“Of what has Elisabeth to complain?” Fouquier-Tinville satirically asked.  “At the foot of the guillotine, surrounded by faithful nobility, she may imagine herself again at Versailles.”

“You call my brother a tyrant,” the Princess replied to her accuser; “if he had been what you say, you would not be where you are, nor I before you!”

She was sentenced to death, and showed neither surprise nor grief.  “I am ready to die,” she said, “happy in the prospect of rejoining in a better world those whom I loved on earth.”

On being taken to the room where those condemned to suffer at the same time as herself were assembled, she spoke to them with so much piety and resignation that they were encouraged by her example to show calmness and courage like her own.  The women, on leaving the cart, begged to embrace her, and she said some words of comfort to each in turn as they mounted the scaffold, which she was not allowed to ascend till all her companions had been executed before her eyes.

[Madame Elisabeth was one of those rare personages only seen at distant intervals during the course of ages; she set an example of steadfast piety in the palace of kings, she lived amid her family the favourite of all and the admiration of the world ....  When I went to Versailles Madame Elisabeth was twenty-two years of age.  Her plump figure and pretty pink colour must have attracted notice, and her air of calmness and contentment even more than her beauty.  She was fond of billiards, and her elegance and courage in riding were remarkable.  But she never allowed these amusements to interfere with her religious observances.  At that time her wish to take the veil at St. Cyr was much talked of, but the King was too fond of his sister to endure the separation.  There were also rumours of a marriage between Madame Elisabeth and the Emperor Joseph.  The Queen was sincerely attached to her brother, and loved her sister-in-law most tenderly; she ardently desired this marriage as a means of raising the Princess to one of the first thrones in Europe, and as a possible means of turning the Emperor from his innovations.  She had been very carefully educated, had talent in music and painting, spoke Italian and a little Latin, and understood mathematics....  Her last moments were worthy of her courage and virtue.—­D’HEZECQUES’s “Recollections,” pp. 72-75.]

“It is impossible to imagine my distress at finding myself separated from my aunt,” says Madame Royale.  “Since I had been able to appreciate her merits, I saw in her nothing but religion, gentleness, meekness, modesty, and a devoted attachment to her family; she sacrificed her life for them, since nothing could persuade her to leave the King and Queen.  I never can be sufficiently grateful to her for her goodness to me, which ended only with her life.  She looked on me as her child, and I honoured and loved her as a second mother.  I was thought to be very like her in countenance, and I feel conscious that I have something of her character.  Would to God I might imitate her virtues, and hope that I may hereafter deserve to meet her, as well as my dear parents, in the bosom of our Creator, where I cannot doubt that they enjoy the reward of their virtuous lives and meritorious deaths.”