Execution of Louis XVI

On the 21st January 1793 Louis XVI having been found guilty in the National Convention was beheaded at the Place de la Révolution.  As Louis XVI mounted the scaffold, he appeared dignified and resigned.  He made a short speech where he declared himself innocent of the crimes he had committed and wished that his blood would not fall back on France.  His last words were cut off by  drum roll.

Jean-Baptiste Cléry (the King’s valet) in discussion with Madame Elizabeth the youngest sibling of Louis XVI about his upcoming execution in January 1793 from A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p84-85.

“The Queen and myself”, replied she, “look for the worst, and do not deceive ourselves as to the fate preparing for the King.  He will die a sacrifice to the goodness of his heart, and love for his people, for whose happiness he has never ceased to labour since he mounted the Throne.  How cruelly is this people deceived!  As for him, his Religion, and that perfect reliance he has upon Providence, will support him in this sad moment of adversity.  “You, Cléry”, continued this virtuous Princesses, with tears in her eyes, “will now be the only person with my brother: redouble, if possible, your attentions to him, and omit no opportunity of giving us intelligence respecting him; but on no other account expose yourself, for then we should have no one on whom we can rely.”

The will of Louis XVI taken from A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p102-107

In the name of the Very holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

To-day, the 25th day of December, 1792, I, Louis XVI King of France, being for more than four months imprisoned with my family in the tower of the Temple at Paris, by those who were my subjects, and deprived of all communication whatsoever, even with my family, since the eleventh instant; moreover, involved in a trial the end of which it is impossible to foresee, on account of the passions of men, and for which one can find neither pretext nor means in any existing law, and having no other witnesses, for my thoughts than God to whom I can address myself, I hereby declare, in His presence, my last wishes and feelings.

I leave my soul to God, my creator; I pray Him to receive it in His mercy, not to judge it according to its merits but according to those of Our Lord Jesus Christ who has offered Himself as a sacrifice to God His Father for us other men, no matter how hardened, and for me first.

I die in communion with our Holy Mother, the Catholic, Apostolic, Roman Church, which holds authority by an uninterrupted succession, from St. Peter, to whom Jesus Christ entrusted it; I believe firmly and I confess all that is contained in the creed and the commandments of God and the Church, the sacraments and the mysteries, those which the Catholic Church teaches and has always taught. I never pretend to set myself up as a judge of the various way of expounding the dogma which rend the church of Jesus Christ, but I agree and will always agree, if God grant me life the decisions which the ecclesiastical superiors of the Holy Catholic Church give and will always give, in conformity with the disciplines which the Church has followed since Jesus Christ.

I pity with all my heart our brothers who may be in error but I do not claim to judge them, and I do not love them less in Christ, as our Christian charity teaches us, and I pray to God to pardon all my sins. I have sought scrupulously to know them, to detest them and to humiliate myself in His presence. Not being able to obtain the ministration of a Catholic priest, I pray God to receive the confession which I feel in having put my name (although this was against my will) to acts which might be contrary to the discipline and the belief of the Catholic church, to which I have always remained sincerely attached. I pray God to receive my firm resolution, if He grants me life, to have the ministrations of a Catholic priest, as soon as I can, in order to confess my sins and to receive the sacrament of penance.

I beg all those whom I might have offended inadvertently (for I do not recall having knowingly offended any one), or those whom I may have given bad examples or scandals, to pardon the evil which they believe I could have done them.

I beseech those who have the kindness to join their prayers to mine, to obtain pardon from God for my sins.

I pardon with all my heart those who made themselves my enemies, without my have given them any cause, and I pray God to pardon them, as well as those who, through false or misunderstood zeal, did me much harm.

I commend to God my wife and my children, my sister, my aunts, my brothers, and all those who are attached to me by ties of blood or by whatever other means. I pray God particularly to cast eyes of compassion upon my wife, my children, and my sister, who suffered with me for so long a time, to sustain them with His mercy if they shall lose me, and as long as they remain in his mortal world.

I commend my children to my wife; I have never doubted her maternal tenderness for them. I enjoin her above all to make them good Christians and honest individuals; to make them view the grandeurs of this world (if they are condemned to experience them) as very dangerous and transient goods, and turn their attention towards the one solid and enduring glory, eternity. I beseech my sister to kindly continue her tenderness for my children and to take the place of a mother, should they have the misfortune of losing theirs.

I beg my wife to forgive all the pain which she suffered for me, and the sorrows which I may have caused her in the course of our union; and she may feel sure that I hold nothing against her, if she has anything with which to reproach herself.

