On the ninth of November, 1794, a second jailer arrived—a man named Gomin, who, like Laurent, was kind and tender-hearted. It was settled between them that they should share the same room, an arrangement which suited Laurent very well, since it gave him more freedom; and both men exerted themselves to make their little captive’s dull days as cheerful as possible. They would have done even more for him had they not been restrained by the presence of a deputy, who was required to share their guard over the Dauphin. These deputies were frequently changed. If the choice of their superiors happened to fall on a man who was friendly and obliging, Laurent and Gomin could usually obtain small favors from him. Thus, on the third day after his arrival in the Temple, Gomin made use of the good-will of a deputy named Bresson to obtain for the Prince four plants in pots, all in full bloom. The sight of these flowers was a most wonderful surprise to the poor child, and his eyes filled with tears of joy and happiness. He went around and around them, as if intoxicated with delight, clasped them in his arms, and inhaled their fragrance. He devoured them with his eyes, examined every blossom, and finally picked one. Then he looked at Gomin with a troubled expression; an innocent, childish memory trembled in his heart. He thought of his mother! Alas, poor child! For her no more should earthly flowers bloom, nor wert thou ever to be permitted to lay a blossom on her grave!
Soon after this, a deputy named Delboy came to the Temple. He was coarse and uncouth in appearance, and had a gruff, harsh voice. With an air of brutality, he opened all the prison doors, and behaved in a rude and boorish manner; but under this rough exterior was concealed a softness of heart and highmindedness that greatly surprised the little prisoner.
“Why this miserable food?” he said one day, glancing at the Dauphin’s scanty meal. “If he were in the Tuileries, we might question what he had to eat—but here in our hands! We should be merciful to him; the nation is magnanimous! What are these shutters for? Under the government of the people, the sun shines for all, and this child is entitled to his share of it. Why should a brother be prevented from seeing his sister? Our watchword is fraternity!”
The Prince gazed at him in open-eyed astonishment, and followed every movement of this rough stranger, whose friendly words were such a contrast to his forbidding aspect.
“Is it not so, my boy,” continued the deputy; “would you not be very happy if you could play with your sister? I do not see why the nation should remember your origin if you forget it.”
Then, turning to Laurent and Gomin, he added: “It is not his fault that he is the son of a King. He is only a child—an unfortunate one, too—and should not be treated so harshly. He is, at least, a human being; and is not France the mother of all her children?”
After his departure, Gomin hastened to procure more comforts for the Prince, and took pains to see that he had a light in his room at night, for which the poor child was very grateful. He was not allowed to see his sister, Marie Thérèse, however, as the government had strictly forbidden it. But all the care and attention of his jailers could not save him from being attacked by a bad fever, and unfortunately the deputies were not all so considerate as the rough but kindly Delboy. Some of them terrified him by harsh threats and insults, which by no means improved his condition. One man, named Careaux, to whom Gomin applied for permission to send for a physician for the sick child, had the heartless insolence to reply:
“Pah! never mind him. There are plenty of children dying all the time who are of more consequence than he!”
A day or two afterward, Gomin was painfully surprised to hear the poor boy, muttering to himself, repeat the words, “Many children die who are of more consequence!” and from this time he sank into a state of the deepest melancholy and failed rapidly. It was with difficulty that Gomin could induce him to go up to the roof of the Tower, even when he had the strength; and soon, indeed, his feet could no longer support him, and his jailers were obliged to carry him up in their arms. The disease made such terrible progress in a few days that the government finally felt it necessary to send a deputation to the Temple to inquire into the condition of the prisoner. Nothing came of it, however. No physician was summoned, no remedies applied, and the Dauphin was left to sink slowly into the grave. It was plain that his death had been determined on by the government, and disease was allowed to finish the work which that unspeakable wretch, the cobbler Simon, had begun so well.
Gomin still had hope, nevertheless, and used every means in his power to add to the child’s small pleasures and recreations. He found some books, which the Prince read eagerly; and, through an acquaintance named Debierne, obtained a turtle-dove for him, but it did not live long. They often played draughts together; the Prince did not understand the game very well, but the kind-hearted jailer always contrived to let his small opponent win. Shuttlecock, too, was a favorite amusement when the child’s strength permitted, and at this he proved very skilful. His eye was sure, his hand quick, and he always rested the left one lightly on his hip while the right was busy with the battledore.