Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

Bourdon asked me several insignificant questions with regard to my abode, the time of my imprisonment, etc. Legendre, whom Fortin and Monsieur Noël had interested in my behalf, assumed a kindly manner, and pointed out to his colleague that 'my papers were good, that I had been spoken well of to him, that he knew that I had been a member of the charitable board of St. Sulpice.' I felt a real satisfaction in being under obligations to the poor. Fortin asked me what I had done to aid the Revolution. I replied, 'All my life I have done any kind act that I could; and I gave money to poor volunteers on my father's estate when they set out for the army.' A prisoner who was present at my examination had the kindness to bestow a panegyric upon me which the keeper approved and added to, praising my submission to the rules of the house.

I leaned quietly upon a table on which were all the judges' papers. I learned afterward that my manner was considered haughty. No sentence was pronounced upon me, and at last I told them that the unparalleled miseries I had endured gave me a right to justice from them. Legendre seemed somewhat moved, but I went out of his presence a moment after feeling that my cause was lost. He treated Madame de la Fayette in a most insulting manner. He told her 'that he had great fault to find with her, that he detested her husband, herself, and her name.' She replied with equal courage and nobleness 'that she would always defend her husband and that a name was not a crime.'

Bourdon asked her several questions, to which she replied with firmness. Legendre finally ended this pleasant dialogue by telling her that she was an insolent creature. They decided to liberate the greater part of our companions. I retired fully persuaded that I should be again entered in the jail-book. But one of my neighbours assured me that I was on the list of those who were to be set at liberty. I received on this occasion strong proofs of the interest my companions took in my doubtful fate; I returned to my own room sure that I was to resume my fetters; I was resigned to this, as was also Madame de la Fayette. It is not nearly so hard to feel so when one has experienced many misfortunes, and when one has no hope of being restored to those one loves.

I have noticed that it is better, when one is about to give up life, not to be surrounded by those who make it so dear. What one suffers for others and on one's own account is, taken together, too much to be endured.

On the 19th of October, 1794, at ten o'clock in the morning, while I was busy with my morning duties, I heard my door open suddenly. A little while before I should have been sure that it was the announcement of my death, and I did not even now think this sudden interruption brought me good news; but some one, whose name I do not remember, said to me delightedly, 'You are free!' My heart, so unused to pleasurable emotions, was slow to entertain the idea. The keeper entered, confirmed the news, and brought me my _acte de liberté_. I then thought sadly of how little use it would be to me. Deprived of every comfort, separated from my son and my parents, from Madame de Chimay,--the only friend that Heaven had left to me,--without a home, and in want of the very necessaries of life, I felt irritated by the congratulations of the jailers and the gendarmes who had formerly threatened me with the guillotine, and was very much afraid that they would, according to their usual custom, manifest their feelings by embracing me; but I fortunately escaped. In this confused condition of thought and feeling, the memory of my dear son and the thought of what I could be to him aroused my courage, which had succumbed at this terrible crisis. It was necessary to pack up my small wardrobe, which took only a short time. All my effects were put in two bundles. I bade farewell to Madame de la Fayette, who, with several other persons, was destined to remain in prison. I felt very grateful for the pleasure which, despite her unfortunate situation, she showed at seeing me released from bondage. I engaged a commissioner at the grating, who helped me with my baggage. We arrived safely at the house of my mother-in-law, who then lived on the Rue de Bellechasse. She received me most kindly and tenderly. I found her with my niece; they did not expect me, and neither did Monsieur Noël, who had on account of his interest and attachment for me laboured to have me liberated. He came to see me, and assured me that Madame Drulh (a former governess of Madame de Mailly) was very anxious to have me stay at her house. I accepted the kind offer for a few days, though I feared to compromise her, since there was still great ill-feeling entertained against our class. I went to see my nurse, Royale, who was much moved at sight of me; she had saved all she could for me. I asked her for some mourning dresses, as I had not worn any since the death of my parents. Madame Latour came to see me. Our interview was interrupted by bitter weeping. It is impossible to imagine what I felt at seeing the person who had last seen my parents, and who had shown them such true affection; it carried me back to the first hours of my bereavement. She thought me frightfully changed; I looked ten years older, and like one risen from the dead. A few of the servants of our house also came to see me. The number of those who were faithful was very small, the Revolution having made a portion of them 'patriots,' and some of them even Terrorists.

