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In the interval between two massacres we heard them say under our windows, "Not a single man of them must escape: we must kill them all, and especially those in the Chapel, where there are none but conspirators." It was of us they were speaking, and I think it unnecessary to affirm, that we envied the happiness of those who were confined in the darkest dungeons. We were racked by every sort of frightful anticipation which could tear us from our mournful reflections.

Five o'clock.-An instant of silence in the street was broken by the noise which arose in the interior of the prison. Mauy voices called loudly for M. Cazotte: immediately afterwards we heard a crowd of persons passing on the stairs and speaking in a loud voice, the clashing of arms, and cries of men and women. It was the old man, followed by his daughter, whom they were dragging along. When he got out of the prison door, this courageous daughter threw herself on the neck of her father. The people, touched by this sight, demanded his pardon, and obtained it.

About seven o'clock.-Two men entered, with swords in their bloody hands, conducted by a jailor, who bore a torch, and pointed to the bed of the unfortunate Reding. In that dreadful moment I grasped his hand, and strove to support him. One of the men made a motion to raise him, but the unhappy man prevented him, saying with a dying voice, "Stay, Monsieur, I have suffered enough: I fear not death. I beseech you give it me here." At these words the man became immovable, but his comrade, by a look and by saying, "Allons donc," decided him: he lifted the prisoner up, put him on his shoulders, and carried him into the street, where he received his death. My eyes are so full of tears that I cannot see what I write, (J'ai les yeux si plains de larmes que je ne vois plus ce que j'ecri). We looked on one another without uttering a word; we grasped each other's hands, and embraced one other. Motionless, in mournful silence, and with fixed eyes, we gazed on the floor of our prison, on which the moon

et sombre silence qui regnait pendant ces executions: il n'etait interrompu que par les cris de ceux qu'on immolait et par les coups de sabre qu'on leur donnait sur la tête. Aussitot qu'ils etaient terassés, il s'elevaient un murmure enforcé par des cris de vive la nation! mille fois plus affrayans pour nous que l'horreur du silence."-Translator.

was casting her light, between the shadows of the triple bars of our windows *. But soon the cries of fresh victims renewed our former agitation, and recalled to us the last words which M. Chantreine spoke as he plunged the knife into his heart"We are all destined to be massacred."

Midnight.-Ten men, with swords in their hands, led by two jailors, bearing torches, came into our prison, and ordered us to place ourselves each at the foot of his bed. After they had counted us, they told us that we were answerable for one another, and swore that if one of us escaped, we should all be put to death, without being heard by Monsieur le President. These last words gave us a ray of hope, for hitherto we had not known that we should be heard.

Monday, September 3d, two o'clock in the morning. They forced open one of the doors of the prison, by repeated blows. We thought at first that it was the door of our dungeon which they were forcing, in order to come and murder us in our rooms; but we were a little re-assured on hearing it said on the stairs, that it was the door of a dungeon in which some prisoners had barricaded themselves. A little after we learnt that they had butchered all whom they found there.

Ten o'clock.-The Abbé l'Enfant, confessor to the king, and the Abbé de ChaptRastignac appeared in the pulpit of the Chapel (which served us for a prison,) into which they had come by a door opening from the stairs. They told us that our last hour approached, and exhorted us to assemble together to receive their blessing. A sort of electric impulse, which cannot be defined, forced us all to fall on our knees, and with clasped hands we received it. That moment, although consoling, was one of the

(there is a word omit

ted in the original) that we ever experienced. At the eve of appearing in the presence of the Supreme Being, and bending before his ministers, we presented a picture not to be described. The age of those two old men; their position above us; death itself hovering over our heads,

"Nous nous regardions sans proferer une parolle; nous nous serrions les mains, nous nous embrassions....Immobiles, dans un morne silence et les yeux fixes, nous regardions le pavé de notre prison, que la lune éclairait dans l'intervalle de l'ombre formée par les triples barreaux de nos fenêtres."

and surrounding us on every side, gave to that ceremony an imposing and mournful colouring. It drew us near to the Deity, and it inspired us with fresh courage. All reasoning was suspended, and the most cold, and most incredulous, received from it as strong an impression as the most ardent and feeling. One half hour after these two priests were massacred, and we heard their cries!

What must that man be who will read the following details without his eyes filling with tears, and without experiencing the contractions and the shudderings of death (les crispations et les fremisements de la mort)? Of what nature is he whose hair will not stand an end from terror?

