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Grace Elliott

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Journal of My Life during the French Revolution is the story of Grace Elliott, a Scottish woman living in Paris during the Revolution. She was arrested and ordered to death, but saved by Robespierre.

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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

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JOURNAL OF MY LIFE DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

..................

Grace Elliott

LACONIA PUBLISHERS

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Copyright © 2016 by Grace Elliott

Interior design by Pronoun

Distribution by Pronoun

TABLE OF CONTENTS

JOURNAL

PREFACE.

CHAPTER I.: OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION.

CHAPTER II.: Conversations with the Duke of Orleans—Sketch of Marie-Antoinette—Unpopularity of the Duke of Orleans with the Court—He visits England—The Netherland Revolutionists—My Passport stopped—Colonel Gardiner, English Minister at Brussels—Goss insult offered to the British Government—Interview with the Belgian Revolutionary Leaders—Infamous Conduct of Capuchin Priests—My Return to Paris—The Festival of the Federation at the Champ-de-Mars—Louis XVI.—Marie-Antoinette—Talleyrand—The Duke of Orleans daily drifting into the hands of the most violent Revolutionists—Conversations with the Duke—Marie-Antoinette visits my House and Gardens—Intrusted with a Commission by Marie-Antoinette—The Chevaliers de la Poignard—A Leader wanted for the Royalists.

CHAPTER III.: Conduct of Monsieur, since Louis XVIII.—Gentleness of Louis XVI.—Royal Family escape to Varennes—Brought back to Paris—Their brutal treatment by the Mob—Position of the Duke of Orleans—His disposition—He joins the Army—The Mob break into the Tuileries, and insult the King—Marie-Antoinette’s last appearance in public—The 10th of August—My Flight to Meudon—Return to Paris—Adventures—Murder of the Swiss Guards—Extraordinary escape of Marquis de Chansenets.

CHAPTER IV.: The Princess Lamballe’s Murder—Incidents in the Escape of the Marquis de Chansenets—My Adventures in aiding him—Domestic Spies—Terror during Domiciliary Visit—Interview and Conversation with the Duke of Orleans—The Duke procures the escape of the Marquis to England.

CHAPTER V.: The Murder of Louis XVI—The Duke of Orleans promises not to vote—Visit of the Duke of Orleans and the Duc de Biron to me—Conversation relative to the death of the King—The Duke of Orleans breaks his solemn promise—Anecdote of an attached Servant of the King—General Terror—My Illness; the Duke sends to me—Anxious to get away to England—The Duke unable to assist me—I upbraid him for his conduct in voting for the King’s Death—His Defence—The Countess de Perigord’s horror for her situation; begs my aid to get away—Monsieur de Malesherbes—Another Domiciliary Visit—Madame de Perigord concealed in a Closet—Melancholy position of the Duke of Orleans—I am arrested.

CHAPTER VI.: Taken to the Guard-room, where I pass the night—Walked between Soldiers to the Mairie to be examined—The Duchesse de Grammont and the Duchesse du Chatelet before the Mairie also—Their miserable Pate—Frightful Scenes at the Feuillants—Encounter the Duke of Orleans there—My examination and alarm—Brutality of Chabot, the Capuchin—Civility of Vergniaud—Letter of Sir Godfrey Webster—I am allowed to depart, but stopped by Chabot—The Duke of Orleans arrested, with the Comte de Beaujolais—Affecting Scene between the Duc de Biron and the Comte de Montpensier—The Duc de Biron sent to St. Pelagie—Madame de Perigord leaves her Children with me—I am sent to St. Pelagie—Meet Madame Du Barri—Her Violence at her Execution—Fatal Letter of Mr. Vernon—I am released.

CHAPTER VII.: My Flight on being warned that I am to be arrested—Incidents of my Flight—Reach Meudon—I am pursued and sent to the Prison of the Recollets, at Versailles—Brutality of the Section—A Condemned Jew—Dr. Gem imprisoned in the same room with me—Our miserable Food—I procure the discharge of Dr. Gem—Deprived of everything—And pray for Death—Brutality of Gaoler—Young Samson, the Executioner—The Queen’s Death.

CHAPTER VIII.: Death of the Duke of Orleans—Melancholy feelings on the Event—Nothing found among his Papers concerning me—Crasseau the Deputy—His Brutality to me—Imprisoned in the Queen’s Stables—The Prisoners from Nantes—Conveyed to Paris—Insulted by the way—General Hoche—Madame Beauharnais—Madame Custine—The Marquis de Beauharnais is sent to the same Prison—Affecting parting between the Count de Custine and his Wife—The Reign of Terror—Santerre—I am released.

