BOOKS.

DE DEAITCHESNE'S LOUIS XXII..

THE personal sufferings of the Bourbon family during the great Re- volution form one of the most tragic stories in history ; for there

was not only the contrast between former greatness and present degradation which the poet's instinct teaches him is necessary to touch the feelings, but every form of contumely, of privation and even of want, was superadded. Of this fearful story the pari borne by the Dauphin was the most sickening. His parents acted on a.conspicuons stage, with the strength and knowledge of mature /ears ; they might hope for the reward of their equanimity in the pity and praise of Europe; they sometimes received it in the involun- tary respect of their persecutors ; their sharp death overtook them in comparative health, and with the eyes of the present and the future upon them ; while it must be owned that the weakness of the King, and the extravagance and arbitrary tendencies of the Queen, in part contributed to their misfortunes. The Dauphin's aunt, Eliza- beth, suffered death by that inscrutable fate which visits the sins of fathers upon their children ; but the faith and feelings of a martyr sustained her throughout her long sufferings, the mockery of her trial, and the slow agony of her death, when four-and-twenty other victims suffered with her, and she was kept waiting till the last. The little King's sister, afterwards the Duchess D'Angonleme, had the faith of a woman in the form of a girl, and the strength of her sex in passive suffering : though doomed to penury and neglect, she was at least left alone ; whereas the child her brother was sub- jected to active brutality, and to force as well as temptation. If, indeed, we could hold with the Royalists, that his gaoler, Simon, instead of being a coarse and fanatic Jacobin, bent upon making, in his way, a Sans-Culotte of the son and heir of a King, and pur- suing his scheme, as is the wont of such natures, with frequent violence and occasional relaxation into a bearish good-humour,- and that Simon's successors, who shut up the wisoner in a cage with less attention than they would have bestowed upon a wild beast, were all, in obedience to authority, carrying out a scheme of contrived murder, which should take off their victim by an in- sidious death,—the tale of the Dauphin's captivity, besides being one of the saddest, would be the blackest in the annals of mankind. Of this wicked villany we think the jacobins must be acquitted. They were indeed utterly indifferent to human life or human suf- fering, and little likely to be touched by the sufferings of a prince. Cruelty, contempt, and the vulgar idea of tyrannizing over those above them when in their power, might be motives; but had they wished to remove the Dauphin from motives of policy, neither Robespierre nor Denton, nor their confidential agents, were the men to have shrunk from an open execution. The stories H. De Beauchesne himself tells sometimes contradict his theory. If Simon had instructions to slowly destroy his prisoner, this strange sort of delicacy in reference to the Queen was altogether out of place. "The prisoners at the Temple remained in ignorance of the murder of the Queen. The municipals on duty, the keepers, and the servants employed in the tower, were charitably discreet enough not to acquaint them with this piece of news. Simon knew about it, but he did not speak of it either; he knew that the head of Marie Antoinette was doomed to the executioner's hand, but he was not aware on what day the executioner was to claim it. On the morning of the 16th October' he thought he heard a alight disturb- ance without; the rappel had been beaten, and a confused noise announced some unusual stir to be going on in that populous city. His impatient cu- riosity drove him up to the platform, which was the point of observation whence he was in the habit of trying to catch some passing scenes or at least some words, of the great drama then enacting. He dragged his pupil thither with him, and his wife followed. I ought to have mentioned before, an episode which occurred some two or three days previously, and which could not have occurred except in times like these. The prisons were so full, and the lists of the public accuser so overstocked with criminal affairs, that it was impossible to be very careful, or to devote much time to proving the identity of the condemned. Two persons were going to the scaffold by mistake instead of two others who bore the same name; the latter protested against error, and went to their doom accordingly. This fact, Which so clearly shows what the tribunals and what the accused at that poriod were had been the evening before the theme of the two Simons ; and when the child was asleep, the ex-Jacobin cobbler, resuming his subject, said, 'At least, when La Veto goes to the guillotine no one will take her place, and there will be no mistake. There are not two of her name and place." She will not go to the guillotine,' replied his wife. 'And why not. " Because she is still beautiful, and because she can talk, and will soften her judges.' 'Justice is incorruptible!' was the answer of the sententious Simon; and there the matter rested.