It was a great pleasure to me to see my old friends once more,--among others, Madame de Tourzel, who had gone through more terrible scenes than any of them; she had made the fearful journey from Varennes, had been sentenced by the 'bloody tribunal' of the 2d of September, and had been six times imprisoned. I could scarcely believe my eyes as I embraced her. She showed under all the trying circumstances in which she was placed a courage beyond all praise. It was really pitiful, after the solemn scenes in which we had been actors and witnesses, to see the value we attached to the small necessities of life after having been so long deprived of them. It was an intense pleasure to me to be able to use a knife, a clean plate, scissors, to look in a mirror, etc.; but the greatest delight of all was to be no longer subjected to the low and wicked. I feel some gratitude, however, to Haly, the keeper, and Tavernier, the clerk, for having preserved and restored to me the clock I mentioned before, which I valued very much.

The deliverance from all my past ills was very pleasant to me, but a pall seemed over everything; I felt a distaste for everything, as one does for medicines. Accustomed as I had been to be surrounded by sympathizing love, the thought of my isolation overwhelmed me. It seemed that though the period of my misfortune was becoming more remote, liberty increased the intensity of my feelings; and my thoughts grew sadder every day. The thought of death necessarily most effectually blunts the edge of grief, since it brings us near to the moment when we find what we have lost, and we cease to regret. My mind returned to its former grief with renewed constancy, and I could no longer open my heart to my friends. I was not sure that my son was alive until I had been a long time out of prison. I had planned to retire to a village, with one servant, and there mourn for my loved ones. The consolation of rendering to the precious remains of my parents the duties observed in all ages, and by all religions, was refused me. Their ashes are mingled with those of criminals in the cemetery of Picpus, the ground of which has been bought by Madame la Princesse de Hohenzollern, sister of the Prince of Salm-Kirbourg. But at the last great day when all hearts shall be opened, God will know how to recognize his elect, and show them, resplendent in glory, to the assembled nations.

I was one of the first, after the re-establishment of the church, to have prayers said for my parents. A Mass was said for them at the Foreign Missions. We have need of their protection. I trust that their heavenly blessing may rest upon their children and grandchildren to the latest generation.

The forlorn situation of my mother-in-law, who, though she had not been in prison, had been under arrest in her own house with a dozen jailers, who never left her until their pay failed, determined me to devote myself to taking care of her; but I could not do this as the law exiling nobles was not abrogated. We were allowed only two _décadis_[9] to make our preparations, and immediately after were to retire some leagues from Paris. It was necessary for me to seek some shelter; Madame de la Rochefoucauld-Doudeauville, a relative of mine, proposed to me to come to her house in the country, and assured me that I was welcome to anything she had. Her kind feeling for me caused her to offer what she really had not; for the little house which she occupied in the village of Wisson, near Longjumeau, was scarcely large enough for her own family. I went to see it, and concluded to rent some lodgings near her and Mesdames de la Suze and de la Roche-Aymon. I did not, however, have the opportunity to occupy them, as I obtained a prolongation of my sojourn in Paris, and during that time the law was repealed.

After remaining six months at the house of good Madame Drulh, I found a vacant room in the house where my mother-in-law was staying, which I took immediately. It was extremely cold, and the winters of 1794 and 1795 were very trying. I had no one to wait upon me. I would come in to go to bed, and find the fire had gone out, and this frequently after having walked a long distance. I missed much of the sunlight in the streets as I had to prepare both my breakfast and my supper. In order to attend Mass I had to go out before day and resort to the secret places of worship, where pious mechanics gladly received me. There was nothing more edifying during the whole Reign of Terror than the courage they showed in procuring for the faithful the opportunities of engaging in the exercise of their religion. I dressed myself as a servant, and consequently could not wear any of the warm _crépes_ which luxury supplies for us; this masquerade was necessary in order not to make known the places where the holy mysteries were celebrated.

On Christmas day, 1794, when the Réaumur thermometer fell to eighteen degrees, I sat in the Rue Montorgueil, near Montmartre, through the whole of the office, the sermon, vespers, and the benediction. I found myself on the Pont Neuf at six o'clock in the evening, and the north wind cut my face like a knife. I had formed the habit, after leaving prison, of going out into the streets alone; I continued to do so, and found it very convenient. I never took cold once during that severe winter. I met my old acquaintances from time to time, and always felt deeply moved. We invariably talked about the treatment in the different prisons, and the sufferings we had endured. Almost all the prominent persons had been imprisoned, or at least under arrest in their own houses, which was substituted only as a great favour in the case of the infirm or aged. We found a certain variety in the horrors; but on comparison the Conciergerie and the Plessis proved to have been the most terrible of all the prisons, on account of the treatment and the great number of victims who were constantly taken from them to the scaffold.

Madame Doudeauville very kindly persuaded me to spend a few days with her at her country-house. Her loveliness, the attractions of her home, the sincere sorrow she had felt at the death of my parents, and her goodness to me, cheered me somewhat, though I was so overcome with grief. I had almost forgotten how to write an ordinary letter, and had long been entirely out of the habit of doing so. The carelessness of the style of this memoir and its dullness are proof of what I have stated.

