LETTER FROM MADAME LA DUCHESSE
DE DURAS, Née NOAILLES,
TO MONSIEUR GRELET.
Be of good courage and He shall strengthen your heart,
all ye that hope in the Lord.—Ps. xxxi. 24.
How much you need to apply these sacred words to yourself in the trying situation in which Providence has placed you! We have already tested your courage in a most wonderful way; it will not fail you, because it rests on the law of God, and in him alone you have put your trust. What would the father and mother of these unfortunate children feel if you should abandon them? But what am I saying? They will deserve the continuation of your tender cares on account of their sweetness and perfect obedience. I love to believe that they will inherit some of the virtues of the angel whom we mourn. That lovely mother opened her pure heart to you; you should inculcate in her children all that she valued, all that she felt. She regarded you as their brother, and treated you as such. It is as a sister, and also one who shared her confidence, that I am now speaking to you; for I am not sure of having an opportunity of telling you with my lips all I think. If Heaven spares my life it will be a precious moment to me (who could imagine one more so?) when I find myself once more with you and them, talking together of our dear lost ones, and encouraging one another to profit by their admirable examples. We will say to them, 'Be Christians and you will be faithful to every duty; study human sciences, because they will help you to be useful to humanity; but above all, and before everything else, be good.'
I think it is necessary that they should know perfectly well how to calculate, etc.
I have given up everything; I have ceased to think of anything earthly, and keep my mind fixed upon heaven. I must close. I am, perhaps, speaking to you for the last time. I know not what Providence has in store for me; but whatever it may be I shall never cease to remember the debt I owe you, which can only be equalled by my confidence in you.
EXTRACT FROM THE 'MÉMORIAL EUROPÉEN,' APRIL 24, 1809.
Near the old village of Picpus, now a part of the Faubourg St. Antoine, under the walls of the garden which belonged to the canoness of St. Augustine, in a bit of ground not more than thirty feet in length, repose thirteen hundred and fifteen victims beheaded at the Barrière du Throne between the 26th Prairial and the 9th Thermidor in the second year of the Republic.