I most warmly enjoin my children that, after what they owe to God, which should come first, they should remain forever united among themselves, submissive and obedient to their mother, and grateful for all the care and trouble which she has taken with them, as well as in memory of me. I beg them to regard my sister as their second mother.

I exhort my son, should he have the misfortune of becoming king, to remember he owes himself wholly to the happiness of his fellow citizens; that he should forget all hates and all grudges, particularly those connected with the misfortunes and sorrows which I am experiencing; that he can make the people happy only by ruling according to laws: but at the same time to remember that a king cannot make himself respected and do the good that is in his heart unless he has the necessary authority, and that otherwise, being tangled up in his activities and not inspiring respect, he is more harmful than useful.

I exhort my son to care for all the persons who are attached to me, as much as his circumstances will allow, to remember that it is a sacred debt which I have contracted towards the children and relatives of those who have perished for me and also those who are wretched for my sake. I know that there are many persons, among those who were near me, who did not conduct themselves towards me as they should have and who have even shown ingratitude, but I pardon them (often in moments of trouble and turmoil one is not master of oneself), and I beg my son that, if he finds an occasion, he should think only of their misfortunes.

I should have wanted here to show my gratitude to those who have given me a true and disinterested affection; if, on the one hand, I was keenly hurt by the ingratitude and disloyalty of those to whom I have always shown kindness, as well as to their relatives and friends, on the other hand I have had the consolation of seeing the affection and voluntary interest which many persons have shown me. I beg them to receive my thanks.

In the situation in which matters still are, I fear to compromise them if I should speak more explicitly, but I especially enjoin my son to seek occasion to recognize them.

I should, nevertheless, consider it a calumny on the nation if I did not openly recommend to my son MM. De Chamilly and Hue, whose genuine attachment for me led them to imprison themselves with me in this sad abode. I also recommend Clery, for whose attentiveness I have nothing but praise ever since he has been with me. Since it is he who has remained with me until the end, I beg the gentlemen of the commune to hand over to him my clothes, my books, my watch, my purse, and all other small effects which have been deposited with the council of the commune.

I pardon again very readily those who guard me, the ill treatment and the vexations which they thought it necessary to impose upon me. I found a few sensitive and compassionate souls among them – may they in their hearts enjoy the tranquillity which their way of thinking gives them.

I beg MM. De Malesherbes, Tronchet and De Seze to receive all my thanks and the expressions of my feelings for all the cares and troubles they took for me.

I finish by declaring before God, and ready to appear before Him, that I do not reproach myself with any of the crimes with which I am charged.

Made in duplicate in the Tower of the Temple, the 25th of December 1792.

Jean-Baptiste Cléry (the King’s valet) reports on the preparations on the King’s execution from A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p113-114

I got everything ready for the King to shave.  He put on the soap himself, standing up and facing me while I held his basin.  Forced to stifle my feelings, I had not yet had resolution to look at the face of my unfortunate Master; but my eyes now catching his accidentally, my tears ran over in spite of me.  I know not whether seeing me in that state put the King in mind of his own situation or not, but he suddenly turned very pale.  At this sight, my knees trembled and my strength forsook me; the King, perceiving me ready to fall, caught me by both hands, and pressing them warmly, said, in a gentle voice, “Come, more courage.”  He was observed; the depth of my affliction was manifested by my silence, of which he seemed sensible.  His countenance was reanimated, he shaved himself with composure, and then I dressed him….

“You have heard”, said the King to me, “the account of the sentence pronounced against me?” “Ah!  Sire,” I answered, “let us hope that it will be suspended; M. de Malesherbes believes that it will.”  “I seek no hope,” replied the King, “but I grieve exceedingly to think that Monsieur d’Orléans, my relation, should have voted for my death: read that list.”  He then gave me the list of voters, which he had in his hand.  “The public”, I observed, “murmurs greatly: Dumouriez is in Paris; it is said that he entertains favourable intentions, and that he brings with him the sentiments of his army against your majesty’s trial.  The people are shocked at the infamous conduct of Monsieur d’Orléans.  It is also reported that the foreign Ambassadors will meet and go the Assembly.  Indeed it is confidently asserted, that the Members of the Convention are afraid of a popular insurrection.”  “I should be very sorry to have it take place,” replied the King “for then there would be new victims.  I do not fear death,” added His Majesty, “but I cannot, without shuddering, contemplate the cruel fate which I leave behind me, to my family, to the Queen, to our unfortunate children.  And those faithful servants, who have never abandoned me, and those old men, whose subsistence depended upon the little pensions I allowed them, who will succour and protect them? I see the people delivered over a prey to anarchy, to become the victims of every faction, crimes succeed crimes, long dissensions tear France in pieces.”  Then, after a moment’s pause: “Oh! My God!” he exclaimed, “is this the reward which I must receive for all my sacrifices?  Have I not tried everything to ensure the happiness of the French people?” In pronouncing these words, he seized and pressed both my hands: I bathed his with my tears, and in that state I had to leave him.