At last I received news from my son, and this restored me to life.

The latter part of the winter was terribly hard, on account of both the scarcity of food and the cold. It was almost impossible to procure wood, candles, or bread. We sent thirty and forty leagues, for them. I carried something in my pocket when I went out to dine, even at the house of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans, who lodged in the Rue de Charonne, near the barrier at the Faubourg St. Antoine. She boasted of having a farmer who sent her a loaf of bread weighing four pounds, every week. She had wretched fare; her dishes were what are commonly called _culs-noirs_. A dwarf served her as butler and valet. She endured her poverty nobly, and joked about it. I remember hearing a lady say to the queen, the wife of Louis XVI., while she was at the Tuileries, that she knew one woman more unfortunate than she, and that was the Duchess of Orleans. She had inherited a hundred and twenty millions from Monsieur le Duc de Penthièvre, of which the nation took possession, and did not even give her enough out of it to support life.

The Revolution has taught us how to understand poverty, by causing us to experience it ourselves. Two farmers on the estate of Mouchy, whose names I record with gratitude,--Duraincy and Isoré,--sent me some flour. I am sure a casket full of gold could never have given me so much pleasure. People conversed in the evening only of what they had eaten during the day. Servants stood in line from three o'clock in the morning trying to procure provisions. Women and young girls often waited twenty-four hours. Sometimes a whole day was spent in obtaining a loaf of bread or two ounces of something made of hempseed, green pears, and all sorts of horrid stuff. Whenever I had any of this unwholesome food I divided it with those about me. It was the _maximum_[10] that reduced Paris to this state of distress.

Soon I found myself in a fresh dilemma, being sent away from my lodgings, which had been rented to some one else. Madame de Tourzel offered me a residence in the name of Madame de Charost, and I accepted it; it was very high up. I dined with my mother-in-law, and consequently, in the evening, was exceedingly weary from the number of steps I had climbed; for I was very much broken down from all I had endured. The charming society of that house amply repaid me for all the fatigue I suffered. My mother-in-law was obliged to leave the house where she was staying, and Madame de Beuvron lent her hers. We had very fine lodgings, but our food was miserable. My mother-in-law and I lived for three francs a day (in _assignats_) at an eating-house,--the uncertainty of the future compelling me to economize the small means still left me. Both the quantity and quality of the food was insufficient; nothing could be more disgusting than the meats which were served us. I had long been accustomed to such fare; but I grieved on my mother-in-law's account, though she never complained of it. She endured the horrors of her situation with admirable resignation and patience. Heaven doubtless sustained her to the end of her sad life. A most fortunate thing for me now happened: Madame de Beuvron went to occupy her own house, and several apartments became vacant in that of Madame de la Rochefoucauld; we took possession of them on the 1st of October, 1795. This arrangement was very much more agreeable for me; I have continued to live there ever since, and I desire nothing better. Being near my son and daughter-in-law adds another attraction to it; and as my life now passes in the most commonplace fashion I end this tiresome story, asking the reader to excuse its faults.

PARIS, February 11, 1804.

(Signed)

NOAILLES DE DURFORT-DURAS.

ADDENDA.

On re-reading my memoirs I find a great many repetitions, particularly in the notes where I have several times referred to Madame Latour.

When my honoured father left the prison of the Luxembourg to be removed to the Conciergerie he said in a sorrowful voice to the prisoners who accompanied him to the doorway: 'At sixteen I went into the trenches to serve my king; at eighty I mount the scaffold in obedience to the will of God.'

The 'Messager du Soir,' though an organ of the Reign of Terror, inserted the following article in its columns on the 20th of May, 1795, year III. of the Republic:--

'When the venerable Maréchal de Noailles-Mouchy, who was all his life the father of the unfortunate, was led out with his good wife to be beheaded, a wretch cried aloud: "Now the _'sans-culottes,'_ will enjoy your bread and drink your wine." He answered with that serenity which a pure conscience bestows upon an honest man: "God grant that you may have bread for another year, and that you may not be compelled to devour one another."'

DIFFERENT NOTES AND MEMORANDA RELATING TO MONSIEUR AND MADAME DE MOUCHY, AND THEIR DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, LOUISE NOAILLES, WHO WAS CONDEMNED AND EXECUTED THE 4TH THERMIDOR, 22D OF JULY, 1794.

The following was brought to me from the office by Robert Lindet, when I went to the court sitting at the abbey of St. Germain to reclaim the last will and testament of my father and mother, which was then delivered up to me:

_National Convention._

Committee of General Security of the National Convention. Fifth day of the third decade of the first month of the French Republic, one and indivisible.