Our most important employment was to learn what posture we should take in order to receive death with as little pain as possible, when we went to the place of mas

sacre.

We sent some of our comrades, from time to time, to the window of the little tower, to inform us what position was taken by the unhappy beings whom they sacrificed, that we might calculate from their report how to prepare ourselves. They told us, that those who stretched out their hands suffered for a much longer time, because the blows of the sword were weakened before they fell on the head: that there were even some whose hands and arms fell to the ground before their bodies; and that those who placed them behind their back would suffer much less. Eh bien! it was on these horrible details that we deliberated-we calculated the advantages of this latter posture, and counselled one another to adopt it, when our turn to be murdered should come.

About mid-day, overwhelmed by an agitation more than nature could sustain, absorbed in reflections, the horror of which is inexpressible, I threw myself on a bed, and slept profoundly. Every thing convinces me that I owe my life to that brief period of sleep. I dreamed that I was appearing before the fearful tribunal which was to judge me; that they listened to me with attention, in spite of the frightful sound of the tocsin, and cries which I thought I heard. When my defence was finished, I thought that they set me at liberty. This dream made so favourable an impression on my mind, that it entirely dissipated my anxieties, and I awoke with a presentiment that it would be realized. I recounted the particulars of it to my companions in misfortune, who were astonished at the assurance I preserved from that moment up to the very one on which I appeared before my terrible judges.

Two o'clock.--A proclamation was made, which the people appeared to receive unfavourably. Immediately afterwards some persons, either from curiosity, or froin a benevolent desire perhaps wishing to point out to us means of saving ourselves, placed a ladder against the window of our room: but they were hindered from mounting it, by cries of" Down with it-down with it --it is to supply them with arms."-. (A bas! a bas c'est pour leur porter des armes.) All the tortures of the most devouring thirst were added to the agonies which we were undergoing every moment. At last our jailor, Bertrand, appeared by himself, and we prevailed on him to bring us a jug of water, We drank it with the more eagerness, as twenty-six hours had elapsed*, during which we had not been able to obtain a drop. We spoke of that neglect to a Federée, who came with other persons to visit our prison. He was so indignant at it, that he demanded the name of the jailor, assuring us that he would have him put to death. He would have done as he had said: and it was not until after many supplications that we obtained his pardon. This little relief was soon disturbed by cries of distress which we heard above us. Perceiving that they came from the gallery, we informed all who passed on the stairs of what we heard. At last some one got into the pulpit, and told us that it was a young officer, who had given himself many wounds, none of which was mortal, because the blade of the knife which he used being rounded, could not penetrate. This only served to hasten the moment of his execution.

Eight o'clock.-The ferment of the people began to subside, and we beard many voicees cry" Pardon! pardon! for those who remain." These words were but weakly applauded; still a dawn of hope broke on us: some even thought their deliverance so near, that they had already got their bundles under their arms. But soon fresh cries of death replunged us into our agony.

I had formed an intimate acquaintance with M. Maussaibe, whom they had arrested solely because he had been aide-de-camp to M. Brissac. He had given frequent proofs of courage, but now the fear of being assassinated, lui avait compimé le

*This was the fault of circumstances, and not that of our jailor, nor the porter, citizen Lavaquerie, who, during the period that I was detained in the Abbaye, fulfilled the duties which humanity imposes on an upright man.-Note by the Author.

cœur, I had, however, succeeded in dissipating his agitation a little, when he came and threw himself into my arms, saying, "Mon ami, je juis perdu. Je viens d'entendre mon nom dans la rue." In vain I suggested to him that it was, perhaps, some persons who interested themselves in his safety; and that fear could do him no good, and might destroy him. All expostulation was in vain he had lost his senses to such a degree, that, not finding a place to conceal himself in the chapel, he got into the chimney of the sacristy, where he was stopped by the cross bars, which he had even the folly to attempt to break with his head. We begged him to come down, and after much difficulty persuaded him ; but his reason never returned. This was the cause of his death, of which I shall speak presently. The Sieur Emard, who the evening before had given me instructions to make his will, communicated to me the reasons for which they had arrested him. They appeared to me so unjust, that to give him a proof of my conviction that he would not be put to death, I gave him a silver medal, begging him to keep it, and return it to me in ten years. If he reads this article he will remember his promise. If we have not seen one another, it is not my fault: for I knew not where to find him, and he knows where I am to be found.