"I know not why the woman had imagined that the Queen would not be put to death. Whether she wished she might be acquitted, or feared she might not be condemned—at all events she did not think that she would have to ascend the scaffold. Simon on his part had a clearer political view ; he had sought revolutionary inspiration at the very fountain-head, and he knew what to think concerning the fate reserved for Marie Antoinette. When they reached the top of the tower, they heard the troops returning to quarters. Simon resumed the discussion of the night before, in veiled lan-

guage; saying to his 'I should not be surprised if all this bustle were Om found out to relate V n we were talking of last night." I am sure

it does not,' returned o Jeanne; 'they would not have treated her with

so much ceremony.' Then a bet was laid between Simon and his wife as to the death of the Queen of France ; the loser engaging to pay for and provide certain glasses of brandy, intended to cheer the quiet evening. The COM- missanes on duty soon appeared on the platform, and Simon learned from them that his presentiments were just. He asked them, aside, for some in- formation on the subject ; and then, approaching his wife, 'Thou hast lost thy bet,' said he. 'What bet ? ' asked the royal child, ingenuously, as he rolled about his foot-ball in the narrow corridor that served as a walk. 'The bet is no business of thine, but if thou art good thou shalt have a share.'

• Louis XVII. His Life—his Suffering—his Death the Captivity of the Royal Family in the Temple. By A. De Beauchesne. Translated and edited by W. flax- lilt, Esq. In two volumes. Embellished with Vignettes, Autographs, and Plans. Published by Viretelly and Co.

And that same evening, accordingly, the son of Marie Antoinette raised to his lips some of the brandy withwhith his gaolers were drinking themselves drunk on the occasion of his mother's death.

"These details—I have stated the source from which I drew them—cost me much to write; bat it is my datrto-give them in all their frightful sim- plicity ; fin it seems to me that this little picture of private life shows the familiar manners of the Temple tower better than any historical painting. The evening which, between drinking and smoking, had been prolonged to a late hour, ended by a little quarrel. Simon's angry humour, which had been restrained for several 'days, was greatly excited in the course of this orgie; and, for once, it did not burst on the head of the poor innocent, who had already taken refuge in sleep. The drunken husband Was enraged at his prudent and-economical wife, whose saving disposition had reduced the amount of the bet; and the rage of the drunkard, disappointed in his desires,

i to which he had given rein, and in h unsatisfied longing, betrayed itself in reproaches and abuse."