JOURNAL

..................

OF MY LIFE DURING

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

BY GRACE DALRYMPLE ELLIOTT.

PREFACE.

..................

THE FOLLOWING NARRATIVE OF THE Life of Mrs. Dalrymple Elliott, during some of the most eventful scenes of the great French Revolution, was composed at the express desire of his Majesty King George the Third. Mr. (afterwards Sir David) Dundas, physician to the king, was also Mrs. Elliott’s medical attendant; and was in the habit of relating, during his visits to the Royal Family, some of the incidents and anecdotes which that lady had communicated to him at various times, in the course of conversation. The King became so much interested that he desired Mr. Dundas to request Mrs. Elliott to commit to paper the story of her Life in Paris, and to send it to him. With this intimation she readily complied, and accordingly the narrative was conveyed by Mr. Dundas to Windsor, sheet by sheet as it was written by her during her residence at Twickenham, after her return from France, at the Peace of Amiens, in 1801.

Of her previous history Mrs. Dalrymple Elliott has left no record; but the Editor has gleaned a few facts relative to her birth and earlier years from those who knew her intimately during her residence in England, at the period when she drew up the following narrative, which may be interesting to the reader. She is represented as a lady eminently gifted by nature with beauty of person, and grace and elegance of manners; and she was wont to attract the admiration of all who approached her, while she conciliated the regard and affection of those who were more intimately acquainted with her.

Grace Dalrymple, the youngest of three daughters of Hew Dalrymple, Esq., a branch of, and next in succession to, the noble family of Stair, was born in Scotland, about 1765. Her father, a barrister, established his reputation by gaining for the plaintiff the celebrated Douglas and Hamilton cause, which Horace Walpole notices as one of the most remarkable of that period. He was afterwards appointed Attorney-General to the Grenadas. He deserted his wife, a woman of remarkable beauty, a daughter of an officer in the army, who returned to her father’s house, which she never afterwards quitted, and where she gave birth to this her youngest daughter, Grace Dalrymple. This child was afterwards sent for her education to a convent, in France, where she remained for some years, being withdrawn when she was about the age of fifteen, and brought to her father’s house. At that time it was not the custom, as in these later days, for young persons to mix in evening festivities; but at one of the suppers given at her father’s house, Miss Dalrymple was introduced. On this occasion, Sir John Elliott was present, a man older than her father; who was so struck with her beauty that he made her an offer of marriage, which was accepted by her with the same inconsiderate haste with which it was proffered. Such an unsuitable and ill-assorted marriage, as might naturally be supposed, was productive of nothing but unhappiness. There was such a total dissimilarity of tastes, as well as of age, that there never existed any affection between them.

Grace Dalrymple, now Mrs. Elliott, mixed much in general society; and being so exquisitely lovely, very soon found admirers amongst those more suited to her age. In an evil hour for her, she unhappily became entangled in an intrigue; and her husband, after some indecent treatment, resorted to a court of law at once to procure a divorce, and to punish the author of their mutual wrongs. The first object was easily obtained, while the second resulted in a verdict of 12,000l. damages. In the mean time her brother removed her to a convent in France, assigning as a reason for the course which had been adopted, that the lady was about to contract an unsuitable mar-

Here Mrs. Elliott remained until she was brought over to England by Lord Cholmondeley. She was subsequently introduced to the Prince of Wales, who had been struck with the exquisite beauty of her portrait, which he had accidentally seen at Houghton. So celebrated was she for her personal charms that there are several portraits of her by eminent painters still in existence, among others, one by Cosway, which embellishes this volume, another, by Gainsborough, at Lord Cholmondeley’s.

The young Prince was immediately fascinated with her beauty, and a most intimate connexion succeeded. The result was the birth of a female child, who was christened at Marylebone church, under the names of Georgiana Augusta Frederica Seymour,—Lord Cholmondeley and one or two other persons only being present. While Mrs. Elliott remained with the Prince, she of course mingled in the brilliant society about him, and among many other persons of distraction became acquainted with the ill-fated Duke of Orleans, afterwards known as Philippe Egalite, so often mentioned in her memoirs. His fondness for England, its people, and its institutions was well known, and at that time he was popular here, especially in sporting society.

We cannot ascertain with certainty when Mrs. Elliott again left England to reside in Paris; but probably it was about the year 1786. Her little daughter was left in charge of Lord and Lady Cholmondeley, but was occasionally permitted to visit her mother at Paris. On these occasions she was always accompanied by a nurse and a footman of Lord Cholmondeley’s; but she never resided any length of time with her mother. The Prince of Wales, it is said, made Mrs. Elliott a handsome allowance, and she derived 200l. a year also from her husband’s family. With these few prefatory remarks we now leave her to tell her own interesting story.