Jean-Baptiste Cléry (the King’s valet) reports on the final moments the King spends with his family from A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p126-127.

At half past eight, the door opened.  The Queen came first, leading her son by the hand; Madame Royale and Madame Elizabeth followed.  They all threw themselves into the arms of the King.  A melancholy silence prevailed for some minutes, only broken by sighs and sobs.  The Queen made an inclination towards His Majesty’s chamber.  “No,” said the King, “let us go into this room, I can see you only there.” They went in, and I shut the glass door.  The King sat down; the Queen was on his left hand, Madame Elizabeth on his right, Madame Royale nearly opposite, and the young Prince stood between his legs.  All were leaning on the King, and often pressed him in their embraces.  This scene of sorrow lasted an hour and three quarters, during which it was impossible to hear anything.  It could, however, be seen that after every sentence uttered by the King, the agitation of the Queen and Princesses increased, lasted some minutes, and then the King began to speak again.  It was plain, from their gestures, that they received from himself the first intelligence of his condemnation.

At a quarter past ten, the King rose first; they all followed.  I opened the door.  The Queen held the King by his right arm: their Majesties gave each a hand to the Dauphin.  Madame Royal, on the King’s left, had her arms round his body and, behind her, Madame Elizabeth, on the same side, had taken his arm.  They advanced some steps towards the door, breaking out into the most agonising lamentations.  “I assure you”, said the King, “that I will see you again to-morrow morning at eight o’clock.” “You promise?” said they all together.  “Yes, I promise.” “Why not at seven o’clock? Said the Queen. “Well! Yes, at seven,” replied the King, “farewell!” He pronounced “farewell” in so impressive a manner that their sobs were renewed, and Madame Royale fainted at the feet of the King, to whom she had clung.  I raised her, and assisted Madame Elizabeth to support her.  The King, wishing to put an end to this agonising scene, once more embraced them all more tenderly, and had the resolution to tear himself from their arms.  “Farewell! Farewell!” said he, and went into his rooms.

Abbe Edgeworth who attended to the King in his last hours including the scaffold.  Before he is taken to his execution he reports on a discussion he had with the King over who is responsible for the King’s pleasant plight. As published in A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p147

The conversation then changed to the subject of the Duke of Orléans.  “What have I ever done to my cousin” , said the King to me, “that he should seek my downfall? … But after all, he is more to be pitied than I.  My position is tragic, no doubt, but most certainly I would not change it for his.”

Abbe Edgeworth who attended to the King in his last hours including the scaffold. As published in A Journal of the Terror, The Folio Society, London (1955) p157-158

As soon as the King had got out of the coach, three of the executioners surrounded him, and tried to remove his outer clothes.  He pushed them away with dignity, and took off his coat himself.  He also took off his collar and his shirt, and made himself ready with his own hands.  The executioners, disconcerted for a moment by the King’s proud bearing, recovered themselves and surrounded him again in order to bind his hands.  “What are you doing?” said the King, quickly drawing his hands back.  “Binding your hands”, answered one of them.  “Binding me!” said the King in a voice of indignation, “never! Do what you have been ordered, but you shall never bind me.”  The executioners insisted; they spoke more loudly, and seemed about to call for help to force the King to obey.

This was the most agonising moment of this terrible morning; one minute more, and the best of Kings would have received an outrage a thousand times worse than death, by the violence that they were going to use towards him.  He seemed to fear this himself, and turning his head, seemed to be asking my advice.  At first I remained silent, but when he continued to look at me, I said, with tears in my eyes, “Sire, in this new outrage I see one last resemblance between Your Majesty and the God who is about to be your reward.”

At these words he raised his eyes to heaven with an expression of unutterable sadness.  “Surely”, he replied, “it needs nothing less than His example to make me submit to such an insult.” Then turning to the executioners, “Do what you will; I will drink the cup, even to the dregs.”

