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THE BOURBON QUESTION.

[We have received the following communication from the Rev. John H. Hanson, (author of the article in our February number, entitled, “Have we a Bourbon among us ?") wherein he reviews the new work of Beauchesne on the reported death of the Dauphin in the Temple, and also gives the particulars of more testimony which has come to his knowledge in relation to this interesting subject, since his first article was published, among which is a letter from the Prince de Joinville in reference to the matter. The work of Beauchesne appeared in Paris nearly simultaneously with the publication of the Bourbon article here. The character of Mr. Hanson does not permit a question of his integrity in the statements he makes, or a suspicion that he has any other motive than to throw light on a "historic doubt," which has long been entertained by eminent writers on both sides of the Atlantic. In publishing his communication, we do not in any manner make ourselves parties to the controversy, except to vouch for the respectability and integrity of our correspondent. The public must draw their own conclusions after hearing the arguments on either side.-Editors.]

M.

BEAUCHESNE'S book* and the magazine article appear before the world at nearly the same time, but in two different hemispheres. They stand in irreconcilable antagonism. The pressure of circumstances compels the author of the one to be the reviewer of the other. Shrinking himself from no severity of criticism, he can hesitate at none.

"Louis of France, the seventeenth of that name, lived only ten years, two months and two days," is the opening sentence, and the fundamental proposition of the book, to prove which, in the most complete manner, all the evidence which literary research can discover in France, is collected and displayed with an imposing minuteness of detail. The article, on the contrary, asserts the probable existence, at this moment, in New-York, of the individual whose death Parisian officials have certified. If M. Beauchesne has proved his point, nothing more can be said.

The task before me is a very simple one: viz., 1. To state clearly the evidence produced by M. Beauchesne, and test its strength; and provided it shall prove inadequate to establish the point desired by him, then, 2. To offer such confirmation as I can of the proposition presented in my article. M. Beauchesne has written, he says, to remove all future doubt, by setting the whole truth so clearly and fully before the world, that incredulity must stand for ever silenced.

Beyond the work before me, I have no means of ascertaining the social position, or the political principles of M. Beauchesne. He assumes, invariably, the tone of an adherent of monarchy-a legitimist in heart and soul-who has written the mournful biography of the Royal martyr, as a sacred duty to the innocent memory of one who inherited so many glories. He would have us know all about him. He does not spare us a sigh or a suffering, an indignity, a tear or a terror. We hear all, and we see all, to the last flash of his expiring eye, and the last half-finished sentence which issued from his feeble lips; and as if to assure us of the unfailing certainty and

minuteness of his knowledge, and his access to all conceivable authorities, he copies the washing bills of the Prince in prison, notes down every handkerchief and shirt, and concludes by presenting us his heart, with a medical certificate attached to it.

His convictions of the Dauphin's death have, he says, for him, "the character of a certainty authentically demonstrated," and he exclaims, "A curse upon me, if my mind in possession of the truth, should suffer my pen to lie." I accord to him all the credit for legitimist feeling which he claims, and thank him for the aid which he has rendered to the development of the truth, by placing before the world, in detail and without disguise, all that can be said in proof of the Dauphin's death.

The first volume begins by describing the last days spent by the royal family at Versailles, and closes with the first period of their sojourn in the prison of the Temple, which terminated with the decapitation of Louis XVI. The second volume carries on the history until the asserted death and burial of Louis XVII., embracing an account of the death of Marie Antoinette and the princess Elizabeth, and of the treatment and position of the Dauphin under the successive keepers who had charge of him until his disappearance. Simon was appointed his preceptor on the 3d July, 1793, and occupied this post till January 19, 1794. During the next six months ending July 27, 1794, he was left without any especial guardian beside the keepers of the prison, and spent his time in the most frightful solitude and misery. This state of things was put an end to by the appointment of Laurent, to whom Gomin was added, November 8, 1794, and on the 31st March, 1795, Laurent having resigned, Lasne became his keeper in conjunction with Gomin, and these two men remained with him until May 31st, around the transactions of which day, and the few following ones, all the interest of this mysterious drama is centred.

