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Updated: May 26, 2025
Carle Vernet was about to hasten from France when new terrors detained him. His sister had married M. Chalgrin, an architect, who adhered to the fortunes of the court of Provence. For this, the mob had revenge upon his beautiful wife, who was thrown into the Abbaye prison.
And the opportunity came soon, at the very beginning of July. M. du Chatelet, a harsh, haughty disciplinarian, proposed to transfer the eleven French Guards placed under arrest from the military gaol of the Abbaye to the filthy prison of Bicetre reserved for thieves and felons of the lowest order. Word of that intention going forth, the people at last met violence with violence.
It began with two or three hundred of the clergy, who had been shut up because they would not take the oaths prescribed by the law, and which they said were contrary to their conscience. Thence these executors of speedy justice went to the Abbaye, where the persons were confined who were at court on the tenth of August. These were despatched also, and afterward they visited the other prisons.
I claimed a right to enter by virtue of the first permission which had been given to me; I was again refused. I was told that the Queen had as many people as were requisite about her. My sister was with her, as well as one of my companions, who came out of the prisons of the Abbaye on the 11th.
Tempest. The day dawned clear and cloudless on the Leman, the morning that succeeded the Abbaye des Vignerons. Hundreds among the frugal and time-saving Swiss had left the town before the appearance of the light, and many strangers were crowding into the barks, as the sun came bright and cheerfully over the rounded and smiling summits of the neighboring côtes.
At the word "conspirators" a tremendous uproar arose on all aides. Cries of "Order!" "To the Abbaye!" "Down with the Tribune!" were heard. Lanjuinais strove in vain to justify the word "conspirators," saying that he meant it to be taken in a favourable sense, and that the 10th of August was a glorious conspiracy.
"'Is she in the Abbaye? asked I. "'No! she is in hiding with the widow of her father's old concierge. Any day they may search the house for aristocrats. They are seeking them everywhere. Then, not her life alone, but that of the old woman, her hostess, is sacrificed. The old woman knows this, and trembles with fear.
"Do you always live here?" said Charles, thinking the room uglier by daylight than it had seemed the night before. "Always," answered Eugenie, looking at him, "except during the vintage. Then we go and help Nanon, and live at the Abbaye des Noyers." "Don't you ever take walks?"
He described the Louvre and the Bon Marche. He told her about the Cabaret du Neant, the Abbaye, and the various haunts to which foreigners go. He painted in glowing colours the side of Paris which he despised. He pressed her to come with him. "You know, you say you love me, but if you really loved me you'd want to marry me. You've never asked me to marry you." "You know I can't afford it.
We went to the two abbayes both of them quite beautiful St. Étienne Abbaye aux Hommes was built by William the Conqueror, who was originally buried there. It is very grand quite simple, but splendid proportions a fitting resting-place for the great soldier, who, however, was not allowed to sleep his last sleep, undisturbed, in the city he loved so well.
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