of France and Navarre by all the SmigrSs, and never 
 called by any name but Louis XVIII. 
 
 Lord Macartney, who had been sent to Verona by 
 the British government, wrote to Lord Granville, 
 September 27, 1795 : " The King is certainly intelli- 
 gent ; his information is extensive and varied, and he 
 has an easy manner of using and imparting it. Nor 
 does he lack judgment when he is not influenced by 
 the prejudices of his education ; his very prejudices 
 have been considerably lessened and modified by mis- 
 fortune and reflection. Adversity seems to have had 
 a useful effect upon his mind; it has ameliorated 
 without exasperating it. He is believed to be sincere 
 in his faith; he certainly performs his religious duties 
 attentively. He never fails to hear Mass, nor to 
 observe the holy days of his Church, and he does not 
 eat meat on Fridays and Saturdays. They say he 
 has never been inclined to practical gallantry, and 
 that his attachment for Madame de Balbi was simply 
 a tie formed by a long friendship without there hav- 
 ing been the smallest link of a more electric nature 
 between him and her. He is susceptible of private 
 friendships and can be faithful to them. This side of 
 
LOUIS XVIII 187 
 
 his character is strongly defined by his unvarying 
 sentiments toward the Count of Avaray and the 
 attendants who accompanied him in his flight, and 
 have never left him since. People have different 
 opinions concerning their merits, but he alone can 
 judge of them." 
 
 The wife of the Pretender had remained at Turin 
 with her father, the King of Sardinia. She received 
 a kindly letter from her husband every week, but did 
 not seem anxious to rejoin him. In reality, there was 
 but indifferent sympathy between the pair. Lord 
 Macartney wrote to Lord Granville: "The King 
 writes regularly once a week to the Queen ; but what 
 seems rather singular to me, is that I have never 
 heard her name pronounced, either by him or any 
 person belonging to his suite. She is still at Turin 
 and very well maintained by her father. She lives a 
 very secluded life, and sees hardly any one except a 
 Madame de Courbillon, who has been her lady's-maid, 
 and who, like almost all favorites, is generally de- 
 tested by those not in the same situation or who have 
 not the same qualities to recommend them." 
 
 The principal counsellors surrounding Louis 
 XVIII. at Verona were the Count of Avaray, 
 Mgr. Conzid, Bishop of Arras, the Count of Jau- 
 court, the Marquis of Hautefort, the Count of Cosse", 
 the Chevalier of Montagnac, and the Count of 
 Damas. "They are certainly not well situated," 
 writes Lord Macartney; "the Prince's dwelling, the 
 Orto del Qazzola, is shabby; the furniture is scanty, 
 
188 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the domestics few, and the liveries threadbare. The 
 meals, a detail so important to Frenchmen, are 
 wretched." 
 
 Louis XVIII. was at Verona when Marie Ther&se 
 came out of the Temple. But he was not to remain 
 there long. Alarmed by the French Republic, the 
 Republic of Venice sent the podesta of Verona to 
 the Pretender's house to notify him to depart from 
 their territory. "I will go," replied the Prince, 
 " but I make two conditions : the first is that they 
 bring me the golden book in which my family is 
 inscribed, so that I may erase the name from it with 
 my own hand; the second, that they give me back 
 the armor which my ancestor, Henri IV., presented 
 to the Republic." 
 
 Expelled in this manner from Verona, Louis 
 XVIII. departed April 20, 1796, and went to Rie- 
 gel, near the Prince of Conde", whose army received 
 him with enthusiasm. But Austria, always ill-dis- 
 posed toward the Pretender, would not allow him 
 to remain in this encampment. Baron Thugut 
 apprised him that he would be expelled by force 
 if necessary. The unhappy exile set out again, July 
 14, 1796. He knew not where to find a refuge. 
 On the fifth day of his journey, July 19, he stopped 
 in the evening at an inn in the little town of Dil- 
 lingen, belonging to the Elector of Treves. The 
 heat was stifling. He went to the window for air. 
 A shot was heard; a ball grazed his forehead, 
 wounded him, and flattened itself out against the 
 
LOUIS XVIII 189 
 
 wall of the room. On seeing the wound, the Count 
 of Avaray exclaimed: "Ah! Sire, a hair's-breadth 
 lower! ..." "Well," replied Louis XVIII., "the 
 King of France would have been called Charles X." 
 After having been confined to his bed for a week, 
 the Pretender resumed his route, but he was not 
 completely restored until two months later. The 
 SmigrSs suspected that this attempt was the work 
 of the Jacobins, but the general belief was that 
 the Germans, tired of the influx of SmigrSs, had 
 sought to frighten them in this manner, and that 
 the assassin was probably one of those peasants who 
 slaughtered the volunteers of Condi's army whenever 
 they found them defenceless. The heir of so many 
 kings knew not where to rest his head. He was 
 everywhere treated like an outlaw. The Princes of 
 Saxony being his near relatives, since his mother 
 was a Saxon princess, he had sent the Baron of 
 Flachslanden to Dresden to ask for hospitality. The 
 Elector of Saxony regretted that existing circum- 
 stances made it impossible for him to show that 
 cordiality which his sentiments dictated toward the 
 King. The Prince of AnhaltrDessau made the same 
 response. With equal unsuccess Louis XVIII. sought 
 a temporary asylum in the principalities of Olden- 
 berg, Gevern, and AnhaltZerbst. Repulsed on all 
 sides, he at last came to the Duke of Brunswick and 
 entreated that he might be permitted to remain in 
 his dominions until the return of a courier whom he 
 had despatched to Russia. In the Duchy of Bruns- 
 
190 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 wick he stayed in the little town of Blankenburg, 
 three leagues from Halberstadt, lodging with a 
 brewer's widow from whom he hired three rooms. 
 One of these served as salon and dining-room, the 
 second as a bedroom, and the third was transformed 
 into a chapel and at the same time a bedroom for 
 the gentleman-in-waiting, who was by turns the 
 Duke of Guiche, the Duke of Gramont, and the 
 Count of Avaray. The Dukes of Villequier, Fleury, 
 and CosseVBrissac, lodged where they could in the 
 town. They dared not introduce a greater number 
 of Frenchmen. The Count of Avaray wrote to the 
 Count of Antraigues : " The Duke of Brunswick 
 very good-naturedly ignores the King's presence in 
 his States; but a wise circumspection forbids that 
 the SmigrSs of the vicinity be received." For all 
 that, Louis XVIII. maintained a little court in the 
 brewer's incommodious house. The women were 
 received by Madame de Marsan and his niece the 
 Princess Charles de Rohan. 
 
 As for the Queen, she continued to live apart 
 from her husband. After having lost the asylum 
 she had had with her father at Turin, and vainly 
 sought another with the Elector of Treves, she had 
 been received as if by charity in the bishopric of 
 Passau, a small imperial state which formed part 
 of the Circle of Bavaria. The bishop's chancellor 
 accorded the permission only on condition that " the 
 worthy lady and her suite shall never become charge- 
 able on the exchequer of His Lordship the Bishop 
 or his subjects." 
 
Louia xviii 191 
 
 Louis XVIII. was still at Blankenburg when he 
 heard of the coup oV Stat of the 18th Fructidor 
 (September 4, 1799), which deferred his hopes of a 
 restoration. " It is a misfortune for France' and for 
 many honest people," he wrote to the Count of 
 Saint-Priest, September 14, " but I know your soul, 
 and I am sure that it will not be more cast down 
 than mine is." The treaty of Campo Formio (Octo- 
 ber 17, 1797) had so strengthened the Directory 
 that in all continental Europe no one dared to shel- 
 ter the heir of Louis XIV. any longer. The Ger- 
 mans blamed the Duke of Brunswick for receiving 
 SmigrSs, and the King of Prussia notified him to 
 banish Louis XVIII. without delay. In vain did the 
 unhappy Pretender write to Berlin to obtain some 
 slight consideration, and ask not to be obliged to 
 set out in the depth of winter without knowing 
 where to find even a momentary refuge. Berlin 
 responded by an order to depart at once. The Duke 
 of Brunswick was forced to intervene in order to 
 obtain a respite of eight days for the royal proscript. 
 Louis XVIII. left Blankenburg in the middle of Feb- 
 ruary, 1798. The new Emperor of Russia, Paul I., 
 having at last consented to receive him in his do- 
 minions, he went to Courland and from thence to 
 Mittau. 
 
THE EMIGRES 
 
 UNTIL 1814, the daughter of Louis XVI. was 
 to know no Frenchman except imigris. It 
 must be owned, their society was not of a sort to 
 inspire her with agreeable reflections. The mere 
 sight of them was enough to recall a whole series of 
 faults and misfortunes for which they were partly 
 responsible. The young Princess blamed them for 
 having long compounded with the philosophic ene- 
 mies of religion, and thought that the blows aimed 
 at the altar had been one of the chief causes of the 
 downfall of the throne. She had often heard her 
 father and mother complain of the emigration. 
 Doubtless, while the Terror lasted, for an aristocrat 
 to remain in France was virtually to condemn him- 
 self to death. But in 1789, before the October Days, 
 a struggle against the adversaries of the monarchy 
 was still possible. The real field of battle had been 
 at Paris, not at Brussels or Coblentz. This thought 
 has been expressed in his Souvenirs by an Smigri, 
 the Count of Puymaigre : " I could defend the emi- 
 gration," he says, " when it was the only means of 
 escaping from death and thus became a necessity; 
 192 
 
TEE EMIGRES 193 
 
 but there is no doubt that spontaneous emigration 
 as a political system was a great blunder, and that 
 it made an excellent cause unpopular by apparently 
 associating it with the grasping and malevolent 
 pretensions of our ancient enemies." 
 
 As the Count of Fersen mentions in his journal, 
 Marie Antoinette had said : " We lament the num- 
 ber of the emigrants ; it is frightful to see the way 
 in which all these honest people are and have 
 been deceived." Marie The'rese recollected that 
 when her Aunt Elisabeth was entreated to leave 
 France she had exclaimed : "To go away would be 
 cruel as well as stupid." Another SmigrS, the 
 Count of Contades, remarks in his curious Souvenirs 
 sur Ooblentz et Quiberon: "Towards the close of 
 1791, opinion had become so adverse to the Revo- 
 lution that it was no longer permissible to remain in 
 France, even with the purest intentions and the 
 desire and ability to be of service. Those who for 
 various reasons had been obliged to leave their places, 
 and who felt that they were lost if their example 
 was not followed, taxed with cowardice and devoted 
 to infamy those who, more constant, and possibly 
 more courageous, desired to remain and perish at 
 their post rather than go begging in foreign lands for 
 the assistance they thought they should be able to 
 render themselves. From the beginning of the Revo- 
 lution many colonels abandoned their regiments and 
 hastened to enrol under the banners of the Prince of 
 Condi. I have always condemned this conduct as one 
 
194 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 cause of our misfortunes. Could one compare the 
 usefulness of an armed commander esteemed by his 
 men, combating the Revolution by arresting its 
 progress and incessantly recalling his misled soldiers 
 to honor and duty, with that of an individual who 
 had become a private soldier with no resources but 
 those strictly personal?" 
 
 But passion does not reason. A fatal current im- 
 pelled the old society to suicide. To those who 
 hesitated before leaving their country, perhaps for- 
 ever, the women sent distaffs, dolls, and nightcaps. 
 Moreover, they thought that nothing more serious 
 than a trip to the banks of the Rhine was in question. 
 In five or six weeks they expected to come back in 
 triumph; all that was necessary would be to show 
 one's feather, a white handkerchief, the Prince of 
 Condi's boot, and six francs' worth of cord to hang 
 the Revolutionary leaders with. The chief protector 
 of the SmigrSs, Gustavus III. of Sweden, wrote at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, June 16, 1791 : " All of these exiles 
 are animated with the same hatred against the 
 National Assembly, and also with an exaggeration 
 on all subjects of which you have no idea. It is 
 really curious to see and hear them." But let us 
 allow an 4migrS officer in Condi's army, the Count 
 of Contades, to speak : " Two or three thousand gen- 
 tlemen honestly believed themselves able to bring 
 about a counter-revolution. The Prince of Conde - 
 perfectly comprehended the folly of this chimerical 
 dream, but nevertheless, he wanted to prolong it. 
 
THE EMIGRES 195 
 
 The SmigrSs used to meet at a cafe" in Coblentz, 
 called the Trois Colonnes, and laugh and chatter with 
 the same lightness and frivolity as if they had been 
 in the salons of Paris or Versailles. " They spent 
 their whole time in card-playing, slandering the 
 Princes, and grooming their horses in their quar- 
 ters." Another officer of Condi's army, the Count 
 of Puymaigre, writes: "A strange spectacle was 
 presented by this gathering of Emigres, former offi- 
 cers and magistrates now in the ranks, who shoul- 
 dered their guns and groomed their horses. The 
 noble corps contained, however, many bourgeois (if 
 I may be pardoned the expression of the time) who 
 had joined our cause either through conviction or 
 vanity, many old and many young men, children 
 almost, and in this strange medley a point of honor, 
 exaggerated in certain circumstances, but which was 
 more powerful than the rules of discipline, covered 
 any man with disgrace who failed to be present at 
 gun-fire. The manners were those of the reign of 
 Louis XV. 
 
 " In spite of the principles which had caused us to 
 leave France, nothing could be more licentious than 
 Condi's army ; we were dissolute, but never sceptical 
 in matters of religion; the lewdest young fellow, 
 receiving a mortal wound, would not dispense with 
 the assistance of a priest, and yet, at the same time, 
 our favorite reading was the philosophical works then 
 in vogue. The minor poets of the day enlivened our 
 night-watches. Boufflers was most popular with us. 
 
196 THE DUCHESS OF ANOOULEME 
 
 . . . Our hosts could not understand how men, exiled 
 from their country for the sake of God and their 
 King, could come to corrupt foreign lands ; nor 
 how the same men who never ceased preaching re- 
 spect for property, could infringe the laws, and ruin 
 parks reserved for the pleasure of princes and great 
 German proprietors, in order to gratify their passion 
 for hunting ; in a word, how they could treat the 
 most serious matters with a levity of which the Revo- 
 lution should have cured them. These were merited 
 reproaches ; but in other respects our detractors were 
 obliged to do us justice, and we became the objects of 
 their admiration." 
 
 And then the Smigri, with renewed esprit de corps, 
 exclaims : " Who except ourselves could have pre- 
 served this gaiety which supported us in our adver- 
 sities and which blended into one the old man and 
 the adolescent youth; this chivalrous idea which 
 united them in the same sentiment of duty and of 
 honor. . . . Was not this levity of which we were 
 accused the sister of our brilliant qualities ? " 
 
 How many times the daughter of Louis XVI. and 
 Marie Antoinette had heard her parents talk of this 
 heroic but useless emigration ; of Coblentz, so mad 
 and vicious, yet so witty and charming, which did 
 such harm to the monarchy, though with the best 
 intentions; of these vain and censorious gentlemen 
 who had the wit to laugh at their ill fortune, but not 
 the wisdom to learn a lesson from it! She knew 
 the sentiments of the unhappy Queen, who said to 
 
THE EMIGBE8 197 
 
 Francois Hue : " The assistance of foreigners is one 
 of those measures which a wise king never employs 
 except at the last extremity," and who never looked 
 to the other bank of the Rhine except in her de- 
 spondent hours. She knew — for Marie Antoinette 
 had often told her so — that if these SmigrSs had ex- 
 pended at home half the energy and the efforts 
 which they lavished uselessly abroad, the throne 
 might have been saved. 
 
 Their illusions were dispelled very promptly. 
 The emigration which, when it began, was con- 
 sidered as a mere pleasure party, a brief, delightful 
 trip undertaken for enjoyment, turned out a dole- 
 ful and lamentable exodus whose end no one could 
 foresee. The emigre who bore arms under Condi's 
 standards had at least the usual distractions of camp 
 life and could support himself on the pay he re- 
 ceived from Austria. But the decay and poverty 
 of the SmigrS in civil life were sad enough. M. 
 Fourneron makes a striking sketch of them : " The 
 frivolous Frenchman who received funds from his 
 family never thought that every one of his relatives 
 risked his head for each penny sent; he lived an 
 idle life and had a horror of work ; he grew weary 
 of his room ; he would not deign to learn German ; 
 he rose late and went to seek some friend as silly 
 as himself to breakfast with him at the French res- 
 taurant; he paid visits and showed himself importu- 
 nate and bored. Out of money, with shabby coat and 
 torn linen, all beheld their compatriots succumbing 
 
198 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOVLEME 
 
 to poverty in the midst of strangers whose language 
 they did not understand and who regarded them 
 with suspicion. The past was heartrending and the 
 future gloomy." The single resource of nearly all 
 the SmigrSs, was the sale of the trifling objects they 
 had been able to carry with them on leaving France, 
 but this had been speedily exhausted, and they were 
 obliged to work for their living. From 1794, their 
 destitution was complete. On July 8, the Count of 
 Se"rent wrote to the Count of Antraigues : " The Count 
 of Provence has constantly before his eyes the spec- 
 tacle of our wretched Smigris, fleeing from the differ- 
 ent retreats where they have been lodged and fed 
 on credit, and wandering along the roads coatless 
 and shirtless. To lack even the smallest means 
 of providing for them is the most painful of situa- 
 tions." This poverty had increased frightfully in the 
 years that followed. It must be admitted that if 
 the French nobility had committed great faults they 
 were punished for them in a terrible manner. Their 
 bitterest enemies were obliged to pity them. 
 
 The great ladies who, when the emigration began, 
 kept up the grand manners of Versailles on the bor- 
 ders of the Rhine, thinking they were about to re- 
 turn there after a few days ; those proud and witty 
 beauties, thinking of nothing but gaming and in- 
 trigue, who at the court of the Princes had thought 
 they were acquiring influence in exile, lived now on 
 alms or by manual labor. They had sold their last 
 jewels, their last laces. Driven out of Germany, a 
 
TEE EMIGRES 199 
 
 great many of them took refuge in Hamburg which 
 offers an epitome of the life of the French SmigrSs 
 throughout the world. Some gave lessons, others 
 kept shops or practised some trade. But, when night 
 came, they met together and, seeking to forget their 
 wretchedness, they said to each other : " I have 
 been a shopkeeper all day ; now I will be a lady for 
 awhile." 
 
 Marie Therese was profoundly saddened by all she 
 knew of the Smigris. Noble and generous herself, 
 she was inconsolable at being unable to relieve such 
 miseries; and the decay, the poverty, the humilia- 
 tions and anguish of these unhappy nobles whom she 
 had seen so brilliant and so haughty at Versailles in 
 her childhood, incessantly caused her painful reflec- 
 tions. At every instant her heart bled. One day 
 she heard of the Quiberon disaster and the odious 
 massacre of prisoners; on another, of the catastro- 
 phes in Vendue and the execution of Charette. 
 Again it was the proscriptions of which the royalists 
 were victims after the 18th Fructidor, the fusillades 
 in the plain of Grenelle, the deportations in iron 
 cages, the exiles to Cayenne, which was called the 
 dull guillotine. All the families in which the 
 daughter of Louis XVI. felt any interest were 
 attainted. The wind of misfortune blew from all 
 the cardinal points at once, and the French aristo- 
 crats, tossed from one tempest to another, were 
 hounded by an implacable fatality from every shore. 
 All that was occurring overwhelmed with grief a 
 
200 THE DUGHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 patriotic Princess, for whom, as a poet has said, it 
 was an inexpressible vexation to ascend and descend 
 the staircase of another. She was astonished at the 
 levity of the 4migr4» when she saw them amuse 
 themselves and smile. She sympathized less with 
 them than with the loyal and heroic peasants of 
 Vendue, who had waged what Napoleon called a war 
 of giants, and to whom the Restoration showed itself 
 so ungrateful later on. 
 
 At the time when she rejoined Louis XVIII. at 
 Mittau, Marie Th<sr6se was fully acquainted with 
 all the intrigues, rivalries, jealousies, and rancors 
 that spring up around an empty phantom of royalty. 
 Even in exile princes have their courtiers and flat- 
 terers, and the petty annoyances of court life beset 
 them in an inn as well as in a palace. The favors 
 they may possibly dispense some day are quarrelled 
 over with premature avidity. Promises are extorted 
 from them. Their accession is discounted. From 
 her childhood the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie 
 Antoinette had learned by experience what to think 
 of courtiers. She knew all about the egotism, the 
 inconstancy, and the greediness of many of them. 
 No woman knew how to distinguish wheat from 
 tares better than this young girl. With a perspi- 
 cacity rare at her age she saw what was sincere and 
 what false in the devotion protested for her. She 
 could read the faces of her interlocutors, penetrate 
 their thoughts, and recognize instantly those who 
 were worthy of her esteem. She had none of that 
 
THE EMIGRES 201 
 
 commonplace amiability which pretends to accept 
 the world's counterfeit coin as current money. She 
 had reflected much since 1789. Not one of the 
 severe lessons given her by Providence had been 
 fruitless. She had learned to know the human 
 heart at the Tuileries, the Temple, and Vienna. 
 Brought up in the school of misfortunes, she par- 
 doned,., but she did not forget. 
 
VI 
 
 MITTAtr 
 
 LOUIS XVIII. arrived at Mittau, March 23, 
 1798. He received a royal hospitality from 
 the Emperor of Russia, Paul I., who not only sup- 
 plied him with a palace, but with very considerable 
 subsidies. How was it that the heir of Louis XVI. 
 became the guest and debtor of the heir of Peter 
 the Great, and through what strange and unforeseen 
 circumstances did the former court of Versailles, 
 which had been cast off by all Europe, find refuge 
 in Russia ? What politician or prophet could have 
 predicted such events ? 
 
 Catherine the Great, the mother of the Czar Paul 
 I., had taken an interest in the French SmigrSs. 
 Directly after the death of Louis XVI., the Count 
 of Artois, who was one day to style himself Charles 
 X., had sought the aid of the powerful Empress. 
 He arrived unexpectedly at Saint Petersburg in the 
 month of May, 1793. The Czarina lavished honors 
 and entertainments on the then attractive young 
 Prince. She gave him a sword with a diamond hilt 
 which she caused to be blessed at the cathedral, and 
 on which were engraven the words : " Through God, 
 
 202 
 
MITTATT 203 
 
 through the King." She pushed the niceties of hos- 
 pitality so far as to furnish the brother of Louis 
 XVI. with the jewels he was obliged to distribute 
 to the Russian courtiers. Proud of being greeted 
 like a Henry IV. by the Russian court, the Count of 
 Artois conversed about nothing but battles. 
 
 The upper circles of Saint Petersburg society were 
 at this time very enthusiastic for the French emigra- 
 tion. On this head we will cite a remarkable page 
 from M. Albert Sorel's fine work, VEurope et la 
 Revolution franpaise : "Joseph de Maistre said to the 
 Russians: 'Nothing is constant with you except 
 inconstancy.' The caprice which had brought the 
 philosophers into vogue, passed over to the gmigris 
 without effort or transition. What they had so 
 greatly delighted in before the Revolution was the 
 old French society, so liberal minded, so subtly 
 civilized, so noble in its sentiments and aspirations. 
 It appeared to them in 1793 that this was better 
 represented by a Duke of Richelieu than by a Robes- 
 pierre. The subsequent change on their part is not 
 in reality so strange as it seems. They had prided 
 themselves on their philosophy as distinguishing 
 them from others, through a spirit of caste, and 
 the search for elegance. No sooner did philosophy 
 become revolutionary, the Revolution democratic, 
 and France the people, than they included in the 
 same hatred, and condemned with the same arro- 
 gance, philosophy, the Revolution, and France 
 itself." 
 
