Eleven days later Marie-Antoinette underwent a preliminary examination at the bar of the Revolutionary Tribunal. The suit was heard quickly, and there were no delays. Of the seven witnesses called, the last, Hébert, dared to bring the most infamous accusations against her, to which the accused replied only by a disdainful silence. Then came the official speeches of Chaveau-Lagarde and of Tronson-Ducoudray—a mere matter of form, for the “Austrian woman” was irrevocably doomed.
On the third day, October 16, at 4.30 a.m., in the smoky hall of the Tribunal, by the vague light of dawn, the jury gave their verdict, “Guilty”; and sentence of death was immediately pronounced. Just on eleven o’clock the cart entered the courtyard of the Conciergerie Prison, the Queen ascended, and, after the oft-described journey, reached the Place de la Revolution. At a quarter past twelve the knife fell upon her neck.
All was over this time—all the wondrous hopes, the last, long-cherished illusions of Lady Atkyns. The poor lady heard of the terrible ending from Peltier. Her friend’s letter was one cry of rage and despair, more piercing even than that of January 21.
“It has killed me. I can see your anguish from here, and it doubles my own. My anger consumes me. I have not even the relief of tears; I cannot shed one. I abjure for ever the name of Frenchman. I wish I could forget their language. I am in despair; I know not what I do, or say, or write. O God! What barbarity, what horror, what evils are with us, and what miseries are still to come! I dare not go to you. Adieu, brave, unhappy lady!”[51]
Many tears must have fallen on that treasured sheet. And still, to this day, traced by Lady Atkyns’ hand, one can read on it these words: “Written after the murder of the Queen of France.”
Were all her efforts, then, irremediably wasted? She refused to believe it. And at that moment two fresh actors appeared on the scene, whose help she could utilize. From the friendship of one, the Chevalier de Frotté (who came to London just then), she could confidently hope for devoted aid. The other, a stranger to her until then, and only recently landed from the Continent, was destined to become one of the principal actors in the game that was now to be played.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] Albert Sorel, L’Europe et la Revolution Française, vol. ii. p. 382.
[30] Forneron, Histoire Générale des Émigrés, Paris, 1884, vol. ii. p. 50.
[31] Abbé de Lubersac, Journal historique et réligieux, de l’émigration et déportation du clergé de France en Angleterre, dedicated to His Majesty the King of England, London, 1802, 8vo, p. 12. (The author styles himself: Vicar-General of Narbonne, Abbé of Noirlac and Royal Prior of St.-Martin de Brivé, French émigré.)