Events of the 21st of July, 1794
Monsieur Grelet’s Account.
It was the 21st of July, 1794 (2d Thermidor, year II.); I was on my way to the Luxembourg at half past seven o’clock in the evening, to carry to Madame de Noailles a bundle containing some wearing apparel. When I reached the lower end of the Rue de Tournon, I saw in front of the door of that prison a great mob of men and women, which made me feel very anxious. I deposited my bundle in a shop on that street where a young woman stayed who was the friend of Madame la Duchesse d’Ayen’s waiting-woman, and went on toward the prison.
When I came among the crowd I had no difficulty in discovering what was going on, particularly when I saw a great open wagon with benches fastened along the sides. I knew at once that it was there to receive the prisoners who were to be transferred to the Conciergerie to be beheaded the next day; this thought made me shiver. I had a presentiment that the ladies in whom I was interested would be among the victims. I was anxious to see the prisoners taken away, and approached the door as nearly as I possibly could. A turnkey came out, and perceiving me said, ‘Go away; they are coming.’
I did not go away. I thought it would be the last time I should ever see those ladies, and this sad thought rooted me to the spot. The turnkey went in again. A little while after the door opened and the prisoners appeared, preceded by two gendarmes. Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles was the first of the ladies to come out. She passed very near me, took my hand and pressed it affectionately. The gendarme who walked beside her assisted her to get into the wagon. Madame d’Ayen and Madame la Maréchale got in immediately after her. One of the gendarmes had seen Madame de Noailles give me her hand. Then five or six other ladies got in and as many men as it would hold. I moved away and tried to conceal myself in the crowd. Madame de Noailles still saw me, however, for the wagon had not yet started. As it would not hold all the prisoners, about fifteen of them followed on foot, escorted by gendarmes. While all the preparations for this transfer were being made, Madame de Noailles, who again recognized me, clasped her hands, made me a sign to pray and that she was praying. A moment afterward she lifted her head, and pointing with one finger to heaven she gave me her blessing. The crowd wondered to whom her gestures were addressed; and I gazed as others did, trying to act just as though they were not addressed to me. Madame de Noailles apprised her mother that I was near the wagon. Madame d’Ayen bowed and kissed her hand to me several times. I could not take any notice of this; such gestures alone would have been more than sufficient to compromise me.
At last, after half an hour spent in preparation, the wagon started and went down the Rue de Condé. I followed it as far as the Conciergerie. About midway this street, in a part of it which is very narrow, I could almost touch at the same time both the houses at the side and the wagon. Madame de Noailles, who never lost sight of me, gave me her blessing three times,—one for each of her children. I continued to follow the wagon as I would have followed the funeral procession of persons whose death was to plunge so many families into such terrible grief.
As I was crossing the Pont Neuf, the wagon being not far off and just turning round the Quai des Lunettes, a gendarme called out behind me, ‘I arrest you; I know you.’ I did not give him a chance to arrest me but ran along the Quai des Lunettes. The gendarme followed me; I ran down the Rue de Harlay, which crosses the Island of the Palace. The gendarme was far behind me crying, ‘Stop him!’ It was eight o’clock,—just the hour when the workmen were leaving their shops. They thought I was a prisoner escaping; several tried to stop me, but I kept them off with my cane. On reaching the Quai des Orfèvres I fell, and was seized by two workmen; the gendarme over-took me, and I made no further effort to escape. A man came up who said he was a justice of the peace, and inquired of the gendarme why he had arrested me. The gendarme replied that I was intriguing with the prisoners. I thought it useless to attempt to defend myself. As the gendarme was taking me to the prefecture of police, I saw some distance off Madame de Noailles and the other prisoners going into the prison of the Conciergerie.
I was put into a dungeon where there was a small window, which admitted only a few rays of light. I took advantage of this to destroy some papers which would have been sufficient to compromise me. Fortunately I preserved my carte de sûreté, which I had only had a few days. I had just torn up and destroyed the papers, part of which I swallowed, when the door opened and showed me a jailer, who ordered me in menacing tones to follow him. After having led me through some dark corridors he shut me in a very small dungeon, secured by an iron door, through which no light could penetrate. This dungeon was circular in form and extremely small. There was a stone bench against the wall. As I entered I had seen by the light of the lamp carried by the jailer something on the floor which sparkled. When the dungeon door was closed on me I was in total darkness. I felt around to find out what had occasioned the flashes of light to which I have referred. I found that they proceeded from some bits of glass which were on the edge of a very small opening made in the wall. I seated myself on the stone bench and began to reflect on my situation, on that of Mesdames de Noailles, whom I had just seen for the last time, and on that of their poor children, who were waiting for me before going to their evening meal. Then I realized all the horrors of my situation. And when I thought of all that was to take place the next day, I fell on my knees and prayed to God with all the fervour of which I was capable. I implored him to accept the sacrifice of my life in expiation of my sins; for I expected to perish the next day. But what would become of those three children? What terrible grief it would be to their mother and grandmother to see me condemned with them! ‘My God,’ I prayed, ‘have mercy on the children, have mercy on their mothers, and have mercy on me!’