204 TEE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 M. Sorel also makes the following just observa- 
 tion on the change effected in the mind of Catherine 
 the Great: "People cannot understand how it was 
 that this Semiramis of the eighteenth century 
 showed herself from the very first so' disparaging 
 and ruthless towards a revolution which, at least 
 when it began, was the practical working out of the 
 ideas of those whom the Empress openly proclaimed 
 to be her friends and masters. They are surprised 
 at seeing her preach the crusade of kings with an 
 unheard-of vehemence of sarcasm, and raising against 
 the Revolution that terrible war-cry of Voltaire and 
 the Encyclopedists, 'Crush the wretch!' which but 
 lately led the whole army of philosophers to the 
 assault. They are astonished, in a word, that, sus- 
 taining in Poland what she antagonized in France, 
 she displayed the same ferocity in maintaining 
 anarchy in Warsaw as she did in re-establishing 
 the monarchy in France. They have concluded that 
 she did not act from principle, which is very true, 
 and thaj) her designs lacked consecutiveness, which 
 is a great mistake. Principles have nothing to do 
 with this affair. Catherine did not trouble herself 
 about them in the least. The Revolution in France 
 disarranged her plans, and she detested it; anarchy 
 in Poland agreed with them, and she fomented it. 
 She passed formidable sentences against the French 
 rebels, but she left the care of executing them to the 
 Germans. She was at no pains to withdraw a single 
 one of her soldiers from the roads of Russia. The 
 
MTTTAU 205 
 
 sentiments of her people and the remoteness of her 
 dominions protected her from propagandism." 
 
 Moreover, Catherine II. had but slender sympathy 
 with Louis XVIII. She accused him of indecision 
 and hypocrisy. She would have been unwilling to 
 give him a refuge in her Empire. But she died 
 suddenly, November 18, 1796, and her son, Paul I., 
 who succeeded her, was enthusiastic for the French 
 emigration and the Pretender. 
 
 The new Czar, who had had hallucinations in his 
 youth, had long been considered a dangerous maniac 
 by the foreign ambassadors. In 1791, the French 
 agent, Genet, wrote concerning Catherine's son: 
 "He will be the most irritable of tyrants. He 
 follows the steps of his wretched father in all 
 things, and unless the heart of the Grand Duchess, 
 his wife, is the temple of all the virtues, he will 
 some day experience the same fate; he expects it, 
 he tells her so himself, he overwhelms her with 
 vexations ... he is gloomy, savage, suspicious; 
 he places confidence in nobody whatever." 
 
 An harassed nature, a soul of fire, a mind disturbed 
 by horrible catastrophes, sometimes kind hearted in 
 spite of his errors and his violence, a blending of the 
 tyrant and the chevalier, the Czar Paul, a sort of 
 crowned Hamlet, the son of an assassinated father, 
 and himself destined to assassination, was a strange 
 and deadly personage, but one whose fantastic 
 caprices become intelligible when the moral tortures 
 inflicted on him by his memories and his presenti- 
 
206 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 ments are taken into account. An imaginative 
 man, he was versatile but sincere and convinced in 
 his enthusiasms so long as he experienced them. 
 He was infatuated with Louis XVIII. and with 
 Bonaparte by turns. For that matter, when we 
 have so often changed our own enthusiasms, is it 
 astonishing that a foreigner should experience a 
 variety of impressions concerning French affairs 
 which is shared by Frenchmen themselves ? 
 
 In 1798, Paul I. was in perfectly good faith when 
 he took Condi's army into his pay and offered mag- 
 nificent hospitality to Louis XVIII. He recalled, 
 and not without emotion, the welcome he had 
 received at Versailles from Louis XVI. in 1782, 
 when he was travelling under the name of the Count 
 du Nord. At that time the royal star of France, 
 like a setting sun, was still illumining the horizon 
 with its splendid lustre, and the court of Versailles 
 took a sort of coquettish pleasure in displaying all 
 its brilliancy to the Russian Prince. Never had a 
 more dazzling ball been given in the Gallery of the 
 Mirrors. Never had the Little Trianon exhibited 
 more elegance and charm. The Prince of Conde", 
 rivalling the King himself in point of luxury, gave 
 an astonishingly magnificent entertainment to the 
 son of Catherine the Great; Chantilly equalled, if 
 it did not surpass, Versailles; and the Parisians 
 exclaimed: "The King has received the Count du 
 Nord like a friend, the Duke of Orleans like a 
 bourgeois, and the Prince of Conde" like a sovereign." 
 
MITT ATT 207 
 
 What tragedies had occurred since then! Louis 
 XVI., Marie Antoinette, and Madame Elisabeth 
 had been beheaded, the two brothers of Louis XVI. 
 proscribed, and the young Marie Th^rSse of France, 
 the charming child who had so fascinated the Rus- 
 sian Prince at Versailles, was now the orphan of the 
 Temple! 
 
 At the close of 1797, the Prince of Conde", the 
 splendid proprietor of that marvellous chateau of 
 Chantilly which remained like a dream of fairyland 
 in the memory of Paul I., was an outlaw whose 
 army, which had been alternately in the pay of Aus- 
 tria and England, no longer found any Power will- 
 ing to support it. It was then the Czar conceived 
 the notion of taking it into his service. He sent one 
 of his aides-de-camp, Prince Gortchakoff, to Uberlin- 
 gen, on Lake Constance, where the Prince of Conde' 
 had established his headquarters, and his proposal 
 was heartily welcomed. Condi's army at once took 
 up its march toward Russia. One of its officers, the 
 Count of Puymaigre, has written in his curious 
 Souvenirs: "We did not reach the shores of the 
 Bug, the boundary of the Russian Empire, until 
 some time in the month of January, 1798. I 
 remember that it was a foggy and very cold day 
 when we crossed the frontier. There, to our regret, 
 we left off our white cockades, the symbol and goal 
 of all our efforts, to assume the Muscovite insignia. 
 A pope, or Russian priest, who was in a miserable 
 cabin on the bank of the river, made us swear on a 
 
208 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Greek Gospel, our oaths of fidelity to our new sov- 
 ereign, the Czar. The SmigrSs, transformed into 
 Russians as a result of so many strange events, pre- 
 sented a singular spectacle. . . . Those among 
 us who, on account of their rank or social habits 
 thought it their duty or pleasure to visit the Polish 
 nobility were, from the time of our arrival, perfectly 
 well received. . . . The women especially showed 
 themselves so enthusiastic that they provided us 
 with fashionable clothes. But this fervor did not 
 last long, or was at least restrained within narrow 
 limits. So many indiscretions, impertinences rather, 
 it must needs be said, were committed by our young 
 men that many doors were closed against us. The 
 same thing had happened in Germany." 
 
 As one sees, Condi's officer does not spare his 
 comrades overmuch. "The Czar," he adds, "pro- 
 scribed philosophic works, and yet in spite of the 
 most formal ukases, I have nowhere seen Voltaire, 
 Rousseau, Raynal, and others of that crew more 
 widely diffused or in greater credit than in Poland. 
 They formed the favorite reading of both married 
 and unmarried ladies, who took pains to lend their 
 works while recommending us to keep them secret. 
 I have already said that, notwithstanding the pur- 
 pose of our emigration, liberal ideas found their way 
 into our ranks as well as elsewhere. ... A ukase, 
 or imperial decree, forbade waltzing in any part of 
 the Empire, because the Empress had contracted an 
 inflammation of the lungs by waltzing too much. 
 
MITTAV 209 
 
 This accident, therefore, was to change the cus- 
 toms of all the populations between Germany and 
 the great wall of China! I thought this a trifle 
 arbitrary, but we evaded it by waltzing with closed 
 doors ... as if we were conspirators. . . . An 
 officer of Condi's army who bore the fine name of 
 Beaumanoir was sent to Siberia on account of an 
 intercepted letter he had written to one of his friends 
 at Constance, in which he declaimed against serf- 
 dom and despotism. The same man had nearly lost 
 his life in France and been obliged to emigrate 
 because he had published his opinions on the abuse 
 of liberty. This was mocking at misfortune." 
 
 Louis XVIII. was to expiate dearly the hospital- 
 ity offered him by the Emperor Paul I. At first its 
 character was not simply courteous, but magnificent. 
 On March 23, 1798, the Pretender with his nephew, 
 the young Duke of AngoulSme, made a formal entry 
 into Mittau. The different guilds of artisans came 
 to meet him, and the former palace of the Dukes of 
 Courland, which he was to occupy, was manned by 
 as many guards as if the Czar himself had been 
 expected. 
 
 Paul I. carried his delicate attentions so far as to 
 provide the Prince, whom he considered the King of 
 France and Navarre, with a special guard of one 
 hundred noble cavaliers chosen from among the 
 former body-guard of Louis XVI. The Count of 
 Auger, one of that unhappy sovereign's most faith- 
 ful adherents, was appointed commander of this de- 
 
210 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 tachment, drawn from Condi's army and paid by the 
 Czar. 
 
 Until 1795, when Courland and Semigalle were 
 annexed to the Russian Empire, Mittau had been 
 the capital of these two duchies. It contained a 
 population of about twelve thousand souls, and its 
 only remarkable edifice was the chateau, situated at 
 the end of the town on the Riga road, along the left 
 bank of a little river called the Grosbach. It was 
 built in the form of a square, with a courtyard in 
 the middle, and was surrounded by a moat filled 
 with water. Its large and well-arranged apartments 
 made it a very suitable abode for Louis XVIII. He 
 had with him the Count of Avaray, the Duke of 
 Guiche, the Count of Cosse*-Brissac, the Marquis of 
 Jaucourt, the Count of La Chapelle, the Duke 
 of Villequier, the Marquis of Sourdis, the Viscount 
 of Agoult, the Chevalier of Montaignac, the Cheva- 
 lier of Boisheuil, M. de Guilhermy, a former deputy 
 to the States- General, and M. de Courvoisier. His 
 almoner was the venerable Abbe" Edgeworth of Fir- 
 mont, who had attended Louis XVI. on the scaffold. 
 
 "In this palace of a dispossessed sovereign," 
 writes the Baron of Barante in his Notice sur le 
 Comte de Saint-Priest, "Louis XVIII. set up a 
 simulacrum of Versailles. The minute observances 
 of etiquette, the presence of several former courtiers 
 as faithful to their accustomed ways of thinking 
 as to their humble sentiments of devotion, the old 
 body-guards surrounding him when he went to the 
 
MITTAV 211 
 
 chapel, and the whole petty reproduction of the 
 pompous life of courts, where one encountered even 
 the ambitions, jealousies, and intrigues of palace 
 servants, formed an easy and agreeable position, for 
 Louis XVIII. based upon his beatific consciousness 
 of his rights ; he seemed to think he was enjoying 
 the very essentials of royalty. Sensible men, seeing 
 him thus satisfied, pitied him less for his misfor- 
 tunes than for his contentment." 
 
 At the beginning of his sojourn at Mittau, Louis 
 XVIII. was treated respectfully by the Russian 
 court, because Paul I., thoroughly engrossed by 
 his schemes concerning the Order of Malta, wished 
 to make royalist France enter into his religious 
 and chivalrous combinations. Although cut off from 
 the Eoman communion by the schism of Photius, 
 the Russian sovereign had conceived the notion of 
 making himself grand-master of a military and 
 religious order of which the Pope was superior. 
 The taking of Malta, by General Bonaparte in June, 
 1798, had entailed the destruction of the sovereign 
 order of Saint John of Jerusalem. The three " lan- 
 guages " 1 of Provence, Auvergne, and France were 
 no longer in existence. That of Italy was under 
 French domination. The silence of the grand- 
 master, Hompesch, who had retired to Trieste and 
 obstinately refused to explain his conduct, decided 
 the grand-prior of Russia to offer the grand-master- 
 
 1 The eight nations which composed the order of Saint John 
 of Jerusalem were spoken of as languages. 
 
212 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 ship of the order to the Emperor Paul I. The 
 grand-priors of Bohemia, Bavaria, and Germany- 
 determined to follow the example of Russia. The 
 former grand-master, Hompesch, who had already- 
 sold the island of Malta to the French fleet, sold 
 also his signature to all these acts and approved all 
 the concessions. Thenceforward the Czar, adding 
 the title of Grand-master of the Order of Saint John 
 of Jerusalem to that of Emperor of All the Russias, 
 held chapters, distributed commanderies, and trans- 
 formed his generals into crusading knights. Kou- 
 chebef was grand-admiral of the order; Sievers, 
 grand-hospitaller ; and Flaschlander, turcopolier. 
 The highest mark of favor at the Russian court was 
 a Maltese cross, a commandery, very well endowed, 
 for that matter, in peasant souls. 
 
 A certain coolness arose between Paul I. and 
 Louis XVIII. on the subject of the order. The 
 Duke of Angouleme was grand-prior of France. 
 When the Czar apprised the young Prince of the 
 dignity he had conferred upon himself, the latter, 
 who regarded the proceeding as irregular, evaded 
 the subject by saying that his approaching marriage 
 was about to put him entirely outside of the Order 
 of Malta. This response produced a very bad effect 
 in Saint Petersburg. In order to appease the Czar, 
 the Pretender suggested that it would be well to 
 unite the Order of Saint John of Jerusalem to the 
 hospitaller order of Saint Lazarus, the grand-ribbon 
 of which he sent him, accompanied by an amiable 
 
MITT ATI 213 
 
 letter which the Abbe" Edgeworth of Firmont was 
 commissioned to deliver. But this attention did 
 not lessen the Czar's ill-humor. On the contrary, 
 it offended him that he should be offered the decora- 
 tion of any order except that holding the first rank 
 in France. He refused the ribbon of Saint Lazarus, 
 and it became necessary to send him that of the 
 Holy Spirit. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the idea of renewing the 
 Order of Malta was not so fantastic on the part of 
 Paul I. as it may seem at first glance. As has been 
 remarked by the Abbe" Georgel, who was concerned 
 in the affairs of the -grand-priory of Germany, if 
 Malta were retaken as was hoped, its position in 
 the middle of the Mediterranean would afford an 
 Emperor of Russia who was grand-master efficacious 
 means of imposing on the Ottoman court; moreover, 
 the advantage of being at the head of all the nobility 
 of Europe would considerably augment the influ- 
 ence which the Russian Emperors have always been 
 ambitious to exercise in the political affairs of the 
 continent. 
 
 In reality, Louis XVIII. , as the heir of Saint 
 Louis and the eldest son of the Church, was not 
 well-pleased to see a schismatic prince placing him- 
 self at the head of an order whose history was 
 blended with that of the Holy See. There was a 
 latent rivalry between Mittau and Saint Petersburg ; 
 if Louis XVIII. receiving not only a dwelling-place, 
 but an annual pension of 200,000 roubles from the 
 
214 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Czar, felt himself somewhat humiliated by living on 
 the charitable subsidies of a foreign power, Paul I., 
 on the other hand, was occasionally jealous of a 
 guest whose blazon was far more illustrious than his 
 own. The Baron of Barante, in his Notice sur le 
 Oomte de Saint-Priest, has made the following obser- 
 vation on this head: "The hospitality accorded by 
 the Emperor Paul was in nowise sympathetic. The 
 royal title was never recognized; no visit of the 
 French princes to Saint Petersburg was ever 
 authorized ; never did the Emperor or his sons come 
 to Mittau to console the exiled royal family. Louis 
 was incessantly obliged to entreat privileges or 
 ask for consideration. At Saint Petersburg people 
 mocked at the etiquette of the little court at Mittau, 
 at the receptions, the royal Mass, the body-guards, 
 the dinner served at two tables — all of those usages 
 that consorted ill with a humble position, and bore 
 too little resemblance to the simple, easy military 
 fashions of the Russian court, where etiquette is 
 reserved for great and rare occasions." It was an 
 essentially precarious hospitality which the daughter 
 of Louis XVI. was to receive at Mittau after so 
 many trials and disasters of every sort. A clear- 
 sighted observer could already have predicted that 
 the Czar's enthusiasm for Louis XVIII. and the 
 French emigration would be of short duration. 
 
VII 
 
 THE ARRIVAL OF MARIE THERESE 
 
 LOUIS XVIII. had been at Mittau more than a 
 year without being able to summon his wife 
 and his niece to rejoin him there. And he desired 
 a reunion with his wife, who was then under the 
 influence of Madame de Gourbillon, though less 
 from sentiment than convenience. The Queen, as 
 she was called, demanded an establishment entirely 
 out of keeping with their common poverty. "The 
 statement forwarded to M. de Villequier by M. de 
 Virieu," wrote the Pretender, "would certainly be 
 very moderate for the Queen of France, but circum- 
 stances oblige us to abridge it still further." He 
 cut off three of the persons named by the Princess 
 as requisite for her service. Moreover, Paul I. 
 was beginning to find that the little court at Mittau 
 cost him too much. The Count of Saint-Priest, 
 who had been sent to Saint Petersburg to ask for 
 increased supplies, said in a letter to Louis XVIII. : 
 "Your Majesty would be amazed at the mean way in 
 which this court treats the affair of the Queen and 
 Madame The'reSse at Mittau. It is very unlike the 
 display got up for Your Majesty's journey. They 
 
 215 
 
216 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME , 
 
 say the Emperor is so annoyed by the large party of 
 forty-four accompanying the Marshal of Broglie that 
 he has said: 'Are we in Peru, or are they on a 
 pillaging expedition ? ' " 
 
 Through economy and for other reasons, Louis 
 XVIII. was especially anxious to get rid of Madame 
 de Gourbillon, whom he found disagreeable. He 
 wrote to his wife, May 31, 1799 : " If my entreaties 
 and our affection do not move you, and you can 
 resolve to compromise me with the Emperor of 
 Russia, whom your resistance must have given very 
 queer ideas about us two, Madame Gourbillon may 
 come to Mittau, but I swear that she shall not set 
 foot in the palace. Once more, my dear friend, 
 yield to our affection, and let the joy I shall expe- 
 rience at seeing you again be increased, if that is 
 possible, by this condescension on your part. I feel 
 no hesitation in urging this, because it is solely 
 your own interest that causes me to speak." 
 
 If Louis XVIII. was but moderately anxious for 
 a reunion with his wife, he was ardently desirous 
 to see his niece arrive ; for he thoroughly understood 
 the prestige and poetic charm which the presence of 
 the orphan of the Temple would diffuse over the 
 royal cause and the little court of Mittau. Already 
 there was something legendary about the daughter 
 of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. She awak- 
 ened an interest mingled with veneration wherever 
 she appeared, and her uncle knew very well that in 
 Russia as well as in France, Switzerland, and Aus- 
 
THE ARRIVAL OF MARIE THERESE 217 
 
 tria, she would not merely touch imaginations, but 
 move hearts. As to the Duke of Angoule"me, he 
 was awaiting his young betrothed with extreme 
 impatience; as early as January 9, 1799, he had 
 written to several SmigrSs to announce the speedy 
 conclusion of an event upon which he declared 
 the happiness of his life depended. 
 
 The Queen arrived at Mittau June 3, 1799. She 
 had not seen her husband in eight years, and the 
 pair were perfectly accustomed to live far apart. 
 Madame de Gourbillon did not reside in the chateau, 
 but had a lodging in the neighborhood. 
 
 The next day, June 4, occurred the long-desired 
 reunion between Louis XVIII. and his niece, Marie 
 Th6r£se. The King set off to meet her very early 
 in the morning. The first post-house had been 
 appointed for the rendezvous, but the young Prin- 
 cess travelled so fast that she reached it before the 
 King, and went further along the highroad to meet 
 him. As soon as the two carriages came near each 
 other, she alighted. Louis XVIII. and the Duke of 
 AngoulSme did likewise. The young Princess 
 pressed toward her uncle through clouds of dust, 
 and he, with arms extended, ran to meet and press 
 her to his heart. Unable to prevent her from 
 throwing herself at his feet, he hastened to lift 
 her up. " At last I see you again, " she exclaimed. 
 "At last I am happy. Watch over me, be my 
 father." As the Count of Saint-Priest wrote to the 
 Chevalier Vernegues: "Tears and sobs were the 
 
218 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 first proofs of the profound sentiments that filled 
 their hearts. The first tribute rendered to nature 
 and to the memory of such misfortunes gave place to 
 expressions of the tenderest recognition. Mgr. the 
 Duke of Angouleme, withheld by respect, yet urged 
 forward by a thousand different sentiments, wept 
 over his cousin's hand, while the King, in the 
 deepest emotion, and with eyes filled with tears, 
 pressed the Princess to his heart, and at the same 
 time presented the husband he had given her. The 
 King, so good and so worthy of a better fate, placed 
 thus between his adopted children, felt for the first 
 time that he might still enjoy some moments of 
 happiness." 
 
 Louis XVIII. had not seen his niece since June 
 20, 1791, at the moment when the fatal journey 
 to Varennes began. Eight years had passed since 
 then. An accomplished young girl had succeeded 
 to the graceful child. What physical and moral 
 progress! "What a soft and penetrating charm! A 
 fair lily that had survived a cruel storm might 
 have been taken as an emblem by this young virgin 
 who had suffered and wept so much, and who bore 
 the marks of an incurable sadness on her melancholy 
 and affecting countenance. The Count of Saint- 
 Priest writes: "We admire in the features and 
 bearing of Marie Therdse, and in her speech and 
 the animation of her countenance, the loftiness 
 and grace of Marie Antoinette. France will recog- 
 nize in her, with joy as well as sadness, the features 
 
THE ARRIVAL OF MARIS THERESE 219 
 
 of the unfortunate Louis XVI., embellished by 
 youth, freshness, and serenity; and by a happy 
 chance, the Princess reminds one of Madame Elisa- 
 beth also." 
 
 Shouts of joy resounded on all sides when the 
 daughter of the martyr King and Queen arrived at 
 the chateau of Mittau. "Everybody ran," says the 
 Abbe" de Tressau, a witness of this pathetic scene; 
 "all coldness and disagreements were at an end; it 
 seemed a sanctuary in which all hearts were about 
 to blend. Hungry glances were fastened on the 
 Queen's apartment. It was not until after Marie 
 Therese had paid her respects to Her Majesty that, 
 conducted by the King, she came to show herself to 
 our eyes, too drowned in tears to be able to distin- 
 guish her features. " Louis XVIII. led her at first 
 to the Abbe" Edgeworth of Firmont, presenting her 
 afterwards to the former body-guards of Louis XVI., 
 saying as he did so : " Here are the faithful guards 
 of those whom we lament." Then, turning towards 
 these servitors, as devoted to him as they had been 
 to his unfortunate brother, he added: "At last she 
 is ours; we will never leave her again; we are no 
 longer strangers to happiness." 
 
 Emotion reached its height untouched by any 
 falsity or exaggeration, for it had its source in those 
 sentiments of morality and pity which do honor to 
 the human soul. After returning to her apartment, 
 the young Princess sent for the Abbe" Edgeworth, 
 him who had said to Louis XVI. on the steps of the 
 
220 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 scaffold: "Son of Saint Louis, ascend to heaven." 
 When she found herself face to face with the vener- 
 able priest whose presence evoked souvenirs so cruel 
 yet so august, she nearly fainted. Alarmed, he 
 wished to call for assistance. "No," she said, "let 
 me weep before you alone. These tears console me." 
 
 "The royal family dined alone," the Abbe" de 
 Tressau writes again, "and towards five o'clock in 
 the evening we had the honor of being presented to 
 Madame. This was our first opportunity to contem- 
 plate her whole appearance. It seemed as though 
 heaven had wished to unite to her freshness and 
 beauty a sacred character which should render her 
 more dear and venerable to the French people. Her 
 countenance reminded us of Louis XVI., of Marie 
 Antoinette, and of Madame Elisabeth. These 
 august resemblances are so great that we felt the 
 need of invoking those whom they recalled. These 
 souvenirs and the presence of Madame seemed to 
 bring heaven and earth together, and assuredly 
 whenever she wishes to speak in their name, her 
 gentle and generous soul will compel all sentiments 
 to conform to hers." 
 
 And the royalist priest adds, in a dithyrambic and 
 enthusiastic style then assumed by the courtiers of 
 exile and misfortune, but which later on, under the 
 Restoration, was too often employed by the courtiers 
 of fortune : " Frenchmen ! behold her whom you alone 
 can render happy by returning to your former vir- 
 tues and your love for your kings. Behold her 
 
THE ARRIVAL OF MARIE THERE8E 221 
 
 who asks to return among you, in order to be, in 
 union with the King her uncle, the executrix of the 
 testament of Louis XVI., concerning which their 
 hearts are in such accord: the pardon of injuries. 
 She comes, her heart full of tender and religious 
 sentiments, to love and console you for your long 
 afflictions. She comes to ennoble your courage and 
 legitimate your glory. She comes adorned by her 
 innocence and youth, her griefs and her resem- 
 blances. She comes surrounded by that tribute of 
 good wishes due to her from all that is honest,, loyal, 
 sensible, and faithful on this earth. She comes like 
 the angel of peace to disarm vengeance and cause 
 the furies of war to cease. Let your hearts recall 
 her, and you will see your harbors open and your 
 commerce reborn; your children will no longer be 
 torn from your arms and led to death ; you will find 
 repose, happiness, and the esteem of the universe." 
 
