demned to die upon the scaffold, walking during whole days in the court of the prison, and talking with their parents, relatives, and friends. Nay, even Robespierre, one of those monsters of cruelty which heaven vomits in its wrath, allowed his victims to breathe fresh air, and left them the comfort of being visited and consoled in their prison by their wives, children, and relatives. It was reserved to Catherine to improve on the cruelties of Robespierre. It was chiefly this want of exercise and fresh air which undermined my health, depressed my spirits, rendered study, reading, and I may say even my existence, burdensome. I quote only one instance, which will prove how dreadful my condition was. One day, after dinner, being in this state of depression and heaviness, and unable either to read or write, I threw myself upon my bed and fell asleep. When I awoke, I heard the clock striking six. Well, the idea of having spent two hours without feeling the weight of my chains, of having, in oblivion of my misfortunes, diminished by two hours the