The point of attraction must necessarily be the closing scene, and the confirmation,

* Louis XVII. sa vie, son agonie, sa mort, captivité de la famille royale au Temple; œuvre enrichi d'autographes, de portraits et de plans, par M. A Beauchesne. Tom. II. Paris: 1853.

Have we a Bourbon among us?

or the discredit, which it affords to the statements recently made concerning an interesting and respectable individual among us. I shall therefore proceed to lay before the reader, all which seems necessary to the formation of an impartial opinion on the particular point under discussion.

Rising slowly, like a wave, in 1789, the revolution attained its full sweep and most terrific height in 1794. The throne, the church, reason, humanity, had been carried away in its progress. The very framework of society itself was next to perish. There was to be war to the knife, of poor against rich, of all who had nothing, against every one who had any thing. But Robespierre fell from his dizzy elevation of infernal power when the force which carried him there had exhausted its utmost capacities of rising higher. The wave bent its bloody crest, broke, burst, and was no more. Men breathed as with recovered life. The times were still turbulent, but there was a feeling that the crisis had passed, and that peace and security were coming. There was no man in Paris to take the place of the tyrant who had fallen. The Convention governed, but no individual was prominent, and it was impossible to foresee who would arise to grasp the reins of power, or from what quarter he would come. The military chieftains who valiantly maintained the renown of the republic in the field, seemed animated, not by personal ambition, but by patriotic ardor, and appeared content to wear their laurels without dreaming of converting them into crowns. Napoleon Bonaparte was an undistinguished name. Weak minds still imagined the possibility of permanently establishing the republic in France. The monarchical faction well knew that such a system of centreless imbecility could not long maintain itself, and Paris was full of intriguers and agents of the Count de Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII. Between this person and the throne there was only one impediment; a weak, sickly, imbecile boy, in the Temple. Upon the execution of Louis XVI., de Provence had proclaimed this boy King under the title of Louis XVII, and made himself the nominal regent, pledging himself solemnly in the proclamation which he issued at the time to attempt the liberation of the captive monarch from the Temple. The corruption of the nation was felt in the highest ranks of society; and not only did Philip Egalité vote for the death of his relative, but de Provence himself was withheld by no scruples of conscience or delicacy of feeling, from corresponding with Robespierre. He is known to have been most anxious to obtain royal power, and was naturally impatient of the intervening obstacle. The republicans, on the other hand, were equally puzzled as to what course they should pursue respecting the child, whose restoration, if he lived, seemed so probable. Unconscious of

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the schemes and plots of which he was the centre, the poor innocent was dozing away his captive life with mind so prostrated and enfeebled by suffering, that it could with difficulty be roused to pay the slightest attention to any thing.

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The Temple was a massive square Tower, built by the Templars, having circular turrets at each angle, in one of which was the staircase, which wound uninterruptedly to the top of the building, and at each landing there were two doors, one of oak, the other of iron. The Tower was divided into four stories, beside the basement. In the second the Dauphin was confined, and Madame Royale (his sister) in the third. The time which I will choose for our visit is Feb. 27th, 1795. The young prince was then under the care of Laurent and Gomin. The day before, the civil commissioners had reported to the committee of general safety that the prisoner was in a very dangerous condition, and they accordingly appointed Harmand one of their number to visit him, and report.. Harmand went to the Tower with two of his colleagues, MM. Matthieu and Reverchon. Passing through the ante-chamber, they entered the apartment and found it agreeable and well lighted, notwithstanding the cross bars of iron and the thickness of the walls in which they were set. prince himself was seated at a little table amusing himself with a pack of cards, which he placed in the form of boxes and houses. Entirely unmindful of the presence of the deputies, he continued his amusement. Harmand and his companions made every effort in their power to draw his attention, and extract from him a word or look; but amid all their promises of toys and companions, and requests to know in what manner his sufferings could be relieved, he continued to gaze vacantly at his cards or upon the wall, without the most remote sign that he saw or heard them. As the civil commissioners, when interrogated before the committee of general safety respecting the ailments of the Prince, had informed them that he had swellings upon all his joints, "tumeurs à toutes les articulations," and particularly at the knees, Harmand finding he could extract nothing from him said to him, as he stood by his right side, "Sir, have the goodness to give me your hand." He gave it, continues Harmand, in his account of the interview, and I felt in extending my movement up to the arm-pit, a tumor at the wrist and another at the elbow, like knots. They did not appear to be painful, for the Prince showed no sign of their being so. "The other hand, sir." He presented it; there were none. "Permit me, sir, to feel also your legs and your knees." He rose. I found the same swellings upon the two knees, under the knuckle. Pray mark all this for future reference. One single remark, however, before we dismiss Harmand. He did not write this account until 1814, after the accession of Louis XVIII., who with