 Marie The'rSse at once became attached to her 
 young betrothed. Son of the Count of Artois (the 
 future Charles X.) and Marie Ther^se of Savoy, the 
 daughter of Victor Amadeus III., King of Sardinia, 
 Louis Antoine de Bourbon, Duke of AngoulSme, 
 was not yet twenty-four years old, having been born 
 at Versailles, August 6, 1775. Leaving France 
 with his father in 1789, after the taking of the 
 Bastille, he went to his grandfather, the King of 
 Sardinia, at Turin. He left the dominions of that 
 Prince in August, 1792, and made a campaign 
 in Germany with Condi's army. He afterwards 
 
222 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 spent some time at Holyrood, near Edinburgh, with 
 his father, whence he went to his uncle, Louis 
 XVIII., at Blankenburgh, and followed him to 
 Mittau. He was not remarkable for wit or elegance, 
 but he had solid qualities — great courage, good 
 sense, loyalty, and religious sentiments. He under- 
 stood and admired the virtues of his betrothed. 
 Concerning him, Count d'Avaray wrote in June, 
 1799: "Our young Prince daily acquires more of 
 that deportment and dignity which he lacked." The 
 marriage, for which the preparations were nearly 
 concluded, was to be like a rainbow to the little 
 court of Mittau, making its appearance after a suc- 
 cession of storms. 
 
VIII 
 
 THE MARRIAGE 
 
 THE daughter of Louis XVI. arrived at Mittau 
 June 4, 1799. Her marriage was celebrated 
 six days later, June 10. We are indebted for the 
 unpublished documents we are about to cite to the 
 courtesy of M. Ernest Daudet, who is not only one 
 of our best novelists, but a historian as conscientious 
 as he is remarkable. He has composed an important 
 work on the Bourbons and Kussia during the emigra- 
 tion, and has selected in the imperial archives of 
 Saint Petersburg and Moscow the documents he has 
 kindly communicated to us. 
 
 Two days after her arrival, Marie Th^rSse wrote 
 the following letter to the Emperor Paul : " Mittau, 
 June 6, 1799. Sire, at the court of Vienna and 
 before myself becoming the object of the sentiments 
 of Your Imperial Majesty, my heart shared all the 
 obligations owed by the King, my uncle, and a part 
 of my family to your kindness, as well as the eternal 
 gratitude due to you by so many titles. On enter- 
 ing your dominions and finding such proofs of your 
 interest in me, my heart feels the need of expressing 
 to Your Majesty the sentiments which inspire it. 
 
224 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 It is to you that my relatives owe a royal shelter, a 
 noble and active interest in their fate, and effica- 
 cious alleviations of their griefs. If I, on rejoining 
 my family, am about to accomplish the sacred will 
 of the authors of my being, this again is a benefit 
 due to our magnanimous protector. Such are at 
 once the motives and the guarantees of the entire 
 confidence and lively gratitude I have vowed to 
 Your Majesty, whom I entreat to accept this expres- 
 sion of them. With the profoundest respect for your 
 Imperial Majesty, I am your most affectionate sister 
 and cousin." 
 
 Sixteen years before, the Grand Duke Paul, heir- 
 apparent of Russia, travelling in France under the 
 name of Count du Nord, had regretfully left the 
 court of Versailles, where he had received a most 
 delightful hospitality. He had been struck by the 
 pretty ways of the future Duchess of AngoulSme, 
 then in her fourth year, and at the moment of part- 
 ing she had said to him: "I will go to see you." 
 What terrible events had brought about the fulfil- 
 ment of this promise ! 
 
 Louis XVIII. 's protestations of gratitude to the 
 Czar bordered on humility. He wrote to him on 
 May 18: "Monsieur my Brother and Cousin, I can- 
 not see the moment approaching when the marriage 
 of my nephew with my niece will be celebrated, 
 without again reminding myself that it is wholly 
 to your Imperial Majesty that I owe this greatly 
 desired event. My lively gratitude inspires me to 
 
THE MARRIAGE 225 
 
 endeavor to preserve the souvenir of it for posterity 
 by praying Your Imperial Majesty to allow the act 
 which is about to unite my children to be deposited 
 in the archives of this Empire, in any place Your 
 Imperial Majesty may be pleased to indicate, in 
 order to serve as an eternal testimony of the gen- 
 erous hospitality and constant support which my 
 family and I have received from Your Imperial 
 Majesty in our afflictions. I hope that Your Majesty 
 will be so good as to acquaint me with your inten- 
 tions in this respect. I desire extremely, moreover, 
 that the signature of Your Imperial Majesty should 
 imprint the seal of good fortune upon this act; but 
 the dread of being indiscreet causes me to abstain 
 from preferring a formal request, although the grant- 
 ing of it would greatly increase my satisfaction. I 
 beg to assure Your Imperial Majesty of the vivacity 
 of the sentiments with which I am, Monsieur, my 
 Brother and Cousin, Your Imperial Majesty's good 
 brother and cousin." 
 
 The royal family was represented by only four 
 persons at the marriage: Louis XVIII., his wife, 
 the Duke of Angoule'me, and Marie Th^rese of 
 France, who, when a young girl, was called Madame 
 Royale. The father of the Duke of AngoulSme, the 
 Gount of Artois (the future Charles X.), who as 
 the brother of Louis XVIII. was styled Monsieur, 
 had been unable to come to Mittau on account of 
 his anxiety to remain near France, where the royal- 
 ists were then deluding themselves with the idea 
 
226 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 that coming events would prove favorable to their 
 cause. The Countess of Artois, his wife, was pre- 
 vented from going to Russia by the state of her 
 health. The young Duke of Berry, younger brother 
 of the Duke of Angoul^me, was marching under 
 the banners of Conde", then crossing Europe with a 
 Russian army to fight against the troops of France. 
 The Count of Artois had given his consent to his 
 son's marriage with the daughter of Louis XVI. 
 more than three years before. It was expressed in 
 the following letter, dated at Edinburgh, April 20, 
 1796, and addressed by the future Charles X. to his 
 brother, Louis XVIII. : "Sire, my Brother and Lord, 
 I entreat Your Majesty to receive kindly the hom- 
 age of my lively and respectful gratitude for the 
 consent you have been so -good as to grant to the 
 marriage of my eldest son, the Duke of AngoulSme, 
 with Madame Ther£se, daughter of the late King 
 our brother, and for all the pains you have taken 
 with a view to form and hasten a union so suitable 
 in all respects and so calculated to assure the happi- 
 ness of the two spouses. My entire confidence in 
 Your Majesty is a sentiment dictated by my heart as 
 well as by my duty. Hence I dare entreat you to 
 allow me to leave entirely to your affection for me 
 and for the young couple the care of fixing the place 
 and epoch of the marriage and regulating all its 
 conditions. Your Majesty's service obliging me to 
 remain at a distance from you for the time, I beg 
 you to approve of my binding myself by letter to 
 
TEE MARRIAGE 227 
 
 ratify beforehand all that Your Majesty may think 
 it right to regulate and arrange for this marriage, 
 and to ratify it afterwards by my signature. Heaven 
 will bless a union consecrated by our misfortunes, 
 and the family of which Your Majesty is the head 
 will receive the only consolation of which it is 
 susceptible. Nothing remains except to entreat 
 Your Majesty to deign to consider the young 
 spouses as your own children, and to believe that 
 every faculty of my heart and soul will be hereafter 
 at your service even unto death. With the pro- 
 foundest respect, I am, Sire, my brother and lord, 
 of Your Majesty the very humble, very obedient, 
 and very affectionate brother, subject, and servant, 
 — Chables-Philippe. " 
 
 The papal dispensation necessary for a marriage 
 between cousins-german had been accorded by Pius 
 VI., February 3, 1796. 
 
 The nuptial benediction was given to the youth- 
 ful pair, June 19, 1799, in one of the galleries of 
 the palace of Mittau, by Cardinal Montmorency- 
 Laval, Grand-Almoner of France. An altar had 
 been arranged in the gallery adorned by green 
 boughs and lilacs interwoven with lilies and roses. 
 The nobility of Courland, the Roman Catholic 
 clergy of Mittau, and the principal inhabitants of 
 the town were present at the ceremony, as well as 
 M. de Dfiensen, the civil governor, M. de Fersen, 
 the military governor, the Greek Catholic priest, and 
 the Lutheran minister. Louis XVIII., escorted by 
 
228 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 his body-guards and his entire court, gave his niece 
 his arm. Near the prie-dieu of the Princess stood 
 the Abbe 1 Edgeworth of Firmont, Louis XVI. 's con- 
 fessor. The graceful and touching beauty of the 
 bride, the memory of her father, her mother, and her 
 aunt — the presence of the priest who had said at 
 the foot of the scaffold of January 21 : " Son of Saint 
 Louis, ascend to heaven!" — the emotion of the 
 exiled King, the tears of the courtiers of misfortune, 
 all contributed to give the ceremony a grandiose and 
 pathetic character. 
 
 The marriage certificate began thus: "Year one 
 thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine, the nine- 
 teenth day of the month of June, answering to the 
 thirtieth of the month of May of the style followed 
 in the Russian Empire. We, Louis Joseph de 
 Montmorency-Laval, first Christian Baron, Cardinal- 
 Priest of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, Bishop 
 of Metz, Prince of the Holy Empire, Commendatory 
 Abbot of the Abbeys of Saint Lucien of Beauvais, 
 Grand- Almoner of France, Commander of the Order 
 of the Holy Ghost, etc., etc. By the authority of a 
 brief from our Holy Father the Pope granting a dis- 
 pensation from the impediment of consanguinity, 
 the said brief recognized as authentic and visaed by 
 the Very Reverend Francis Xavier Goldberger, 
 provost of the Cathedral of Livonia, Vicar of the 
 Spirituality and of Canon Law for Livonia and 
 Courland, and pastor of the Catholic parish of 
 Mittau . . . also by the express consent of the afore- 
 
THE MARRIAGE 229 
 
 said Very Reverend Francis Xavier Goldberger, by 
 which he authorizes us to proceed to the celebration 
 of the said marriage in one of the halls of the pal- 
 ace situated in the said Catholic parish of Mittau, 
 arranged for the purpose, and to bless it in the form 
 prescribed by the Church ; we, in the aforesaid hall, 
 and after the betrothal there celebrated, have re- 
 ceived the mutual consent of the high contracting 
 parties, and have given them the nuptial benediction 
 with the ceremonies prescribed by Holy Church. 
 Present and consenting, the very high, very powerful, 
 and very excellent prince His Majesty the King, 
 in his said high quality as well as in that of lawful 
 guardian of the bride, and commissioned by an act 
 under his privy seal to declare the consent of the very 
 high and very powerful Prince Monseigneur Charles 
 Philippe of France, Son of France, Monsieur, brother 
 of the King, father of the bridegroom, which consent 
 the copy signed by M. the Count of Saint-Priest, 
 Minister and Secretary of State, and sealed with his 
 seal, remains annexed to the present act; and also- 
 to declare the consent of Madame Marie Ther&se of 
 Savoy, Madame, his mother, of which consent His 
 Majesty and the two spouses have perfect cogni- 
 zance. Present and consenting also, the very high, 
 very powerful, and very excellent princess Her 
 Majesty the Queen." 
 
 Louis XVIII. signed, Louis; the Queen, Marie 
 Josephine Louise; the Duke of Angoul^me, Louis 
 Antoine; the Duchess of AngoulSme, Marie TherSse 
 
230 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Charlotte. The certificate was also signed by the 
 witnesses, who were: Louis de Rosset de Fleury, 
 duke and peer of France, colonel of dragoons and 
 first gentleman of the King's bedchamber; Louis 
 d'Aumont, Duke of Villequier, first gentleman of 
 the King's bedchamber, lieutenant-general of the 
 armies of His Majesty; Francois de Guignard, 
 Count of Saint-Priest, lieutenant-general of the 
 King's armies, minister and secretary of State; 
 Louis, Count of Mailly, Marquis of Nesle, first 
 equerry to Her Majesty the Queen, marshal of the 
 camp and armies of the King; Francois de Cosse"- 
 Brissac, Count of Cosse\ marshal of the camps and 
 armies of the King, captain-colonel of the Hundred- 
 Switzers of His Majesty's Guard; Antoine de Gra- 
 mont, Duke of Guiche, marshal of the camps and 
 armies of the King, captain of the first and most 
 ancient French company of the King's body-guards ; 
 Antoine de Be'ziade, Count of Avaray, marshal of 
 the camps and armies of the King, and captain of 
 the Scotch company of his guards; Henri Essex 
 Edgeworth of Firmont, priest and vicar-general of 
 the diocese of Paris, almoner and confessor to the 
 King; the Abbe* Marie, priest of the house and 
 society of Sorbonne, former under-preceptor of the 
 children of the Count of Artois, and appointed first 
 almoner of Their Royal Highnesses. It was signed 
 also by Cardinal de Montmorency- Laval and the 
 pastor of the Catholic parish of Mittau. 
 
 The marriage was followed by a dinner at which 
 
THE MARRIAGE 231 
 
 the most notable persons of the court were present, 
 and also M. Guilhermy, deputy of the third estate 
 to the States-General of 1789. Louis XVIII. said 
 with emotion to the guests: "This is the fSte of the 
 French people; my happiness would be complete if 
 I could have assembled here all those who signalized 
 themselves like you by courageous fidelity to the 
 King my brother." On the same day he addressed 
 the subjoined letter to the Czar: "Mittau, June 
 10, 1799. Monsieur my Brother and Cousin, the 
 generous exertions of Your Imperial Majesty have 
 had their effect : my children were united this morn- 
 ing, and my gratitude equals my joy as I hasten to 
 announce this news to Your Imperial Majesty, and 
 to ask that your goodness may continue to be 
 extended to a pair who will owe all their happiness 
 to you. I take the liberty of enclosing a letter from 
 my nephew; the sentiments he expresses in it can- 
 not be unknown to the great soul of Your Imperial 
 Majesty, and with all my heart I add my prayers to 
 his." 
 
 Louis XVIII. wrote again to the Emperor Paul, 
 June 13 : " Monsieur my Brother and Cousin, I have 
 received, almost at the same time, two letters from 
 Your Imperial Majesty, of the 2d and the 7th of 
 this month, and I am extremely touched by what 
 you so kindly say concerning the family reunion 
 and the marriage of my children. This event could 
 not have taken place under happier auspices, since 
 it is under those of Your Imperial Majesty, in your 
 
232 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 dominions, and by your generous assistance that so 
 desired a union has at last been celebrated, and 
 your victories have adorned the fSte. I have exe- 
 cuted Your Majesty's commission to the Queen. 
 Penetrated as she must be by the friendship of which 
 Your Imperial Majesty has shown us so many proofs, 
 she nevertheless fears to render herself importunate 
 by expressing the sentiments that fill her heart, 
 and I have undertaken to be the spokesman of her 
 gratitude." A King of France and Navarre who 
 avows that the Queen his wife fears to be indiscreet 
 in writing a letter of grateful acknowledgment, 
 certainly does not employ the language of pride. 
 
 The Emperor Paul I. .signed the marriage certifi- 
 cate and ordered it to be deposited in the archives of 
 the Russian Senate. Chateaubriand has said : " Thus 
 in a foreign land and amid foreign religions was 
 performed a marriage one of whose witnesses was 
 the foreign priest who attended Louis XVI. to the 
 scaffold; a foreign senate received the certificate of 
 celebration. There was no longer any room for the 
 marriage contract of the daughter of Louis XVI. in 
 that treasury of charters where that between Anne 
 of Russia and Henri I. of France had been depos- 
 ited." 
 
 On the wedding day, Louis XVIII. wrote a letter 
 to the Prince of Condd, beginning thus: "At last, 
 my dear Cousin, one of my most ardent wishes is 
 accomplished, my children are united. I find in 
 my niece, with an emotion more readily felt than 
 
THE MARRIAGE 233 
 
 expressed, the blended traits of the unhappy authors 
 of her existence. This resemblance, at once so 
 sweet and so heart-rending, makes her dearer to me 
 and should redouble the interest she so well deserves 
 to inspire for her own sake in all Frenchmen. The 
 marriage was celebrated this morning. I hasten to 
 apprise you of it, being certain that you will share 
 my joy." 
 
 The army of Conde", in which the Duke of Berry 
 was then serving, had arrived at Friedek in Aus- 
 trian Silesia when this letter from Louis XVIII. 
 reached the Prince. He communicated the follow- 
 ing passage of it to the troops: "Announce this 
 happy news to the army. It cannot but seem a good 
 omen to your brave companions at the time when, 
 following in your traces, they are about to re-enter 
 the career they have so gloriously pursued. Add 
 from me that I begin to regain happiness, but that 
 it will not be complete until the day when I shall 
 be able to rejoin them at the post where honor 
 calls me." 
 
 Finally, Louis XVIII. addressed a circular con- 
 cerning the marriage of the Duke of Angoul§me to 
 his agents and diplomatic envoys, in which he said: 
 " This alliance overwhelms me with joy ; but what- 
 ever personal happiness it may promise me, I rejoice 
 far less on my own account than on that of my 
 faithful subjects. They will see with emotion the 
 sole offspring of the martyr-King, whom we deplore, 
 fixed permanently near the throne. And for my 
 part, when death shall prevent my laboring further 
 
234 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 for their welfare, I shall at least have given them a 
 mother who can never forget her own misfortunes 
 save in rendering her children happy, and on whom 
 Providence has bestowed all the virtues and quali- 
 ties necessary to success." 
 
 In spite of the splendor with which the little 
 court of Mittau tried to surround the marriage of a 
 daughter and a grandson of France, poverty — for 
 in reality they had nothing to live on but the alms 
 of the Emperor of Russia and the King of Spain — 
 prevented the young married pair from receiving or 
 offering rich presents. The Countess of Artois sent 
 her new daughter-in-law a dressing-case. At the 
 time of her departure from Vienna the young Prin- 
 cess had received from the Empress a portrait of the 
 latter, set in diamonds. The Archduke Albert 
 offered her two work-tables with ten thousand florins 
 in one of the drawers. Whatever desire she may 
 have felt to do so, the daughter of Louis XVI. could 
 distribute no presents, because she had no fortune, 
 and her marriage contract contained nothing but 
 hopes. Nevertheless, she gave to the Countess of 
 Chanclos, who had been grand-mistress of her house- 
 hold at Vienna, a medallion worth four thousand 
 florins, and to Mademoiselle de Chanclos, her niece, 
 an aigrette of diamonds. Mgr. de La Fare, Bishop 
 of Nancy, who represented Louis XVIII. at Vienna 
 (later on he was Archbishop of Sens, cardinal, duke, 
 and peer, and first-almoner to the Dauphiness) 
 received a charming miniature of the young Prin- 
 cess. This miniature, painted at Vienna by Fuger, 
 
THE MABBIAGE 235 
 
 belongs at present to the Viscountess of Jauze'e, born 
 Choiseul-Gouffier, a woman distinguished by her wit 
 and talents. The orphan of the Temple is repre- 
 sented in a very simple costume; a black robe, a 
 fichu of white muslin, and a knot of black taffeta on 
 her head; a medallion containing two miniature 
 portraits of the martyred King and Queen hangs on 
 the breast from a chain passing round her neck. The 
 young Princess, in all the freshness of her twenty 
 years, has features of an exquisite delicacy, very 
 clear blue eyes, extremely fair hair, a brilliant color, 
 a small and pleasing mouth, an infinitely gentle 
 smile, and a simple, affecting expression. The 
 Duchess of AngoulSme was not pretty very long, but 
 at the time of her marriage she was ravishing. 
 
 It is curious, but there are women whom history 
 represents as always young, others who are always 
 old. If one names Gabrielle d'Estr^es for example, 
 or Mademoiselle de La Valliere, or Madame de Mon- 
 tespan, the image of a brilliant beauty is evoked. 
 But if Madame de Maintenon is mentioned, one usu- 
 ally thinks of an old and awkward woman ; the siren 
 who made so many conquests in her youth is for- 
 gotten. In general, when reflecting on the Duchess 
 of AngoulSme, one imagines her with a gloomy 
 countenance and features hardened by age; the 
 period when her young and melancholy beauty had 
 such a poetic charm that even the most ardent repub- 
 licans could not behold her without a mixture of 
 tenderness, sympathy, and admiration, is too seldom 
 thought of. 
 
IX 
 
 THE END OF THE SOJOURN AT MITTATT 
 
 IF the daughter of Louis XVI. had married a 
 foreign prince, the crown of France would have 
 lost its purest gem. The Duchess of AngoulSme 
 rendered the court in exile more moral, graver, and 
 more religious than it had been. No one forgot 
 himself when speaking in the presence of a woman 
 at once so young and so virtuous. To see her was 
 to be edified. The court of Mittau was as serious 
 as that of Coblentz had been frivolous. Who would 
 have dared utter a scandalous word before the 
 orphan of the Temple ? It would have been unwise 
 for the Voltairians to risk an impious allusion in 
 her presence. In her the double majesty of virtue 
 and misfortune was still stronger than that of birth 
 and rank. Whether Frenchmen or foreigners, all 
 who had the honor of approaching her experienced a 
 sentiment of profound veneration. She considered 
 herself destined by Providence to preserve the mem- 
 ory of her parents, the martyred King and Queen, 
 and every one respected this vocation,, or, say rather, 
 this cult. Charitable and Christian, the Duchess of 
 Angoul@me bore ill-will to nobody, but she gave her 
 236 
 
THE END OF THE SOJOURN AT MITTAU 237 
 
 confidence and friendship only to those whom she 
 thought worthy of her esteem. Immoral persons, 
 whatever their wit, social position, or brilliant qual- 
 ities, had no standing with her. She liked nothing 
 but what was honest and loyal. In her opinion, 
 politics should be based on right, justice, and 
 morality. 
 
 The Count of Saint-Priest wrote to M. de La 
 Fare, June 27, 1799: "The young family continues 
 to get along marvellously well ; we need only hope 
 to soon see the fruits of it. Mademoiselle de Choisy 
 is very well treated by the King and others; she 
 seems content with Mademoiselle de S6rent, her 
 companion, and with the latter's mother ; the father 
 will soon arrive." 
 
 While at Vienna, Marie The'rese had singled out 
 Mademoiselle Henriette de Choisy among all the 
 female SmigrSs residing in that city. She was the 
 daughter of that heroic Marquis of Choisy who 
 seized Cracow in the night of February 2, 1772, 
 with twelve hundred patriotic Poles and twenty-five 
 French noblemen, and held it through a siege of 
 several weeks against eighteen thousand Russians. 
 His two sons were serving in Condi's army. "It 
 would be hard to find a more virtuous, more 
 esteemed, or more meritorious family," wrote Mgr. 
 de La Fare. Marie Therdse brought Mademoiselle 
 de Choisy from Vienna to Mittau as a maid of 
 honor. Madame and Mademoiselle de Serent, who 
 were likewise with her at Mittau, were the wife and 
 
238 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 daughter of the Duke of Se"rent, one of the most 
 faithful adherents of royalty. The Countess of La 
 Tour d'Auvergne, the Duke of Serent, and the 
 Marquis of Nesle also formed part of the Duchess of 
 Angoulgme's household. 
 
 At the close of the year 1799, the court of Mittau 
 received a visitor who could not fail to impress 
 painfully the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie 
 Antoinette. It was the Abbe' Georgel, the grand- 
 vicar, confidant, right-hand-man of the sorry hero 
 of the necklace affair, Cardinal de Rohan, who bad 
 been so fatal to the unfortunate Queen. During the 
 Cardinal's imprisonment in the Bastille, the Abb<! 
 Georgel, acting as grand-vicar of the grand-almonry 
 of France, had thought it his duty to quote, in the 
 regulations for Lent of 1786, the epistle in which 
 the captive Saint Paul exhorts his disciple Timothy 
 not to be ashamed of his prison, and to break the 
 bread of the Lord in his name to the faithful. 
 These regulations, posted up at the doors and sac- 
 risties of the palace chapel at Versailles, had given 
 scandal. It was claimed that in comparing the 
 prisoner of the Bastille to Saint Paul, Cardinal de 
 Rohan's grand-vicar had implicitly compared Louis 
 XVI. to Nero, and he was banished to the provinces. 
 
