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will be the fevereit trial of all. When that is over, I fhall fix my mind solely on what concerns my salvation.".
• Leaving the abbé Edgeworth in his closet, the unhappy prince went to the room where his family were already assembled, and which was separated only by a door from that in which were two commissaries constantly on duty: this door was formed of panes of glafs from top to bottom, like a window ; so that those two men could see and hear all that paired.
• In such horrible circumstances, and in this dismal room, did the king of France meet his deploring family, now rendered more dear to him than ever by his own approaching fate, and their unexampled misfortunes. Here passed a scene of woe far beyond the power of description, to which the mind of fenfibility alone can do justice.
• The sympathizing heart of M. Edgeworth was pierced with groans of anguish and the screams of defpair.
• This agonizing interview lasted more than an hour. The king returned to his own room in a state of emotion that cannot be exprefled.
“ Why," said he, addressing the abbé, after he had somewhat recovered himself, “ why do I love with so much tenderness, and wherefore am I fo tenderly beloved? But now the painful facrifice is over. Let me now turn my thoughts to the care of my salvation alone.”!
• Having thus expressed himself, he remained for some minutes in filent meditation, interrupted by sighs, acccompanied with tears, and then began to converse on the great truths of religion: and astonihed his confessor as much by the extensive knowledge he displayed on that subject, as he had before edified him by his piety.
• At ten o'clock, Clery, his faithful valet de chambre, came and proposed that he should take some supper. The king confented, less from any inclination to eat, than to oblige Clery, who made the request with tears in his eyes. After eating a mouthful, as he rose from the table he said to M. Edgeworth,
“ You ought also to take some nourishment; you are surely much exhausted."
“This slight repast being over, the abbé asked the king whether he would not like to hear mass, and to receive the communi.
The king replied, that he desired it with ardour : but he fhewed, at the saine time, that he had little hopes of that favour being granted him.
6 I must have permission," said he, “ from this council in the Temple, who have hitherto granted me nothing but what was impossible to be withheld.”
• M. Edgeworth went directly and fignified the king's request to the council fitting in the Temple. He met with many diffiaulties. “. There are examples in history,” said a member of this hard
“ of priests who have mixed poison with the hoftie." at I have been sufficiently searched to satisfy you," replied the abbé, " that I have no poison about me: but to render -your
felves still more certain, you have only to furnish me with the hofties ; and if they should prove poisoned, the blaine will not be imputable to me.”
• To this the council made no immediate aufwer: but the members went into tlie room where they usually held their meetings. The king's demand was formally deliberated on; after which, the abbé being called in, the president said,
“ Citizen minifter of worshiip, (du cultc,) that which Louis Capet requests, not being contrary to law, we have agreed to grant it on two conditions: first, that you sign the request; and. in the second place, that the ceremony you intend to perform sliall terminate before seven o'clock to-morrow morning, because, at eight o'clock, Louis Capet must go hence to the place of execution,"
• The abbé Edgeworth submitted to those conditions, and direétly went and informed the king, who expressed the highest satisfaction at the hope of once more having the consolation of hearing mass, and of receiving the communion. He fell on his knees to return thanks to the Almighty, and immediately after began his confeffion. When it was ended, M. Edgeworth, seeing the king almost exhausted with the anguish and fatigue he had undergone, advised him to go to bed, and endeavour to get a little repose. His majesty consented, and prevailed on the abbé to lay down in Clery's bed, which was in the same room.
Having flept with tranquillity, the king called for Clery, early the next morning, to assist him in dreffing. He heard mass and received the coininunion with the most profound devotion. After having finished his payers, he raid to M. Edgeworth,
“ How happy ain I in having retained my faith in religion ! In what a state of mind fould I at this moment have been, had not the grace of God preserved to me that blessing. Yes, I fall be enabled to new them that I do not fear death.
• A noise being heard at the door, M. Edgeworth was agitated. He thought the Fatal moment was already arrived. The king, without betraying the least. 70tion, maintained his usual serenity. It was the guards who resumed their posts. His majesty having addressed himself to one of them, the wretch had the brutality to answer,
"' That would have been very well, formerly, citizen, but you are no longer a king."
" You see how I am treated," said his majesty, addressing M. Edgeworth, “but nothing can shock me now. Here they come,' reluined the king, calmly, on hearing some persons ascending the (tair.
• It was the commissaries of the commune, with a priest at their head; called Jacques Roux. They came to announce that the hour was at hand.
“ It is enough," said the king. “I will join you directly: but I wish to pass a few moments alone with my confessor."
• They retired. His majesty thut the door, and said, falling en his knees,
si All is consummated. Give me your last benedi&tion." • Fear of the danger to which the abbé Edgeworth might he
exposed, in accompanying the king to the place of execution, had prevented his majesty from making such a proposition, and he supposed that they were now to separate: but when he found that it was the fixed resolution of this venerable man, worthy of the facred functions he exercised, to abide by him to the last, his majesty was at once moved by tenderness and filled with satisface tion.
• Having thrown open the door,
“ Marchons," said he, with a firm tone of voice, to Santerre, who waited without. Vol. iii. P.259.
The length of this extract prevents us from pursuing the melancholy detail. Although the author has passed over with flight notice many events of which we cannot fuppose him to . have been ignorant, we are highly indebted to him for his information respecting those transactions in which he was personally engaged. He seems successful in delineating characters, and throws great light upon those differences between the king's ministers and the assembly, which tended to the overthrow of the monarchy. To his unhappy mafter he performed the part of a zealous and affectionate servant, even in situations of great hazard. Future historians, whose business it will be to extract truth from a variety of difcordant materials, will find in these volumes a key to the knowledge of many important transactions which have hitherto been obscured by party writers; and Louis XVI. will, perhaps, be considered as having been placed in a situation where fincerity and duplicity were equally incompatible with his perfonal safety and with the continuance of the monarchy.
