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XXIII.   THE LAMOURETTE KISS 239 XXIV.   THE FÊTE OF THE FEDERATION IN 1792 248 XXV.   THE LAST DAYS AT THE TUILERIES 259 XXVI.   THE PROLOGUE TO THE TENTH OF AUGUST 267 XXVII.   THE NIGHT OF AUGUST NINTH TO TENTH 275 XXVIII.   THE MORNING OF AUGUST TENTH 284 XXIX.   THE BOX OF THE LOGOGRAPH 299 XXX.   THE COMBAT 306 XXXI.   THE RESULTS OF THE COMBAT 316 XXXII.   THE ROYAL FAMILY IN THE CONVENT OF THE FEUILLANTS 329 XXXIII.   THE TEMPLE 337 XXXIV.   THE PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE'S MURDER 350 XXXV.   THE SEPTEMBER MASSACRES 359 XXXVI.   MADAME ROLAND DURING THE MASSACRES 372 XXXVII.   THE PROCLAMATION OF THE REPUBLIC 384   INDEX 395

MARIE ANTOINETTE

AND

THE DOWNFALL OF ROYALTY.

I.

PARIS AT THE BEGINNING OF 1792.

Paris in 1792 is no longer what it was in 1789. In 1789, the old French society was still brilliant. The past endured beside the present. Neither names nor escutcheons, neither liveries nor places at court, had been suppressed. The aristocracy and the Revolution lived face to face. In 1792, the scene has changed. The Paris of the nobility is no longer in Paris, but at Coblentz. The Faubourg Saint-Germain is like a desert. Since June, 1790, armorial bearings have been taken down. The blazons of ancient houses have been broken and thrown into the gutters. No more display, no more liveries, no more carriages with coats-of-arms on their panels. Titles and manorial names are done away with. The Duke de Brissac is called M. Cossé; the Duke de Caraman, M. Riquet; the Duke d'Aiguillon, M. Vignerot. The Almanach royal of 1792 mentions not a single court appointment.

In 1789, it was still an exceptional thing for the nobility to emigrate. In 1792, it is the rule. Those among the nobles who have had the courage to remain at Paris in the midst of the furnace, so as to make a rampart for the King of their bodies, seem half ashamed of their generous conduct. The illusions of worldliness have been dispelled. Nearly every salon was open in 1789. In 1792, they are nearly all closed; those of the magistrates and the great capitalists as well as those of the aristocracy. Etiquette is still observed at the Tuileries, but there is no question of fêtes; no balls, no concerts, none of that elegance and animation which once made the court a rendezvous of pleasures. In 1789, illusions, dreams, a naïve expectation of the age of gold, were to be found everywhere. In 1792, eclogues and pastoral poetry are beginning to go out of fashion. The diapason of hatred is pitched higher. Already there is powder and a smell of blood in the air. A general instinct forebodes that France and Europe are on the verge of a terrible duel. On both sides passions have touched their culminating point. Distrust and uneasiness are universal. Every day the despotism of the clubs becomes more threatening. The Jacobins do not reign yet, but they govern. Deputies who, if left to their own impulses, would vote on the conservative side, pronounce for the Revolution solely through fear of the demagogues. In 1789, the religious sentiment still retained power among the masses. In 1792, irreligion and atheism have wrought their havoc. In 1789, the most ardent revolutionists, Marat, Danton, Robespierre, were all royalists. At the beginning of 1792, the republic begins to show its face beneath the monarchical mask.

The Tuileries, menaced by the neighboring lanes of the Carrousel and the Palais Royal, resembles a