 The Abbe" Georgel was in Fribourg with other 
 imigris in 1799, when the chapters of the grand- 
 priories of Bohemia, Bavaria, and Germany ap- 
 pointed deputies to go to Saint Petersburg and 
 offer the homage of their obedience to the new 
 
THE END OF THE SOJOURN AT MITTAU 239 
 
 grand-master of the Order of Malta, the Emperor 
 Paul I. The Abbe" Georgel was a member of this 
 deputation, and passed through Mittau on his way 
 to Saint Petersburg. He thus describes in his Me- 
 moirs the reception he met from Louis XVIII. : — 
 
 " After Mass the King received the deputation in 
 the audience chamber; he was surrounded by the 
 notabilities of his court; his face announced the 
 tranquillity of his soul; his conversation was inter- 
 esting by reason of the kind and amiable things he 
 said to the deputies about their families and their 
 mission. Louis XVIII. had a good deal of knowl- 
 edge and intelligence ; misfortune, which is a great 
 lesson, especially for sovereigns, had removed the 
 varnish of pedantry which people criticised at Ver- 
 sailles. He was simply dressed in a blue coat and 
 red collar, the modest and prescribed uniform of his 
 entire court, in order to save expense. His Majesty 
 had the extreme kindness to remember having seen 
 me at Versailles. After the King's audience we 
 repaired to that of the Queen. On leaving her 
 apartment we were conducted to those of the Duke 
 and Duchess of AngoulSme." 
 
 The daughter of Marie Antoinette could not see 
 without distress a priest who recalled such painful 
 memories. The Abbe 1 Georgel shall describe the 
 meeting. "The countenance of the Duchess," he 
 says, "seemed to us full of majesty and grace; on 
 seeing her my heart experienced a respectful emo- 
 tion. . . . But I must own that when the Duke of 
 
240 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Se"rent named me to this august Princess, I per- 
 ceived a trouble which perceptibly altered her 
 expression. I was struck with it ; the presentation 
 was shortened; in reflecting on it, I thought that 
 my presence must have recalled a trial in which I 
 had been an actor, the successful issue of which for 
 the illustrious accused had so strongly affected the 
 Queen her mother, that, considering herself offended, 
 she had induced the King to become the accuser. 
 If I could have foreseen this, I would have absented 
 myself from the presentation through respect." 
 
 However, the court of Mittau continued to enjoy 
 comparative tranquillity. The lords and ladies who 
 composed it were found in food and firing by the 
 King, or, to speak more exactly, by the Czar, and 
 received an annual salary of one hundred louis. 
 They dined at four o'clock with the King and 
 Queen and the Duke and Duchess of AngoulSme. 
 The court appointments were held by the Duke of 
 Aumont, the Prince of Pienne, the Duke of Fleury, 
 the Count of Avaray, the Marquis of Jaueourt, the 
 Count of Cosse'-Brissac, the Count of La Chapelle, 
 the Duke of Guiche, and the Count of Saint-Priest. 
 Lack of money was what the court of Mittau chiefly 
 suffered from. Every one felt that a situation in 
 which all depended on the caprice of foreign sover- 
 eigns was extremely precarious. Paul I. gave Louis 
 XVIII. an annual pension of two hundred thousand 
 roubles, which he increased by one hundred and 
 twenty thousand livres after the arrival of the 
 
THE END OF THE SOJOURN AT MITTAU 241 
 
 Queen and Marie Ther&e. The King of Spain 
 gave eighty-four thousand livres a year, but with a 
 very bad grace. Concerning this, Louis XVIII. 
 wrote : " I own that I have never suffered more from 
 my poverty; if I consulted my own judgment, I 
 would send my cousin and all his reals to the 
 devil." And in a letter of August 25, 1799, the 
 Count of Saint-Priest said to Mgr. de La Fare: 
 " The King does not blame you for having received 
 letters from Their Catholic Majesties addressed to 
 the Count of Provence" (in order not to embroil 
 themselves with the French Republic, the Spanish 
 Bourbons gave no other title to Louis XVIII. ). 
 "His Majesty, though much dissatisfied with such 
 an address, cannot refuse the letters, his situation 
 forcing him to receive the very meagre subsidies of 
 the King his cousin, who declines very flatly to 
 augment them. The Queen no longer writes to 
 him." 
 
 The Duchess of Angoul^me, who had the keenest 
 sense of her family dignity and renown, suffered 
 greatly from this state of affairs. To this grief was 
 added that of seeing her husband depart for the pur- 
 pose of rejoining the Duke of Berry in Condi's 
 army. Before leaving Mittau the Duke of Angou- 
 lSme wrote this letter to the Czar, dated August 5, 
 1800: "Sire, the moment having arrived for me to 
 go- whither honor, duty, and the service of the King 
 my uncle call me, I hasten to lay at the feet of Your 
 Imperial Majesty the homage of my lively gratitude 
 
242 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 for all the favors with which you have deigned to 
 overwhelm me during my sojourn in your empire. 
 Forced to separate myself temporarily from the being 
 who is dearest to me, I venture to take the liberty 
 of recommending her to Your Imperial Majesty. I 
 venture to hope that you will permit me, if circum- 
 stances and my duty do not forbid, to return and 
 pass the winter here with my wife. We unite in 
 entreating Your Imperial Majesty to accept the 
 homage of our respect and admiration and, if you 
 will permit us to say so, of our attachment to your 
 person, — Louis Antoine." 
 
 Accompanied by the Count of Damas-Crux and 
 the Chevalier Saint-Priest, the Duke of AngoulSme 
 rejoined Condi's army at Pontaba, May 25, 1800. 
 Chateaubriand says : " The army received this other 
 heir of Saint Louis with transport. . . . Condi's 
 corps, forced to a long and retrograde march, entered 
 the Austrian army in line on the banks of the Inn. 
 The Duke of Berry on arriving at camp found them 
 in this position. The meeting between the two 
 brothers was touching. The Duke of Berry was 
 serving as a simple volunteer in the noble cavalry 
 regiment he had formed, and of which the Duke of 
 AngoulSme had taken command. Obeying his elder 
 brother like the meanest soldier, he gave a new 
 example of that submission rendered to each other 
 by the members of the royal family in the order of 
 heredity : a submission which not only displays the 
 virtues natural to the Bourbons, but which still 
 
THE END OF TEE SOJOURN AT MITTAU 243 
 
 preserves the throne by becoming a sort of authentic 
 and perpetual confession of the principle of legiti- 
 macy." (Chateaubriand wrote this ten years before 
 the Revolution of 1830.) 
 
 In 1800, before the battles of Marengo and Hohen- 
 linden, Louis XVIII. deceived himself greatly con- 
 cerning the chances of a restoration he thought 
 imminent. He sent the Count of Saint-Priest to 
 Vienna with long and detailed instructions begin- 
 ning thus: "Mittau, May 26, 1800. I am so con- 
 vinced that upon the recognition of my royal title by 
 the belligerent Powers, on my drawing nearer to the 
 frontiers of my realm, and especially on my activity, 
 depends the conclusion of the most fatal revolution 
 of which history offers an example, that I do not 
 hesitate to deprive myself temporarily of the services 
 of the Count of Saint-Priest and change him to 
 go and treat of these important points with the 
 ministers of His Imperial and Royal Majesty. 
 Nevertheless I should not have confided this mission 
 to him if I had not wished to give more formality to 
 the agreement that will result from it, by charging 
 the man in whom I place most confidence to sign it 
 in my name. 
 
 "I charge M. the Count of Saint-Priest, then, to 
 induce the Emperor, my nephew, to recognize me 
 as King of France and Navarre, and to consent that, 
 bearing- this title, I shall go in person to his army 
 in Italy, or, if His Imperial and Royal Majesty 
 prefers, to the auxiliary corps of Piedmontese com- 
 
244 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 manded by my brother-in-law, the Duke of Aosta. 
 Let it be understood that I ask for no command. I 
 desire only to be where I can rally my faithful or 
 repentant subjects to my side, and combat those 
 who persist in their aberration. The position of a 
 volunteer in the allied army would suffice me for this 
 end. I would consent, however, yielding to neces- 
 sity, that my activity should be temporarily sus- 
 pended, if for reasons which I cannot foresee, it is 
 judged to be as yet impracticable; but then His 
 Imperial Majesty, while authentically recognizing 
 my royal title, should indicate a town in Piedmont, 
 in the state of Genoa, or in Tuscany, where I could 
 repair and hold myself in the closest possible prox- 
 imity to events, remaining always at liberty to go 
 towards that part of my kingdom where I should 
 judge my presence to be necessary. In fine, if the 
 recognition of my royal title does not take place 
 immediately, the court of Vienna should at least 
 promise to proclaim it in a near future to be deter- 
 mined by the success of the war." 
 
 M. de Barante, in his notice on the Count of 
 Saint-Priest, has severely criticised the royal in- 
 structions: "These documents are curious," he says. 
 " In them Louis XVIII. shows himself greatly con- 
 cerned for his royal dignity and the honor of France. 
 Certainly, these sentiments were sincere, but they 
 are expressed in such a manner that they cause 
 astonishment by their ignorance of France and Eu- 
 rope, by their inert confidence in the force of divine 
 
THE END OF THE SO J OVEN AT MITTAU 245 
 
 right, and their miserable dependence on foreign 
 Powers. Hence, this royal arrogance, this patriotic 
 movement, go so wide astray that they neither prove 
 energy nor veritable pride. To estimate the worth 
 of these instructions it suffices to add that M. de 
 Saint-Priest, who carried them, reached Vienna on 
 the day before the news of the battle of Marengo 
 arrived. The principal request of Louis XVIII. 
 was that Austria should authorize him to repair to 
 her army in Italy; she had just lost all Italy." 
 
 The loss of the battle of Marengo by the Austrians 
 brought on an armistice which on different occasions 
 was prolonged until October 20, 1800. Condi's 
 army, stationed on the Inn, defended the passage of 
 this river from Wissemburg to Neubeieren. A 
 skirmish took place at Ravenheim, December 1. 
 According to Chateaubriand, the Prince of Conde' 
 was obliged to use his authority to make the two 
 Princes retire, as they were uselessly exposing 
 themselves: a soldier close by the elder had been 
 struck by a ball. The author of the Crenie du 
 Christianisme adds this really singular remark: 
 "Two days later, the battle of Hohenlinden was 
 gained by a general 1 who wanted to acquire great 
 renown in order that he might lay it at the feet of 
 his legitimate King." 
 
 The check received by the Coalition had indefi- 
 nitely adjourned the expectations of the court of 
 Mittau. Paul I. was disgusted with his allies. He 
 
 1 Moreau. 
 
246 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 would not fight against France any longer. He 
 became infatuated with the First Consul, and was 
 about to show himself as hostile to Louis XVIII. 
 as he had at first been well disposed. The moment 
 was at hand when the little court of Mittau would 
 be driven out of the Russian Empire. 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM MITTAU 
 
 LOUIS XVIII. 'S cause seemed desperate. The 
 First Consul was at the summit of glory. 
 The continental Powers emulated each other in their 
 assiduous attentions to him. The Czar's admiration 
 was enthusiastic. Deceived in all his expectations, 
 the heir of Louis XVI. was about to be driven out 
 of Mittau like an outlaw, like a pariah, and his 
 faithful attendants to be reduced to beggary. With- 
 out money and shelterless, he wandered miserably 
 about, living on alms, and subject to the caprices of 
 his temporary hosts. After the inexpressible afflic- 
 tions of captivity in the Temple, Marie The"r$se was 
 to endure those of exile in their most rigorous and 
 painful form. Her truly intrepid soul did not sink 
 under the weight of these new trials. 
 
 How was it that the profound sympathy enter- 
 tained for Louis XVIII. by the versatile Paul I. 
 had been transfigured into absolute aversion ? Why 
 did he regard his former enemies with affection and 
 his former allies with hatred ? How could he pub- 
 licly drink the health of the First Consul and fill his 
 apartments with portraits of the victor of Marengo ? 
 
 247 
 
248 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 The chief cause of this unexpected change was the 
 Czar's dissatisfaction with the conduct of his former 
 allies. He attributed to them the defeat of the 
 Russian army at Zurich and the capitulation of the 
 Russian and English troops that had landed in 
 Holland. He reproached himself for having placed 
 his soldiers at the service of a coalition from which 
 he got nothing but reverses in return, and he prom- 
 ised himself to consult only Russian interests there- 
 after. On the other hand, the glory of the young 
 victor of the Pyramids had impressed his ardent 
 and excitable imagination. Bonaparte, turning this 
 mood very cleverly to his own advantage, found 
 means to subjugate the Czar completely. There 
 were six or seven thousand Russian prisoners in 
 France whom it had been impossible to exchange, 
 as Russia had no French prisoners. The First Con- 
 sul caused these Russians to be armed and uniformed 
 in their sovereign's colors. He returned their 
 officers, their weapons, and their flags, and sent 
 them back to their Emperor without conditions. 
 He added that this was a mark of consideration on 
 his part for the Russian army, which the French had 
 learned to know and respect on the field of battle. 
 
 Another of Bonaparte's proceedings with regard 
 to the Emperor Paul was a real stroke of genius. 
 Knowing that the island of Malta, an ephemeral 
 conquest to France, could not hold out long against 
 the British fleets, and that, being strictly blockaded, 
 it would be obliged to surrender to the English 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM MITTAU 249 
 
 through lack of provisions, he took the notion of 
 giving it to the Czar. Such a present went straight 
 to the heart of a sovereign who valued his title as 
 Grand-Master of the Order of Malta as highly as 
 his title of Emperor of all the Russias. Over- 
 whelmed with joy, Paul I. ordered a Finnish officer, 
 M. de Sprengporten, to place himself at the head of 
 the Russian prisoners in France, and go with them 
 to take possession of the island of Malta from the 
 hands of the French. But while all this was going 
 on, the English seized the island. The Czar 
 demanded its restitution. They refused it. The 
 irascible Emperor avenged himself by laying an 
 embargo on English vessels, three hundred of which 
 were seized at one time in the ports of his Empire, 
 and by causing a declaration to be signed, December 
 26, 1800, by Russia, Sweden, and Denmark, in 
 which the three Powers bound themselves to main- 
 tain the principle of the rights of neutrals against 
 England, even by force of arms. 
 
 Having become the ally of Bonaparte and the 
 adversary of England and Austria, Paul I. troubled 
 himself no further about the Bourbons. The Prince 
 whom he but lately styled his august senior now 
 seemed merely an importunate and inconvenient 
 guest. The First Consul did not need to ask the 
 Czar to banish him. The Emperor Paul volun- 
 tarily expelled him and treated him most severely. 
 Bonaparte did not require so much. Possibly he 
 would even have preferred that Louis XVIII. should 
 
250 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 remain in Russia than to have him in close proxim- 
 ity to France. But Paul I. would hear nothing 
 further of the Pretender who stood in the way of his 
 new policy, and whose support at Mittau seemed to 
 him a useless expense. Acting violently, according 
 to his habit, he had the order of expulsion made 
 known to him with a rudeness that approached bru- 
 tality. He began by banishing Louis XVIII. 's 
 representative, M. de Caraman, from Saint Peters- 
 burg, where he had been received in the most cordial 
 manners but whence he was brusquely expelled 
 without the least excuse or explanation. 
 
 M. de Caraman arrived unexpectedly at Mittau, 
 having had no time to forewarn Louis XVIII. of the 
 changes that had been effected at Saint Petersburg. 
 He has recounted the details of the expulsion of the 
 Pretender and the Duchess of Angouleme in some 
 curious unpublished Memoirs now in possession of 
 the present Duke of Caraman. 
 
 On January 20, 1801, the eve of the anniversary 
 of Louis XVI. 7 s death, the daughter of the martyr- 
 King was in her oratory, preparing to make her 
 communion on the following day in memory of her 
 father. Suddenly General Driesen, the military- 
 governor of Mittau, presented himself before Louis 
 XVIII. and announced that his pension was with- 
 drawn and that he must instantly leave the Russian 
 Empire. The passports with which he was fur- 
 nished did not even style him the Count of Pro- 
 vence. He was called the Count of Lille and 
 treated as a private person. 
 
THE DEPARTURE FROM MITTATJ 251 
 
 The Pretender received the Russian general 
 calmly. "Being at Mittau through the generosity 
 of the Emperor," said he, "I am ready to depart as 
 soon as his sentiments change toward me." Then, 
 as if struck by a painful memory, he reminded the 
 general of the day of the month, saying that the 
 morrow was the anniversary of the martyrdom of 
 King Louis XVI., his brother, and that when this 
 period arrived, the Duchess of AngoulSme remained 
 shut up in her apartments, devoting herself to re- 
 ligious duties whose only witness was the Abbe - 
 Edgeworth of Firmont, her father's confessor, who 
 had accompanied him on the scaffold. 
 
 "Louis XVIIL," adds M. de Caraman, "asked 
 General Driesen if it was necessary to deprive his 
 august and unfortunate niece, whom he called his 
 daughter, of her last remaining consolation by tear- 
 ing her from her pious occupations. The general, 
 greatly moved by such a scene, bowed without ven- 
 turing to reply, and went away, leaving the King a 
 prey to the anxiety caused by the duties he had to 
 fulfil." 
 
 Summoning all his courage, the Pretender went 
 to the apartments of his niece and apprised her of 
 the Emperor Paul's determination. The Princess, 
 without seeming disturbed, asked if the orders were 
 so rigorous as to demand the sacrifice of the two 
 days devoted to her father's memory. Louis XVIIL 
 replied that they would not start until January 22, 
 and the daughter of Louis XVI. returned to her 
 prayers. 
 
252 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 As soon as the news of the expulsion was made 
 known, the Pretender's attendants gave way to 
 despair. What was to become of the veterans who 
 acted as his body-guards? On learning that they 
 were not to follow their master, they could not 
 restrain their tears. The anniversary of the execu- 
 tion of Louis XVI. was spent in sorrowful medita- 
 tions. The departure took place January 22. The 
 King and his niece had been authorized to take only 
 six persons with them. Those who were left behind 
 were in great distress. The fugitive sovereign 
 wished to bid them adieu, but his voice was stifled 
 by sobs. 
 
 Two carriages were awaiting the Pretender and 
 his niece. They set off toward the Russian frontier, 
 accompanied by the Count of Avaray, the Abbe - 
 Edgeworth of Firmont, the Duchess of Se"rent, the 
 Viscount of Hardouineau, and two domestics. It 
 was bitter cold, and it was necessary to cross the 
 wide Lithuanian plains, covered with ice and snow. 
 The first day,, after travelling eight leagues, the 
 fugitives found hospitality with a Courland noble- 
 man, the Baron of Koyt. At Frauenburg, on the 
 following day, they were obliged to take shelter in 
 a tavern thronged by drunken peasants. The third 
 day was terrible. A bitter storm was raging. A 
 furious wind, driving clouds of snow before it, 
 frightened the horses and blinded the drivers. Louis 
 XVIII. and his niece were obliged to alight and 
 painfully make their way through snow nearly a foot 
 
TEE DEPARTURE FROM MITTAU 253 
 
 deep. This was the scene that furnished the sub- 
 ject of an engraving clandestinely distributed in 
 Paris, representing the Duchess of Angoule'me con- 
 ducting Louis XVIII., who was leaning on her arm, 
 across the snows of Lithuania, with this motto under- 
 neath: "The French Antigone." In the evening 
 the fugitives slept at an inn still more wretched 
 than that of the previous night. The next day they 
 were hospitably received by a compassionate Cour- 
 land nobleman, the Baron of Jatz. At last, after 
 five days of fatiguing and painful travel, they arrived 
 at Memel, a fortified town of Eastern Prussia, where 
 they rested for several days. 
 
XI 
 
 THE SOJOURN IN PEtTSSIA AND POLAND 
 
 LOUIS XVIII. had not had time to provide 
 himself in advance with a refuge before leav- 
 ing Mittau. He had turned at all risks toward the 
 nearest kingdom without knowing whether hewould 
 be received. He was doubtful of the sentiments of 
 the Prussian court, which was then on excellent 
 terms with the First Consul, and consequently 
 expected a very bad reception. On approaching 
 Prussian territory he had taken off all his decora- 
 tions and commanded his suite to do the same. He 
 was travelling incognito as the Count of Lille; the 
 Duchess of Angoule"me passed as the Marchioness of 
 La Meilleraye. The Queen was at this period at 
 the baths of Pyrmont in the principality of Waldeck. 
 At the time when Louis XVIII. arrived at 
 Memel, he was expected by no one, and the Prus- 
 sian government had given no orders to receive him. 
 At Mittau the Pretender bore a royal title and lived 
 in a palace, with body-guards and the paraphernalia 
 of sovereignty. At Memel he was only a proscribed 
 person, hiding his royal dignity under a false name, 
 and dwelling in a private house. "This is the 
 264 
 
THE SOJOTTBN IN PRUSSIA ANV POLAND 255 
 
 fourth time," said the Count of Avaray, "that we 
 have not had wherewithal to live on for two njonths. 
 Providence has come to our aid, and I have the same 
 confidence ; it will not abandon our master and his 
 admirable niece. She is an angel whom heaven has 
 left him for his consolation. . . . Ah! how well 
 the daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
 has profited by the lessons and examples of her 
 childhood!" 
 
 Louis XVIII. had intended to leave Memel for 
 Koenigsberg on February 9, 1801. He delayed his 
 departure for several days, because several of his 
 body-guards arrived from Mittau in the evening of 
 February 8. They said they had been ordered to 
 quit that town within twenty-four hours, and that 
 they would be followed by their comrades, driven 
 out of the Russian Empire like malefactors. These 
 unfortunates, who were nearly all aged and infirm, 
 were reduced to poverty. The Pretender said to 
 them : " Gentlemen, it gives me great consolation to 
 see you, but it is mingled with very bitter sorrow. 
 Providence has tried me long and in many ways, 
 and this is not the least cruel of them. Look," he 
 added, pointing to his left breast, despoiled of his 
 crosses, "I cannot even wear a decoration." 
 
 On the following days the other body-guards were 
 presented to Louis XVIII. in the order of their 
 arrival. One of them, M. de Montlezun, could not 
 refrain from tears. "My friend," said the Prince, 
 taking him by the hand, "when one's heart is pure, 
 
256 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTJLEME 
 
 it is at the last extremity of adversity that a French- 
 man should redouble his courage." Then, turning 
 to the others: "Yes, gentlemen, if my courage 
 should abandon me, it is among you that I should 
 seek it and renew my vigor." 
 
 The Count of Hautefort has written in his jour- 
 nal: "The King did not limit his concern for his 
 body-guards to words only. He gave them a sum 
 which in his situation was considerable. The 
 Duchess of AngoulSme also sent one hundred ducats 
 to the Viscount of Agoult, to~ be divided between 
 those who were most in need ; she especially desired 
 that her name should not be mentioned; but who 
 could mistake the source of such a benefit? The 
 Viscount of Agoult chartered a vessel and presided 
 over the embarkation of his wretched companions. 
 The King's finances being exhausted by the exor- 
 bitant daily expenses, the Duchess of Angoul^me 
 proposed to His Majesty to sell her diamonds, an 
 offer which was accepted with regret; but cir- 
 cumstances hardly permitted a refusal. The Prin- 
 cess expressly authorized the Duchess of S6rent to 
 make the sale "in order to assist my uncle, his 
 faithful servitors, and myself in our common dis- 
 tress." The diamonds were deposited with the 
 Danish Consul, who advanced two hundred thou- 
 sand ducats on the price of the sale. 
 