Two thick volumes on the life of a child, who only lived ten years two months and twelve days, and who 'for nearly three years out of those ten was immured in the Temple 'prison, seems making too much of a subject. In reality, however, the work combines with the life of the Dauphin an introductory sketch of the Revo- lution, and a full account of the personal sufferings of the Royal Family. 'These last topics have indeed been handled till one would think all the interest was exhausted : such, however, is not the ease. The French Revolution, like the wars and political mu- tations that flowed from it, seems to 'have an undying attraction. By making the individual sufferings of a single family the prin- cipal object of the narrative, painting them in detail, and grouping round them the misfortunes of 'their immediate-friends, the author has given a unity to his work that history cannot attain, so far as regards the Bourbons. By drawing his facts from all sources he has a fulness and.a circumstantiality which most other narratives on the same subject fall short of. It is also suggestive of deeper thoughts. 'When the useless cruelties, the ferocious insults, and the monstrous assassinations are brought together in succession, the horror felt at the Revolution by the Bourbons and-their adhe- rents becomes intelligible. The cause of Talleyrand's sarcasm-is explained : it was imposisible to forget the'horrors of the past, and their minds were so full of them that 'there was no room to learn about the ,present or the future. The origin of the existing state of opinion in France is equally clear. Those who know by tradition the miseries . of Jacobinical domination, and those who have learned from history the conduct. of French legislative assem- blies, may naturally prefer any rule 'Which .protects life and pro- perty, to the sort of liberty granted by Red Republicans. There cannot be much in the life of a child up to his ninth year, though that child might be, as the last Dauphin is painted, a boy of precocious intelligence, quick affections, and a gracious vivacity of mind and manner,—if, indeed, the courtly atmosphere in which those nine years were passed has not given its own air to the anec- dotes told othim. Something of the same hind may be said of the earlier sojourn in the Temple. Royalty in misfortune would to the eyes of zealous and faithfuliRoyalists 'throw a halo over what a less biassed judgment might have deemed common. At least there often seems something artificial about the young Prince's replies— as if he -had already. begun the "trade of royalty." From the time when he was separated from his mother- and consigned to the tender mercies of Simon untillthat gaoler resigned his post, brutal ill-usage,-alternating with occasional sensual 'indulgence, is varied by the spirit of the Prince opposing silently. any attack upon his family or upon.his rights,—as the Jacobin cobbler's attempt to make him wear the eap.of Liberty ; until violence, terror, and failing health, redueed:the child to obedience. From January 1794, when Simon-resigned his' office under a 'species of self-denying- ordivance, till July, when Tallien, Barras, -and their section of the Jacobins, triumphed over Robespierre, young Louis was confined in an inner room, shut off by a barricade,: and. received his scanty food through a.--sort of turning wheel. His rest-vas- broken as each commissary was relieved, in order that the -man might see-him.; but for six months he was left unwashed, uncombed, unchanged either in his clothes or-his linen, till:he was found covered with sores and filth and vermin. What he felt, or thought, or suffered during this pe- riod, must be, left to the imagination : the most hopeful conjecture is that the barbarity of Simon, physical depression and want °flood, may have rendered him less sensible to his condition, and that idiotcy saved him . from his full misery. Still it is doubtful. When the barricade was -.broken through and he was asked why he did "not eat, (his food being found-untouched,) he answered, after much questioning, "I wish to die." When a less cruel government had-permitted'to him cleanliness, air, and food, and aid not .aitively prevent the 'kindness of those around him, his former nature seemed changed. -He would speak to none . until long accustomed to them, though what he did say had some of his old grate. From July 1794, when Barras visited the Temple, -till the following Jnne,-whenthe sufferer -was released, his life was a long disease. The neglect of the den had confirmed what the vio- lence and the strong stimulants. of Simon had begun. Most pro- bably nothing could have saved-him; but no trial was made. He had no regular physieian till May ; -and then the recommendation of Desault for country air was disregarded. The nominal subject, The Life of Louie the Seventeenth, is not the best part Of the -book. The first portion of the life is •disfi- :mod by. a courtly not to-say a-servile spirit, and by an indifferent Fftneh meaner. Of the therdrpart,the solitary confinement, little can he -told, --and ^M. 'DetBeartchesne -injudiciously strives to till up the blank with rhetorical fancies. Of 'the second period under Sinn:invalid-the 'fourth of the. sufferer's decline, he professes:to have a 'good-deal-of original informationpund unquestionably he has- taken much pains to-procauo it. He has consulted the-archives'of the period, and skilfully selected from them; he forme&the acqaaint- anee of every one that he could ferret out -who hadJany personal knowledge of the subject. These persons principally-consist of—. 1. Three 'women who were gossips of Simon's wife, and to whom she is said to have told a good deal-of what was going on at the Temple during the time of her residence. 2. Two -6f the -three custodians of the prisoner after his release by Barns lived to be upwards of fourscore, and not only gave our -author many reminis.. cences but revised and certified his -narrative. This partieby far the most interesting, from its greater appearance of truth. 'The stories obtained through the friends of Madame Simon if they are assumed to have been accurately told, and not coloured by the minds through which they have passed, are at .best but second- , hand. Some of them indeed, have this suspicions 'circumstance attached to them—they represent scenes which occurred between Simon and his prisoner when no one else was present. It is cer- tainly possible that Simon might repeat them ; but, independently of this unlikelihood, there are marks of dramatic invention. It may be added, too, that our author is sparing of authorities.