pious care for the memory of his deceased nephew, did every thing in his power to collect the particulars of his imprisonment, and the proofs of his decease. From lapse of time Harmand's memory was in some respects treacherous, and hence he contradicts the commissaries in one important particular. They say the Prince had swellings on all the joints. Harmand leaves us to infer that one elbow and wrist were destitute of them. This is an evident inaccuracy, though it may be that Harmand did not, in the case of the left side, extend his examination to the arm.

On the 29th March, 1795, Laurent left the Temple. He appears to have been kind to the young prince, who parted from him with sadness. In his place came a man named Etienne Lasne.

From the 31st March, 1795, until the moment of his asserted death, his two keepers were Gomin and Lasne.

Citizen Gomin was a royalist, and obtained his post at the Temple, November 8th, 1794, through the influence and intrigues of the Marquis de Fenouil, who, says M. Beauchesne, on account of certaines intrigues soi-disant patriotiques, "contributed powerfully to a nomination which was a guarantee for the Royalist party," or in other words, for the interests of the Count de Provence. Etienne Lasne on the other hand had formerly been a soldier in the garde Française, and later in the garde Nationale, and in 1791, had been appointed captain of grenadiers. And thus "revolutionary influences had nominated Lasne, and royalist influences had nominated Gomin."

The portraits of these men, and innumerable sentimentalisms concerning their honesty and truthfulness are given by our author, but their outward appearance was not prepossessing, and their integrity must be estimated by the times in which they lived, and the parties who placed them in their position. They are the two pillars upon whom rests the evidence for the death of the Dauphin. Though sharing in common the charge of the Dauphin, Lasne especially devoted himself to the care of the Prince, and Gomin to that of Madame Royale. Officers entitled acting commissaries (commissaires de service), and who were changed every day, had supreme control in the Temple, and it was therefore impossible for either of the prisoners to be secretly removed by Lasne and Gomin, unless the acting commissary for the time being was favorable to the project. No sooner was Lasne installed in his office, than he began to find fault with the noise which the keys made when turned in the locks, and caused them to be oiled that they might move in silence. He also directed the iron doors on the landings to be left open. Taken in connection with the event, this seems to intimate a design in the month of April, the date of the occur rence, to effect an escape. The commissaries, however, said the doors were put there

to be shut, and Lasne was forced to submit. Gomin and Lasne, however, continued, though the representatives of opposite interests, to act in perfect harmony, and made such arrangements respecting the keeping of the keys, that either of them could open the doors at any time without the knowledge of the other. There was evidently necessary only a particular conjunction of circumstances, and the appointment of a royalist commissary who would lend himself to the plot, to effect the removal of the Prince.

And now we come to the confines of the period in which is centered the main interest of the mysterious and tragical drama. In consequence of confinement and want of exercise, the health of the Dauphin languished, and knot-like swellings at the articulations of the limbs increased. His keepers wrote for three successive days on the register the announcement of his indisposition, adding, on the last occasion, that his life was in danger, and on the 6th May, M. Desault was sent to see him.

This eminent physician was one whom the convulsions of the revolution had never tempted to swerve from the noble path of simple rectitude and honor. He had been the physician of the Royal family before the revolutionary troubles.