The reprefentations of Louis XVI. the queen, Louis XVII, the princess Elizabeth, and madame royale, which embellish this work, are said to be all engraven from original pictures, received in presents from their majesties. They do not differ materially from the portraits usually exhibited of this unfortunate family.
Memoirs relating to the French Revolution. By the Marquis
de Bouillé. Translated from the French Manuscript. 8vo, 8s. Boards. Cadell and Davies. 1798.
THESE memoirs may, in some respect, be considered as an appendix to the work of M. de Moleville. They would not have appeared in the author's life-time, bad he not found it necessary to vindicate his character, the only consolation of his adverse fortune, not only against the Jacobins, who branded him as a traitor, but also against the constitutionalists, who accused him of having violated the oath which he had taken to their constitution, and the royalists, who regarded
hiin as an intriguer, acting from no other motive than that of self-intereft. He likewife complains that English writers of just estimation have inserted, in their works, calumnies in vented against him by the most furious Jacobins. These relate to the affair of Nanci, which was terned a massacre committed by him, and to the king's flight, of which he was faid to be the author. In our opinion, he has completely vindicated himself from the charge of rashness of precipitancy otr the former occasion; and, as to the flight of Louis, he affirmed, in a letter to the assembly, that he was the author (although he certainly was not), for the benévolent purpose of screening the royal family from public resentment, He did his duty, as far as he was able, in promoting it; but it was a scheme of which he never entertained the least hopes.' At the time when it was undertaken (he says), both people and troops were enraged even to madness against the sovereign ; at Metz and Verdur in particular, this difpofition was evident.
The affair at Nanci, of which so much has heen faid, happened on the gift of August, 1790. The marquis was in-' Itructed to raise a force fufficient for the fuppreffion of the disturbances excited in that town by the garrison and the inhabitants. The detail which he has given of the measures pursued for the reftoration of tranquillity, is long and circumstantial ; and we must abridge the introductory part, that we may leave room for the more effential conclusion. On the 30th, the marquis published a proclamation, in which he commanded the people and the soldiers to conform to the-decrees of the assenbly, to return to their duty, and to deliver up the most factious of their chiefs; and he gave them twentyfour hours for preparing an answer. A deputation being sent to him the next day with an unsatisfactory answer, he marched towards the town. At the distance of half a league from it, he met another deputation, and afterwards a third ; and a part of his troops procured admission into the town. mainder of this narrative will appear to most advantage in his words.
. I was conversing with the two general officers, and some of the principal inhabitants of the town who had accompanied them, at a Thort distance from the gate near which was the head of one of my columns, when the people and armed populace, and a great number of soldiers who had not followed their colours, began a quarrel with my advanced guard, compofed of Swiss, and were preparing to fire on them with several pieces of heavy ordnance loaded with grape-shot which they had placed in the entrance of the gate. A young officer of the king's regiment, named Defilles, however,, prevented them for some time ; he placed himself before
CRIT. Rev. VOL. XXIV. Nov. 1793. Y
the mouth of a cannon, and when torn from thence, he leaped upon a four-and-twenty pounder, and seating himself upon the touch-hole, was in that position maffacred; the match was now applied to the cannon, and in an instant, fifty or fixty men of my, van-guard lay dead; the rest, followed by the French grenadiers, advanced with fury to seize the cannon, took potsession of the gate called Stainville, and entering the town, were in an instant assaulted with a shower of musket-balls, proceeding from cellars, windows, and the roofs of the houses, without any enemy appearing.
• What was my astonishment, when I heard the fignal of a battle which I had endeavoured to avoid, and which I had no longer any reason to expect ! I flew to place myself at the head of my troops, which were mowed down in heaps, thrown into disorder, and on the point of flying. Rallying them, however, I hastily made my difpofitions to penetrate in two columns, which advanced very flowly and with great difficulty along the principal streets. In the mean time, the troops of the garrison thinking themselves betrayed, and that advantage had been taken of their absence to attack the people and their comrades, re-entered Nanci with precipitation to aslist them ; happily, the officers of the king's regiment, who had been compelled by the soldiers to remain with them, succeeded in persuading their men to retire into the courta yard of their barracks, form themselves in order of battle, and wait there till attacked. This prudent measure saved all; there were now only about 600 men of this regiment, in conjunction with the rest of the garrison and the people, who engaged our troops. These latter too, thinking that the troops who were in Nanci had suffered them to advance in fecurity, for the purpose of drawing them into an ambush and fighting them with advantage, were filled with fury and indignation.
• Such was the posture of both parties when this singular engagement began, about half past four in the afternoon. It was half past seven before I reached the principal squares, into which opened the barracks of the king's regiment and the Swiss guards, which were situated at two extremities of the town. I had alrea. dy lost forty officers, and nearly four hundred soldiers, either killed or wounded. One of the German battalions, as well as the national guards of Metz, having lost a great number of men, had retired. My cavalry was not of any use to me. At the beginning of the affair, I had imprudently ordered two squadrons of husfars into the town, half of which had been cut to pieces; I was even obliged to dispatch a great part of my cavalry on the road' to Lunéville, to oppose the carabineers, by whom I expected every moment to see myself attacked. It is true, the rebels had likewise suffered considerably. We had killed a great many of them, taken 'twelve pieces of cannon, and made upwards of five hundred prisoners, including the soldiers of the garrison, and the people who aslifted them. The revolted regiments had retired,