LETTER OF THE QUEEN TO LOUIS XVI. (VOUCHER, No. 17.) «SIRE, "Although you generally reward with refusals the services of those, who devote themselves to your cause, yet, the interest of your preservation, which is paramount to every other consideration in their eyes, has determined them to make a last attempt. It is no longer expected to lead us in triumph from this horrid dungeon to be again seated on the throne; time and disasters have frustrated, or at least, obscured this flattering prospect. It is enough now to aspire at liberty. It is I presume a sufficient blessing to induce you to surmount the reluctance, which you shew to accept the services of your faithful subjects. If you need stronger motives to determine your wavering mind, I should adduce the love of your wife, the heroism of your own sister, the tenderness of your children, our sufferings, at least, and our humiliation more intolerable than our sufferings. Will so many sacrifices, endured for your sake, be too highly rewarded by an act of condescension ? "I cannot express myself more intelligibly, perhaps you will soon receive farther information; but whatever may be the event, however great the danger, keep up your spirits, were you at the foot of the scaffold, learn, that your friends will be there also, ready to die to redeem your life. Prepare, sire, to second their efforts vigorously." This piece of intelligence, said Louis to me, whilst I copied this letter, troubles me. I revolt at the idea of conspiring; I cannot help apprehending the preparation and the results. More blood spilt! expiring men !.....civil war enkindled !.....All that frightens me, kills me!..... Yet my wife pines.....my family solicits..... they suffer for my sake!....Ah! I must yield for theirs. January 15th. morning. The nominal appeal was called for on this question; Is LOUIS GUILTY? Yesterday a piece was represented at the French theatre; entitled, The friend of the laws; it is re plete with allusions to the democratical party, and the sufferings of the king. The portraits of Robespierre and Marat bear an odious resemblance. The people crowd the theatre, and this performance has become an affair of state. On the other side, the suburbs under a contrary impulsion, loudly call for the head of Louis, who is charged with all the public disasters. How dangerous it is in revolutions to be a noted character! The nominal appeal is concluded. Louis is unanimously pronounced GUILTY. I am chilled with horror while I trace this word, for there are in the convention men possessed of enlightened minds, and generous and feeling hearts. How then have they been able to find guilty the man, whom I thought, and still think INNOCENT? It is because they have only judged of results, and have not, like myself, seen openly the conscience of the accused, and there, discovered his upright intentions. January 15th. evening. This morning I cherished the hope, what do I say, I felt certain, that the king would not be pronounced guilty, and that, if the convention saw fit to continue his confinement, or to decree his exile, it would merely be a measure of public safety, without determining the question, which deceney and policy ought not to have decided. My calcu lations were vain, my hopes vanished. My heart cherished another expectation in the appeal to the people, a dexterous manoeuvre of the Gironde to save the king from the scaffold, and to guard their own breasts from the daggers of Philip. Courageous probity observes a different line of conduct, I know; but are there many men resolute enough to do justice with the knife at their throat? Things besides have arrived at that pitch, that we ought to thank individuals for abstaining from mischief. Finally, the appeal to the people would have saved the king's life, and reinstated his honour, if, however, the honour, I will not say of a king, but of a man, can be implicated, when hunted down by accusing and inimical passions. This last resource is sequestered from the trial and fate of the unfortunate prince. The appeal to the people is rejected. History will examine whether the vote of each representative was freely given, whether it was the voice of their conscience, or whether, pronouncing in the presence of Philip, who threatened them before the awful mountain in a roar, the fatal vote was not the result of seduction or fear. Be it as it may, should the king be condemned to exile or perpetual imprisonment, we ought, considering the principles of the present legislature, to look upon this decree as a favour, since the first decision implies a capital punishment. Jan. 16th.& 17th. They are deliberating on Louis' life. In vain I say to myself, Louis is but a man ; this awful moment, in which they determine whether his name shall continue on, or be erased from the list of the living, recals to my mind his past greatness. Through an illusion, which the heart alone can appreciate, which reason rejects, it seems to me that nature takes the alarm, that the sky is wrapped in crape, and the scene shaded with the sable veil of mourning. As I stagger through the streets, I meet, at every step, pale countenances; silence and fright reign sovereignly. I penetrate into the hall of the convention, where the fate of the man, once a king, is about to be decided. In the tenfold rank of the judges, I fancy, that I discover death with a bloody pen stalking through the hall, to record their votes. What a solemn and awful silence! It is only interrupted by the |