of the Tuileries, and on all the streets and squares in the vicinity. The Assembly, in spite of the representations of the Department (of Paris), received the deputations, armed, although this was entirely opposed to anything the Constitution permitted, and listened to their demands which, among other things, required that the King sanction the two decrees which he had vetoed the day before.

The Assembly received them with all consideration, and, after they had filed through the hall for an hour and a half, continued its session. They crossed the Tuileries on the terrace of the Château before which, from one end to the other, was drawn up a line of the National Guard, four men deep. All the gates and doors of the Château were hermetically sealed. The armed force was so great that it was thought, and with reason, that no one would dare to make trouble, and anxiety began to diminish when, at three o'clock, that enormous crowd of people began to act as though at a carousal, uttering frightful cries and demanding to see the King in order to hand him a petition. Two municipal officers ordered the door opened on a side where there was very little resistance. It was opened in the name of the law and that horde of barbarians hurled themselves into the Château with all their pikes and their scythes. They broke in the doors, brought up a cannon, battered down partitions when the doors were too narrow, and a great number of them entered the Euil-de-Boeuf where the King was seated with Mme. Elizabeth, his Ministers, and at most ten or twelve people.

Charles, who was one of the number, described this scene to me and said that at this moment they threw themselves in front of the King, sword in hand, to defend him. But when this huge mob rushed into the room, they knew at once that their number was too small to undertake anything and they returned their swords to the scabbards.

In a calm and courageous manner the King approached them and asked them what they wished. They talked of the veto, that they wished he would give his assent, and they made the most horrible, the most insolent and frightful threats. Without showing the least excitement the King replied to them with all the gentleness and firmness possible, that this was neither the time nor the place to demand or receive such a proposition and he constantly opposed what they wished. His firmness and his resignation in enduring all the infamous words he heard, were enough to rend one's heart. Finally one of these men had the audacity to wish to place the red cap upon his head. The King, however, constrained by the clamors which resounded about him, himself took the red cap from the hands of the man who offered it and put it on just as a bottle was brought him and he was obliged to drink to the health of the nation.

These details are horrible to relate. I cannot picture to you the humiliation I experience in describing them; it requires all my eagerness to please you for me to resolve to do it, but I blush when I think of it.

The King submitted to these horrible ordeals with calmness and never

exhibited his firmness except to oppose what might compromise his authority, that is to say the sanction which was proposed to him. During this time the Château was filled with all these people, who walked about everywhere and who crowded all the windows of both façades. There was not a cornice, not a gutter which was not crammed with these wretched creatures. The sight filled with horror those who had the courage to gaze upon it. Finally, at the end of three or four hours, means were found to disperse this infernal mob. Every half hour the Assembly sent deputations to the King for news. He replied to them with a patience that was truly admirable, and to one of them he even said that as his conscience was clear and he did not blame himself for anything, he was quite unmoved and not afraid to find himself among the French people, surrounded by the National Guard. At last, about eight o'clock, this humiliating and disgraceful scene came to an end. They all went home. But the National Guard, which lamented that it was not needed, was in despair. They were conscious of their humiliation and reproached themselves for their enforced quiet and this morning wished to revenge themselves on the mayor and municipality.

When M. Petion went to the King today they overwhelmed him with insults, reproaches and threats, and they unmercifully beat a municipal officer who was with M. Petion. I do not know how this came out but I doubt whether the National Guard would suffer a second time such a disgrace. They have groaned under the yoke too much to find themselves reassembled merely to be the witnesses of such a spectacle.

The Department has done its duty perfectly, it has decided to follow up this dreadful affair and began this morning by rebuking the municipality as it deserved. But despair is in everyone's heart and the desire for vengeance reigns. I shall inform you of whatever takes place. But do not worry. Anger and shame are too deeply imbedded in people's hearts for vengeance not to break out and the strength of the National Guard is too obviously superior to the opposition for them not to quell this easily, provided they are not forced into repose.

Here you have the humiliating recital of this dreadful day. I would not write it over again for any one in the world. I want to turn my attention from this shameful memory and it is only for you that I can bring myself to make this sacrifice.

No post was allowed to depart without a letter to Short informing him of the latest developments. "Do not for a moment fancy, my dear and very good friend," she writes, "that I shall forget you during these stormy times. I know too well the effect our peace of mind has upon yours to leave you for an instant in ignorance of anything which concerns us." The period of the fourteenth of July filled her with great dread. It was partly to

avoid any demonstrations at this time, partly because of her grandmother's health that she and the Duchess d'Anville retired to La Roche-Guyon, where they sought to drown their uneasiness at the turbulence of Paris.

This visit, which was to have been but a few days, was unexpectedly lengthened. Harassed by all factions, the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, who, as President of the Department of Paris, had signed the decree which suspended Petion and Manuel from office for their participation in the assault of the twentieth of June, was obliged to resign his post and retire to La Roche. "I think our stay will be prolonged for some time," Rosalie writes. "The freedom which Monsieur de la R. has just obtained will give him the opportunity of being here more often and I fancy we shall remain here until such a time as he shall feel more secure in Paris."