In the first interview between the physician and the royal prisoner, the latter maintained the saine blank silence and immovable listlessness which had characterized his conduct in all visits made to him. Desault, without expressing an opinion, ordered him a simple decoction of hops, but after leaving the Temple, said publicly that he was afflicted "with the germ of the scrofulous affection of which his brother had died at Meuden, but that this disease had scarcely imprinted its seal on his constitution, nor manifested itself with any violent symptoms neither obstinate ophthalmia, nor vast ulcers, nor chronic swelling of the joints." He considered that the danger of his condition, confessedly great, was from a wasting away caused by confinement, and that immediate transportation to the country, fresh air, and careful treatment, might revive him. Unable to obtain the consent of the authorities for his removal, Desault continued his attendance until May 30. By kindness he had gained his affections, and at last, when he rose to take leave, the young captive, unable or afraid to speak, would take him timidly by the skirt of the coat. The 30th May at length arrived. Now let it be borne in mind, that all the foregoing facts are derived from Beauchesne himself.

"On the 11th prairial (30th May), [says M. Beauchesne], le Sieur Breuillard, the acting commissary [for the day] who knew Desault, said to him in going down the staircase, The child will die, will he not?' 'Ifear it but there are, perhaps, those persons in the world who hope it,' replied Desault, the last words which the doctor pronounced in the tower of the Temple.

"Or the 12th praizia! (31st May), the acting com

missary, on his arrival at nine o'clock, said that he would wait for the doctor in the chamber itself of the child, to which he caused himself to be introducod. This commissary was M. BELLANGER, painter and designer of the cabinet of Monsieur [i. e., Count de Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII.], who lived No. 21 Faubourg Poissonière. He was an honest man; the misfortune of his benefactor,-alas! in these sad times he was almost an exception,-had not dried up the devotion in his heart. M. Desault did not come. M. Bellanger, who had brought a portfolio filled with his drawings, asked the Prince if he liked painting, and without waiting for an answer, which did not come, the artist opened his portfolio, and put it under the eyes of the child. He turned it over, at first with indifference, afterward with interest, dwelt a long time on each page, and when he had finished began again. This long examination seemed to give some solace to his sufferings, and some relief to the chagrin which was caused by the absence of his physician. The artist often gave him explanations of the different subjects of his collection; the child had at first kept silence, but little by little he listened to M Bellanger with marked attention, and finished by answering his questions. In taking the portfolio from his hands, M. Bellanger said to him, I much desire, sir, to take away one drawing more, but I will not do it if you object.' 'What drawing?' said the Dauphin. That of your countenance; it will give me much pleasure if it will not cause you pain.' • Will it give you pleasure?' said the child, and the most gracious smile completed his sentence, and the mute approbation which he gave to the desire of the artist.

"M. Bellanger traced in crayon the profile of the young king, and it is from this profile that, some days after, M. Beaumont the sculptor, and twenty years after, the royal manufacturer of Sevres porcelain, executed the bust of Louis XVII.

"The 13th prairial (1 June), M. Desault did not come again. The keepers were astonished at his absence, and the little child regretted it. The acting commissary, M. Benoist, faubourg St. Denis 4, was of opinion that word should be sent to the house of the physician, to inquire the cause of so prolonged an absence. Gomin and Lasne had not yet dared to act according to this advice, when the next day M. Bedault (rue de Bondi 17) who relieved M. Benoist, hearing him on his arrival pronounce the name of M. Desault, said immediately, 'Don't wait for him any longer, he died yesterday. This sudden death, under such circumstances, opened a vast field of conjecture. There is one which must astonish by its boldness, let us say more justly, by its infamy; they dare assert that M. Desault after having administered a slow poison to his patient, had been himself poisoned by those who had commanded the crime. But the noble life of M. Desault protects him without any doubt against such a calumny. Other inventors have not feared to say, that M. Desault did not recognize in the poor sickly little one in the tower of the Temple, the child so full of strength and grace, whom he had admired more than once in happier times and in another dwelling; and that it was because he showed an intention of revealing to the government this substitution, that the doctor had been poisoned. This supposition is equally true with the first. M. Desault who had been physician to the royal children, never doubted that his young patient was the Dauphin. . . . . No notes have been found among the papers of M. Desault upon the visits which he made to the young Prince. From 31 May, the night of his death, to 5th June, i. e., during six days, no assistance from without was given to the prisoner."

