ment I first received it. It consists but of a

few pages, but those pages were written, were given to me, by one who of all human beings inspires at present the greatest interest, and commands the highest veneration; by her, who to the influence of her own graces, virtues, and misfortunes, adds the constant recollection of four Martyrs, of whom she was the daughter, the sister, and the niece; by her who, wherever she goes, carries with her the memory of them, their features, the idea of all that befel them, all their greatness and all their misfortunes, all their goodness and all their sufferings; the most sacred rights, the noblest devotion, charms the most innocent; all blasphemed, all emulously sacrificed by the most unjust rebellion, the basest tyranny, and the most hideous ferocity. When the DUTCHESS OF ANGOULEME, the daughter of Louis XVI. and Maria AnTOINETTA, after reading the feeble homage I had paid to her august parents, added, in returning my manuscripts, those pages which she had traced with a pure hand, and from a heart teeming with filial tenderness, could I doubt that it was incumbent upon me to

render public that homage which she had consecrated in deigning to join in it herself? When the Imperial family, the family of my adored benefactress, kept my Memoirs for several weeks; and when the pious liberality of my Sovereign, and of the great, encouraged the publication of what they had read; when the Archduchess Christina, affected by this feeble tribute of fidelity, deigned to mention me in her will, and when her august consort had bestowed upon me a distinguished place among the numerous objects of his beneficence, was it possible for me to consign to oblivion, what so many virtues, and so many favours seemed to command me to make known?

But I thought it necessary to wait for a proper juncture, reflecting that the time of action and of hope ought not to be consumed in regret and retrospection. In taking advantage too of the delay, to render these fragments as little imperfect as possible, by arranging them in that chronological order, which is no less indispensable in detached narratives, than in a connected his

tory; I flattered myself that time would enable me to close so many melancholy epochs with one of a consoling nature.

Providence has decided otherwise: the period it has appointed for restoring to the blood of LOUIS XVI. an inheritance of nine centuries, seems yet at a distance, at least according to the calculations of human wisdom. The most generous efforts have had no other effect than to preserve the honor, and to immortalize the virtue of those who made them. The most brilliant actions have been rendered unavailing by the vicissitudes of

war.

It has been observed more than once, that courage has been deficient in prudence, genius in rectitude, and promises have not been attended with punctuality, but above all, union has been wanting in alliances. On a fatal day victory was again torn from the It became a duty for every conquerors. shepherd to take care of the flock for which he was accountable to Providence. Continental war is at an end, and History about to enter upon her task of recording this astonishing period in the annals of mankind.

Among the materials she is about to collect I humbly deposit mine. I offer her a modest, but pure, and honest testimony, and however ardent my feelings may be, truth can have nothing to fear from the enthusiasm which virtue inspires.