 February 23, Louis XVIII. and his niece, fol- 
 lowed by their fugitive little court, left Memel for 
 Koenigsberg, where they arrived the next day. 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 257 
 
 There they learned that the King of Prussia con- 
 sented to assign them a residence in Warsaw, but 
 under the express conditions that the Pretender's 
 suite should be still further reduced, and that he 
 should not assume the royal title, but simply bear 
 the name of the Count of Lille. The Duchess of 
 Angoulgme had written a touching letter to the 
 Queen of Prussia, in which she said, speaking of her 
 uncle: "There is more than one voice that cries to 
 me from heaven that he is all for me, that he takes 
 the place of all I have lost, and that I ought never 
 to abandon him. Therefore I will be faithful to 
 him, and death alone shall separate us." 
 
 The fugitives took up their route for Warsaw, 
 February 27. While on the way, March 2, Louis 
 XVIII. 's carriage was overset in a ditch while 
 trying to get out of the way of that of a Polish lady 
 whom they met. The shock was violent, and the 
 Duchess of Angoulgme, in falling, broke one of the 
 carriage windows by striking her head against it. 
 On March 6 they reached Warsaw and took up 
 their abode in the Vassiliovitch house, situated in 
 the Cracow faubourg. 
 
 The Pretender's cause seemed compromised more 
 and more. The treaty of Luneville had discouraged 
 the royalists. Condi's army, reduced to four or five 
 thousand men, was disbanded in Croatia, near the 
 Adriatic, about twenty leagues from the Turkish 
 frontiers. "We were very far from our country," 
 says the Count of Puymaigre, "when we were forced 
 
258 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 to lay down our arms and abandon all illusions 
 concerning the result of that great struggle between 
 France and Europe which, with such different vicis- 
 situdes, had lasted for nine years. We had learned 
 to comprehend, through long and cruel experience, 
 how greatly the French Princes erred when they 
 set up their standards in foreign lands ; and although 
 it cannot be denied that we had fought with a cer- 
 tain glory, and that the republicans, whose opinions 
 on this head cannot be rejected, have rendered us 
 entire justice, still it was a barren glory." 
 
 The Duke of AngoulSme, who had distinguished 
 himself in Conde*'s army, rejoined his wife at War- 
 saw, March 25, 1801. A few days later, it became 
 known that the Emperor Paul I. had been assassin- 
 ated in the night of March 23-24. The new Czar, 
 Alexander I., showed sympathy for Louis XVIII. , 
 and granted him subsidies. He even proposed his 
 return to Mittau. The Pretender preferred to 
 remain for the moment at Warsaw. His position 
 there, however, was becoming difficult on account of 
 the amicable relations then existing between the 
 Cabinet of Berlin and the First Consul. The latter, 
 intoxicated by his victories, thought he could induce 
 Louis XVIII. to renounce his claims to the throne 
 of France in consideration of some pecuniary or ter- 
 ritorial indemnity. In accord with the Prussian 
 government, he caused him to be sounded on the 
 subject by M. Meyer, president of the regency of 
 Warsaw. The Pretender, having the Duchess of 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 259 
 
 AngoulSme on his right, received the Prussian 
 negotiator with a truly royal pride. He gave his 
 response in a note concerning which Chateaubriand 
 has said: "This note is one of the finest documents 
 of our history. While powerful monarchs were 
 being forced to abandon their thrones to the con- 
 queror, a proscribed King of France refused his to 
 the usurper who occupied it ; the Roman Senate did 
 not make a more magnanimous act of ownership in 
 selling the field where Hannibal was encamped." 
 
 The declaration of Louis XVIII. was worded 
 thus: "Warsaw, February 22, 1803. I do not con- 
 found M. Bonaparte with those who have preceded 
 him; I esteem his valor and his military talents; 
 I thank him for many administrative acts, because 
 the benefits conferred on my people are always 
 dear to me. But he deceives himself if he thinks 
 he can induce me to compromise my rights; far 
 from that; he would establish them himself, if they 
 could be litigated, by the application he is making 
 at this moment. I do not know what are the 
 designs of God concerning my race and me ; but I 
 do know the obligations He has imposed on me by 
 the rank in which it pleased Him to give me birth. 
 A Christian, I shall fulfil these obligations until my 
 latest breath; a son of Saint Louis, his example will 
 teach me how to make myself respected even in 
 chains; a successor of Francois I., I shall at least be 
 able to say like him : We have lost all except honor. 
 Signed: Louis." At the foot of this declaration 
 
260 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 the Duke of Angoul^me wrote : " With the permis- 
 sion of the King, my uncle, I adhere with all my 
 heart and soul to the contents of this note. Signed: 
 Lottis Antodte." 
 
 The Count of Artois, the Duke of Berry, the 
 Duke of Orleans and his two brothers, the Prince of 
 Condd and the Duke of Bourbon, all exiled in 
 England, sent Louis XVIII. the following adhe- 
 sion, dated at Wansted House, April 23, 1803: 
 "We the undersigned Princes, brother, nephews, 
 and cousins of His Majesty Louis XVIII., King of 
 France and Navarre, penetrated with the same sen- 
 timents with which our sovereign Lord and King 
 shows himself so gloriously animated in his noble 
 response to the proposition made him to renounce 
 the throne of France, and to require from all the 
 princes of his house a renunciation of their impre- 
 scriptible rights of succession to the same throne, 
 declare : 
 
 " That our attachment to our duties and our honor 
 not permitting us to compromise our rights, we 
 adhere with heart and soul to the response of our 
 King; 
 
 " That after his illustrious example, we will never 
 lend ourselves to the slightest transaction which 
 could abase the House of Bourbon and cause it to 
 fail in what it owes to itself, its ancestors, and its 
 descendants ; 
 
 " And that if the unjust employment of superior 
 force should succeed (which may God avert!) in 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 261 
 
 placing in fact, but never by right, on the throne of 
 France any other than our legitimate King, we will 
 follow with as much confidence as fidelity the voice 
 of honor which bids us appeal from it to God, to 
 the French people, and to our swords." 
 
 Bonaparte's future victim, the young Duke of 
 Enghien, also sent in his adhesion, couched in these 
 words: "Sire, the letter of March 5 with which 
 Your Majesty has deigned to honor me, has duly 
 arrived. Your Majesty knows too well the blood 
 which flows in my veins to have been able to doubt 
 for a moment concerning the nature of the response 
 you ask for. I am a Frenchman, Sire, and-a French- 
 man remains faithful to his God, his King, and his 
 honorable oaths. Many others will perhaps some 
 day envy me this triple advantage. Deign then, 
 Your Majesty, to permit me to add my signature 
 to that of the Duke of Angouleme, adhering like 
 him with all my heart and soul to the contents of 
 the note of my King. Signed: Loms Antoine 
 Henri de Bourbon. Ettenheim, March 22, 1803." 
 
 Enthusiastic over this language, Chateaubriand 
 exclaims: " What sentiments ! what a signature ! and 
 what a date! When one reads at this epoch the 
 history of the old France and the new, which 
 existed at the same time,- one knows not which to 
 be the more proud of; heroic successes attend the 
 new France, heroic adversities the old. Our princes 
 carried away all the grandeurs of our country; they 
 left nothing but victory behind them." 
 
262 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 It was at Ettenheim, on March 25, 1803, that the 
 Duke of Enghien signed his adhesion to the declara- 
 tion of Louis XVIII., and it was at Ettenheim, less 
 than a year later, on March 15, 1804, that he was 
 arrested by Colonel Ordener's dragoons to be taken 
 to the castle of Vincennes and shot there, contrary 
 to every regulation of the rights of nations, on the 
 fatal night of March 20-21. As soon as she had 
 been apprised of the murder, the Duchess of Angou- 
 le"me wrote to the Prince of Conde\ the victim's 
 grandfather, a letter in which she, said: "Monsieur 
 my Cousin, I cannot forbear to express my keen 
 sympathy in the sorrow which afflicts you, and which 
 I cordially and sincerely share. In spite of all I 
 have suffered, I could never have imagined the 
 frightful event which plunges us into mourning. 
 ... I am not writing to the Duke of Bourbon, 
 but I pray you, be the interpreter of my sentiments ; 
 rely, I entreat you,- on my prayers that, sustained by 
 your courage, your health may bear up under the 
 sorrowful weight of our mutual and cruel loss." 
 
 The Duke of Enghien's murder had proved how 
 greatly Bonaparte feared the Bourbons, in spite of 
 his immense power. One might fancy he already 
 foreboded the events of 1814 and 1815. The Pre- 
 tender had written him, September 7, 1800: "You 
 must know, General, that you have long since 
 gained my esteem. If you doubt my gratitude, 
 designate your place, determine the lot of your 
 friends. As to my principles, I am a Frenchman, 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 263 
 
 clement by character; I would be still more so by 
 reason. The victor of Lodi, Castiglione, and Arcole, 
 the conqueror of Italy and Egypt, must prefer glory 
 to a vain celebrity. However, you are losing pre- 
 cious time ; we can assure the welfare of France ; I 
 say we, because for that I have need of Bonaparte, 
 and he can do nothing without me. General, Eu- 
 rope has its eyes upon you; a glorious triumph 
 awaits you, and I am impatient to give peace to my 
 people. Signed: Louis." 
 
 The First Consul replied : " I have received your 
 letter, Monsieur, and I thank you for the flattering 
 things it contains. You should not desire to return 
 to France, for to do so you would have to walk over 
 a hundred thousand corpses. Sacrifice your per- 
 sonal interests to the repose of your country; his- 
 tory will recompense you for it. I am not insensible 
 to the sorrows of your family, and it would give me 
 pleasure to know that you were surrounded with all 
 that could contribute to the tranquillity of your 
 retreat." 
 
 Though Bonaparte might address the descendant 
 of Saint Louis, Henri IV., and Louis XIV. simply 
 as "Monsieur," and adopt a tone of disdainful pro- 
 tection ^toward him, yet he was tormented by the 
 existence of this discrowned monarch and dreaded 
 the future reserved for this outlawed exile. 
 
 The more improbable the chances of a restoration 
 became, the greater became the lofty arrogance of 
 the Pretender's language and the more firmly did he 
 
264 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 proclaim his confidence in divine right. Learning 
 that Bonaparte had received the Order of the Golden 
 Fleece from the King of Spain a few days after the 
 murder of the Duke of Enghien, he hastened to 
 despoil himself of this order and send it back to 
 Charles IV. with the following letter: "Monsieur 
 my Brother, it is with regret that I return to you 
 the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece, 
 which His Majesty your father, of glorious memory, 
 confided to me. There can be nothing in common 
 between me and the great criminal whom audacity 
 and fortune have placed upon my throne, which he 
 has sullied with the blood of a Bourbon ! Religion 
 may bind -me to pardon an assassin,- but the tyrant 
 of my people must always be my enemy. In this 
 century it is more glorious to merit a sceptre than 
 to wield it. The mysterious decrees of Providence 
 may condemn me to end my days in exile; but 
 neither posterity nor my contemporaries shall have 
 the right to say that in adversity I showed myself 
 for an instant unworthy to occupy the throne of my 
 ancestors." 
 
 Nothing discouraged Louis XVIII. ; neither the 
 adhesion of nearly the whole French episcopate to 
 the new reign, nor the plebiscite raising the 
 Emperor to the throne, nor the Pope's consecration 
 of his' crown. He protested against the Empire by 
 an act dated at Warsaw, June 5, 1804, which was 
 expressed in these words: "In taking the title of 
 Emperor and proposing to make it hereditary in his 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 265 
 
 family, Bonaparte has just set the seal upon his usur- 
 pation. This new act of a revolution in which all 
 has been invalid from the beginning, cannot possibly 
 annul my rights; but, responsible for my conduct 
 to all sovereigns, whose rights are not less infringed 
 than mine, and whose thrones are shaken by the 
 principles which the Senate of Paris has dared to 
 advance; responsible to France, to my family, and 
 to honor, I should think I was betraying the com- 
 mon cause if I kept silence on this occasion. I 
 declare, then, in presence of the sovereigns, that far 
 from recognizing the imperial title which Bonaparte 
 has just caused to be conferred upon him by a body 
 which has not even a legal existence, I protest 
 against this title and against the subsequent acts 
 to which it may give rise." 
 
 The Duchess of AngoulSme, with whom the idea 
 of royalty by divine right was a religion, rejoiced 
 in this haughty attitude on her uncle's part. She 
 would not herself have written in any other style. 
 It is claimed that Napoleon, impressed by the per- 
 sistency and solemnity with which the Pretender 
 asserted rights mocked at by so many people, said : 
 "The Count of Lille has done well; he would be 
 despised if he yielded without a struggle; a pre- 
 tender ought always to protest; it is the only way 
 of reigning that is left him." 
 
 Napoleon exerted such an influence over the Prus- 
 sian government at this time, however, that Louis 
 XVIII. did not find himself at ease in Warsaw. 
 
266 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 He resolved to repair to Grodno, on Russian terri- 
 tory, in order to concert measures with his brother, 
 the Count of Artois, which should give his protesta- 
 tions a more striking character. Just as he was 
 about departing from Warsaw, he learned that an 
 attempt to poison him and his family had been 
 organized. The man who had been tampered with 
 in order to induce him to commit the crime, himself 
 revealed it to the Count of Avaray. The Pretender 
 then wrote a letter to the president of the Prussian 
 Chamber of Warsaw, dated July 24, 1804, which 
 began thus : " I have been informed, monsieur, of 
 an attempt made to assassinate me. If my person 
 alone were in question, I would turn a deaf ear to 
 such warnings; but as the lives of my family and 
 servants are likewise menaced, I should be derelict 
 to jhe most sacred duties if I slighted this danger. 
 I beg you, therefore, to come this evening and talk 
 it over with me. " The Prussian magistrate, evad- 
 ing the inquiry, replied that he would hand the 
 matter over to the police, and the bottom of this 
 underhanded affair was never known. 
 
 Instead of going to Grodno, as he had at first 
 intended, Louis XVIII. proceeded toward Sweden 
 and was joined by the Count of Artois at Calmar, 
 October 5, 1804. The two brothers drew up there 
 together the manifesto which was to appear on the 
 subsequent December 2, the day of Napoleon's coro- 
 nation. While the Pretender was at Calmar he 
 received, through the intermediation of the Prussian 
 
THE SOJOURN IN PRUSSIA AND POLAND 267 
 
 Minister in Sweden, an official note from the Prus- 
 sian government interdicting him from returning to 
 Warsaw. He then asked the Emperor Alexander's 
 permission to reside in Mittau, and it was granted. 
 The Count of Artois returned to England. Louis 
 XVIII. embarked at Calmar, landed at Riga, and 
 went to Mittau, where his wife and his niece did 
 not rejoin him until spring. 
 
XII 
 
 THE SECOND SOJOURN AT MTTTATJ 
 
 AT Warsaw the Duchess of AngoulSme was 
 surrounded by unanimous sympathies. It 
 pleased her to be in the midst of a Catholic popula- 
 tion with whom she had sentiments and ideas in com- 
 mon. One of the Kings of France, Henri III., had 
 been King of Poland, and the Princess was descended 
 from Marie Leczinska, the daughter of a Polish 
 sovereign. These souvenirs aided the prestige of 
 the daughter of Louis XVI. ; and the Polish nobil- 
 ity, who speak French as well as they do their 
 native tongue, paid her the most delicate and respect- 
 ful attentions. The Princess did not leave without 
 regret a land which reminded her of France, for the 
 Poles have been called the Frenchmen of the north, 
 and she returned with apprehension to Mittau, 
 whence she had been driven out four years before 
 under such painful circumstances. 
 
 At Mittau the Duchess of AngoulSme once more 
 installed herself with her husband, her uncle, and 
 her aunt in the former palace of the Dukes of Cour- 
 land. In 1805 two fires broke out there. The 
 guilty persons were not discovered, but the author- 
 
 268 
 
THE SECOND SOJOURN AT MITTAU 269 
 
 ities declared that the fires had been intentionally 
 kindled. This affair remained mysterious, like that 
 of the attempted poisoning of the royal family at 
 Warsaw. 
 
 Meanwhile, the echo of the noise of arms pene- 
 trated even to the asylum of Louis XVIII. and his 
 niece. A bloody war desolated the country lying 
 between the Vistula and the Niemen. The terrible 
 battle of Eylau was fought February 7, 1807. The 
 military convoys of wounded Frenchmen or pris- 
 oners were forwarded to Mittau. Although a con- 
 tagious fever broke out among them, the Abbe* 
 Edgeworth of Firmont went to their assistance. 
 He paid with his life for this devotion ; but he was 
 not abandoned on his deathbed by the daughter of 
 the martyr-king. Braving the contagion, she ex- 
 claimed: "No, I will never forsake him who is more 
 than my friend. Nothing shall prevent me from 
 nursing him myself; I do not ask any one to go 
 with me." And it was she who, on May 22, 1807, 
 received the venerable priest's last sigh. 
 
 Louis XVIII. wrote to the Abbe"s brother: "The 
 letter of the Archbishop of Rheims will inform you 
 of the painful loss we have just endured. You will 
 regret the best and tenderest of brothers. I lament 
 a friend, a benefactor, who conducted a martyr-king 
 to the gates of heaven, and who has taught me the 
 way thither. The world was not worthy to possess 
 him long. Let us submit, reminding ourselves that 
 he has received the reward of his virtues. But we 
 
270 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 are not forbidden to accept consolations of an inferior 
 order, and I offer them to you in the general afflic- 
 tion which this grief has occasioned. Yes, mon- 
 sieur, the death of your worthy brother has been a 
 public calamity. My family, and all the loyal 
 Frenchmen who surround me, seem, like me, 
 to have lost a father. The people of Mittau of 
 every class and creed have shared , our sorrow. May 
 this recital lighten your regrets! May I thus give 
 to the memory of the most worthy of men a new 
 proof of veneration and attachment ! " 
 
 Eight days after the Abbe" Edgeworth's death, the 
 Emperor Alexander arrived at Mittau, May 30, 
 1807. Before rejoining his army, then in camp on 
 the banks of the Pregel, and about to renew the 
 struggle against Napoleon, the Czar desired to pay a 
 visit to his guests. He was very affable to the 
 Pretender and particularly courteous to the wife of 
 that Prince and the Duchess of AngoulSme. He 
 already promised a Bourbon restoration with the aid 
 of Russia, but he was not to keep his promise until 
 seven years later. Before its realization he passed 
 through a period when, like his father, Paul I., 
 he felt a momentary enthusiasm for the victor of 
 Austerlitz, Eylau, and Friedland. 
 
 After the treaty of Tilsit, signed July 7, 1807, 
 one would have said that Russia was forever recon- 
 ciled with imperial France. Louis XVIII. was not 
 slow to see that under such circumstances his pres- 
 ence at Mittau was no longer reconcilable with his 
 
TBE SECOND SOJOURN AT MITTAU 271 
 
 dignity. Nevertheless, he took great care not to 
 embroil himself with the Emperor Alexander. On 
 his side, the Czar avoided the rude measures taken 
 by Paul I. in 1801. He did not banish Louis 
 XVIII. from Russia, and it was of his own free will 
 that the Prince repaired to England, where he not 
 unreasonably thought that his sojourn would be 
 more useful to his cause. 
 
 Leaving his wife and niece at Mittau, Louis 
 XVIII. left that city with the Duke of AngoulSme, 
 and embarked at Riga for Sweden in October, 1807. 
 King Gustavus IV. gave him an excellent reception 
 and placed the Swedish frigate FrSga at his disposal 
 and under his orders. He sailed in it to England 
 in November. His wife and the Duchess of Angou- 
 le"me remained at Mittau until July, 1808, when, 
 quitting Russia forever, they took ship in the port 
 of Liban. After a pleasant voyage they landed on 
 English shores and went to rejoin Louis XVIII., 
 who was then the guest of the Marquis of Bucking- 
 ham, at Gosfield Hall, in Essex. 
 
XIII 
 
 HAETWELL 
 
 LOUIS XVIII. had been summoned to England 
 neither by the court nor the government. 
 The Cabinet of London was weary of the intrigues 
 of the French SmigrSs and of the always useless 
 succors given them, and feared to make any pledges 
 to the Bourbon cause except those prompted by 
 England's interests and continental policy. Warned 
 that the Pretender was bound for England, it 
 wanted to relegate him to Scotland, and it sent 
 orders to every port which he might possibly enter, 
 desiring him to sail at once for Leith, whence he 
 might go to Edinburgh, where an asylum would be 
 arranged for him in the ancient castle of Holyrood. 
 On landing at Yarmouth, Louis XVIII. received 
 this official injunction. He refused to comply with 
 it, and after having declared that he would return 
 to meet all the exiles of the continent rather than 
 consent to the prescribed sojourn at Holyrood, he 
 claimed the simple rights of a citizen on the free 
 soil of England. The Marquis of Buckingham 
 offered, and induced him to accept, magnificent 
 hospitality in his splendid castle of Gosfield Hall, 
 272 
 
HARTWELL 273 
 
 in Essex, near the borders of Nqrfolkshire. Louis 
 XVIII. was rejoined there, in the spring of 1808, by 
 his wife and the Duchess of AngoulSme. Desiring 
 to thank their host for his generous reception, the 
 exiles built a small temple dedicated to gratitude in 
 the park of Gosfield Hall. Five oaks were to over- 
 shadow it. The first was planted by Louis XVIII. , 
 the second by his wife, the third by his niece, and 
 the fourth and fifth by his nephews the Dukes of 
 AngoulSme and Berry. 
 
 In April, 1809, the Pretender, wishing to be 
 nearer London and to have a dwelling of his own, 
 went to the modest manor of Hartwell, which he 
 first hired and afterwards bought from Sir George 
 Lee. This domain, which was more like a farm 
 than a manor-house, and which was about sixteen 
 leagues from London, was vast in its proportions, 
 but miserable in appearance. In order to contain 
 more persons, nearly every room had been divided 
 into compartments. The offices were detached build- 
 ings surrounded by gardens. Some of these con- 
 structions contained very narrow huts for the 
 servants. Taken all together, they looked like a 
 village. The room that Louis XVIII. occupied 
 most frequently was almost as small as a ship's 
 cabin. It was ornamented with portraits of Louis 
 XVI., Marie Antoinette, Madame Elisabeth, and 
 Louis XVII. Before dinner the Prince's guests 
 assembled in a large drawing-room where there was 
 a billiard table. In going to the dining-room, 
 
274 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 Louis XVIII. always went first. The repast was 
 simple, and not many dishes were served. The 
 Pretender did the honors with much affability 
 and grace. After dinner they returned to the 
 drawing-room for coffee, conversation, and whist. 
 Every time that Louis XVIII. entered or went 
 out, the Duchess of Angoule"me dropped him a 
 profound courtesy; he responded by a bow and 
 kissing her hand. Visitors were surprised at the 
 number of persons lodged at the King's expense 
 in the house and its dependencies. It was like a 
 rising colony. 
 
 "Louis XVIIL," the Baron of Vitrolles has said 
 in his Memoirs, "displayed immovable courage in 
 enduring his long exile ; he was sustained by a true 
 sentiment of dignity, his faith in his rights, and 
 confidence in his future. In his retreat at Hartwell 
 he was at peace with himself in the midst of a very 
 narrow social circle, but one in which he exercised 
 every sort of superiority; he preferred that of wit. 
 He lived like a great nobleman on his estates, sur- 
 rounded by a numerous family. Political interests 
 and events were seldom spoken of. Historical facts 
 and dates, French, Italian, and English literature, 
 formed the subject of the evening conversations at 
 which all the inhabitants of the castle came together. 
 The Countess of Narbonne, afterwards duchess, dis- 
 played there the graces of her mind and her pure 
 and elegant diction. She was the object of the 
 King's preference and attention." 
 
HABTWELL 275 
 
 As a consolation in his exile and an affirmation 
 of his rights, the Pretender kept up an appearance 
 of royalty at Hartwell. Near his phantom of a 
 throne stood captains of the guard, the Dukes of 
 Gramont and of Havre*; and first gentlemen of the 
 bedchamber, the Dukes of Fleury and of Aumont. 
 When he went to London and was present at divine 
 service in the tiny chapel of Little George Street, 
 erected at the cost of the French Smigris, he occu- 
 pied an armchair which resembled a throne. Behind 
 this armchair was the princes' bench, where the 
 Duchess of Angouhjme, the Count of Artois, the 
 Duke of AngoulSme, the Duke of Berry, the Prince 
 of Conde*, and the Duke of Bourbon seated them- 
 selves. Moreover, there were benches for those 
 French bishops who, refusing to acknowledge the 
 Concordat, had denied the Pope's right to dispose 
 of their sees without their consent. Among them 
 were Mgrs. Lamarche, Dillon, Flamarens, Argentre", 
 Bethisy, Amelot, Villedieu, Laurentie, Belbceuf, 
 and Colbert. 
 