The Committee authorizes Citizen Braut to go to Mouchy, near Beauvais, for the purpose of arresting the citizen Noailles-Mouchy, (whose son, the former Prince de Poix, has emigrated), the wife of the said Mouchy, and all other persons who are suspected; he shall conduct them to the prison of La Grande Force, make all necessary search and requisitions for papers, set seals, and bring away everything that seems suspicious. After the seals have been affixed the citizen Braut, in the virtue of these presents, shall cause the citizen Mouchy, to be arrested wherever he shall be found, and also his wife and other suspected persons. He can moreover call for the assistance of the constitutional authorities and the armed force.

(Signed)

VADIER, PANIS,

LAVICOMTERIE, JAGOT,

DAVID, and DUBARRAT.[11]

Certified to be conformable to the warrant deposited in the clerk's office of the prison of La Force by me the undersigned.

PARIS, 5 Prairial year II.

(Signed)

S. F. RICHELOT, clerk.

EXTRACT FROM THE MINUTES OF THE CLERK'S OFFICE OF THE
REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, ESTABLISHED AT PARIS, MARCH 10, 1793.

By decision rendered the 9th Messidor, year II. of the French Republic, at a public session of the tribunal, composed of: Naulin, vice-president; Bravet, Legarnier, Launay, judges, who signed the minute, together with the clerk, upon the declaration of the jury, setting forth that Phillippe Noailles-Mouchy, and others before mentioned in the said minute are proven to have been the enemies of the people, by having been accomplices of the traitor Capet in the distribution of money employed by that tyrant to bribe refractory priests by whose aid the civil war was fomented; by seconding with all their abilities and means all the projects of the former court to overthrow liberty, crush the people, and re-establish despotism; by holding intercourse with the enemies of the Republic, for the purpose of obtaining men and money to assist in the invasion of French territory; by seeking to promote by speech and writing the degradation and dissolution of the national representation and the re-establishment of the monarchy; by assassinating patriots in the Champ de Mars, as well as by bringing about the civil war, and seeking to excite citizens against one another; and finally, by seeking by every possible means to annihilate public liberty.

It appears that the tribunal, having heard the examination by the public accuser, has, in accordance with the law, condemned to death Phillippe Noailles-Mouchy, aged seventy-nine years, born at Paris, ex-noble, ex-duke, and marshal of France, former governor of the palaces of Versailles, and Marly and of other places, living at Mouchy, in the Department of the Oise, and at Paris in the Rue de l'Université, and declared his property confiscated to the Republic.

From an indictment drawn up by Fouquier, the public accuser, on the 8th Messidor, year II., the following extract has been taken verbatim:--

Noailles-Mouchy, was the agent of Capet for the distribution of sums of money by means of which he bribed refractory priests, _émigrés_, and other accomplices of their infamous intrigues, and paid them to commit their crimes.

Extract conformable to the minute given gratis by me, the keeper of archives.

(Signed)

PERRET.

Copy of the label put upon the inkstand of Monsieur le Maréchal de Mouchy, found among his effects at the Luxembourg, and which has been returned to his relatives:--

No. 20.

_Noailles, upon whom the sword of the law_

_has rendered justice._

DIFFERENT LETTERS AND NOTES FROM MY
SISTER-IN-LAW, WRITTEN FROM THE PRISON
OF THE LUXEMBOURG.

_To Monsieur Grelet, her children's tutor, who
was like a father to them_:

I confide to the keeping of Monsieur Grelet my three children,--my two boys, and my girl. I declare that it is my most positive and express desire, in case I should come to want, that he should have charge of them. I give over to him all my rights and authority over them. I implore him to be a mother to them, and under no circumstances to allow any one to separate them from him. I authorize him to remove them from one place to another as may seem best to him,--in short, to treat my children as if they were his own. I am sure that all who care for me will most sacredly regard this my desire.

Written in the prison of the Luxembourg, this 24th Messidor, year II. of the French Republic, one and indivisible.

(Signed)

LOUISE NOAILLES, wife of NOAILLES.

_Letter of the Same to the Same._

I send you, my dear friend, a short will which I am told will be valid; I keep a copy of it in my pocket. Make the best use you can of it as well as that of my mother, communicating it to the proper persons when the time comes. God has sustained and will sustain me; I have the strongest faith in Him. Farewell, my dear friend; I shall feel grateful to you even in Heaven. Be sure of this. Farewell, Alexis, Alfred, Euphémie. Love God all your lives; cling to Him always. Pray for your father and live for his happiness. Remember your mother, and that her dearest wish for you was that you should be the children of God. I give you all my last blessing. I hope to find you again in the bosom of your Father. I shall not forget our friends, and I hope they will not forget me.

The note enclosed is for Louis. (So she called her husband.) Put it with the one you already have.

(Signed)