Then Lady Atkyns had an idea. Why should she not go in person to Paris and try her chance? Probably the surveillance which had been so rigorously kept over the King would be far less severe for the Queen. And one might profit by the relative tranquillity, and manage to get into the Temple, and then—who could tell what one might not devise in the way of carrying the Queen off, or of substituting some one else for her? She never thought of all the dangers around her, and of the enormously increased difficulties in the path for a foreign lady who knew only a little French. Peltier, to whom she confided her plan, tried to dissuade her.
“You will hardly have arrived before innumerable embarrassments will crop up; if you leave your hotel three times in the day, or if you see the same person thrice, you will become a suspect.”
But his friend’s persistence ended by half convincing him, and he admitted that the moment was relatively favourable, and that it was well to take advantage of it, if she wished to attempt anything.
Unluckily, things were moving terribly fast in Paris. There came the days of May 31 and June 2, the efforts of the sections against the Commune, civil war let loose. In the midst of this storm, Lady Atkyns feared that the whole affair might come to nought; her arrangements, moreover, were not completed. Money, which can do so much, decide so much, and which had already proved so powerful—money, perhaps, was not sufficiently forthcoming. Suddenly there is a rumour that a conspiracy to favour the Queen’s escape has been discovered. Two members of the Commune, Lepitre and Toulan, who had been won over to the cause by a Royalist, the Chevalier de Jarjays, had almost succeeded in carrying out their scheme, when the irresolution of one of them had ruined everything; nevertheless, they were denounced.[44] Public attention, which had been averted for a moment, now was fixed again upon the Temple Prison.
And the days go by, and Lady Atkyns sees no chance of starting on her enterprise.
We come here to an episode in her life which seems to be enveloped in mystery. One fact is proved, namely, that Lady Atkyns succeeded in reaching Marie Antoinette, disguised, and at the price of a large sum of money. But when did this take place? Was the Queen still at the Temple, or was it after she had been taken to the Conciergerie? The most reliable witnesses we have—and they are two of Lady Atkyns’ confidants—seem to contradict one another.[45] A careful weighing of testimony and an attentive study of the letters which Lady Atkyns received at this time lead us to conclude, with much probability, that the attempt was made after the Queen had been transferred to the Conciergerie; that is to say, after August 2, 1793.[46]
Some days before this Peltier had again brought her to give up her resolve, assuring her that she was vainly exposing herself to risk—
“If you wish to be useful to that family, you can only be so by directing operations from here (instead of going there to get guillotined), and by making those sacrifices which you have already resolved to make.”
It was of no use. The brave lady listened only to her heart’s promptings, and set out for Paris. If we are to believe her friend, the Countess MacNamara[47]—and her testimony is valuable—she succeeded in winning over a municipal official, who consented to open the doors of the Conciergerie for her, on the condition that no word should be exchanged between her and the Royal prisoner. Moreover, the foreign lady must wear the uniform of a National Guard. It was Drury Lane over again! She promised everything, and was to content herself with offering a bouquet to the Queen; but under the stress of the intense emotion she experienced on meeting once more the eyes of the lady whom she had not seen since the days at Versailles, she let fall a note which she held, and which was to have been put into the Queen’s hand with the bouquet. The Municipal officer was about to take possession of it, but, more prompt than he, Lady Atkyns rushed forward, picked it up, and swallowed it. She was turned out brutally. Such was the result of the interview. But the English lady did not stop there. By more and more promises and proceedings, by literally strewing her path with gold, she bought over fresh allies, and this time she obtained the privilege of spending an hour alone with the Queen—at what a price may be imagined! It is said that she had to pay a thousand louis for that single hour. Her plan was this: to change clothes with the Queen, who would then leave the Conciergerie instead of her. But she met with an obstinate refusal. Marie-Antoinette would not, under any pretext, sacrifice the life of another, and to abandon her imprisoned children was equally impossible to her. But what emotion she must have felt at the sight of such a love, so simple, so whole-hearted, and so pure! She could but thank her friend with tearful eyes and commend her son, the Dauphin, to that friends tender solicitude. She also gave her some letters for her friends in England.[48]
On leaving the Conciergerie, one thought filled the mind of Lady Atkyns: she would do for the son what she had not been able to do for the mother—she would drag the little Dauphin out of the Temple Prison.