MY LIFE

DURING

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

CHAPTER I.

..................

OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION.

IN THE YEAR 1789, JULY the 12th, which was on a Sunday, I went, with the Duke of Orleans, Prince Louis D’Aremberg, and others whose names I do not recollect, to fish and dine at the Duke’s château of Raincy, in the Forest of Bondy, near Paris. We returned to Paris in the evening, meaning to go to the Comédie Italienne. We had left Paris at eleven o’clock in perfect tranquillity; but on our return at eight o’clock, at the Porte St. Martin (where the Duke’s town-carriage was waiting for him, and my carriage for me), my servant told me that I could not go to the play, as the theatres were all shut by orders from the police; that Paris was all in confusion and tumult; that the Prince de Lambesc had entered the gardens of the Tuileries, and put all the people to flight; that he had killed an old man [not true]; that the French Guards and the regiment Royal Allemagne (which was the Prince of Lambesc’s own regiment), were at that moment fighting on the Boulevards of the Chaussée D’Antin, opposite the depot of the French Guards; that many cavaliers and horses had been killed; and that the mob were carrying about the streets the busts of the Duke of Orleans and of Necker, crying, “Vive le Duc d’ Orleans! Vive Necker!”

When my servant had given me this information, I begged the Duke not to go into Paris in his own carriage, as I thought it would be very imprudent for him to appear in the streets at such a moment; and I offered him my carriage. On hearing of the events in Paris he seemed much surprised and shocked; he told me that he hoped it would be nothing, and that my servant, through fear, must have exaggerated the events. I thought that the Duke meant to show himself to the mob, and really had projects to make a party had he done so, but I never saw more unfeigned surprise than his when he heard that Paris was in such a situation. He then got into my carriage, and begged me to set him down at the Salon des Princes, a club frequented by all the nobility, and where he said he should meet people who would tell him the news. When we got to the club, however, it was also shut by a police order, as was every other club in Paris. We then ordered my coachman to drive to the Duke’s house at Monceau, but as the troops were actually at that moment fighting on the Boulevards, and the ground was covered with dead and wounded men and horses, we were obliged to go by the Carrousel, and along the Tuileries garden-wall to the Place Louis Quinze, which we found full of troops, both horse and foot. They were commanded by the Mareschal de Broglie, and had been for some days before encamped in the Park of St. Cloud, and had marched into Paris that evening.

I never in my life shall forget the awful but beautiful appearance the Place Louis Quinze presented at that moment. The troops were under arms, and the silence was so great that if a pin had fallen it might have been heard. They allowed no carriages to pass without the name of the person being given. I gave mine, and my horses were conducted through the ranks of cavalry at a foot’s pace. They had no idea that the Duke of Orleans was in my carriage. We went directly to the Duke’s house at Monceau. By this time it was about a quarter past nine o’clock.

On the Duke’s arrival he found his servants in the greatest confusion and uneasiness, as nobody knew at the Palais Royal where he was gone; and a report had been circulated in Paris that day that he had been put into the Bastille, and beheaded by the King’s orders. They told him that all his friends and the Princes of the Blood had been at the Palais Royal and at Monceau to inquire about him; and that they were in the greatest consternation and anxiety. He, however, ordered his Suisse to let nobody see him that night except the Duc de Biron; that he would sleep at Monceau, but that if Madame de Buffon came he would see her. I asked him “what he meant to do?” He said that he was very undecided, but that he should like to know what really was going on in Paris, and what they were doing, although by this time his own people had confirmed what my servant had said. He wished Prince Louis D’Aremberg could see the Duc de Biron; that he then would hear something more, which would decide his conduct for that night.

Carriages were not allowed to pass through the streets of Paris after ten o’clock. As the Duke wished to be alone, I went with Prince Louis to the Duc de Biron’s on foot. We saw many groups assembled in all the streets near the Tuileries and Place Louis Quinze. I was very anxious about the Duke’s situation, and wished much to know the public opinion about him; we therefore mixed in the groups, and of course heard different sides of the question: some were very violent in the Duke’s favour, others as violent against him, these latter accusing him of wanting to dethrone the King.

