Many of these entries are important in themselves, or interesting from their simplicity. For example:

27th December 1776.-Gave the Queen 25,000 livres :" And he adds in a note,

"These 25,000 livres are the first payment of a sum of 300,000 livres which I have engaged to pay to Boehmer in six years, with interest, for the ear-rings bought by the Queen for 348,000 livres, and of which she has already paid 48,000 livres."

Boehmer was the court jeweller; the same person who afterwards furnished the celebrated" diamond necklace," which gave rise to so much scandal, and for a time so deeply involved the Queen's character. Under the date of 18th February 1777, there is a further entry on the same subject as the preceding:

"Paid the Queen, on account of the 162,660 livres which she owes Boehmer for diamond bracelets, 24,000 livres."

There are various entries of gratuities given to courtiers and men of letters.

"15th January 1775. — Paid M. de Sartine [the Chief of the Police] 12,000 livres for a part of the expenses incurred by Beaumarchais in stopping the circulation of an improper book.

"1st April 1775.- Paid M. de Sartine for Beaumarchais, 18,000 livres."

The celebrated author of Figaro, by the way, notwithstanding the bitterness of his political satires, and the ultra-liberalism of his sentiments, was for many years a regular and well-paid employé of the court, during the reigns of both Louis the Fifteenth and Louis the Sixteenth.

Prince Esterhazy is put down annually for a sum of 15,000 livres, which the Queen was charged with paying him. He held some employment, we may presume, in the household of the Austrian princess; but a salary of five or six hundred a-year sounds odd to a member of a family whose revenues are equal to those of many a sovereign.

M. de Cubières, court-poet, had an allowance of 6000 livres a-year; and M. de Pezay, another court-poet, had 12,000 livres. These sums were paid through M. de Mauripas, the minister, or M. de Sartine.

Louis summed up his gains and losses at play, and entered them at the end of every month:

"October 1779.-Lost at play 59,394 livres.

"March 1780.-My partners have lost at Marly, at lansquenet, 36,000 livres.

"February 1781.-Lost at play 15 livres."

He was much given to the weakness-a common one in his dayof trying his fortune in the lottery. We find such entries as the following:

" 28th December 1777.-To M. Necker for lottery-tickets, 6000 livres.

"2d January 1783.-Gained in the lottery, 990 livres.

"10th (same month).-Gained in the lottery 225 livres."

He was equally minute in recording the employment of his time as of his money. At the end of every year, he drew up a general summary of the manner in which his days had been spent. The following is his recapitulation for the year 1775:

1

2

-11

3

Total,

189

8

}26."

"Hunting-dinners,
"Dinners and suppers at St.
Hubert,

He was careful, too, to mark down every month the quantity of game he killed, and summed up the whole at the end of the year. It thus appears that, in the month of December 1775, he killed 1564 head of game; and the total for the whole year amounted to 8424. "The only passion ever shown by Louis the Sixteenth," says Soulavie, was for hunting. He was so much occupied by it, that when I went up to his private apartments at Versailles, after the 10th of August, I saw upon the staircase six frames, in which there were statements of all his hunting-parties, both when Dauphin and when King. They contained the number, kind, and quality of the game he had killed every time he went out, with recapitulations for every month, every season, and every year of his reign."

It is obvious that these statements, which the King seems to have had so much pleasure in making up and displaying, must have been drawn from the entries in his diary.

The following is the whole of Louis's diary for the eventful month of July 1789:

Wednesday, 1.-Nothing. Deputation of the States.

Thursday, 2.-Got on horseback at the Porte du Main, for a stag-hunt at Port-Royal. One taken.

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Friday, 3.-Nothing.

Saturday, 4.-Hunted the roebuck at Butart. One taken, and twenty-nine killed.

"Sunday, 5.-Vespers.

Monday, 6.-Nothing.

"Tuesday, 7.-Stag-hunt at Port-Royal. Two taken.

"Wednesday, 8.-Nothing.

"Thursday, 9.-Nothing. Deputation of the States.