Notwithstanding the coarse cruelty, conspicuous in almostevery- thing that the Revolutionists did, there was frequently mingled with it a ludicrous character arising from a strict regard to public etiquette, a Tompousattention to trifles, or some other trait equally absurd. Here are- debates and decrees on the petition of a nurse to visit Madame Royale, the daughter of the Queen' and of the Queen for " simple" mourning for herself and children for the ;King.

Commune de Paris—Sitting of Friday, 25th•January.

"'The citizeness Laurent, assuming the title of nurse to Madame Pre- miere, demands permission from the Council to see her foster-daughter, who is imprisoned in the Temple, and offers to remain with her until otherwise directed.

"'The Council-General passes to the order of the day, Teeing that the Council knows no person called Madame Premiere.'

'Commune de Patis--Sitting of Wednesday,23d January 1793. " The Council-General heard read a decree of the Council of the Temple, referring it to the Council-General to decide upon two requests made by 'An- toinette.

"'The-first, for- mourning of a very simple character for herself, her sis- ter, and her children. The Council-General decrees that this requestahallbe complied with. "'The second, that Clery may be placed with, her son, as he was in the first instance. Upon' thisrequest the Council-General passes to the order of the day.' " Her more advanced age, the advice of her aunt Elizabeth, and the greater aptitude of her sex for domestic employment, .perhaps alone saved Madame Royale (the Duchess D'Angouleme):from the fate of her brother ; for she was locked up much in the same way, though not in so dark and confined a place. This is her last custodian Gomin's picture of the Princess when'he first saw her, as given by him to M. De Beauchesne.

"'The evening of my arrival at the Temple,' said Gomin, Laurent took me to see the prisoners. I will not speak of- what I felt, when, for the first time I went op the stairs, impeded by so many wickets. When we nabbed the second floor, before an iron door, There is the brother,' said Laurent to me ; it used to be their father's room.' After this visit we-ascended to the third story; and, as before, found our way blocked by an iron door : 'Here is the sister ; it used to be their mother's room.' We went in : 'Maclaine was sitting on the sofa, against the window, and seemed busied-with,searing or embroidery ; she did not raise her eyes. Laurent'presented meth his-t61- league ; but she answered not a word.

'I bowed low as I withdrew ; and I have-since learned that tbiade- parture from the custom of the place bad made the 'Princess take notice Of me'from the very Snit. On subsequent days, when I saw her again I re- mained before her, keeping a respectful silence; and I do not know-Illy oc- casion when I addressed her first. During the two or three first days 'of my instalment there, she did not speak tome ; but IthoughtI observed that the examined.ine attentively, and, as I was afterwards a witness of the marvel- lous quickness she displayed in discovering the political opinions of certain commissaries, I have no doubt that her glance soon penetrated my heart too and discerned its settiments. A bold step I took entirely won forme her geed graces. As I was always the last to leave her apartment, having acquired the habit of closing the door myself, one morning, -when Laurent and the Civic Commissary were already on thestaircase, and had their backs turned, I gave Madame some paper and a pencil, begging her to write down any- thing she wished to have. She answered me for the first time Some chemises, and some matches.' '

