[64] Literal copy of a certificate given to the Cornouaille, on the 3rd Prairial, 4th year of the Republic, on paper stamped in red with the stamp of said 4th year, by the citizen Scepeaux to the citizen Yves-J.-F.-M. Cormier:—
“We, the inhabitants of the lands formerly insurgent, but now tranquil, and subject to the Laws of the Republic of France, certify to all whom it may concern, that the Citizen Yves-J.-F.-M. Cormier, native of the Commune of Rennes, Department Ile-et-Vilaine, born December 7, 1740, height 5 feet 2 inches, grey hair, medium mouth, round chin, full face, has constantly been entrusted with correspondence of the Vendean Army, from its formation to its defeat at the town of Mans; and that, since then, he has held consecutively the same office in those Communes formerly insurgent, classed under the head of ‘Chouans;’ and we further declare that the Citizen Yves ... Cormier has never hindered submission to the Laws of the Republic, in virtue of which we give him the present certificate to be to him of whatever use and value it may with the constituted authorities, the misfortunes of the country making it impossible to procure any other testimonials.... (Executed at the Cornouaille, the 3rd Prairial, 4th year of the Republic) [May 22, 1796]. Given in duplicate, at Paris, 10th Messidor, VIII.
Signed: “D’Autichamp. Scepeaux.”
(National Archives, F⁷ 5152.)
[65] L. de la Sicotière, Louis de Frotté, vol. i. pp. 34, et seq.
CHAPTER IV
THE MYSTERY OF THE TEMPLE
Amidst the medley of feelings produced upon her mind by all the events happening in Paris—all the insurrectionary outbreaks, all the plottings and arrests—neither Lady Atkyns nor her friends withdrew their gaze from the prison of the Temple. As though this edifice with its four towers exercised some mysterious attraction, extending far and wide, their thoughts returned persistently to this one spot, hidden away in the enclosures of the old palace and closed in by a network of other structures. What news was there of the happenings within those sinister high walls? Baron d’Auerweck, who was the best-informed, having just come from the Continent, retailed all that he had gathered from public rumours and from personal inquiries which his relations with people inside the prison enabled him to make.
Madame Elizabeth and her niece still lived in the suite occupied by the Queen. The little Dauphin had been snatched away from his mother on the night of July 3, 1793, and handed over to the care of the bootmaker, Antoine Simon. Simon and his wife—as a recent work has made quite clear—were very far from being guilty of the cruelties to the child attributed to them by tradition. Chosen for his task by Chaumette, whose authority at the Temple was supreme, and looking up to him as his master, Simon was a rough specimen, uncouth somewhat in his ways, and too fond of the bottle, violently republican in his sentiments, but at bottom a decent fellow, and not wantonly cruel nor ill-natured. His wife is shown to have had a good heart; she had been seen at the bootmakers’ hospital, where her conduct won the praise of all, working very actively and thoroughly at her task. She was known to be a great chatterbox. Such as she was, Madame Simon undoubtedly felt much sympathy with the child confided to her care.
What did Simon and his wife do with the young Dauphin? Did he fade away in their hands, into the living spectre, the martyr succumbing to blows and bruises that the Eckards and de Beauchesnes and Chantelauzes would have us believe? Assuredly not. Doubtless the complete change in his existence, the sense of being closed in and confined, must have told upon the small prisoner. After the splendours of Versailles, it must have been hard upon him to be subjected at once to so severe a régime and to have for company a household of vulgar, common people, without education. And tears must have coursed down his cheeks. But there is a gulf between this and the stories of systematic cruelties, and we may well refuse to believe in anything of this kind until ample proof is forthcoming.
Suddenly, on January 19, 1794, it became known in the Temple quartier that the Simons were giving up their functions and settling down somewhere else.[66] What was the reason of this? Explanations differ. It is certain that Simon had no heart for his duties, and that he must have emitted a sigh of satisfaction when he left the Temple. He showed the child before he quitted to the four men who were told off to replace him, and received from them a voucher to the effect that he was in good health.