Friday, 10.-Nothing. Answer to the Deputation of the States.
Saturday, 11.-Nothing. Departure of M. Necker.

"Sunday, 12.-Vespers. Departure of Mess. Montmorenci, St. Priest, and La Luzerne.

Monday, 13.-Nothing.

"Tuesday, 14.-Nothing.

r Wednesday, 15.-At a meeting in the Hall of the States, and returned on foot.

66

66

Thursday, 16.-Nothing.

Friday, 17.-Went to Paris, to the Hôtel de Ville.
Saturday, 18.-Nothing.

Sunday, 19.-Vespers. Return of Messieurs Montmorenci and St. Priest.

"Monday, 20.-Airing on horseback, and shooting in the Little Park. Killed two.

"Tuesday, 21.-Nothing. Return of M. de Lucerne. Stag-hunt at Butart. Cardinal Montmorenci's audience.

"Wednesday, 22.-Nothing.

"Thursday, 23.-Nothing.

Friday, 24.-Airing on horseback, and shooting at Butart. Killed thirteen.

"Monday, 27-Nothing. Stag-hunt at Marly.

"Tuesday, 28.-Nothing.

weather.

Prevented from going out by bad

"Wednesday, 29.-Return of M. Necker. "Thursday, 30.-Nothing.

"Friday, 31.-Kept within doors by rain."

It was in this month of July, 1789, in which we find such "an infinite deal of nothing," that the Revolution actually commenced. The terrible day of the fourteenth, when the Bastile was stormed by the populace, and the heads of its governor and some of its defenders, paraded on pikes through the streets of Paris, is merely noticed by the word "Rien:" and, in the momentous and agitating scenes which occupied the following days, Louis quietly records his staghunts and shooting-matches at Butart and the Little Park, and the quantity of game he killed! Was this the depth of insensibility, or the height of philosophy?

The following is the diary for the whole of another memorable month - June, 1791 :—

"Wednesday, 1.-Nothing. "Thursday, 2.-Vespers. "Friday, 3.-Nothing.

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Saturday, 4.-Nothing.

"Sunday, 5.-Vespers.

"Monday, 6.-Nothing.

Tuesday, 7.-Airing on horseback, at half-past seven, by Grenelle, Sevres, and St. Cloud.

Friday, 10.-Nothing.

"Saturday, 11.-Airing on horseback at nine o'clock, by Mesnilmontant and Noisy-le-sec. There were no early vespers for want of orders.

Sunday, 12.- There have not been the regular ceremonies. High-mass and vespers. Grand couvert.

"Monday, 13.-Vespers.

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Tuesday, 14.-Vespers.

Wednesday, 15.-Airing on horseback, at half-past nine, all round the new enclosure.

"Thursday, 16.-Nothing.

"Friday, 17.-Nothing.

"Saturday, 18.-On horseback at half-past nine, to the Bois de Boulogne.

"Tuesday, 21.-Left Paris at midnight. Arrived and arrested at Varennes-en-Argonne, at eleven o'clock at night.

Wednesday, 22.-Left Varennes at five or six in the morning. Breakfasted at St. Menehould. Arrived at ten in the evening at Chalons. Supped and slept.

"Thursday, 23.-At half-past eleven mass interrupted, to urge our setting off. Breakfasted at Chalons. Dined at Epernay. Met the Commissioners of the Assembly. Arrived at eleven o'clock at Dormans. Supped there. Slept three hours in an arm-chair. "Friday, 24.-Left Dormans at half-past seven. sous-Jouarre. Arrived at ten o'clock at Meaux. at the bishop's residence.

"Saturday, 25.-Left Meaux at half-past six.

at eight, without stopping.

Dined at FertéSupped and slept

Arrived at Paris,

Sunday, 26-Nothing at all. Mass in the gallery. Conference with the Commissioners of the Assembly.

Monday, 27.-Idem.

"Tuesday, 28.-Idem. Took whey.

"Wednesday, 29.-Idem.

"Thursday, 30.-Idem."