 The English government had not recognized Louis 
 XVIII. 's royal title, and yet when his wife died, 
 November 13, 1810, they paid her the same honors 
 as to a queen, and she was buried with pomp in 
 Westminster Abbey. On her deathbed the Princess 
 had addressed pious exhortations to her nephews. 
 "As to you, my niece," she said to the Duchess of 
 AngoulSme, "all you need to go to heaven is a pair- 
 of wings." 
 
276 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 At this period the most infatuated partisans of 
 Louis XVIII. considered the hope of his return to 
 France as a chimerical dream. Napoleon's marriage 
 with an Austrian Archduchess was thought to have 
 consolidated the imperial dynasty forever. " Bona- 
 parte," says the Baron of Vitrolles in his Memoirs, 
 " had done everything to efface the memory of the 
 royal family. Since his reign began it had been 
 named to him but once, and that was in the ditches 
 of Vincennes. The generation which knew our 
 principles had disappeared ; that which was coming 
 up scarcely knew that Louis XVI. had brothers ; the 
 orphan of the Temple was an historic personage for 
 them, and they only learned by the Duke of En- 
 ghien's murder that there were still Conde"s. We 
 ourselves, who in our youth had fought under their 
 flags and for their noble cause, were dispersed, 
 without ties or union, if not without souvenirs. 
 Many were connected with the tyrant; the bravest 
 in the army, the neediest in the excise, the most 
 obsequious at court. Those who still retained some 
 trace of their early sentiments in their hearts were 
 in private and straitened circumstances, without 
 influence and with no hope of bettering their condi- 
 tion. In ten years we had barely heard these 
 princes whom we held in veneration mentioned more 
 than two or three times. The vague and often 
 lying news we obtained of them was transmitted 
 orally, and so to say by infiltration, without our 
 knowing whence it came. We were told that the 
 
HABTWELL 277 
 
 Duchess of Angoul^me had given birth to a son, 
 and that the Prince Eegent of England had been the 
 godfather of the royal infant. At other times we 
 would hear of one of our princes appearing upon 
 some field of battle and fighting against the usurper 
 for the rights of his house. We still commemorated 
 January 21 at the church and the feast of Saint 
 Louis at table, and these vivid emotions revealed to 
 us that at the bottom of our hearts day ineffaceable 
 sentiments and passions unperceived in the ordinary 
 course of our lives. Parties die when they are built 
 purely upon interest ; they live like religions when 
 they are founded upon beliefs." 
 
 Napoleon, the father of the King of Home, had 
 reached the summit of his power. His court almanac 
 resembled that of the court of Versailles ; there were 
 the same offices, the same names, the same titles, the 
 same etiquette. The most prominent SmigrSs, the 
 most notable persons of the old regime, served in the 
 household of the new Charlemagne and in that of 
 his wife, the daughter of the German Caesars. But 
 while discharging their functions in the palace of 
 the Tuileries and other imperial residences, these 
 great lords and ladies thought involuntarily of the 
 orphan of the Temple. Even when they forgot the 
 others, they remembered this heroine of sorrow. As 
 Lamartine has said, Louis XVIII. loved the Duch- 
 ess of Angoulgme through sentiment and through 
 policy also. " He protected himself in the eyes of all 
 Europe through this beauty, youth, and piety. He 
 
278 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 called her his Antigone. He pictured himself, lean- 
 ing on the arm of this niece, as royalty protected 
 from on high by an angel of grief. She lived with 
 him at Hartwell, reminding herself of France with 
 bitterness, but of the throne and the country 
 with the pride and majesty innate in her blood." 
 The daughter of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette 
 was the ornament, the poetry, the consecration, of 
 the little court of the exiled King. If Louis 
 XVIII. had experienced a momentary weakness, a 
 glance at his niece would have sufficed to renew his 
 faith and hope. 
 
 It is certain that Marie Louise, with her double 
 crown as Empress of the French and Queen of Italy, 
 was not more majestic on her throne than the orphan 
 of the Temple in her exile. 
 
 Although it was her custom to avoid parties and 
 entertainments, the Duchess of AngoulSme could 
 not refuse to appear at the English court in 1811. 
 The Baron of Ge"ramb, who quitted court-life for the 
 cloister some years later, and became a Carthusian 
 monk, thus expressed himself concerning the young 
 Princess: "For the first time Her Royal Highness 
 the Duchess of AngoulSme appeared in London at 
 a public assembly. Shall I say that all eyes were 
 instantly fixed upon her? No; for yielding entirely 
 to my own observations and the vivid emotions 
 which contended in my heart, I could not notice 
 those of others. Never did virtue and innocence 
 display themselves to mankind in traits where a 
 
HARTWELL 279 
 
 beauty so touching blended with so profound a mel- 
 ancholy. I dare not describe all that there is of 
 enchanting and affecting in her glance, all that is 
 celestial in her smile; I should fear to profane what 
 I had seen in seeking to portray it." 
 
 And the Austrian chamberlain, who assuredly 
 would not have spoken with such enthusiasm of 
 Marie Louise, the daughter of his Emperor, contin- 
 ues in a truly lyrical transport: "In contemplating 
 these features which, they say, recall the goodness 
 of Louis XVI. and the dignity of Marie Antoinette, 
 these were the longings that escaped with my sighs 
 from my burdened heart: O sweet and tender dove! 
 May storms respect forever the shelter where thou 
 dost repose ! May new sorrows never come to afflict 
 this young heart which grief has moulded. Alas! 
 thou hast known naught of life except its sufferings 
 and afflictions. If, in the midst of catastrophes 
 thou hast been spared, if the rage of those who 
 assassinated the beings so dear was not expended 
 upon thee, if thou hast come out pure as the angels 
 from that land where license and crime held sway, 
 what destiny does Providence reserve for thee? 
 Rescued from shipwreck amid the most horrible 
 tempests, art thou the token which God will one 
 day offer men to show them that His anger is 
 appeased, and that the world, crushed under so many 
 ruins, at last may hreathe again ? Will the feeble 
 hand of a woman lift up anew some day the social 
 edifice that has been drenched in blood?" If for- 
 
280 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 eigners spoke in such terms of the daughter of Louis 
 XVI., one can readily imagine what the veneration 
 of the French royalists must have been. In their 
 eyes, the saintly Princess was the living symbol of 
 the twin religions of the throne and the altar. 
 
 The Duchess of AngoulSme, who was her hus- 
 band's only love, occupied herself at Hartwell 
 chiefly with works of charity. She meditated, read, 
 and prayed. Her private household was composed 
 of the Countess of Choisy, now become the Vis- 
 countess of Argout; Count Etienne, now the Duke 
 of Damas, and his duchess, the sister of Madame 
 de Narbonne. She often received visits from the 
 Count of Artois and the Duke of Berry, who 
 lived in London. After the death of Madame de 
 Polastron, for whom he had felt the longest and 
 tenderest affection of his life, the Count of Artois 
 had become profoundly devout, and his religious 
 sentiments were thenceforward in harmony with 
 those of the daughter of Louis XVI. As to the 
 Duke of Berry, who loved the world and the arts, 
 he led a stormy life. A beautiful Englishwoman 
 had captivated his imagination and his heart. He 
 should have had the emotions of war; those of love 
 consoled him. The Duchess of Angoul^me fre- 
 quently saw the Prince of Conde" also, for whom she 
 displayed great sympathy, and to whom Louis 
 XVIII. wrote: "Enjoy, my dear cousin, the same 
 repose which the most illustrious of your ancestors 
 voluntarily tasted under the laurels ; all will become 
 
HARTWELL 281 
 
 Chantilly to you." On his part, the Prince of 
 Conde" had addressed to the Duke of Berry, his 
 former subordinate, a letter in which he said: 
 "Doubtless our life is distressing; but we have 
 done our duty. In existing circumstances it is for 
 you, not for me, to raise the royal standard, and for 
 us all to march under your orders. Your extreme 
 youth may for a time have necessitated the incon- 
 venience of your being under mine, but so long as a 
 little strength remains to me, I shall glory in being 
 your first grenadier." 
 
 In speaking of the princes, nobles, and bishops 
 who came to salute Louis XVIII., M. de Vitrolles 
 has said: "The homage of these elders of France 
 .formed for the King, on ceremonious occasions, if 
 not a court, at least a circle sufficiently numerous to 
 hide from him the emptiness that lay behind them. 
 He bore in his royal nature the dignified sentiments 
 and the whole majesty of his race. Nobility of 
 thought was as natural to him as that of the blood 
 flowing in his veins, and whenever he had to take 
 a determination he rose to the height of all the 
 kings he represented. In the customs of his exiled 
 life he was fond of the r61e and the appearance of 
 royalty." To have a favorite seemed to him a 
 monarchical tradition. At Hartwell he- had two ; at 
 first the Count of Avaray, and afterwards the Count 
 of Blacas. "The Count of Avaray," adds M. de 
 Vitrolles, " had been the most intimate ; there is no 
 ancient friendship either real or fabulous, in prose 
 
282 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 or in verse, that has not been called on to celebrate 
 this attachment. Castor and Pollux, Achilles and 
 Patroclus, Nisus and Euryalus, Augustus and 
 Cinna, Henri IV. and Sully, etc. The King had 
 given the title of duke to M. d'Avaray as soon as 
 he succeeded to the right to the throne, and the 
 father inherited his son's title as soon as the royalty 
 became real. But what was it to be the favorite of 
 a King in exile? He was everything; he freed his 
 master from the important cares of his empire; 
 he ruled the house, the servants, the kitchens, and 
 interposed himself between the King and the princes 
 of his family so as to keep them at a distance. . . . 
 
 " Having been attacked by a lung complaint, M. 
 d'Avaray travelled in Italy in search of health. At 
 Florence he met M. de Blacas, who was of a very 
 ancient family of Provence, long since fallen into 
 that decline of fortune which tarnishes the lustre of 
 the greatest names. An exiled, poverty-stricken 
 sub-lieutenant, he was living in the humblest way 
 at Florence when M.~ d'Avaray employed him to 
 assist in his correspondence. In other circumstances 
 this would have meant a secretaryship, but it was 
 quite another thing in those of the emigration. 
 Having been brought to England and presented to 
 the King by his new patron, M. de Blacas made 
 himself useful and agreeable, and when the progress 
 of M. d'Avaray's malady led him to seek the island 
 of Madeira, celebrated for its cures of such diseases, 
 he left his protege" with the King to conduct their 
 correspondence." 
 
BARTWELL 283 
 
 M. d'Avaray died in Madeira, June 3, 1811. A 
 few days previous, Louis XVIII. wrote: "Provi- 
 dence could not take from me more than it gave 
 when it granted me such a friend as my dear 
 d'Avaray." Besides the title of duke, the King 
 had conferred on his favorite the right to put the 
 escutcheon of France in his arms with this device : 
 Vicit iter durum pietas. 
 
 The succession as official favorite devolved upon 
 M. de Blacas. Lamartine represents him as pos- 
 sessing "the unlimited affection of his master, and 
 meriting it only hy his honor and fidelity; he was 
 inwardly humble, but haughty in appearance, re- 
 garded the King as all and France as nothing, was 
 unyielding through rigidity of character, and carried 
 all the arrogance and pride of the old absolute courts 
 into an obscure exile and a reign of compromises." 
 
 M. de Blacas excited great jealousy, moreover, 
 among those who surrounded Louis XVIII. M. de 
 Vitrolles says : " War was declared against the new 
 favorite. To praise the old one was not enough; 
 no occasion was let slip to disgust this one, and to 
 display scorn and contemptuous airs and, in a word, 
 that kind of insults which are resented the more 
 because it is impossible to describe and complain 
 of them since they are so unsubstantial. But in so 
 doing they merely played into the hand of him they 
 wanted to ruin. The King was stubborn in this 
 war of ill manners; all his force of character was 
 brought out by it. If the attacks had come from 
 
284 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOXJLEME 
 
 without, he would readily have abandoned the object 
 of them; but against his own party he defended 
 him as if he had said to himself, wnguibus et rostro. 
 Whenever an insult was offered his favorite he 
 answered it by a new evidence of favor. 'I will 
 make him so great that they will not dare to attack 
 him again,' said he when he appointed M. de Blacas 
 grand-master of the- wardrobe. What confidence 
 he must have had in his royalty to think that he 
 was doing something in appointing a grand officer 
 of his household at Hartwell! " 
 
 At the time when Louis XVIII. thus continued 
 to play with imperturbable dignity his r61e of sover- 
 eign in partibus infidelium, or, better, fidelium, a 
 Bourbon restoration was hardly considered possible 
 by any one except himself and the Duchess of 
 AngoulSme. As M. de Viel-Castel says in his 
 remarkable history of the Restoration, "military 
 expeditions, political intrigues, conspiracies, sur- 
 prises, had all alike failed. The ill-success of so 
 many enterprises from which so much had been 
 expected, the punishment of some of their authors, 
 the apparent impossibility of shaking that colossus 
 of imperial power before which the whole continent 
 trembled, had long obliged the Bourbons to avoid 
 any manifestation of their claims. The royalist 
 agency which had secretly existed at Paris had been 
 broken up. The protest published by Louis XVIII. 
 in 1804, at the time when Napoleon put on the im- 
 perial diadem, was the last sign of life he had given 
 to his adherents." 
 
HARTWELL 285 
 
 Until the Russian campaign, royalty was in a 
 somnolent state at Hartwell. The Pretender sel- 
 dom spoke of politics, but he awaited with vague 
 confidence some unforeseen event or other which 
 would bring about a thorough change. Unfortu- 
 nately, these events were to prove the most fright- 
 ful of catastrophes. The wretched thing about the 
 royalist cause is that it was weakened by the vic- 
 tories and strengthened by the defeats of France. 
 The hopes of royalty seemed extinguished after 
 Wagram. They rekindled with the burning of 
 Moscow. Louis- XVIII., who read the French jour- 
 nals diligently, and discerned the symptoms of ruin 
 and disaffection under the adulations of a press sold 
 to the imperial police, understood that the retreat 
 from Russia had given the Empire a mortal blow, 
 and that the Restoration was thenceforward only a 
 matter of time. At once he conceived the idea of 
 recalling himself by an opportune and skilful meas- 
 ure to the memory of France and Europe which 
 seemed to have forgotten him; he wrote to the 
 Emperor Alexander on behalf of the French princes. 
 "The fate of arms," said he in his letter, "has 
 caused more than one hundred and fifty thousand 
 prisoners, most of whom are Frenchmen, to fall into 
 your hands. No matter what flag they served; they 
 are unfortunate, and I see in them only my children ; 
 I recommend them, to Your Imperial Majesty. Deign 
 to consider how much many of them have already 
 suffered, and ameliorate the severities of their lot! 
 
286 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOTXLEME 
 
 Let them learn that the victor is their father's 
 friend ! Your Majesty cannot give me a more affect- 
 ing proof of your sentiments toward me." The Czar 
 did not even reply to the Pretender. 
 
 Alexander's silence did not discourage Louis 
 XVIII. , who published another manifesto, February 
 1, 1813. He proved by this adroit and liberal docu- 
 ment that time, exile, and the lessons of experience 
 had caused him to make some useful reflections. 
 He promised to maintain the administrative and 
 judiciary bodies in the plenitude of their powers, 
 to leave all functionaries in their employments, to 
 forbid all prosecutions for things accomplished in 
 an unhappy past whose oblivion would be sealed by 
 his return, and he invited the imperial Senate, 
 which he lauded, to make itself the chief instrument 
 of the Restoration. 
 
 After the battle of Leipsic the Pretender thought 
 that the speedy success of his cause was certain. 
 Thus, as Lamartine has said, the re-establishment 
 of a Bourbon on the throne of France seemed to him 
 a duty on the part of God Himself; and the hour 
 which he and the orphan of the Temple awaited as 
 a justification of Providence was at last about to 
 strike. 
 
XIV 
 
 THE END OF THE EXILE 
 
 AT the beginning of 1814, Louis XVIII. was 
 convinced that his return to France was 
 imminent; and yet the European Powers had not 
 yet promised him their support. Not having aban- 
 doned the idea of treating with Napoleon, they 
 feared to increase the difficulties of the contest by 
 linking their cause to that of a family having 
 numerous adversaries in France. The Emperor 
 Alexander, jealous perhaps of the antiquity of the 
 Bourbon race, showed little sympathy for them, and 
 was reputed to favor Bernadotte as sovereign of the 
 French people. The Austrian Emperor seemed 
 unconcerned about Louis XVIII. , and his coldness 
 was attributed to a lingering interest in the fate of 
 his daughter, Marie Louise. Although the whole 
 outlook seemed discouraging, the Count of Artois 
 and his two sons, the Duke of AngoulSme and 
 the Duke of Berry, decided to leave England for the 
 purpose of taking part in approaching events. The 
 Count of Artois wanted to throw himself into the 
 midst of the Russian, Austrian, and Prussian armies 
 which were attacking France in the north and east. 
 
 287 
 
288 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 The Duke of AngoulSme wanted to go to Spain, 
 where an English and Spanish army was advancing 
 toward the South of France. The Duke of Berry 
 proposed to go to the island of Jersey, near the 
 departments of Normandy, where ' the conscription 
 had just occasioned some troubles thought likely to 
 prelude an insurrection. 
 
 The three princes embarked on English vessels 
 in January, 1814. The Count of Artois landed in 
 Holland, and it was not until he had wandered for 
 more than a month in that country, Germany, and 
 Switzerland, that the Allies gave him permission to 
 set foot on French territory. The Duke of Angou- 
 16me was able to reach Saint-Jean-de-Luz, which 
 was held by English troops, and on February 2, he 
 issued a proclamation there in which he invited the 
 French army commanded by Marshal Soult to aid in 
 the overthrow of Napoleon. The marshal, who was 
 to display such royalist sentiments some weeks later 
 on, replied to this attempted corruption of his troops 
 by a proclamation in which he said : " Soldiers, they 
 have had the infamy to persuade you to violate your 
 oaths to the Emperor. This offence can only be 
 avenged in blood. To arms ! . . . Let us devote to 
 opprobrium and public execration every Frenchman 
 who would favor the insidious projects of our ene- 
 mies. Let us fight to the end against the enemies 
 of our august Emperor and our country. Hatred to 
 traitors! War to the death against those who at- 
 tempt to divide us ! Let us contemplate the prodi- 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 289 
 
 gious efforts of our great Emperor and his signal 
 victories, and die with arms in our hands rather 
 than outlive our honor ! " 
 
 As to the Duke of Berry, he landed in the island 
 of Jersey. He had heen told that he would have 
 but to fall upon the coast of Normandy in order to 
 be surrounded at once by a royalist army. But he 
 soon perceived that this was a delusion, and re- 
 mained in Jersey until the consummation of the 
 events about to take place. It was from there he 
 wrote the following letter, quoted by Chateaubri- 
 and: "Here I am like Tantalus, in sight of this 
 unhappy France which has such difficulty in break- 
 ing its chains ; and winds, bad weather, and the tide 
 all come to arrest the courageous efforts of the 
 heroes who are going to risk the dangers which I 
 am not yet allowed to share. You, whose soul is 
 so beautiful, so French, understand all that I expe- 
 rience, all that it costs me to remain away from 
 those shores which I could reach in two hours! 
 When the sun lights them up I climb to the highest 
 rocks and, with my glass in my hand, I follow the 
 whole coast, I see the rocks of Coutances. My- 
 imagination becomes excited; I see myself spring- 
 ing ashore, surrounded by Frenchmen with white 
 cockades in their hats; I hear the cry, 'Long live 
 the King ! ' that cry which no Frenchman ever hears 
 unmoved; the most beautiful woman in the prov- 
 ince wreathes a white scarf about me, for love and 
 glory always go together. We march on Cher- 
 
290 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 bourg; some wretched fort, garrisoned by foreigners, 
 tries to defend itself; we carry it by storm, and a 
 vessel goes to seek the King with the white standard 
 which recalls the glorious and happy days of France. 
 Ah! madame, when one is but a few hours from the 
 accomplishment of so probable a dream, could he 
 think of going further away ? " 
 
 However, the French royalists made no move as 
 yet. "We had often grieved," says M. de Vitrolles, 
 "at not having the least communication from our 
 princes. We were ready to accuse them- of aban- 
 doning their cause at the moment when they might 
 have set up their flag anew. But one of those Eng- 
 lish journals so strictly prohibited reached us one 
 day through the intermediation of the Archbishop 
 of Malines ; it apprised us that Monsieur, the Count 
 of Artois, had embarked for the continent, January 
 25; and that, about the same time, the Duke of 
 Angoule"me had also left England for the south of 
 France, there to offer himself generously to his 
 friends and enemies. This news, entirely over- 
 looked by the majority, and hardly noticed by those 
 who saw it, was for us a flash of light and fire. It 
 enlivened our hopes and revived our purposes. I 
 decided on the spot to go in search of Monsieur 
 wherever he might be." 
 
 Before rejoining the Count of Artois, M. de 
 Vitrolles went to the headquarters of the Allies and 
 had interviews with Prince Metternich and the 
 Emperor Alexander which were not very encourag- 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 291 
 
 ing for the Bourbon cause. The Czar said to him : 
 "The proof of attachment you give to your former 
 masters is certainly laudable ; it comes from a senti- 
 ment of honor and loyalty which I appreciate, but 
 the obstacles which henceforward separate the princes 
 of the House of Bourbon from the throne of France 
 seem to me insurmountable. . . . They would 
 come back embittered by misfortune, and even 
 though generous sentiments or wise policy should 
 oblige them to sacrifice their resentments, they 
 would not be strong enough to pacify those who 
 have suffered for them and by them. The spirit of 
 the army, that army so powerful in France, would 
 be opposed to them; the impulse of the new genera- 
 tions would be against them." 
 
 The Emperor Alexander then enumerated several 
 combinations which had occurred to the minds of 
 the Allies concerning the fate of France. "We 
 have studied much," said he, "about what might 
 suit France if Napoleon should disappear. For 
 some time we considered Bernadotte; his influence 
 over the army, and the favor with which he must be 
 regarded by the friends of the Revolution, fixed our 
 thoughts on him for some time ; but afterwards vari- 
 ous motives made us put him aside. Eugene Beau- 
 harnais has been spoken of; he is esteemed by 
 France, cherished by the army, and sprung from the 
 ranks of the nobility ; would he not have many par- 
 tisans? After all, might not a wisely organized 
 Republic be more congenial to the French mind? 
 
292 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 It is not with impunity that ideas of liberty have 
 germinated long in such a country as yours. They 
 make the establishment of a more concentrated 
 power very difficult." 
 
 After recalling the Czar's language, M. de Vi- 
 trolles adds : " Where were we, great God ! on the 
 17th of March? The Emperor Alexander, the King 
 of the kings united for the safety of the world, talk- 
 ing to me of the Republic ! . . . I disguised toler- 
 ably well the astonishment I felt at these last words, 
 and was sufficiently master of myself to answer the 
 Emperor without allowing any alteration in my voice 
 to betray my emotion. I had not associated enough 
 with kings to anticipate such an allocution. I thought 
 it was I who should plead, and that they would re- 
 spond by some great and noble words, and by senti- 
 ments as noble as the dignity of my interlocutors 
 presupposed. But not at all ; they at once engaged 
 me in a hand-to-hand contest, raining on me the 
 closest, strongest, and completest reasons; in fact, 
 all and the only ones that could be objected to me." 
 