And M. Beauchesne, I may add, leaves five of these days without the slightest re

cord of any event whatever, so that here is an interval too long to fill with fictitious circumstances remaining entirely unaccounted for.

"At last on the 17th prairial (5th June), 1795, M. Pelletan, chief surgeon of the Grand Hospital of Humanity, was charged by the committee of General Safety to continue the treatment of the son of Capet. M. Pelletan went to the tower at five in the afternoon, 'I found,' said he, the child in so sad a state, that I asked instantly to have another professional person joined with me, to relieve me from a burden which I did not wish to bear alone."

Dumangin was accordingly appointed.

I will not pause, however strong the temptation, to examine this narrative, till we have the whole of the facts before us. Pray keep, however, the epoch which has passed separate from that which follows.

Our author having the death of the Dauphin authentically demonstrated, to his own mind, becomes very pathetic as the event approaches, and seems half inclined to set his whole circle of readers weeping beforehand. "I do not seek," he says, "to cause tears to be shed at his end, which approaches. I know too well that death is an event common to every age, and that it is not without reason that the world has made the coffin and the cradle in the same form and of the same materials."

The Dauphin (as we gather from Beauchesne), from the 5th to the 8th of June, inclusive, as death approached, became very animated, imaginative and talkative. His very looks spoke. As he lay in bed he often cast his eyes to heaven, as if he wished to say, "Lord, thy will be done." He had no longer any fear of strangers; nay, addressed them first, without waiting to be spoken to. M. Pelletan having proposed to the commissary his removal to another chamber, he signed to the physician to approach, and with his thoughts all about him said, "Speak lower, I fear they will hear you above, and I should be very sorry they should learn that I am sick, for that would give them much pain." He was removed to another chamber, a sunny cheerful room, on the side of the little tower, "and the air and the sun brought him life, and with life thought, thought which should render his sufferings more cruel and the truth more bitter, thought which should come back with so many memories, and so many apprehensions." His color was clear, his eye bright, his voice strong. These are remarkable changes; that sunny room worked wonders, but we shall find stranger still before we have done with M. Beauchesne. But notwithstanding the strength of his body, and the brightness of his intellect, he was destined to die, and in the mortal agony it pleased-no-I cannot blaspheme-it pleased therefore let me say-Gomin and Lasne-who narrated to M. Beauchesne what he relates with 66 puleuse exactitude," that sounds seraphic should salute his ears, while still retaining the self-possession of undimmed intelli

scru

gence. The death scene is so rich a specimen of biographic fidelity, and what is called "fine writing," that I translate it for the benefit of those who wish to share the authentically demonstrated certainty of M. Beauchesne.

"You will ask, without doubt, what were the last words of the dying. You have heard those of his father, who, from the height of the scaffold, which his virtue had made a throne, sent pardon to his assassins. You have heard those of his mother, that heroic Queen, who, impatient to quit the earth, where she had suffered so much, prayed the executioner to make haste. You have known those of his aunt, of that Christian virgin, who, with supplicating eye, when they removed her dress to strike her better, asked in the name of modesty, that they would cover her bosom; and now shall I dare to repeat the last words of the orphan?

"Those who received his last sigh, have related them to me, and I come faithfully to inscribe them on the Royal Martyrology.

"Gomin seeing the infant calm, immovable and mute, said to him, I hope you do not suffer at this moment; 'Oh yes, I suffer still, but much less, the music is so fine.' Now there was no music in the tower or its neighborhood; no noise from without came at this moment into the tower where the young martyr lay. Gomin astonished said to him, 'In what quarter do you hear this music? From above," Have you heard it a long time?' Since you have been on your knees,' And the child raised by a nervous movement his failing hand, and opened his great illuminated eyes in ecstasy. His poor guardian not wishing to destroy this sweet and last illusion, set himself to listen also, with the pious desire to hear that which could not be heard.