For a brief season the terrors of Paris are forgotten. "Today there is a village festival," Rosalie writes, "and nothing recalls the Revolution. They dance, they play, they laugh just as though no one were suffering. I share this joy very little, for this same tranquillity elsewhere causes our sorrow, or at least in part."

The respite from anxiety was brief. Rosalie had scarcely posted this letter with its account of the rural occupations in which she delighted, when she received bad news from Paris. For some weeks she had been alarmed for the safety of her beloved brother, yet proud of his achievements. "My poor Charles does not leave Paris," she had written Short. "He is still inspired by a zeal which, I confess, causes me great anxiety inasmuch as it leads him not to wish to leave that detestable place which now seems to me the most dangerous spot in the world. I am tormented more than words can tell but I do not allow myself to mention it to him for I know that in his place I should act exactly as he is doing."

Rosalie's fears were not ungrounded. On the sixteenth of August she writes Short:

The very evening of the day I last wrote you I learned that my poor Charles had been arrested, questioned by the Assembly and from there taken to the Abbaye. Think of my grief and the horrible worry to which I have been a

prey. It is abating somewhat for although he is not yet free I am convinced of his innocence and so certain that they will find nothing in the charges against him that I confidently believe he will be returned to us within a few days.

The seriousness of Charles' situation was scarcely realized by his family for Rosalie concludes her letter:

In a few days we are planning to make a trip in this vicinity, we shall be gone but a short time and shall then return here. Do not write me but once a week during this absence, the termination of which I shall let you know. Address everything to Paris. Mme. d'A. wrote you today.

Adieu. Rest assured that I feel very hopeful in regard to Charles. Write me discreetly and do not worry about us.

Accordingly, on the morning of the eighteenth of August the Duke and Duchess de la Rochefoucauld, with the Duchess d'Anville and Mme. d'Astorg, Rosalie's closest friend, set forth on their trip to Eaux Forges, a nearby watering place on the Seine.

It was scarcely a fortnight later that Rosalie was writing, "We have more hopeful news of Charles for we learned today that they had inspected his papers and found nothing to confirm the charge against him." Yet she could not know that on the very day she was reporting this her brother was being called before the Tribunal and sentenced to die. He was executed in the Abbaye the following morning, on the second of September, with his family still in ignorance of his fate.

Before this tragic news had reached Forges, another calamity overwhelmed the unfortunate family. On this same September Sunday the Duke and Duchess de la Rochefoucauld were at dinner with friends when word was brought that the house was surrounded. The Duke was arrested, placed in a carriage with his wife, his mother and Mme. d'Astorg, and hastened toward Paris. His fate is told in a note to Short from his cousin Alexandre, Duke de Liancourt:

I beg to inform you, M. Short, that M. de la Rochefoucauld was killed at Gisors. He was in the carriage, with his mother, his wife, and Mme. d'Astorg. The three ladies are well, thus do not be alarmed. You can picture their grief. Mme. d'Astorg or I will send you news of them. Do not be worried, for she is in no danger. Rest assured of my continued friendship. Farewell. I hope this note reaches you promptly.

Paris, September 8, 1792.

ALEXANDRE DE LIANCOURT.

It was in late December that Short paid a hasty visit to his friends at La Roche-Guyon. The Congress of the United States had just appointed him Commissioner Plenipotentiary to Spain, and on his way to Madrid he hastened from Paris to the country estate of the Duchess. His stay, however, was of but a week's duration. Then he and Rosalie were once more obliged to fall back upon the uncertainty of letters. The difficulties of their situation promised to be increased by this new separation and it is not surprising that Short viewed his appointment with little equanimity. "If there had been room in my heart for ambition," he wrote, "I should have been flattered, but on the contrary I felt real chagrin. The only thing that has determined me to accept for the moment is the necessity of my country to have a representative there, which they would not have were I to leave. . . . How miserable our duty has made both of us!"

In December of the following year, 1793, a new misfortune overtook the unhappy young Duchess. She and Mme. d'Anville were arrested and after a period of surveillance in Paris, were imprisoned for nearly a year. Short was meanwhile unaware of his friends' predicament. In a letter written to the Duchess in March, 1794, the first and one of the few of his preserved in the correspondence, he mentions having heard of their arrest but he was as yet ignorant of the actual imprisonment, and was to remain so for a long time:

Yesterday was such a happy day for me that it will never be effaced from my memory. After a very long interval I received from Mr. Morris, our Minister Plenipotentiary at Paris, his two letters of the 16th October and the first of January. They brought me at the same time your dear letters of the 10th of October and the 30th of December. It was the first intimation I had had that you were no longer at La Roche. Some time ago there was a rumor that they had decided to arrest a large number of persons and that you and your grandmother were among them, but after having gathered all the information that I could, the source did not seem to me reliable, and even the person who was said to be the author of the rumor assured me that it was not true. I have lived in this hope while waiting for news which would put me entirely out of suspense. Yesterday I received your letters. When I think of your convictions and of the testimony which all your neighbors gave, I persuade myself, and it is a sweet persuasion, that you and your good grand