Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1898 — LOUIS XVII. [ARTICLE]

LOUIS XVII.

The Boy King Rudely Torn from the Arms of His Mother. Miss Anna L. Bicknell writes an article on “The Last Days of Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette” for the Century. Miss Bicknell says: The respect shown to the boy-King irritated those who governed at that time, and they were further exasperated by the insurrection which had broken out in La Vendee, where Louis XVII. was styled king. Thenceforward the poor child's fate was sealed. On the night of July 3 of that memorable year, at 10 o’clock, the guards appeared bearing a decree by which it was ordered that “the son of Louis Capet” should be separated from his mother, and given into the hands of a “tutor,” who would be appointed by the Commune. The scene that followed is one of "the ■most han-owing recorded in history. The terrified child uttered loud cries and entreaties, clinging desperately to his mother, who knew only too well into what hands he was about to fall, and what would be his fate. She refused to give him up, and defended him with the strength of despair, telling them to kill her before taking her son from her. A whole hour passed thus—in desperate resistance on the part of Marie-Antoin-ette, in threats and violence on the part of the guards, in tears and supplications from Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale. At last the guards declared so positively that they would kill both of her children, that the Queen, exhausted, ceased her resistance. Madame Elizabeth and Mlilftye Royale then took up the child from his little bed, and dressed him, for the Queen w-as powerless. When ready she gave him herself Into the hands of the guards, with floods of tears, “foreseeing,” says Madame Royale, “that she would never see him again. The poor little fellow kissed us all very affectionately, and followed the guards, crying bitterly.” After the poor little Dauphin was taken away they were left to mourn in peace, “which was some comfort,” says Madame Royale. The municipal guards locked them up in their rooms, but did not remain with them. No one nowdid the housework. Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale made the beds, swept the rooms, and waited on the Queen. The guards came three times a day to bring food and to examine the bolts and the bars of the windows, lest anything should be disturbed.

The prisoners were able to go up by an inner staircase to the top of the tower, where the Queen spent hours looking through a crack in a -wooden partition, in the hope of seeing her son go by. Madame Elizabeth was informed by the guards of the ill-usage to which the poor child was subjected, “and which was beyond imagination,” says Madame Royale, “more especially because he cried at being separated from us.” But Madame Elizabeth entreated the guards to keep all these particulars from the Queen, who was only too much enlightened when she saw the child pass by, and watched his pale, sorrowful face.

The last time that such miserable comfort was granted to her was on July 30. She had watched long, and at last she saw him, cowed and terrified, bereft of his golden curls, wearing the red revolutionary cap, and, alas! singing a song of coarse insult against herself! She knew then how the child must have suffered before he could have been brought to this.