te the queen by her title of Queen of France, and begged
their Majesties to quit their apartments, to receive the princes
and great lords of the court desirous to pay their homage to the new
sovereigns. Leaning on her husband's arm, a handkerchief to her eyes,
in the most touching attitude, Marie Antoinette received these first
visits. On quitting the chamber where the dead king lay, the Duc de
Villequier bade M. Anderville, first surgeon of the king, to open and
embalm the body: it would have been certain death to the surgeon. "I am
ready, sir," said he; "but whilst I am operating, you must hold the head
of the corpse: your charge demands it." The Duke went away without
a word, and the body was neither opened nor embalmed. A few humble
domestics and poor workmen watched by the remains, and performed the
last offices to their master. The surgeons ordered spirits of wine to be
poured into the coffin.

They huddled the king's body into a post-chaise; and in this deplorable
equipage, with an escort of about forty men, Louis the well-beloved was
carried, in the dead of night, from Versailles to St. Denis, and then
thrown into the tomb of the kings of France!

If any man is curious, and can get permission, he may mount to the roof
of the palace, and see where Louis XVI. used royally to amuse himself,
by gazing upon the doings of all the townspeople below with a telescope.
Behold that balcony, where, one morning, he, his queen, and the little
Dauphin stood, with Cromwell Grandison Lafayette by their side, who
kissed her Majesty's hand, and protected her; and then, lovingly
surrounded by his people, the king got into a coach and came to Paris:
nor did his Majesty ride much in coaches after that.

There is a portrait of the king, in the upper galleries, clothed in red
and gold, riding a fat horse, brandishing a sword, on which the word
"Justice" is inscribed, and looking remarkably stupid and uncomfortable.
You see that the horse will throw him at the very first fling; and as
for the sword, it never was made for such hands as his, which were
good at holding a corkscrew or a carving-knife, but not clever at the
management of weapons of war. Let those pity him who will: call him
saint and martyr if you please; but a martyr to what principle was he?
Did he frankly support either party in his kingdom, or cheat and tamper
with both? He might have escaped; but he must have his supper: and so
his family was butchered and his kingdom