 Even after the rupture of the Congress of Chatil- 
 lon the Powers did not yet pronounce for the royal- 
 ist cause. The Russian generals had ended by 
 authorizing the Count of Artois to come to Nancy, 
 but without cockade, decoration, or political title, 
 as a simple traveller. "It must be owned," says 
 M. de Vitrolles again, "that until then his hopes 
 had received no encouragement. The regions where 
 Monsieur sought to exert his influence were occu- 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 293 
 
 pied by foreign armies ; the wishes of the entire 
 population were for a speedy pacification, and the 
 re-establishment of the Bourbons seemed rather a 
 question which would prolong the war. They saw 
 no escape from so many evils save a peace with 
 Bonaparte. On the other hand, the overtures made 
 to the allied sovereigns had been always and utterly 
 repelled, and yet Monsieur's claims had been ex- 
 ceedingly small ; he merely solicited permission to 
 rejoin the army and fight as a simple volunteer. 
 At the time of my .arrival at Nancy he was pro- 
 foundly discouraged. I brought a kingdom; they 
 felt it; but they did not so quickly comprehend it. 
 Monsieur still gave precedence to his request to 
 join the army; all that I announced to him, all the 
 most elevated subjects of our interviews, did not 
 avail to change his notion, and the letters he gave 
 me, on my departure, for the Emperors of Russia and 
 Austria still gave the first rank to this request to 
 take part in active army service. He has one of 
 those minds that are sluggish to move." 
 
 At the very time when the Count of Artois 
 seemed discouraged at Nancy, an event occurred at 
 Bordeaux which revived all royalist hopes. The 
 mayor was a count of the Empire, M. de Lynch, 
 whose antecedents did not seem to foreshadow the 
 part he was about to play. Three months before he 
 had laid at the foot of Napoleon's throne the homage 
 of the pretended devotion of the people of Bordeaux, 
 and had said in a more than adulatory address: 
 
294 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 "Napoleon has done everything for the French ; the 
 French will do everything for him." January 29, 
 1814, on presenting the flags to the National Guard 
 just organized, he promised to give proof of fidelity 
 and devotion to the Emperor in case there should be 
 danger of invasion. Almost at the same time, in 
 concert with M. Taffard of Saint-Germain, who en- 
 titled himself King's commissioner for Guyenne, he 
 sent two secret agents to Lord Wellington entreat- 
 ing him to send a body of English troops to Bor- 
 deaux, saying that if they were accompanied by the 
 Duke of AngoulSme they would be certain to find a 
 good reception. 
 
 Lord "Wellington had at first shown little sym- 
 pathy for the royalist cause. On entering French 
 territory, he had written to his government that the 
 Bourbons were as little known, perhaps less known, 
 to their former subjects than the princes of any 
 other dynasty, and that if it suited the Allies to 
 present a new sovereign to the French nation, it 
 mattered little from what family he was chosen. 
 Lord Wellington began by declining the offer of the 
 two Bordelais envoys. He considered it imprudent 
 to detach an army corps from its base of operations 
 and to embarrass the negotiations of the Congress of 
 Chatillon, the issue of which was still doubtful. 
 He added that he was unwilling to compromise 
 honest people whom the fortunes of war might pos- 
 sibly oblige him to leave exposed to imperial ven- 
 geance. He changed his mind a few days later. 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 295 
 
 Having defeated Marshal Soult at the battle of 
 Orthez, he removed his headquarters to Saint^Sever, 
 and concluded that from the strategetical point of 
 view the occupation of a city like Bordeaux would 
 be useful. Hence, on March 7, he detached a body 
 of fifteen thousand men from his army, put them 
 under the orders of General Beresford, and sent 
 them towards Bordeaux, which Marshal Soult's 
 retreat to Toulouse had left unprotected. Without 
 English troops the royalists would not have dared 
 to undertake anything, but with them they thought 
 success was certain. The garrison of the city num- 
 bered only five hundred. At the approach of General 
 Beresford's army corps they withdrew, on March 
 11. Then the royalists decided that on the follow- 
 ing day they would go to meet the English, and 
 that on entering Bordeaux with them, they would 
 proclaim Louis XVIII. there. This programme 
 was executed. A discharge of cannon having given 
 the city the signal agreed upon, an immense white 
 flag was run up on the steeple of Saint Michel, the 
 highest in all Bordeaux. At the same time the 
 mayor, M. de Lynch, going to meet General Beres- 
 ford, who had arrived at the end of the bridge of 
 the Maye, and pointing toward the white flag flying 
 from the steeple of Saint Michel, said: "General, 
 you will enter a city subject to its legitimate king, 
 Louis XVIII. , the ally of His Britannic Majesty; 
 you will witness the joy of this great city on replac- 
 ing itself under the paternal authority of a Bour- 
 bon." 
 
296 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 General Beresford answered the mayor dryly: 
 " Do what you please ; your internal dissensions do 
 not concern me. I am here simply to protect per- 
 sons and property. I take possession of the city in 
 the name of His Britannic Majesty." 
 
 At the same time it was announced that the Duke 
 of AngoulSme would enter the city two hours later. 
 Then there broke out among the royalists an explo- 
 sion of joy that bordered on delirium. When the 
 nephew of Louis XVIII., the husband of the orphan 
 of the Temple, made his appearance, they embraced 
 each other, they fell on their knees. It was, who 
 should touch the dress or the horse of the Prince, 
 who replied to these demonstrations of enthusiasm 
 by saying : " No more war, no more conscription, no 
 more excise laws ! " He went to the cathedral to 
 return thanks to God, thence to the H6tel-de-Ville, 
 and took possession of the province in the name of 
 Louis XVIII. The white flag replaced the tricolor 
 everywhere. In the evening the city was illumi- 
 nated. A proclamation from the mayor was read by 
 torchlight, in which he felicitated the Bordelais on 
 their conduct and thanked the English, Spanish, 
 and Portuguese for having joined together in the 
 south of France, as others had done in the north, 
 "to replace the scourge of nations by a monarch 
 who is the father of the people." 
 
 Three days afterward, March 15, 1814, the Duke 
 of AngoulSme published a proclamation in which 
 he said : " It is not the Bourbons who have brought 
 
THE END OF TME EXILE 297 
 
 the Allied Powers upon your territory; they has- 
 tened thither in order to preserve their dominions 
 from new misfortunes. As they are convinced that 
 there is no repose either for their own peoples or 
 for France save in a limited monarchy, they open 
 the way to the throne to the successors of Saint 
 Louis. It is only through your suffrages that the 
 King my uncle aspires to be the restorer of a pater- 
 nal and free government." A deputation went to 
 Hartwell to bear to Louis XVLTI. the homage of the 
 Bordelais, and to entreat him to repair to the first 
 French city which had proclaimed his authority. 
 
 However, the satisfaction of the Duke of Angou- 
 lSme was not unalloyed. The example of the Bor- 
 delais royalists had, so to say, no imitators. With 
 the exception of the two little towns of Roquefort 
 and Bazas, not a single commune declared for the 
 King. General Beresford had left Bordeaux for the 
 purpose of besieging Bayonne and the fortress of 
 Blaye, the garrison of which, having remained faith- 
 ful to the Emperor, was obstructing the free naviga- 
 tion of the Garonne. The Duke of AngoulSme, 
 menaced with a return of the imperial troops, wrote 
 to Lord Wellington asking for men and money. 
 Lord Wellington refused them. " It is contrary to 
 my advice and my way of looking at things," he 
 replied to the Prince, "that certain persons of the 
 city of Bordeaux have thought proper to proclaim 
 King Louis XVIII. These persons have put them- 
 selves to no trouble, they have not given a farthing, 
 
298 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOUL&ME 
 
 they have not raised a soldier to sustain their cause, 
 and now, because they are in danger, they accuse me 
 of not aiding them with my troops. ... I am not 
 sure that I would not outstep my duty in lending 
 your cause the least protection or support. . . . 
 The public must know the truth. If, by ten days 
 from now, you have not contradicted the proclama- 
 tion of the mayor of Bordeaux, which attributes to 
 me the duty of protecting the cause of the royalists 
 of the city, I will publicly contradict it myself." 
 
 Left to themselves, the royalists of Bordeaux 
 would doubtless have been lost. What brought 
 about the triumph of their cause was the rupture of 
 the Congress of Chatillon, the capitulation of Paris, 
 and the defection of Essonnes. Meanwhile their 
 deputation had arrived at Hartwell on Annunciation 
 Day, March 25, 1814. It was composed of M. de 
 Tauzia, deputy-mayor of Bordeaux, and Baron de 
 Labarte, bearer of the Duke of AngoulSme's de- 
 spatches. At the moment when the two envoys 
 reached the royal residence in a carriage whose pos- 
 tilion and horses were adorned with white cockades, 
 Louis XVIII. and the Duchess of Angoul^me were 
 hearing Mass in the chapel of Hartwell. After 
 Mass, the King, with his niece standing beside him, 
 received the Bordelais envoys. He was surrounded 
 by the Archbishop of Rheims, the Count of Blacas, 
 the Dukes of Lorges, Havre", Gramont, Se"rent, and 
 Castires, the Viscount of Agoult, the Count of 
 Pradel, the Chevalier of Riviere, M. Durepaire, the 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 299 
 
 Duchess of Serent, the Countess Etienne of Damas, 
 and the Countess of Choisy. M. de Tauzia, advanc- 
 ing towards the King, presented him a letter in 
 which M. de Lynch entreated him to come to Bor- 
 deaux, where the white flag had been run up. After 
 reading this letter, Louis XVIII. embraced the 
 faithful royalist who brought it. Emotion was at 
 its height. The Duchess of Angoule'me insisted on 
 hearing all the details of her husband's entrance 
 into Bordeaux. Her face, ordinarily so melancholy, 
 beamed with joy. 
 
 Louis XVIII. made the following response to the 
 mayor's letter: "Count of Lynch, it is with the 
 only sentiment that a paternal heart could expe- 
 rience that I have learned of the noble outbreak 
 which has given back to me my good city of Bor- 
 deaux. I do not doubt that this example will be . 
 imitated by all other portions of my kingdom; but 
 neither I nor my successors, nor Prance itself, will 
 forget that, the first restored to liberty, the Borde- 
 lais were also the first to fly into their father's arms. 
 I express.feebly what I feel keenly ; but I hope that 
 before long, entering myself within those walls 
 where, to use the language of the good Henri, my 
 fortune has first begun, I can better show the senti- 
 ments which penetrate me. I desire that your fel- 
 low-citizens shall learn this through you ; you have 
 merited this first reward; for, in spite of your 
 modesty, I have been informed of the services you 
 have rendered me, and I experience a real happiness 
 in discharging my debts." 
 
300 THE DUCSES8 OF ANGOTTLEME 
 
 This letter was dated March 31, 1814. On that 
 day the Allies entered Paris. Their triumph assured 
 that of Louis XVIII., and it was to Paris, not to 
 Bordeaux, that the Prince was about to repair. 
 During the last days of his stay on British soil, the 
 English government and people lavished enthusi- 
 astic attentions on him. One might have thought 
 him the King of England. Concerning this Lamar- 
 tine has written: "The English nation, moved by 
 the call of Burke and other orators at the tragic 
 death of Louis XVI., the Queen, and the royal 
 family, indignant witnesses of the execution of the 
 many victims immolated by the Terror,^ were consti- 
 tutionalists through interest, royalists through piety. 
 The history of the French Revolution, constantly 
 recited and commented on in London by exiled 
 royalist writers, had become there a poetic chronicle 
 of misfortune, crime, the scaffold, and the throne. 
 England had been generous, prodigal, and hospitable 
 toward the French nobility, then exiled and grate- 
 ful. . . . The fall of Napoleon and his replace- 
 ment on the throne of France by a brother of Louis 
 XVI. seemed to the English one of their greatest 
 historical achievements." 
 
 Louis XVIII. and the Duchess of AngoulSme left 
 Hartwell April 20, 1814, and on the same day made 
 a formal entry into London. The Prince Regent 
 went as far as Stanmore to meet them. He was 
 preceded by three couriers in royal livery who wore 
 white cockades; the postilions who drove his four- 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 801 
 
 horse carriage, in addition to this cockade, wore 
 white hats and vests. The Prince arrived at Stan- 
 more at two in the afternoon. Every house was 
 hung with flags. The gentry of the neighborhood 
 formed a cavalcade which assembled about a mile 
 from the city in order to accompany Louis XVIII. 
 on his entry. Some distance from Stanmore the 
 people unharnessed the horses from the royal car- 
 riage and drew it themselves. Louis XVIII. 
 alighted at the Abercorn inn, where the Prince 
 Regent received him and conversed with him in 
 French. The cortege then proceeded at an easy 
 trot as far as Kilburn, where it began to walk. The 
 entry into London was magnificent. They passed 
 through Hyde Park and Piccadilly in the midst 
 of an immense population who made the air ring 
 with enthusiastic acclamations. The English people 
 could rejoice better than the French people, for 
 neither mourning nor defeat blended with their joy, 
 nor was their country occupied by foreign troops. 
 Ladies waved handkerchiefs from the windows. 
 English and French flags, crowned with laurel, 
 streamed on the air together. It was nearly six in 
 the evening when the cortege arrived at the Crillon 
 hotel, where Louis XVIII. was to put up. The 
 Duke of Kent's band, stationed near the hotel, 
 played Grod save the King. As the carriage con- 
 taining the King of France and the Prince Regent 
 drew nearer, the popular acclamations redoubled. 
 On alighting from the carriage Louis XVIII. 
 
302 ' THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 took the arm of the Prince Regent, who led him to 
 the principal drawing-room of the hotel Crillon. 
 He sat down there, with the Prince Regent and the 
 Duchess of Angoule"me on his right, the Duke of 
 York on his left, and the Prince of Cond^ and the 
 Duke of Bourbon behind him. The diplomatic 
 corps was present. 
 
 The Prince Regent spoke first. "Your Majesty," 
 said he, "will permit me to offer my congratulations 
 on the great event which has always been one of my 
 dearest wishes, and which must contribute im- 
 mensely not only to the welfare of Your Majesty's 
 people, but also to the repose and prosperity of other 
 nations. I may add with confidence that my senti- 
 ments and personal wishes are in harmony with 
 those of the whole British nation. The transports 
 of triumph which will signalize Your Majesty's 
 entry into your own capital, can hardly surpass the 
 joy which Your Majesty's restoration to the throne 
 of France has caused in the capital of the British 
 Empire." 
 
 Louis XVIII. responded: "I beg Your Royal 
 Highness to accept my most lively and sincere 
 thanks for the congratulations just addressed to me. 
 I offer them especially for the continued attentions 
 of which I have been the object, not less from Your 
 Royal Highness than from every member of your 
 illustrious family. It is to the counsels of Your 
 Royal Highness, to this glorious country, and the 
 confidence of its inhabitants, that I attribute, under 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 303 
 
 Providence, the re-establishment of our House upon 
 the throne of our ancestors, and this fortunate state 
 of affairs which promises to heal wOunds, calm pas- 
 sions, and restore peace, repose, and happiness to 
 all nations." 
 
 The King's speech has been severely criticised by 
 every author who has written the history of the 
 Restoration. "These words," says M. Alfred Nette- 
 ment, "overdid Louis XVIII. 's gratitude toward 
 the English government, of whom he had often 
 complained and with reason; they had, moreover, 
 the grave inconvenience of sacrificing a future effect 
 to a present one. As soon as the delirium of peace 
 had quieted down, they could be turned against the 
 King of France and represented as an act of vassal- 
 age toward England by detaching them from the 
 circumstances in which they had been uttered, and 
 the discourse of the Prince Regent which had pro- 
 voked them, like those figures which lose their 
 expression when detached from the picture in which 
 they were introduced." 
 
 Lamartine has been still more severe. He says : 
 " These words which were inspired by the gratitude 
 of the exile, but which the dignity of' the King of 
 France should have interdicted from his lips, were 
 - afterwards the remorse of his reign, and the text of 
 patriotism against his family. France was not 
 merely forgotten in them, but humiliated." 
 
 Finally Baron Louis of Viel-Castle has thus 
 expressed himself : " Whether these words were due 
 
304 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 to the excitement of the place and time, or whether 
 they were intentionally aimed -at the dominant 
 influence then exercised by the Russian Emperor, 
 it would have been difficult to utter more untoward 
 ones. One fails to understand how they could have 
 issued from the mouth of a Prince who on other, 
 occasions gave evidence of dignity and tact. Their 
 plain meaning was that the House of Bourbon owed 
 their recovered throne to England solely; that the 
 other Powers had done nothing towards it, and that 
 the French people themselves had had no part in 
 the recall of their Kings. This was not true. The 
 Emperor Alexander was the real author of the 
 Restoration, with M. de Talleyrand and the Senate, 
 and if the Senate was not the legitimate representa- 
 tive of France, existing laws attributed that char- 
 acter to it up to a certain point. This speech 
 wounded the Russian monarch and the other Allies 
 deeply; it especially displeased and disquieted the 
 members of the provisional government and all 
 those who dreaded to see the Bourbons adopt an 
 anti-national system of reaction." 
 
 After his allocution, Louis XV1IL, assisted by 
 the Prince of Conde - and the Duke of Bourbon, took 
 off his blue ribbon and his badge of the Order of 
 the Holy Spirit, and decorated the Prince Regent 
 with his own hands. " I esteem myself singularly 
 happy," said he, "to be able to confer the first rib- 
 bon of this ancient Order on a Prince who has so 
 powerfully contributed to the deliverance and resur- 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 305 
 
 rection of France." In exchange he received the 
 Order of the Garter. 
 
 Louis XVIII. spent three days in London, and 
 then, accompanied by the Prince Regent, he went 
 to Dover, where, on April 24, 1814, he sailed for 
 Calais with the Duchess of AngoulSme, the Prince 
 of Conde", and the Duke of Bourbon. 
 
 The royalists will never forget that day. For 
 them it is an apotheosis. The springtime smiled; 
 the sky gloried, and its golden gleams were reflected 
 in an azure sea. Joyous cries and enthusiastic 
 acclamations resounded on land and sea. The 
 Straits of Dover were filled with vessels hung with 
 flags. All England seemed making a cortege for 
 the King of France. The terrible cannons of the 
 two nations, which had so often thundered against 
 each other, united gladly in salvos of concord and 
 rejoicing. The white flag floated at every mast- 
 head, applause renewed itself on every wave. 
 
 At one o'clock in the afternoon the King embarked 
 on the Royal Sovereign, the finest vessel in the 
 English fleet, escorted by eight men-of-war, com- 
 manded by the Duke of Clarence. The Prince 
 Regent looked at his departing guests from the win- 
 dows of Dover Castle, and made them signs of 
 farewell. Aided by a favoring wind, the squad- 
 ron advanced rapidly. Louis XVIII. impatiently 
 awaited the moment when they could see the coast 
 of France. God be praised! There it is, that 
 beloved coast, that coast so often desired amidst the 
 
306 THE DUCHESS OF ANGOULEME 
 
 long griefs of exile ! There is the end of so many- 
 trials ! There the port where, after so many storms, 
 the vessel of French monarchy is about to seek a 
 shelter ! It is the hour of safety and of triumph. 
 
 The seacoast, the ramparts of Calais, and the 
 high places along the shore are thronged with an 
 innumerable crowd. The King, in order to allow 
 himself to be recognized, separates from the group 
 gathered around him on the bridge of the Royal Sov- 
 ereign. He alone takes off his hat. Lifting his eyes 
 to heaven, and laying his right hand on his heart, 
 he returns thanks to Providence. Then, standing 
 on the high prow of the ship, he holds out his arms 
 toward the shore and clasps them again upon his 
 breast as if to embrace his country. The cannon 
 roar. The bells ring with all their might. The 
 cries of the people drown the murmur of the ocean. 
 Then the King points out to the crowd his niece, 
 the Duchess of AngoulSme, who has approached 
 him. At the sight of the saintly Princess, whose 
 woes are already legendary, enthusiasm reaches its 
 height. The holy woman, whose soul is ordinarily 
 straitened by sadness and chagrin, trembles. She 
 weeps, but it is with joy. Such a sentiment is so 
 unfamiliar to her that she sometimes asks herself if 
 she is not the sport of some enchanting dream from 
 which she will have a cruel awakening. So radiant 
 a day seems not to have been made for the daughter 
 of the martyr King and Queen, for the orphan of the 
 Temple, for the woman who has drained to the 
 
THE END OF THE EXILE 307 
 
 dregs the cup of grief and bitterness. Near her 
 may be seen the Prince of Conde* and the Duke of 
 Bourbon, one of whom is the father and the other 
 the grandfather of the unfortunate Duke of Enghien. 
 From the shore come shouts of "There he is! 'Tis 
 he! the King! Long live the King! Long live 
 Madame ! Long live the Bourbons ! " The authori- 
 ties of Calais go on board the ship and offer their 
 homage to their sovereign. General Maison is the 
 first French general admitted to the honor of saluting 
 him. The ill-luck of the Bourbons will bring them 
 face to face with the same man, sixteen years later, 
 under very different circumstances. But what tri- 
 umpher dreams of future catastrophes ? When Louis 
 XVIII. lands on the jetty, leaning, as of old in the 
 icy plains of Lithuania, on the arm of the daughter 
 of Louis XVI., tears flow from every eye. Alas ! this 
 return to her country is but a halting-place on the 
 road of sorrow for the unhappy Princess. The exile 
 which ends at this moment is to begin anew eleven 
 months later. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Alexander I., his sympathy for, 
 and aid to, Louis XVIII., 258;. 
 at Mittau, 270; his indifference 
 to Louis XVIII., after Waterloo, 
 287; considers Bernadotte as a 
 possible ruler for France, 291. 
 
 Angouleme, Duchess of, the part 
 played by her, 5; character of, 
 contrasted with that of the Duch- 
 ess of Berry, 7, 38 ; her life-long 
 aversion to the scenes of her 
 early sufferings, 8; resembles 
 her father, 9 ; birth of , 12 ; relig- 
 iouB advice of her father; 13; 
 vicissitudes of her life, 13 et seq.; 
 married to the Duke of Angou- 
 lSme, 15 ; called the French An- 
 tigone, 16; her series of exiles, 
 19; death of her husband, 19; 
 her death, 20; her journal in 
 captivity, 49; her anxiety con- 
 cerning her mother, 57 ; rigorous 
 captivity of, 58 ; deprived of the 
 services of her attendant, 58 ; ex- 
 amination of, by members of the 
 Convention, 60; ignorant of her 
 mother's death, 64; consoled by 
 the presence and counsels of 
 Madame Elisabeth, 66 ; her trib- 
 ute to Madame Elisabeth, 76 ; in 
 solitary confinement, 78 ; visited 
 by Robespierre, 80; follows the 
 daily routine prescribed by her 
 aunt, 82; illness of, 83; her ac- 
 count of Barras' visit, 85; in 
 charge of Laurent, 86 et seq.; 
 the rigors of her captivity ame- 
 liorated, 88 ; not allowed to nurse 
 her brother, 96 ; in ignorance of 
 her brother's death, 105; the 
 
 severity of her captivity relaxed, 
 111; Madame de Chantereine as- 
 signed as her companion, 112, 
 127 ; learns of the death of her 
 relatives, 112 ; clothes and books 
 given her, 113; Hue and others 
 sing to her from an apart- 
 ment adjoining the Temple, 114 ; 
 visited by Madame de Tourzel 
 and her daughter, 116 et seq.; 
 relates to them details of her 
 captivity, 120 et seq.; her ap- 
 pearance, 121; her resolve to 
 marry the Duke of Angoulfime, 
 126; correspondence of, with 
 Louis XVIII., 130; has more 
 freedom and is again serenaded, 
 131; her appearance and de- 
 meanor, 133 ; hopes for a royalist 
 reaction, and is disappointed, 
 136 et seq.; interrogated with 
 regard to the movement in Paris, 
 141; ransom for, proposed by 
 the Vienna Cabinet, 142 et seq.; 
 negotiations successful, 148; re- 
 ceives the news of her deliver- 
 ance without enthusiasm, 14!l ; 
 asks for her mother's things 
 and is refused, 150; her depart- 
 ure from the Temple, 154 et seq.; 
 the inscription made by her on 
 the walls of her apartment, 155 ; 
 her travelling companions and in- 
 cidents of her journey to Vienna, 
 157 et seq.; refuses to accept the 
 trousseau furnished by the Direc- 
 tory, 161, 166; delivered to the 
 Austrian authorities, 166; ar- 
 rives at Vienna, 168 ; is installed 
 in the imperial palace, 171; in- 
 
 309 
 
310 
 
 m/DEX 
 
 terest felt in her, 171; Madame 
 de Soucy separated from her, 
 172 ; the prisoner of Austria, 174 ; 
 moral force of, 174 ; is the subject 
 of Austrian schemes, 176 et seq.; 
 offended by the proceedings of 
 the Austrian court, 179; goes to 
 join Louis XVIII. at Mittau, 182; 
 her opinion of the emigres, 192; 
 her sympathy for them, 199 ; her 
 knowledge of human nature, 200 ; 
 arrives at Mittau, 217; descrip- 
 tion of, by the Count of Saint- 
 Priest, 218; presented by Louis 
 XVIII. to his household, 219 et 
 seq.; her marriage to the Duke 
 of AngoulSme, 223 et seq.; letter 
 of, to Paul I., 223; marriage 
 ceremony between, and the Duke 
 of AngoulSme at Mittau, 227; 
 the marriage certificate, 228; 
 the signers of it, 229 ; presents to, 
 and from, 234; her miniature, 
 234; influence of her pure and 
 lofty character, 236; her appear- 
 ance at Mittau described by 
 Abbe Georgel, 239; suffers from 
 the state of dependence she is in, 
 241 ; begs for two days' grace be- 
 fore leaving Mittau, 251 ; hard- 
 ships of her journey, 252, 257; 
 pledges her diamonds, 256; let- 
 ter of, to the Queen of Prussia, 
 257; joined by her husband at 
 Warsaw, 258; letter of, to the 
 Prince of Conde on the murder 
 of the Duke of Enghien, 262; 
 rejoices in her uncle's protest 
 against the Empire, 265 ; at home 
 in "Warsaw, 268; goes to Mittau, 
 268 ; nurses the Abbe" Edgeworth, 
 who dies in her arms, 269; at 
 Hartwell, 273; her relations to 
 Louis XVIII., 278; appears at 
 the English court, 278; her life 
 at Hartwell, 280; her household 
 there, 280; enters London with 
 Louis XVIII., 300; returns to 
 France, 306. 
 