This accusation shocked me so much, that I returned directly to Monceau, and told him of what horrors they accused him. I found Madame de Buffon with him, and as her politics and mine were very different, I called the Duke into the garden, and we walked there till two o’clock. I entreated him on my knees to go directly to Versailles, and not to leave the King whilst Paris was in such a state of tumult; and by that conduct to show the King that the mob made use of his name without his knowledge or consent, and to express how shocked he was at what was going on, which I really thought he was. He said that “he could not go at so late an hour; that he had heard that the avenues were guarded, and that the King would be in bed, and could not be seen at that hour,” but he gave me his word of honour that he would go at seven o’clock in the morning.

We did not find the Duc de Biron, nor did the Duke of Orleans see him that night. He had gone to Versailles in the evening, thinking to find the Duke there, or to hear of him, as he had a house in the Avenues, besides his apartments in the Palace, as first Prince of the Blood. I then went home, my house being near his; and I heard in the morning that the Duke had gone to Versailles.

On the Monday the Comte D’Artois, the Prince of Condé, and the Duke of Bourbon made their escape. They did perfectly right, for they certainly would have been murdered; but they did not at that moment mean or expect, perhaps, to leave their country for ever.

All that day, which was the 13th July, Paris was a scene of riot and horror. The murder of Messrs. De Foulon and Flesselles, Prevôts des Marchands, is too well known for me to relate. I was unfortunate enough to try to go to my jeweller’s that evening, and I met in the Rue St. Honoré the soldiers of the French Guards carrying Monsieur de Foulon’s head by the light of flambeaux. They thrust the head into my carriage: at the horrid sight I screamed and fainted away, and had I not had an English lady with me, who had courage enough to harangue the mob, and to say that I was an English patriot, they certainly would have murdered me; for they began to accuse me of being one of poor Foulon’s friends, and of wishing the people to live on hay, of which they had accused him. I did not attempt to go further, but returned home almost dead. I was put to bed and bled, and indeed was very ill.

I soon afterwards received a note from the Duke of Orleans, begging me to go to him directly at Monceau, but I sent to the Duke telling him my situation. He came to me immediately, and was much alarmed to see me so ill. I asked him how he had been received at Versailles? and why he had returned so soon, as the States were then at Versailles in the Jeu de Paume, and he had apartments in the Château? He told me that on his arrival, he went directly to the King’s levée, who was just getting up. The King took no notice of him; but as it was the custom for the first Prince of the Blood to give the King his shirt when he was present, the gentilhomme de la chambre gave the shirt to the Duke of Orleans to put over the King’s head. The Duke approached the King, who asked him “what he wanted?” The Duke, in passing the shirt, said, “I come to take your Majesty’s commands.” The King answered him, with great harshness, “I want nothing of you—return from whence you came.” The Duke was very much hurt and very angry; and, leaving the room, went to the States, which I think were then sitting in the Jeu de Paume; and he returned to Paris at night.

He was much more out of humour than I had ever seen him. He said, that “the King and Queen disliked him, and that they would endeavour to poison him; that if he wished ever so much to be of use to the King and Queen, they never would believe him to be sincere; and that he never would go near them again, for he thought himself very cruelly used, as he really meant to be of use to the King; and had he been well received when he went to the levée, things might have been better for all parties, but now he should make friends of his own.”

From that very instant, indeed, I thought the Duke became more violent in politics; and although I never heard him speak with disrespect of the King, I certainly have heard him very, very violent against the Queen. I am very sorry: the Court should have considered the Duke’s power, and been more cautious how it offended him, for I am certain that at that moment, had they treated him with consideration, and shown him more confidence, they might have withdrawn him from the horrible creatures who surrounded him—Talleyrand, Mirabeau, the Duc de Biron, the Viscount de Noailles, the Comte de la Mark, and others of less note. These were the first who dragged the Duke of Orleans into all the horrors of the Revolution, though many of them forsook him when they saw that he was unfit for their projects. They left him, however, in worse hands than their own; surrounded him with monsters such as Laclos, Merlin de Douay, and others, who never left him till they had plunged him in dishonour, and led him to the scaffold.

The Viscount de Noailles told me himself, that it was he who introduced that monster Laclos to the Duke, and that he had recommended him as his secretary. This man was the cause of all the crimes which the Orleanist faction has been supposed to commit; and I am certain that the Duke knew little of what was going on in his name.

The Duke was a man of pleasure, who never could bear trouble or business of any kind; who never read or did anything but amuse himself. At that moment he was very madly in love with Madame de Buffon, driving her about all day in a curricle, and at all the spectacles in the evening; therefore he could not possibly be planning conspiracies. Indeed, the Duke’s misfortune was to have been surrounded by ambitious men, who led him to their purpose by degrees, representing everything to him in a favourable light, and hurrying him on till he was so much in their power that he could not recede. Then they threatened to leave him, if he did not consent to their measures.