The whole of the following month, (July, 1791,) is comprised in a bracket, opposite the middle of which is written, "Nothing the whole month. Mass in the gallery." Some of the days, however, have special notes. The following are remarkable :

Thursday, 14.-Was to have taken medicine.

Sunday, 17.-Affair of the Champ de Mars.

"Thursday, 21.-Medicine at six; and the end of my whey." There is something exceedingly striking in these trifling and insignificant entries, relating, apparently, to the most ordinary course of everyday life, when contrasted with the agitating and momentous occurrences which took place during the days and nights of the period which they embrace. The earlier part of this month of June, 1791, was occupied, on the part of the royal family with anxious discussions with some of their most attached adherents as to an escape from the dangers which now surrounded them, and in secret preparations for their memorable attempt to fly from France. On the 20th, (a day which the King commemorates by the word "rien,”) these preparations were completed, through the energy and activity of the Queen (Louis himself being as passive as usual), and their flight, which the King expresses by the words, "left Paris," began at midnight. But, how did they leave it?

"On the 20th of June," says Thiers, "about midnight, the King, the Queen, Madame Elizabeth, Madame de Tournel, the governess of the children of France, disguised themselves, and one by one left the palace. Madame de Tournel, with the children, hastened to the Petit Carrousel, and got into a carriage driven by M. de Fersen,

a young foreign nobleman, disguised as a coachman. The King immediately joined them. But the Queen, who had gone out accompanied by a garde-du-corps, gave them all the utmost alarm. Neither she nor her guide knew the way: they lost it, and did not get to the Petit Carrousel till an hour afterwards. On arriving there she met the carriage of M. de Lafayette, whose servants carried torches. She concealed herself under the gateway of the Louvre; and, escaping this danger, reached the carriage where she was so anxiously waited for. Thus reunited, the family set out. After a long drive, and a second loss of their way, they arrived at the Porte St. Martin, and got into a berline with six horses, which was waiting to receive them. Madame de Tournel, under the name of Madame Kroff, was to pass for a mother travelling with her children; the King was to personate her valet-de-chamber, and three gardes-du-corps, in disguise, were to precede the carriage as couriers, or follow it as servants. At length they got clear of Paris, accompanied by the prayers of M. de Fersen, who returned to Paris in order to take the road to Brussels."

The circumstances attending the arrest of the royal family at Varennes are too well known to require repetition. The King, it would appear, brought this misfortune upon himself by constantly putting his head out of the carriage-window. In consequence of this imprudence, he was recognised at Chalons; but the person who made the discovery, and who was at first disposed to reveal it, was persuaded by the mayor, a zealous royalist, to say nothing. When the travellers got to St. Menehould, the King, still with his head out at the window, was recognised by young Drouet, the postmaster's son, who immediately set off full speed to Varennes, the next stage, where he arrived before the King, and took measures to stop his further progress. In this extremity the Queen took the lead, and displayed so much energy in insisting on being allowed to proceed, that she seems at one time to have almost succeeded. The King at first wished to preserve his incognito, and a warm altercation took place; one of the municipal officers maintaining that he knew him to be the King. "Since you recognise him for your King, then," said the Queen, address him with the respect which you owe him!"

"On Wednesday, the 22nd," says the King in his diary, "left Varennes at five or six in the morning." And he proceeds, on that and the three following days, to chronicle his journey back to Paris, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, instead of being full of deep, and even tragical interest.

About six in the morning, M. Romeuf, an aide-de-camp of Lafayette, who had been sent after the fugitives, bearing a decree of the National Assembly for their arrest, arrived at Varennes, and found the carriage and six in readiness, and the horses' heads turned towards Paris. Romeuf, with an air of grief, handed the decree to the King. The whole family joined in exclaiming against Lafayette: Romeuf said that his general and himself had only done their duty in pursuing them, but had hoped they should not come up with them. The Queen seized the decree, threw it on her children's bed, and then snatched it up, and threw it away, saying it would sully them. "Madam," said Romeuf, who was devoted to her, "would you choose that any other than I should witness this violence? The Queen instantly recovered herself, and resumed her wonted dignity.