A CHILD'S MEMORY OF THE TERROR IN FRANCE.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXIX, Issue 10957, 23 December 1911, Page 4 (Supplement)

A CHILD'S MEMORY OF THE TERROR IN FRANCE.

Dr Poumies de la Siboutie was a child when the Revolution broke out. "And I am a child to-dav," the Doctor onco wrote, "whenever I recall that strange, momentous, never-to-be forgotten flame which, appeared to spread like the very pest itself." But Dr Poumies is dead. He died in the regular course of his duties, and not at all from any ill-effects of the storm of blood and fire that devastated Paris. Strange, too, for he came from a fine aristocratic family, and had some aristocratic feelings himself, bo we are told bv his two daughters. Dagourv and Branch, and by Lady Theodora* Davidson, the translator of the "good DocteurV' work. *irst ot all he writes: — ... . "One thing that puzzled my childisu brain, and caused me some emotion was the sight of roughly-clad men witn loud voices and vuluar manneis hec'oring my grandfather" on his own estate, and. threatening my parents. -Mother. I - Temember asking one day, why does.the cobbler who mends my shoes come here - and frighten father:-- Next time I see him I will tell him he is a scoundrel and turn him out of the place!' My gentle rao-'her had much ado to soothe me. 1 used to go with my brother to a school in the vioinitv. My schoolfellows, children of the lowest extraction, threatened as with their parents' wrath, and told us thev could come and take everything away from us. Everybody went armed. Men met in the roads and public places to read the newspapers and publish, the news. Each day brought fresh scenes of violence. The convents were turned into prisons and filled to overflowing. Honest folk" trembled before the few blacguards who managed to impose'their will on the majority. During our sojourn in Pengneux I slept in ray grandfather's study. 'His papers, title-deeds, briefs, were packed away in bags, labelled, and numbered. They were carefully ranged ou shelves, and, but for the difference in size of the parcels, the business-room was -not unlike the shop of an old clo' man. We "returned to the country, to spend a few - months at Siboutie, a small house in the woods not far from Saint-Germain-due- - Salembre. We found all traces of the . hated aristocracy swept away. I saw a .mason on his ladder singing appropriate verses, while he defaced the escutcheons on the church wall and erased golden griffins, which in his ignorance he called :rthe.castle geese "On Shrove Tuesday a happy familv gathering was in progress at my grandfather's nonse. . We were amusing ou •- selves according to the local custom, with pistol-firing, when toward the close of theevening an express messenger arrived from. Perigeux and handed my grandfather an unsigned missive. It consisted of only four lines, giving him friendly warning that in the course of the same night or early the next morning lie was to be arrested. We had but one available horse. My father saddled it, .helped his father-in-law to mount, and, walking by his side, led the old man to a secret hiding-place six miles away. It was a bitterly cold night :n February, and the lanes to be traversed were no better than quagmires. The next morning, as day broke, a detachment of sans-culottes burst in upon lis. They. were armed with pikes; some were barefooted, others wore sabots. They ;ran all over the house, searched every■' room, reviled ate and drank copiously, and finally retired, furious at being baulked of their prey. (Thus was my grandfather saved from death, for in those days imprisonment led inevitably to the scaffold." ■ His parents might easily have suffered the same fate. But they were wise, and soon changed their "religion" to that of the people. The boy'Poumies grew pp with -the people likewise, and became intimate with many of their prominent men. Of S'ouberbieele, the famed surgeon, he recounts that: He had served on the jury- at tho Queen's trial, and - had voted for her execution. He has often told" me that, in bis opinion, she deserved her punishment. 'And then.' I .would add. 'yon I most remember that we were all mad | for liberty at that time. I myseli could

easily have been a Decins or a Brutus. Since those days age has brought reflection, and I no longer think as I did then. If ifc were all to happen over again. I should not condemn her to dearth. _ Her faults —I might even call them crimes—had Ijeen fully expiated by her sufferings. I was so little hostile to her personally that when I was admitted to her cell the day before her trial, and noticed its damp condition, I prevailed upon tho authorities to remove her to a less unhealthy locality, though it might have cost me my head to show her favor.' " Sonberbielle also said:

••During the trial of Danton, who was a friend of mine, I dared not meet his eyes, for I was determined to condemn him, because I possessed absolute proof that he was planning the overthrow of the Republic. On the other hand, I would have given my life to save Robespierre, for whom 1 cherished a brother's affection. Xo one knows better than I do how sincere, disinterested, and thorough was his devotion to the Republic. He was the scapegoat of the Revolution, but he. w,as far the best of their men. All the historians assert that he carried on an intrigue with the daughter of Dnplay, but as the family physician and constant guest of that house, I am in a position to deny this on oath. They were devoted to cadi other, and their marriage was arranged; but nothing of the kind alleged ever sullied their love.

A friend of his was witness of the execution of the Queen. Her story, which she was "so good" as to confide to the Doctor, runs as follows:

"The Queen sat quite alone in a market-cart, between Sanson and his assistant. Her hands were tied behind her back. She wore a white camisole, and a cap on her head, which had been tied on crooked. She reached the Place de la Revolution by way of the Rue Royale, and was driven right round it to the guillotine, which was erected on the spot where .the obelisk new stands. She was white as a sheet, and trembled so that she had to be helped out of the cart. She was lifted rather than assisted on to the scaffold. Sanson tore off her cap, and in a moment all was over. My heart failed me, and I could not control my tears; I had to conceal them, or I should have been torn in pieces by the mob. I ought to have been inured to such sights, for I had been brought up by an uncle who had a mania for watching executions, yet he was quite a kindly old man in every other respect. He never missed one, if he could help it, and always insisted on my accompanying him. ' Thus I saw many; among the more notable was that of Madame du Barry. Before she came into sight, her fearful shrieks reached us where we stood. She struggled violently and babbled incoherently. She had to be torcibly propelled up the steps." Madame du Barry the Doctor knew himself. He regarded ber as a good woman, and argues at length in support of his claims'. Moreover, he says: "She could not have turned out other than she did," he would say. "Her training, the surroundings in which her childhood and early youth were spent, must have stifled.all natural inclination toward modesty and moralr ity. Yet she was good at heart • she never willingly did anyone an injury: -she prevented many an arrest, and snatched numerous - victims from tho cruel maw of the Bastile. She was very different from snch king's mistresses as Diane de Poitiers, Madame de Montespan, and Madame de Pompadour. Some day history will own that, courtesan though she was, the greater part of her influence was exerted in doing good and preventing evil."