"After some moments of attention the child was again agitated, his eyes flashed, and he cried in indescribable transport, In the midst of all the voices, I have heard that of my mother.' This name falling from the lips of the child seemed to take from him all pain. His contracted eyebrows distended and his look was illumined with that serene ray, which gives the certainty of deliverance or of victory. His eye fixed on an invisible spectacle, his ear open to the far-off sound of one of those concerts which the human ear has never heard, his young soul seemed to blaze out with a new existence."

But I must curtail this edifying scene, and come to the end.

"Do you think that my sister could have heard the music? What good it would have done her!' Lasne could not reply, a look full of anguish from the dying child darted earnest and piercing towards the window -an exclamation of happiness escaped from his lips-then looking at his guardian, I have something to tell you; Lasne approached and took his hand-the little head of the prisoner fell on the breast of his guardian, who listened, but in vain-God had spared the young martyr the hour of the death rattle, God had preserved for himself alone the confidence of his last thought. Lasne put his hand upon the heart of the child. The heart of Louis XVII. had ceased to beat. It was two hours and a quarter after midnight."

Some glimpse of the dying scene is necessary to estimate the worth of the certificates. I should like to present the reader Lasne's soliloquy over the dead body. It is a gem of its kind. One sentence I must transcribe.

"An hour passed during which, breathless, with eyes fixed, without voice I continued near his remains.

That solemn hour had a great influence upon my whole life. A voice had spoken in my heart, to which I had promised to be an honest man."

Then you were not so before, M. Lasne! Honest M. Lasne!

On the 9th June, four surgeons were appointed to open the body, and visited the Temple for this purpose. We give the procès verbal, but it is worthy of remark, as indicating the nervous haste with which the affair was hurried through, that the year is omitted from the date entirely, and that although at the conclusion reference is made to a day and year on which the instrument was written, there are none given.

PROCES VERBAL of the opening of the body of the son of the deceased Louis Capet, drawn up at the Tower of the Temple, at eleven o'clock in the morning of this 21st prairial.

We, the undersigned Jean Baptiste Eugène Dumangin, Physician-in-Chief of the Hospital of the Unity, and Philippe-Jean Pelletan, Surgeon-in-Chief of the Grand Hospital of Humanity, accompanied by the citizens Nicholas Jeanroy, Professor in the Schools of Medicine at Paris, and Pierre Lassus, Professor of Legal Medicine in the School of Health at Paris; whom we have joined to ourselves in virtue of a decree of the Committee of General Safety of the National Convention, dated yesterday, and signed Bergoing, president, Courtois Cauthier, Pierre Guyomard, to the effect that we should proceed together to the opening of the body of the son of the deceased Louis Capet, to declare the condition in which we have found it, have proceeded as follows:

"All four of us having arrived at eleven o'clock in the morning at the outer gate of the Temple, we were received by the Commissaries, who introduced us into the Tower. We proceeded to the second story into an apartment, in the second division of which we found upon a bed the body of a child, who appeared to us about ten years of age, which the Commissaries told us was that of the son of the deceased Louis Capet, and which two among us recognized to be the child of whom they had taken care for some days past. The said Commissaries declared to us that the child died that night about 3 o'clock in the morning, upon which we sought to verify the signs of death, which we found characterized by an universal paleness, the coldness of the whole habit of the body, the stiffness of the limbs, the dulness of the eyes, the violet spots common to the skin of a corpse, and above all, by an incipient putrefaction at the stomach, the scrotum, and between the thighs.

"We remarked before proceeding to the opening of the body, a general leanness which was that of marasmus. The stomach was extremely swollen and puffed with air. On the inner side of the right knee we remarked a tumor without change of color to the skin; and another tumor, less voluminous, upon the os radius near the wrist of the left side. The tumor of the knee contained about two ounces of a grayish matter, pussy and lymphatic, situated between the periosteum and the muscles, and that of the wrist contained matter of the same kind, but thicker.

"At the opening of the stomach, there flowed out about a pint of purulent serum, yellow and very of fensive; the intestines were swollen, pale, and adhering one to another, and also to the sides of the cavity; they were covered with a great quantity of tubercles of different sizes, and which presented when opened the same matter that was contained in the exterior deposits of the knee and of the wrist.

"The intestines, open throughout their whole extent, were very healthy inwardly, and contained but a

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