I was utterly overcome by these sad reflections when the door opened with a loud noise. I rose suddenly, not knowing what might be going to happen. There was the jailer again, with his lantern, and an officer of the gendarmerie was with him. ‘Have you your carte?’ said the latter to me. I answered that I had. ‘Give it to me.’ ‘Will you allow me,’ said I, as I handed it to him, ‘to tell you what took place, and why I am here?’ ‘Yes, you may tell me.’ I related in a few words how I had happened by chance to be in front of the prison of the Luxembourg when the prisoners who were to be taken to the Conciergerie came out; that one of them, as she passed very near me, recognized me and pressed my hand, but that she did not speak a single word to me, nor did I to her; and that this was all that passed. After listening to me attentively he went away, and took my carte with him; but he had me put into more comfortable quarters.
My anxiety increased when I saw that he had carried off my carte, for it contained my address; and I was sure that they would go immediately to the Hôtel Noailles-Mouchy, on the Rue de l’Université, where my pupils Alfred and Alexis were. ‘They will search all over the Hôtel,’ said I to myself. ‘They will find the whole of my correspondence with Madame de Noailles during her imprisonment; and as there are many things in those letters which are covertly expressed, they will be sure to find in them all sorts of intrigues relative to the conspiracy of the Luxembourg, about which the Republicans and Revolutionary judges are already making so much noise.’ It is true that I had taken great care to conceal this correspondence. I had confided to Alexis the secret of the place where I had locked it up, and had charged him to put it out of sight if he should see the commissioners or any strangers coming to the Hôtel. We occupied the apartment of their father, the Vicomte de Noailles, the windows of which looked out into the street, in front of the main entrance. Though this thought somewhat reassured me, my anxiety continued, and the more so as the officer did not return, and it was now very late. I no longer doubted that he had been to pay a visit to the Hôtel Mouchy. ‘But even if he should find nothing,’ said I to myself, ‘can any one ever escape who has once fallen into their hands?’
Such was the state of my anxiety when the officer returned and said these few words which I shall never forget. ‘Here is your carte. Now go; and another time do not come so near.’ I did not wait for him to say anything more. I took my carte, my cane, and the other things which had not been left with me were returned, and I was free!
I experienced a feeling of delight at being liberated contrary to my expectation; but this sweet content was only momentary. I thought of Mesdames de Noailles, whom I had left as it were in the ante-chamber of death. I could think of nothing else; at least they would not suffer the pain of seeing me share their fate on the morrow, and of thinking that their children were left without any one to care for them. ‘Religion will come to their aid,’ I thought; ‘but what a struggle they will have to go through.’ I gave thanks to God, and implored him to come to their help in this moment so full of horror to human creatures; and still praying as I went, I reached the Hôtel Mouchy. It was eleven o’clock. The children had not gone to bed; they were waiting for me. They asked me a great many questions, and told me that they had been very much frightened when I did not return. I told them that I had had a great many things to attend to which had caused me most unwillingly to delay; that I had been very much occupied; that I could not tell them then all that had happened to me because it was too late, but that I would tell them all about it the next day. We then said our prayers together and went to bed. ‘At least,’ said I to myself, ‘they shall pass this night in peace; the next will be cruel and bitter enough.’
The next day (the 22d of July), while the children were still asleep, I went very early to the Rue des Sts. Pères, to see Père Brun, to tell him that the Mesdames de Noailles were at the Conciergerie to be tried, and would very probably be condemned to death that very day, and to beg him to keep the promise he had made me, which was to try to meet them as they passed from the prison to the extreme end of the Faubourg St. Antoine, as this was the only consolation they could now have in this world. He promised me he would not fail to be there. Whenever he could, this good priest exercised this act of charity toward the victims. He would accompany them, praying as he went, to the foot of the scaffold, and there give them the last absolution. After the deed was done he would return to his house, still praying, but with an aching heart.
Father Brun was a father of the Oratory. We had lived together at Juilly, where we had charge of the Pensioners called Minimes, because they were the youngest and the smallest. He was for a short time the curate of the parish of Juilly. Madame la Vicomtesse de Noailles, whose children, Alexis and Alfred, were in our hall, had corresponded with him for almost a year. She had great confidence in him, and he deserved it on account of his piety and his tender care of her children.
I returned to the Hôtel Mouchy. It was almost six o’clock. I awakened the children, and told them that we were going to see their sister Euphémie at St. Mandé, which pleased them very much. They never suspected the terrible tidings I had to tell them till we came to the end of our walk.13
Notes
13. A copy of this account was sent, May 21, 1850, to Madame la Marquise de Vérac by Monsieur Gérin, Monsieur Grelet’s testamentary executor, and was declared by him to agree in every respect with the original from the hand of Monsieur Grelet.