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let him talk. Perhaps to satisfy him, they received it the first months. But, in the terrible impulses of his short destiny, and in the grief of each day, he lost sight of it, besides believing, without doubt, of compensating his friends in some other way. In reality he had but his salary as a deputy, which he sometimes even forgot to receive. The pension paid to his sister, with occasional expenses of linen and clothes, and some sous given during his walks to the little Savoyards, left him literally nothing. The ten thousand francs which were found on him the 9th Thermidor were but a fable of his enemies. then owed Madame Duplay four thousand francs for board.

He

CHAPTER XXVI.

LUCILE DESMOULINS (APRIL, 1794).

THE Constituent Assembly had ordered that each commune should have an altar in the town hall, where marriages could be celebrated, and births and deaths registered. The three most important periods of human destiny thus found themselves consecrated at the altar of the commune, and the religion of the family was united to that of the country; this altar soon became the only one, and the municipality the temple. The counsel of Mirabeau had been followed: "You will have done nothing, if you do not deChristianize the Revolution."

In 1793, several workmen of the Faubourg St. Antoine declared they did not regard their marriages as legitimate, if they were not consecrated at the commune by the magistrat.

In 1791, Camille Desmoulins was married at

Saint Sulpice, according to the Catholic ritual; the family of his wife desiring it. But, in 1792, after the birth of his son Horace, he carried him himself to the Hôtel de Ville, and claimed the law of the Constituent Assembly. This was the first and only example of republican baptism. The most touching remembrance of all the Revolution was the act of its great writer, the good and eloquent Camille, and his charming Lucile, the act which led both to death (and to which it very directly contributed), so bold a proposition, in the height of the Reign of Terror, of a Committee of Clemency.

Indigent, rather than poor, and but little favored by nature in a physical point of view, and indeed with a slight stammer, Camille, in 1789, by the attraction of the heart, and the charm of a lively mind, conquered his pretty, graceful, accomplished, and relatively speaking, rich Lucile. But one portrait, perhaps, existed of her, a precious miniature (in the collection of Colonel Maurin). What has become of it now? In whose hands has it passed? This thing belongs to France. I pray the owner, whoever he may be, to remember it, and give it to us, that it may

be placed in the museum, whilst awaiting the Revolutionary one, which will be founded sooner or later.

Lucile was the daughter of a clerk of the finances, and of a beautiful and excellent wife, who, it has been pretended, was the mistress of the Minister of the Finances, Terray. Her portrait is that of a pretty woman, of the middle class, her name denotes it: Lucile Duplessis Laridon. Pretty, but obstinate; she was a little female Desmoulins. Her charming little face, agitated, stormy, and fantastic, breathed of France free (the beautiful pamphlet of her husband). The love of a man of genius, it was obvious, had inoculated her with genius.*

We cannot resist the pleasure of copying this child-like page, in which this young wife, twenty years old, relates her emotions on the night of the 10th August:

* She loved him even to wishing to die with him. Nevertheless did he possess entirely, without reserve, this devoted heart? Who can affirm it? She was passionately loved by an inferior man (the celebrated Fréron). She has an anxious expression in this portrait; her life was often open to remark; it has been obscure. Poor Lucile! I am afraid thou hast drank too deeply of this cup, the Revolution is in thee. How gloriously thou hast extricated thyself by death.

me.

"The 8th August, I returned from the country; already all minds were much excited; I had some Marseillais to dinner, we amused ourselves very well. After dinner we went to M. Danton. His mother was crying, she could not have been more sorrowful; her child looked stupid. Danton was firm; I laughed as if I was crazy. They feared that the affair had not taken place; though I was not at all sure; I told them, as if I was certain of it, that it had taken place. 'But how can you laugh thus?' said Madame Danton to 'Alas!' answered I, 'it prophesies that I will shed plenty of tears this evening.' The weather was delightful, and we took a walk in the streets, which were filled with people: several sansculottes passed, crying 'Long life to the nation!' Then crowds on horseback, and lastly, an immense number of troops. I was afraid. I said to Madame Danton: 'Let us go away.' She laughed at my fears; but was obliged to confess, that she was also afraid. I said to his mother, 'Adieu, it will not be long before you hear the tocsin.' Arrived at her house, I saw that all were arming themselves. Camille, my dear Camille, came with a gun. Mon Dieu! I rushed into the alcove, and

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