The documents in question were those which Peltier had alluded to, some days before, in a letter to Lady Atkyns: “I heard to-day that there was some one in Paris who had all the plans that you want in the greatest detail;”[41] and at the end of the month he returned to the subject—
“I am expecting, too, a most exact plan of the Temple Prison, taken in November; and not only of the Temple, but also of the caves that lie under the tower—caves that are not generally known of, and which were used from time immemorial for the burial of the ancient Templars. I know a place where the wall is only eighteen inches thick, and debouches on the next street.”
It becomes evident that Peltier and Lady Atkyns, almost abandoning any hope of saving the King, whose situation appeared to them to be desperate, now brought all their efforts to bear upon the other prisoners of the Temple.
“If His Majesty persists in his reluctance to be rescued from prison, at least we may still save his poor son from the assassins’ knives. A well-informed man told me, the day before yesterday, when we were talking of this deplorable business, that people were to be found in Paris ready, for a little money, to carry off the Dauphin. They would bring him out of the Temple in a basket, or else disguised in some way.... I believe that to save the son is to save the father also. For, after all, this poor child cannot be made the pretext for any sort of trial, and as the Crown belongs to him by law on his father’s death, I believe that they would keep the latter alive, if it were only to checkmate those who would rally round the Dauphin. But, in the interval, things may have time to alter, and circumstances may at last bring about a happy change in this disastrous state of things.”
The month of December went by in this painful state of suspense. What anxiety must have fretted the heart of the poor lady, as she daily followed in the Gazette the course of the Royal Trial! On New Year’s Day she had some further words of encouragement from her friend in London. All was not lost; Louis XVI. could still reckon, even in the heart of Paris, upon many brave fellows who would not desert him; and besides, what about the fatal consequences that would follow on the crime of regicide? The Members of Convention would never dare—never....
Fifteen days later comes another missive; and this time but little hope is left. The “Little Baron”—this was what they called d’Auerweck—was not being idle. Peltier had made an opportunity for him of seeing De Sèze, the King’s counsel.
“This latter ought to know for certain whether the King does or does not intend to await his sentence or to expose himself to the hazards of another flight; but there seems to be very little chance of his consenting to it. Whatever happens” (added Peltier), “your desires and your efforts, madam, will not be wasted, either for yourself or for history. I possess, in your correspondence, a monument of courage and devotion which will endure longer than London Bridge.... A trusty messenger who starts to-morrow for Paris affords me a means of opening my mind to De Sèze for the third time.”
But it was too late. On January 15 the nominal appeal upon the thirty-three questions presented to the Members of Convention had been commenced; two days later the capital sentence was voted by a majority of fifty-three.
On January 21, at the hour when the guillotine had just done its work, the following laconic note reached Ketteringham to say that all was over:—
“My honoured friend, all we can do now is to weep. The crime is consummated. Judgment of death was pronounced on Thursday evening. D’Orleans voted for it, and he is to be made Protector. We have nothing now to look forward to but revenge; and our revenge shall be terrible.”