had good in him to have been loved as he was throughout life.  He was besides more intelligent touching the Revolution and its meaning than any man approaching him in rank in France.  The Duke, when a young man, served with credit in the navy, but after the battle of Ushant, in 1778, where he commanded the blue squadron, he was received with such enthusiasm in Paris, that Marie-Antoinette obtained his dismissal from the service.  From this period he withdrew from court and his opposition to the government began.  He adopted republican ideas, which he drew from America, and he educated his children as democrats.  In 1789 he was elected to the States-General, where he supported the fusion of the orders, and attained to a popularity which, on one occasion, according to Madame de Campan, nearly made the Queen faint from rage and grief.  It was from the garden of his palace of the Palais Royal that the column marched on July 14, wearing his colors, the red, white and blue, to storm the Bastille.  It seemed that he had only to go on resolutely to thrust the King aside and become the ruler of France.  He made no effort to do so.  Mirabeau is said to have been disgusted with his lack of ambition.  He was charitable also, and spent very large sums of money among the poor of Paris during the years of distress which followed upon the social disorders.  The breach with the court, however, became steadily wider, and finally he adhered to the party of Danton and voted for the condemnation of the King.  He sent two of his sons to serve in the army.  The elder was still with Dumouriez at the time of his treason.  On April 6, 1793, when Dumouriez’s treachery had become known, the Assembly ordered the arrest of the whole Bourbon family, and among them the Duke was apprehended and sent to Marseilles.

Thus it appears that whatever complaint his own order may have had against Egalite, the Republic certainly had none.  No man could have done more for modern France than he.  He abandoned his class, renounced his name, gave his money, sent his sons to the war, and voted for his own relative’s death.  No one feared him, and yet Robespierre had him brought to Paris and guillotined.  His trial was a form.  Fouquier admitted that he had been condemned before he left Marseilles.  The Duke was, however, very rich and the government needed his money.  Every one understood the situation.  He was told of the order for his arrest one night when at supper in his palace in Paris with his friend Monsieur de Monville.  The Duke, much moved, asked Monville if it were not horrible, after all the sacrifices he had made and all that he had done.  “Yes, horrible,” said Monville, coolly, “but what would you have?  They have taken from your Highness all they could get, you can be of no further use to them.  Therefore, they will do to you, what I do with this lemon” (he was squeezing a lemon on a sole); “now I have all the juice.”  And he threw the lemon into the fireplace.  But yet even then Robespierre was not satisfied.  He harbored malice against this fallen man.  On the way to the scaffold he ordered the cart, in which the Duke sat, to stop before the Palais Royal, which had been confiscated, in order that the Duke might contemplate his last sacrifice for his country.  The Duke showed neither fear nor emotion.