But there were social passages of interest in the history of this famous fastness, and it was not unfitting that Francis I., the magnificent monarch of the Renaissance, should repair the palace of the Templars, restore those historic ruins, re-establish the spreading gardens, gild afresh those illustrious halls,—re-create, in a word, the once brilliant dwelling of the Chevaliers of the Cross: in 1540, the Temple became the sumptuous abode of the Grand Priors of France.
In the last years of the seventeenth century, Philippe de Vendôme, prince of the blood and knight of Malta, was named Grand Prior of the Temple. He would have his priory worthy of the gallant and graceful Court of the Palais-Royal; and the handsomest and most amiable of ladies, and the finest and gayest of wits were bidden to his historic suppers. The oaks that had shadowed the cross of Jacques de Molay lent their shelter now to "all the gods of Olympus," summoned within the green enclosure of the Temple by the lively invocations of La Fare and de Chaulieu.
In the eighteenth century, this same enclosure had a population of four thousand souls, divided into three distinct classes. There was first the house of the Grand Prior, the dignitaries of the Order, and certain nobles; then, a numerous body of workers of all grades; and lastly, a rather heterogeneous collection of debtors who were able to elude their creditors within these precincts, in virtue of a Mediæval prescript—which justice ceased to respect in 1779.
At this epoch, the Government of Louis XVI.—as if with a presentiment of what the Temple was shortly to become for the King of France—ordered the demolition of the old fortress of the Templars. But the destroyers of 1779 overthrew only a portion of the tower; the dungeon itself remained, to be witness of a royal agony.
THE TEMPLE PRISON.
See, then, at length, after the revolution of the 10th of August, Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette prisoners in the prison of the Temple! Marie Antoinette, most imprudent and most amiable, most unfortunate and most calumniated of women; Louis XVI., poor honest gentleman, whose passive intelligence drew from Turgot this prophetic word: "Sire, a weak prince can make choice only between the musket of Charles IX. and the scaffold of Charles I." The King was without force and without prestige; the Queen was incapable either of giving or of receiving a lesson in royalty.
Taciturn, and subject to sudden fits of temper; as much embarrassed by his wife as by his crown, Louis divided his time between hunting and those little harmless hobbies which showed that, had the fates desired, he might have made an excellent artisan. As for Marie Antoinette, what rôle was there for her, the victim of perpetual suspicion, in the midst of a tremendous political reaction? It was reproached against her, not without reason, that she could never fashion for herself the conscience of a queen. She felt herself a woman, young and beautiful; she forgot that she was also the partner of a throne. Full of personal charm, liking to toy with elegant pleasures, wedded to a man so little made for her, surrounded by gallant courtiers whom her beauty and graces intoxicated, Marie Antoinette had her share of ardent emotions, and more than once she was at last forgetful of her pride, cette pudeur des reines; but her position at the Court of France was so false and so complicated that, let her have done what she would, she might not have escaped the abyss towards which her own feet impelled her.
To the Temple, then, they were hurried, Louis and his family, on the 14th of August, 1792. The tower of the fortress was allotted to them, and a portion of the palace and all the adjacent buildings were levelled, so that the dungeon proper was completely isolated. The space of garden reserved for their daily exercise was enclosed between lofty walls. Louis occupied the first floor of the prison and his family the second. Every casement was protected by thick iron bars, and the outer windows were masked in such a manner that the prisoners obtained scarcely a glimpse of the world beyond their cage. Six wickets defended the staircase which led to the King's apartment; so low and narrow that it was necessary to squeeze through them in a stooping posture. Each door was of iron, heavily barred, and was kept locked at all hours. After Louis' imprisonment, a seventh wicket with a door of iron was constructed at the top of the stairs, which no one could open unassisted. The first door of Louis' chamber was also of iron; so here were eight solid barriers betwixt the King and his friends in freedom,—not counting the dungeon walls. A guard of some three hundred men watched night and day around the Temple.
These costly preparations on his Majesty's account (great sums, it is said, were spent on them) were not completed in a day, and in the meantime the Royal family inhabited that portion of the palace of the Temple which had been left standing. In his daily walks in the garden, King Louis looked on at the building of his last earthly mansion, and must have noticed the desperate haste with which the builders worked! In the middle of September, he passed into the shades of the dungeon.