" By this means I succeeded in doing her some little service. When times grew gentler, the pencil' was rendered less necessary: The Princess did not speak to me before-the, commissaries, fearful of causing me%to be suepethed; but while I was going out after them, Madame came quickly behind-the door, and spoke a few words to me. It was in this manner. that t learned she had' neither shoes nor stockings left. Laurent and I' had-not perceived it, because Madame always took care to keep her dress down, aoras-tribide her feet. There-seemed to be a favourable opportunity for isupplying this want that same day. We had as Civic Commissary a man-whose. good -in- tentions I had already noticed. It was Armand, a lemonade-seller-keeping_ a cafe, which bore his name, on the Boulevard du Temple. We arranged With him my colleague and I, to present our request to' the Committee of General Safety. Both our demands were granted ; a packet containing *dozen 'pair of stockings was sent us, and a person came with-a basketful of shoes frame shoemaker, whose shop was situated near Sainte-Elisabeth. Madame selected one pair ; but, being encouraged by me, she took a second. :Alter- wards, when Lasne was any colleague, we had a little more liberty. We were allowed to show' snoreconsideration and deference to the'Prineess: but it may readilybe-oonceived bow much reserve and prudeneewere necessary for the part-we-had to play; and our own good dispositions were of necessity subjected to what -we supposed were the sentiments entertained-by-the com- missaries. Some among them were worthy people enough; but there were also some of a hateful cynicism, who indulged themselves by addressing the Princess as 'thou,' and speaking brutally to' her. "'Madame has-told me that -one of these latter said to her, 'Hatt-then any water? ' 'I do not know." And who should know'? Go and see? 'Madame habitually gave no answer : she was always in her place, °aim and silent,- and frequently her imposing air checked the insult on -a. municipal's lips. There were some among them who took advantage of each little dr- 'cum-stance-that occurred to aggravate her situation. Thus, one dey ;hey de-, cided to take from her the flint and steel, with" the aid Of which-she prewar& -for herself two things so precious to a captive—fire and light.'

" 'Commune of Faris.

1st Yhermidor, as year of the Republic, one, indivisible, and imperishable. (19th July 1794.)

'This day, let Thermidor, we, the members of the commune guard of the Temple, observed that in one of the apartments occupied by the tyrant's daughter there. had been a very considerable fire, of which we asked the cause : she replied, that, having occasion to wash her feet, she had lighted this fire to heat the water for that purpose. Observing to her that a chair had been btrrnt'from being too near the stove, she replied that that had been done a golig titue. Asking her by what means she had lighted the said fire, she replied, avithm tinder-box-and its appendages. " ' After this conversation, we thought it expedient to take away from her the said articles for the present, and to refer immediately to the Citizen Na- tional Agent, for him to decide as he judges best as to whether the same be restored to her or not. " eonsequenee whereof, we beg the Citizen National Agent to give his opinion immediately, if possible, and to acquaint us with his decision in the course of the day.

" &now,

" LELIEVRE,

" LECLERC.

" Members of the Temple Council.' (Archives de l'Iletel-de-Ville.)" This pompous manner in the most trivial matters continued even to thelast. More is another example, at .a time when the negotiation 'for-the exehange of the Princess was going on. ". Liberty—Equality.

"Paris, 5tb Messidor, ad year of the French Republic one and indivisible. The Commission of Public Relief to the Citizen Commissaries of the Temple.

"4 The Committee of General Safety, by a decree of the 2d instant, has directed-uslo procure for the daughter of Louis Capet the articles you have demanded from the taid*Committee.

"'This morning an account of said articles was presented to us by citizen Lenard, but without your signatures. We desire you will give in to us a detailed statement of whatever articles of food and clothing, or books, you consider should be provided, that we may be enabled to see that they be placed at your disposal.

" This statement, so signed by you, citizens, is a necessary preliminary to cur carrying out the decree -of the Committee of General Safety, which

enters into no details. DERNICALI: "The list of the articles brought to the Temple is as follows- " Two morning-dresses of coloured taffeta.

" Two mortiing=dresses of nankeen and cotton, lined with Florence*taffeta. "Six pairs of -coloured silk stockings. "Six pairs of shoes.

"'Two dozen chemises, superfine Holland cloth.

" A green sllk dreee, and a linen ditto.

"Besides the new articles, we had everything mended that was capable of being so, and ia-particular six white flannel dressing-gowns, that Madame used to weer in the morning.

"This Was notull : her instruction and amusement were attended to, as is proved by the following document.

"Office of Civic Hospices of Paris. " • Liberty—Equality.

Paris, 11th Thermidor, Sd year of the French Republic one and indivisible. "'The 'Commission of Public Relief acknowledges the receipt of the Histoire de Trance, by Velley, and the Mender, by Foritenelle, from citizen Dambreiille, keeper of the literary depot, Rue Mare, Maison Montmorency; which have been placed at their disposal by the Commissioners of Public Instriietien'for the use of the daughter of the late Louis Capet.' " • DrameAu.' "