Eleven o'clock.-Ten men, armed with swords and pistols, having ordered us to place ourselves in a line, escorted us to the second door, close to that where the tribunal was to judge us. With some caution I approached one of the sentinels who guarded us, and by degrees succeeded in entering into conversation with him. This man informed me, in a dialect which showed that he was a native of Provence, or Languedoc, that he had served eight years; in the regiment of the Lyonese. I spoke his native dialect to him. This appeared to give him pleasure; and the interest which I felt in pleasing him, gave me a Provençal eloquence so persuasive, that I succeeded in gaining his good-will to such a degree, as to draw from him these words, which it is impossible to estimate without having been in the dungeon where I was : "I don't know you, but still I can't think that you can be a traitor-far from that, I believe you to be a good fellow." I taxed my imagination for every thing which it could furnish me in order to confirm him in this good opinion, and succeeded so well, that I moreover obtained from him permission to enter through the fearful door, to see them judge a prisoner. I saw them

judge two; one of whom, a purveyor to the king, accused of belonging to the conspiracy of the tenth of August, was condemned and executed. The other, who wept and uttered only broken words, was already stripped, and going "a la Force," when he was recognized by a workman of Paris, who swore that they mistook him for another person. He was detained for more full information, and I have learned since that he was proclaimed innocent.

What I had just seen was a ray of light, as to the turn I ought to give to my defence. I returned to the second door, where I saw some prisoners they had just brought in. I begged my Provençal friend to procure me a glass of wine. He was going to procure it, when they told him to carry me back into the Chapel, to which I returned, without having been able to discover their reason for having brought us out of it. I found there ten new prisoners, who replaced five of us that had been already judged. I had no time to lose in composing a new memorial, and was setting to work at it, fully convinced that firmness and frankness could alone save me, when I saw my Provençal friend return; who, after having said to the jailor, "Just turn the key of the door, and wait for me without,"-came to me, and said, “I am come for you. the wine for which you asked me-Drink." I had drunk more than half of it, when he put his hand on the bottle, and said"Hold-what a hurry you are in, my friend! I want some for myself. Here's to your health. I can't stay long with you; but remember what I said. If you are a priest, or a conspirator of the palace of Monsieur Veto, you are a ruined man; but if you are not a traitor, never fear; I answer for your life."

Here's

"Ah, my friend, I am very sure that I am not accused of any thing of that sort; but I pass for somewhat of an aristocrat."

"That is nothing: the judges know that there are worthy men of all sorts. The president is himself a worthy man, and no fool."

"Do me the kindness to beg the judges to give me a hearing. That is all I ask of them."

"You shall have it. I answer for it. Now then, good bye, my friend. Take courage. I am going to my post; and will try to make your turn come as soon as I can. Shake hands: I love you with all my heart."

We shook hands, and he went out. A man must have been a prisoner in the Abbaye, on the third of September, in

1792, to feel the influence which this short conversation had on my hopes, and how

much it reanimated them.

About midnight. The dreadful tumult which had not ceased for the last thirty-six hours, began to subside. We thought that our judges, and their executive power, (it was thus that they called the executions,) would not judge us till they had taken some rest. We were employed in arranging our beds, when a new proclamation was made, which was generally hooted. A little afterwards a man requested a hearing from the people, and we distinctly heard him say, "The priests, and the rest of the conspirators, have crossed the hands of the judges: this is the reason that they do not judge them." Hardly had he ceased speaking, when it seemed to us that he was knocked down. The agitation of the people rose to a frightful violence, and the tumult was increasing every moment, when they came to fetch M. Défontaine, formerly a Garde-du-corps, whose death cries we soon afterwards heard (dont bientôt après nous entendimes les

cris de mort.) A little after this they tore from our arms two more of our comrades, which made me foresee that my fatal hour approached. At last, on Tuesday, at one o'clock in the morning, after having suffered an agony of thirty-seven hours, to which even death cannot be compared after having drunk a thousand and a thousand times the cup of bitterness, the door of my prison is opened: I am called.. I appear. Three men seize me, and drag me to the frightful dungeon.

(To be continued.)