 Angouleme, Duke of, Louis XVI. 's 
 desire to marry Marie Therese 
 to, 126; not allowed to come to 
 Vienna, 180; offends Peter I. 
 in the matter of the Order of 
 Malta, 212; description of, 221 
 et seq. ; leaves Mittau for Conde's 
 army, 241 ; letter of, to the Czar, 
 241 ; with the army at Pontaba, 
 242 ; rejoins his wife at Warsaw, 
 258; issues a proclamation to 
 Sonlt's army, 288; enters Bor- 
 deaux and takes possession in 
 the name of Louis XVIII. , 296; 
 proclamation of, 297; asks Wel- 
 lington for men and money, 
 297. 
 
 Artois, Count of, unable to be pres- 
 ent at the marriage of Marie 
 The'rese, 225 ; letter of, to Louis 
 XVIII. on the subject, 226; his 
 declaration of adherence to the 
 cause of Louis XVIII., 266 ; often 
 at Hartwell, 280; decides to 
 leave England with his sons, 
 289; lands in Holland, 288; au- 
 thorized to come to Nancy, 292. 
 
 Austria, designs of, as to the mar- 
 riage of Marie Therese, 164. 
 
 Auger, Count of, commander of 
 the guard provided for Louis 
 XVIH. by Paul I., 209. 
 
 Avaray, Count of, sent by Louis 
 XVin. to conduct Marie Therese 
 to Verona, 164; the favorite of 
 Louis XVIH. at Hartwell, 281; 
 death of, 283. 
 
 Barante, Baron of, describes the 
 court of Louis XVIII. at Mittau, 
 210, 214; criticises the instruc- 
 tions of Louis XVni. to Saint- 
 Priest, 244. 
 
 Barras, arrests Robespierre, 84; 
 pays a visit to the Temple and 
 sees Marie The'rese, 85; made 
 guardian of the children of Louis 
 XVI. , 86 ; his compassion for the 
 young Prince, 96. 
 
INDEX 
 
 311 
 
 Bariire accuses Robespierre of wish- 
 ing to marry Marie Therese, 84. 
 
 Beauharnais, Eugene, spoken of as 
 a possible ruler for France, 291. 
 
 Benezech tries to make favor with 
 the Bourbons, 150 et seq. ; an- 
 nounces to the Princess the time 
 of her departure, 153 et seq. 
 
 Bernadotte, talked of as a possible 
 ruler for France; 28T, 291. 
 
 Berry, Duchess of, the part played 
 by her, 5; character of, con- 
 trasted with that of the Duchess 
 of Angoulgme, 7, 38 ; her roman- 
 tic disposition, 10; birth and 
 ancestry of, 21 ; married to the 
 Duke of Berry, 21; her entry 
 into France, 22; death of her 
 infants, 23; her husband stabbed, 
 24; birth of her son, 25; her 
 popularity and fascination, 26; 
 her valor, 27 ; at Holyrood, 28 ; 
 returns to France, 29 ; in hiding, 
 29 ; arrested, 31 ; taken to the 
 citadel of Blaye, 33; her secret 
 marriage with Count Palli, 34; 
 her political career ended, 35;- 
 loses her daughter and her hus- 
 band, 37; her death, 38. 
 
 Berry, Duke of, stabbed, 24 ; lands 
 on the island of Jersey, 289; 
 letter of, quoted by Chateau- 
 briand, 289. 
 
 Beresford, General, occupies Bor- 
 deaux, 295, 296. 
 
 Bertin, M. Ernest, disproves the 
 claims of the pretenders to the 
 title of Louis XVII., 106. 
 
 Beurnouville, career of, 145. 
 
 Blacas, M. de, succeeds M. d'Ava- 
 ray, as the favorite of Louis 
 XVIII., 283; jealousy of, 283. 
 
 Blaye, citadel of, 33 et seq. 
 
 Bonaparte, see Napoleon. 
 
 Bordeaux, Louis XVIII. proclaimed 
 at, 295; deputation from, to 
 Louis XVIII. , 297 et seq. 
 
 Calmar, Louis XVIII. at, 2CG. 
 
 Caraman, M. de, banished by the 
 Czar from St. Petersburg, 250. 
 
 Chambord, Count of, attachment of 
 to the Duchess of Angouleme,19. 
 
 Chantelauze, M., his book on Louis 
 XVII. , 91 ; destroys the claims 
 of the pretenders to the name 
 of Louis XVII., 100 et seq. 
 
 Chantereine, Madame de, assigned 
 by the Committee of Public 
 Safety as companion to Marie 
 Therese, 111 ; her report to the 
 committee, 112 ; description of, 
 127. 
 
 Chateaubriand, his Buonaparte 
 and the Bourbons, 7; quoted, 
 8; his devotion to the Duchess 
 of Angouleme, 19; undertakes 
 to reconcile the Duchess of Berry 
 with Charles X., 34 ; on the mar- 
 riage of the Duchess of Angou- 
 leme, 232; quoted, 261. 
 
 Chauveau-Lagarde, defends Ma- 
 dame Elisabeth before the revo- 
 lutionary tribunal, 71. 
 
 Choisy, Mademoiselle de, chosen 
 by Marie Therese as maid of 
 honor, 237. 
 
 Concerts in the Rotunda of the 
 Temple to Marie Therese, 132. 
 
 Conde, Prince of, entertains Paul 
 I. at Chantilly in 1782, 206; at 
 Hartwell, 280; letter of, to the 
 Duke of Berry, 281. 
 
 Conde', the army of, 193 ; licentious 
 and disorderly, 195 et seq. ; an- 
 nouncement of the marriage of 
 the Duchess of Angouleme to, 
 233 ; disbanded, 257. 
 
 Contades, Count of, remarks of, on 
 the conduct of the emiqris, 193, 
 194. 
 
 Catherine the Great, her interest 
 in the French emigre's, 202; has 
 little sympathy with Louis 
 XVIII., 205. 
 
 Darboy, Mgr., on Madame Elisa- 
 beth, 54. 
 
312 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Desault, Dr., emotion of, over 
 the wretched condition of Louis 
 XVII., 102 ; death of, 103. 
 
 Deutz betrays the Duchess of 
 Berry, 32. 
 
 Didier, M. Charles, interview of, 
 with the Duchess of AngoulSme, 
 20. 
 
 Doupanloup, Mgr., quoted, 4. 
 
 Drouet, one of the prisoners ex- 
 changed for Marie Therese, 144. 
 
 Duguigny, Demoiselles, the Duch- 
 ess of Berry in hiding with, 
 29. 
 
 Dumas, President of the revolu- 
 tionary tribunal, his interroga- 
 tion of Madame Elisabeth, 70. 
 
 Edgeworth, Abbe", sent for by Ma- 
 rie TMrese, 219; death of, 269. 
 
 Elisabeth, Madame, the sole com- 
 panion of Marie Therese in the 
 Temple, 52; her pure and ele- 
 vated character, 53 et seq. ; her 
 daily prayer in the Temple, 54 ; 
 her patience under her persecu- 
 tion, 59; her pious instructions 
 and consolations to Marie The- 
 rese, 66; examination of by 
 members of the Convention, 61 ; 
 taken before the revolutionary 
 tribunal, 68 et seq. ; the act 
 of accusation against her, 69; 
 interrogated by Dumas, 70 ; con- 
 demned to death, 72; exhorts 
 pjid encourages her companions 
 in the Conciergerie, 73; at the 
 scaffold, 75 ; her last words, 76. 
 
 Emigre's, their opinion of Napo- 
 leoD, 6 ; their characteristics and 
 experiences, 192 et seq. ; at Co- 
 blentz, 195 ; with Conde", 195, 197 ; 
 their destitution, 198; the army 
 of, enters Russia in the service 
 of Paul I., 207. 
 
 Enghien, Duke of, sends his ad- 
 hesion to the cause of Louis 
 XVIII., 261 ; murder of, 262. 
 
 Eylau, battle of, 269. 
 
 Ferrand, M., his description of the 
 
 examination of the Princesses in 
 
 the Temple, 62. 
 Fersen, Count of, relates Marie 
 
 Antoinette's comment on the 
 
 emigration, 193. 
 Francis II. gives Marie Therese an 
 
 establishment in the imperial 
 
 palace, 171 ; his children, 171. 
 Frotte', Count of, alleged to have 
 
 rescued Louis XVII., 108. 
 
 Ge'ramb, Baron of, his description 
 of the Duchess of Angouleme, 
 278 et seq. 
 
 Genet, his description of Paul I., 
 205. 
 
 Georgel, Abbe', comes to Mittau, 
 238 et seq. ; his description of 
 the court of Louis XVIII. there, 
 239. 
 
 Gomin, testimony of, to the con- 
 dition of Louis XVII., 101 ; paper 
 given to, by the Princess in re- 
 turn for his services, 162. 
 
 Gourbillon, Madame, accompanies 
 the Queen Marie Josephine to 
 Mittau, 217; Louis XVLU. anx- 
 ious to get rid of her, 216. 
 
 Gustavus III. on the emigre's, 194. 
 
 Havre', Duke of, letter of, on the 
 ambitious plans of Austria with 
 regard to Marie Therese, 178. 
 
 Hartwell, the manor of, purchased 
 by Lonis XVIII. , 273; life at, 
 274. 
 
 Hautefort, Count of, his account 
 of the sale of the diamonds of 
 the Duchess of Angouleme, 256. 
 
 HeT>ert, visit of, to the Temple, 58. 
 
 Hompesch, the Grand Master of 
 the Order of Malta, 211. 
 
 Hue, Francois, arrest of, 64 ; sings 
 to the Princess from a room ad- 
 joining the Temple, 114; warned 
 to desist, 115; brings a letter 
 from Louis XVIII. to the Prin- 
 cess, 130 ; testifies to the increas- 
 
INDEX 
 
 ■313 
 
 ing sympathy for the Princess, 
 151; permitted to rejoin the 
 Princess at Huningue, 159; al- 
 lowed to remain in Vienna, 173. 
 
 Jeanroi, Doctor, assures Madame 
 de Tourzel of the death of Louis 
 XVII., 1~29. 
 
 Kersabiec, Mademoiselle, in hid- 
 ing with the Duchess of Berry, 
 "29 et seq. 
 
 Kolb, Adjutant, escorts Marie 
 The'rese to the frontier of Swit- 
 zerland, 1G7. 
 
 Lafare, Mgr., letter of, to Louis 
 XVni., on Marie The'rese, 180. 
 
 Lamartine, quoted with regard to 
 Louis XVIII. and the Duchess of 
 AngoulSme, 277 ; quoted, 286, 300, 
 303. 
 
 Lasne replaces Laurent in the care 
 of the children of Louis XVI., 101. 
 
 La Tour d'Auvergne, Countess of, 
 a member of the Jiousehold of 
 the Duchess of Angouleme, 238. 
 
 Laurent, put in provisional charge 
 of the children of Louis XVI., 
 86,97. 
 
 Lebon, Alfred, his I'Angleterre et 
 V Emigration Franeaise, quoted, 
 175. 
 
 Legitimists, their opinion of the 
 Empire, 7. 
 
 Louis XVII., imprisonment of, in 
 the Temple, 56 et seq.; inhuman 
 treatment of, by his jailor, Simon, 
 56, 122; description of his dun- 
 geon, 90; his condition, 91; in 
 solitary confinement, 92 ; barbar- 
 ous treatment of, 93 et seq.; his 
 wretched condition, 98; partial 
 alleviation of it, 101; Dr. Desault 
 in attendence upon him, 102 ; his 
 last sufferings and death, 104; 
 numerous claimants of his name 
 and title, 105 et seq.; no doubt 
 as to his death, 108. 
 
 Louis XVIII., letter of, to Madame 
 
 de Tourzel concerning the mar- 
 riage of Jlarie The'rese, 125 ; sends 
 Count of Avaray to bring Marie 
 The'rese to Verona, 164, 181; his 
 ancestry and character, 183 ; his 
 wife, 183, 184, 187, 190; his flight 
 from France, 184; at Coblentz, 
 185; declares himself Regent of 
 France, 185 ; at Verona, 186 ; his 
 counsellors, 187; at Eeigel, 188; 
 wounded by a musket ball, 188 ; 
 treated like an outlaw, 189; at 
 Blankenburg, 190 ; arrives at Mit- 
 tau, the guest of Paul I., 202, 209 
 et seq. ; respectfully treated by 
 the Russian court, 211 ; his part in 
 the affair of the Grand Order of 
 Malta, 212; humiliated by his 
 position, 214; joined by his wife, 
 216 ; letter of, to Paul I. on the 
 marriage of Marie The'rese, 224 ; 
 his letters to Paul I. on the mar- 
 riage of the Duke and Duchess 
 of Angouleme, 231; letter of, to 
 the Prince of Conde, 232; ad- 
 dresses a circular letter to his 
 diplomatic agents, 233; descrip- 
 tion of him by Abbe" Georgel, 
 239; his pensions from Paul I. 
 and the King of Spain, 240 ; de- 
 ceives himself concerning a res- 
 toration, 243 et seq. ; his expec- 
 tations dashed by the battle of 
 Marengo, 245; expelled from 
 Russia, 249 et seq. ; sets out on 
 his journey, 252; travels as the 
 Count of Lille, 254; at Memel, 
 255; arrival of his body-guard, 
 . 255 ; at "Warsaw, 257 ; declara- 
 tion of, in reply to Bonaparte's 
 proposal, 259 ; letter; of, to Bona- 
 parte in 1800, 262; letter of, to 
 Charles D7. , returning the Golden 
 Fleece, 264 ; his ^protest against 
 the Empire, 264 ; at Calmar, 266 ; 
 returns to Mittau, 268 ; letter of, 
 concerning the death of the Abbe 1 
 Edgeworth, 269; leaves Mittau 
 for Sweden, 271; goes to Eng- 
 
314 
 
 INDEX 
 
 land, 272; buys the manor of 
 Hartwell, 273; keeps up the 
 semblance of royalty, 275 ; death 
 of his wife and her burial in 
 Westminster Abbey, 275 ; his 
 relations with the Duchess of 
 Angouleme, 278; letter of, to 
 Alexander I. in behalf of the 
 French prisoners in Russia, 285 
 et seq. ; convinced of his return 
 to France, 287; receives the 
 homage of Bordeaux, 297; and 
 a deputation from the Borde- 
 lais, 298; response of, to the 
 letter of the mayor of Bordeaux, 
 299; his popularity in England, 
 300; enters London and is re- 
 ceived by the Prince Eegent, 300 
 et seq. ; his reply to the Prince 
 Eegent's address, 302 ; criticisms 
 of this speechj 303; decorates 
 the Prince, 304 ; sails for France, 
 305 ; his arrival there, 307. 
 
 Louise of France, Princess, her 
 career, 39. 
 
 Lynch, M. de, mayor of Bordeaux, 
 sends agents to Wellington, 294, 
 295 ; letter of ,to Louis XVIII.,299. 
 
 Macartney, Lord, expresses the 
 sentiments of the French royal- 
 ists of Vienna for Austria, 176; 
 his letter describing Louis XVIII., 
 186. 
 
 Mackau, Baroness of, permitted to 
 visit Marie Therese in the Tem- 
 ple, 124 ; writes to Louis XVIII. 
 concerning her, 125. 
 
 Malta taken by Bonaparte, 211; 
 given to the Czar by Bonaparte, 
 248 ; seized by the English, 249. 
 
 Malta, the Order of, schemes of 
 Paul I. with regard to, 211 et seq. 
 
 Maistre; Joseph de, his comment 
 on the treatment of the Emigre's 
 by the Russians, 203. 
 
 Marengo, battle of, adjourns the 
 expectations of the court of 
 Mittau, 245. 
 
 Maret, one of the prisoners ex- 
 changed for Marie Therese, 146. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, a study of her 
 character necessary to an under- 
 standing of the Revolution, 3 ; in 
 the Temple, 48 ; leaves it for the 
 Conciergerie, 49. 
 
 Marie Josephine, . 183, 187, 190; 
 joins Louis XVIII. at Mittau 
 216; death of, at Hartwell, and 
 burial in Westminster Abbey, 275. 
 
 Marie Louise, the little, receives 
 much attention from Marie The- 
 rese, 171. 
 
 Marie Therese, see Duchess of 
 Angouleme. 
 
 Marriage of the Duke of Angou- 
 lSme and Marie Therese at Mit- 
 tau, 227 et seq. 
 
 Michelet, quoted, 4. 
 
 Mittau, account of, 210; Louis 
 XVIII. at, 209 et seq. ; the court 
 at, its personnel and support, 240. 
 
 Montniorency-Laval, Cardinal, per- 
 forms the marriage ceremony of 
 the Duke and Duchess of Angou- 
 leme, 227. 
 
 Napoleon, how regarded by the 
 emigre's, 6; and by the legiti- 
 mists, 7 ; Chateaubriand's bro- 
 chure on him, 7; his debut 
 on the 13th Vendemiaire, 138 
 gives Malta to the Czar, 248 
 letter of, to Louis XVIII., 263 
 and the Bourbons, 276 ; his court 
 like theirs, 277. 
 
 Narbonne, Countess of, at Hart- 
 well, 274. 
 
 Naundorff , pretender to the title of 
 Louis XVII., 106. 
 
 Orleans, deputation from, demand 
 the release of Marie Th&ese, 110. 
 
 Parma, Duke of, assassination of, 
 36; his marriage to Louise of 
 France, 41. 
 
 Paul I., enthusiastic for Louis 
 
INDEX 
 
 315 
 
 XVIII. and the emigres, 205 ; his 
 character, 205; his reception at 
 Versailles in 1782, 206, 224 ; takes 
 Conde's army into his pay, 207 ; 
 gives Louis XVIII. a refuge at 
 Mittau, 209; his schemes con- 
 cerning the order of Malta, 211 ; 
 jealous of his guest, Louis XVIII. , 
 214; finds the court of Louis 
 XVIII. at Mittau a burden, 215 ; 
 signs the marriage certificate of 
 the Duke and Duchess of Angou- 
 leme, 232; becomes infatuated 
 with the First Consul, 246; cause 
 of his change of attitude towards 
 Louis XVIII., 247; becomes the 
 ally of Bonaparte, 249; assassi- 
 nation of, 258. 
 
 Pichegru, General, communicates 
 the proposal of the exchange of 
 Marie The'rese to General Stein, 
 147. 
 
 Polastron, Madame de, beloved by 
 the Count of Artois, 280. 
 
 Prince Regent, address of, to Louis 
 XVIII., 302. 
 
 Puymaigre, Count of, his account 
 of the march of Conde's army to 
 Russia, 257 ; quoted, 257. 
 
 Richard, Madame, sends word of 
 
 Marie Antoinette to the Temple, 
 
 63. 
 Richmont, pretended son of Louis 
 
 XVI., 108. 
 Robespierre, visits Marie Therese 
 
 in the Tower, 80 ; overthrow of, 
 
 84,86. 
 Romain, Count of, quoted, 168. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, his description of the 
 journal of Marie Therese, 49. 
 
 Saint-Priest, Count of, sent by 
 Louis XVIII. to Vienna with in- 
 structions to ask for a recogni- 
 tion, 243. 
 
 Serent, Madame de, with the Duch- 
 ess of Angouleme at Mittau, 237. 
 
 Simon, the Cobbler, the jailor of 
 
 Louis XVII., 56; gives up his 
 
 position, 92. 
 Soucy, Madame de, accompanies 
 
 Marie Therese to Vienna, 152; 
 
 separated from her, 172. 
 Sorel, Albert, his I'Europe et la 
 
 Revolution francaise, quoted, 203 
 
 et seq. 
 Stein, General, 147. 
 
 Temple, the, its associations and a 
 description of, 45 et seq.; the 
 apartments of the royal family 
 in, 47. 
 
 Thiers, pays too little attention to 
 Josephine in his history, 3; his 
 bargain with Dentz, 32. 
 
 Thugut, Baron, hostile to the emi- 
 gres, 177 ; his ambitious schemes 
 for Austria with regard to Marie 
 The'rese, 178. 
 
 Tison, the attendant of the Prin- 
 cesses in the Temple, removed, 59. 
 
 Tourzel, Duchess of, her visit to 
 Marie The'rese, 81 ; extract from 
 her journal, 88 ; extract from her 
 Memoirs relating to Louis XVII., 
 101 ; visits the Princess, 116 ; her 
 relations to the royal family, 117 ; 
 her loyalty to them, 118 ; obtains 
 permission to visit the Princess 
 regularly, 119, 124; her descrip- 
 tion of Madame Chantereine, 127 ; 
 shows Dr. Jeanroi a portrait of 
 the Prince and is assured of 
 his death, 129; brings about a 
 correspondence between Louis 
 XVIII. and the Princess, 130; 
 forbidden to visit the Temple, 
 141 ; not allowed to accompany 
 Marie Therese to Vienna, 150. 
 
 Tressau, Abbe de, his description 
 of the reception of Marie The- 
 rese at Mittau, 209 et seq. 
 
 Treilhard, advocates in the Conven- 
 tion the exchange of Marie The- 
 rese, 142. 
 
 Turgy, carries news of Marie An- 
 toinette to the Princesses, 63. 
 
316 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Viel-Castel, M. de, his History of 
 the Restoration quoted, 284; 
 condemns the speech of Louis 
 XVIII., in reply to the Prince 
 Regent, 303. 
 
 Vitrolles, M. de, interviews of, 
 with Metternich and the Czar, 
 291, 292; memoirs of, quoted 
 with regard to Bonaparte and 
 the Bourbons, 276; describes 
 Louis XVIII.'s relations to his 
 court at Hartwell, 281 ; hears of 
 the Count of Artois' arrival in 
 France, 290. 
 
 Warin, Regnault, his romance of 
 
 the pretended Louis XVII. s, 
 106. 
 
 Warsaw, Louis XVIII. at, 257 ; the 
 Duchess of Angouleme at home 
 in, 268. 
 
 Wansted House, declaration dated 
 at, from the Count of Artois, the 
 Duke of Berry, and others, 
 260. 
 
 Wellington, Lord, has little sym- 
 pathy with the Bourbons, 294; 
 approached by the mayor of 
 Bordeaux, 294; decides to occupy 
 that city, 295 ; refuses to aid the 
 Bourbon cause, 298. 
 
 Woman, the influence of, too much 
 neglected in history, 3. 
 
 Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston. 
 Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston. 
 
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