The steps of the scaffold were extremely steep.  The King was obliged to lean on my arm, and from the difficulty they caused him, I feared that his courage was beginning to wane: but what was my astonishment when arrived at the top, he let go of me, crossed the scaffold with a firm step, silenced with a glance the fifteen or twenty drummers who had been placed directly opposite, and in a voice so loud that it could be heard as far away as the Pont-Tournant, pronounced these unforgettable words. “I die innocent of all the crimes with which I am charged.  I forgive those who are guilty of my death, and I pray God that the blood which you are about to shed may never be required of France.”

Letters from Helen Maria Williams on the execution of Louis XVI.  Taken from Letters Written in France, Broadview Literary Texts, Ormskirk (2002) p163-164

The calmness which Lewis the sixteenth displayed on this great trial of human fortitude, is attributed not only to the support his mind received from religious faith, but also to the hope which it is said he cherished, even till his last moment, that the people, whom he meant to address from the scaffold, would demand that his life might be spared.  And his confessor, from motives of compassion, had encouraged him in this hope.  After ascending the scaffold with a firm step, twice the unhappy monarch attempted to speak, and twice Santerre prevented him from being heard, by ordering the drums to beat immediately.  Alas! Had he been permitted to speak, poor was his chance of exciting commiseration! Those who pitied his calamities had carefully shunned that fatal spot; and those who most immediately surrounded him only waited till the stroke was given, in order to dip their pikes and their handkerchiefs in his blood

Letters from Helen Maria Williams on the execution of Louis XVI and Burke’s predictions.  Taken from Letters Written in France, Broadview Literary Texts, Ormskirk (2002) p166-167

There is another reproach of more importance to be made to Mr Burke: it is, that, in all probability, his predictions, and those of the writers who followed him on the same side in France, were in a great measures the causes of evils they foretold.  Mr Burke predicted the deaths of Louis the sixteenth, at a time when not a human being in France had such an idea in his mind; and the eloquent and specious description he gave of the imaginary disgrace and distress of royalty, most certainly had a considerable effect on the mind of that unfortunate prince, and still more on that of the queen, and the persons of her court.  We all know that the king had no reason to be discontented with his situation as it was determined by the Constituent Assembly; but we also know, nothing is so easy for an able man, as to render a weak man discontented with his condition, by persuading him that he is ill-treated, and painting to him by delusive pictures of advantage that he ought to enjoy, or of inconveniences that he ought not to suffer.  But for Mr Burke, and his associates in France, it is highly probable Louis the sixteenth might now have been reigning peaceably on his throne.  I do not mean to accuse their intentions; but I am warranted to say, that their writings contributed at once to render the court discontented with the revolution and the nation suspicious of the court.  Of consequence, they had a great share in producing the calamities of the monarch and his unfortunate family.

Madam De La Tour Du Pin on the execution of the king.   Taken from Escape from the Terror The Journal of Madam De La Tour Du Pin, The Folio Society, London (1979) p142

On the morning of 21 January, the gates of Paris were closed and orders given that no reply was to be made to those outside who asked the reason why.  We guessed the reason only too well, my husband and I, and leaning from a window of our house overlooking Paris, listened for the rattle of musketry which would give us some hope that so great a crime would not be committed unchallenged.  We waited in shocked silence , hardly daring to say a word to one another.  We could not believe that such a price would be exacted and my husband was greatly distressed at having left Paris, to believe such a tragedy possible.  Alas! The deepest silence lay like a pall over a regicide city.  At half past ten, the gates were opened and the life of the city resumed its course, unchanged.  A great nation had that day soiled its history with a crime of which future centuries would hold it guilty, yet not the smallest detail of this daily round had changed.

Germaine De Staël discusses Louis XVI and his wife.  Taken from Considerations on the Principle events of the French Revolution, Germaine De Staël, Liberty Fund, Indianapolis (2008) p46-47

The Queen, Marie Antoinette, was one of the most amiable and gracious persons who ever occupied a throne: there was no reason why she should not preserve the love of the French, for she had nothing to forfeit it.  As far, therefore, as personal qualities went, the King and Queen might claim the hearts of their subjects; but the arbitrary form of the government, as successive ages had moulded it, accorded so ill with the spirit of the times, that even the virtues of the sovereigns were overlooked the amid the accumulation of abuses.  When a nation feels the want of political reform, the personal character of the monarch is but a feeble barrier against the impulse.  A sad fatality placed the reign of Louis XVI in an era in which great talents and profound knowledge were necessary to contend with the prevailing spirit, or, what would have been better, to make a fair compromise with it.