CONVERSION OF THE REV. JOHN
TILT TO THE ROMAN CATHO-

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"This determination of Mr. Tilt, who is a gentleman of most amiable manners and extensive erudition, as well as that of Mrs. Tilt, was made after two years deep consideration and study, and at the expense of every worldly prospect for themselves and family, three very fine youths *. But such is the force of truth-such her fascinating beauties,-that she is no sooner discerned by the sincere seeker, than every obstacle of pecuniary interest or social comfort is removed, and her precepts are embraced with cheerfulness and at all risks. How different from those conversions from Popery that are trumpeted forth by the fanatical and

Mr.

interested adherents of error.
Tilt had to relinquish every prospect
of promotion in his former profes-
sion; Mrs. Tilt had before her the
loss of all her domestic comforts,
save that of her partner's love; her
husband not only bereft of prefer-
ment, but the world to seek anew ;
her children's welfare, in a temporal
view, blighted; yet with all these
difficulties-braving every sort of
temptation to cling to the world—
did they nobly resolve to embrace
the light of faith, and may God re-
ward them for the heroic sacrifice
they have made. We have heard

LIC PROFESSION OF CHRIS- that Mr. Tilt attributes his conver

TIANITY.

In a publication entitled "The Orthodox Journal and Monthly Catholic Intelligencer, for August, 1824," we meet with the following interesting narrative :

"On Sunday, the 15th instant, being the feast of the Assumption of the blessed Virgin Mary, the Rev. John Tilt, Curate and Lecturer of the parish of All Hallows, Cornhill, and honorary secretary to the Porteusian Bible Society, together with

sion chiefly to the miracle wrought at, the intercession of Prince Hohenlohe on Miss O'Connor, which affected him so strongly, that he began to examine the doctrines of the church of which he was a minister, and the doctrines of the church to which she was opposed, and at

There is not a little ambiguity here in the report. As the passage stands, it has puzzled us how to condense" themselves and family" into "three very fine youths."

length became, with his amiable consort, a Catholic."

Respecting this narrative we have to observe, that the whole state of the case being considered, we do not think there is much cause of selfgratulation to the Roman Catholic Church on the accession of this boasted convert to their communion. Mr. Tilt, of whom the preceding narrative is given, is, we believe, the son of a respectable Innkeeper of Brighton, and formerly assisted his father in that hospitable vocation. From the retail of eatables and drinkables, he appears to have proceeded to that of hic, hæc, hoc's, at a school; in which department, whether he felt the truth of the saying

Occidit miseros crambe repetita magistros, or that a little learning was a dangerous thing, his career, as we have been informed, terminated in a failure. It was in the course of his labours, as the master of a school, that we have understood (the nature of his office probably serving as a recommendation) he was ordained by the Bishop of Chichester, and officiated at a curacy in the country. -Having lost his curacy, he adjourned to London, where he became a Doctor Pangloss, setting up as a Doctor of Languages and ultimately obtained the curacy of All Hallows, Cornhill, as described in the journal from which we copied the statement of his conversion. Now as to the point of the amiable manners of Mr. T., we have no disposition to be sceptical. We doubt not but that our Journalist is here very correct. Mr. T., from the locality of his early occupation, was

one,

Qui mores hominum multorum vidit, and thus enjoyed opportunities, which have rarely fallen to the lot of gentlemen, for the formation and improvement of his manners. The

REMEMBRANCER, No. 70.

we

extent of his erudition, however, notwithstanding his intermediate profession of a schoolmaster, we must be permitted to question. The same training, which so auspiciously favoured the urbanity of his manners; would hardly conduce to discipline his mind for the study of divinity. If we are indeed, this is the gentleman whom not mistaken, once heard, some years ago, preaching at the church of a place of fashionable resort, and we well remember that we were much more impressed with an idea of the vanity, than of the erudition, of the preacher. This at any rate is perfectly clear that he was not an erudite man when he took orders; for if we are to believe our "Orthodox Journalist," he had never examined the doctrines of the Church of which he was a minister until two years ago; and consequently was until lately ignorant of that knowledge which was his proper erudition. An erudite Theologian without theology certainly shews himself in rather a questionable shape.-Let not then the Romish Church pride itself too much on its present addition of a Tilt to its caravan of foreign curiosities. We Protestants on the other hand, may feel not a little hope for the ultimate sound conversion of our run

away brother, when we find, that having commenced his examination into the truth of Christianity, he has

already got so far as to believe in it, notwithstanding all the objections, with which, under the Papal system, it is encumbered. Having now, in his leisure from the task of instructing others, turned his own instructor and begun to inquire, we may perhaps indulge the reasonable expectation, that he will prosecute his inquiries, and become a sincere convert to the truth, (which evidently he was not before, while he had not examined into the doctrines of his Church :) and thus make one step more in the course of his varied 4 K

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