H.J. Gaudreau - Betrayal in the Louvre by H.J. Gaudreau

laugh and Bill continued.
    “You must remember, treaties and alliances were often made through marriage.  In those cases, the old noble families of Europe wanted to know whom they were becoming allied to, and to whom they were becoming related to.  There had to be some documentation.  Thus, the invention of the Royal Patent.  It didn’t prove royalty, it documented relatives of the royal in question.” 
    “Oh, that makes sense.  You certainly wouldn’t want your new sister-in-law to be the Queen you’ve been at war with for the past few years,” Jim quipped.
    “You joke,” Bill said, “But you’ve got the point exactly.  Remember, war is not always a military event, more often it is conducted via trade policies or religious activities.  In those days France, Germany, Austria, the various nation-states like Venice and Naples, all of the European powers, were constantly struggling with one or another.  Knowing who your friends were was important; knowing who your relatives were was even more important.”
    “This Patent is for Louis-Joseph, the oldest son of Louis XVI.  Because he was the oldest, he was called The Dauphin.  Dauphin was the traditional title for the son destined to be King.”   Rousseau paused to let that sink in. 
    Feeling that his point had been made he returned to his narrative.  “There is an odd historical mystery that many scholars have pondered and no one has resolved.  A few years ago a letter written by Charles Henri Sanson and sent to one of the revolutionary newspapers of the time was found in Paris.  The letter was eventually sold at auction by Christie’s auction house in London so I’m certain it was authenticated.  Sanson, of course, was the High Executioner of France for the King, later for the revolutionary government.” 
    In unison, both Jim and Eve, in a casual voice and wave of the hand said “Oh, of course…”, then grinned.
    Bill smiled and continued, enjoying this couple and their obvious happy union.  “Sanson dropped the blade on the King himself in 1793.  In this letter he claimed to be telling, quote, ‘the exact truth of what happened’.” 
    Bill looked closely at Jim and Eve.  “Now, here’s what makes this interesting.  Sanson said that the King approached death with great calm and bravery and, just before he lay on the guillotine table he said ‘Henri, Please do not touch Louis-Joseph’.” 
    Bill smiled, “Now, here’s the thing.  France followed Salic law, which means that only the eldest male heir could assume the throne.  History tells us that Louis XVI had four children.  Marie-Therese, Louis-Joseph, Louis-Charles, and Sophie.  Marie-Therese was obviously female and not a threat to the revolution.  She survived the period known as “The Terror” when all those heads were rolling in Paris.  Her younger sister Sophie died at eleven months of tuberculosis.  The boys are why the story gets interesting.”
    Jim and Eve were thoroughly engaged.  Both were staring hard at Rousseau’s face as if to draw the words out.  Much to their distress he paused.  The break in the monolog seemed to hurt.  He opened the other book on his desk and searched for a page, finally finding it he laid it on the desktop. 
    “This is a painting of Louis-Joseph.  According to the news of the time, and royal proclamations, which were posted from one end of France to the other, he died of tuberculosis on the fourth of June, 1791.  His younger brother, Louis-Charles assumed the role of Dauphin.  Unfortunately for poor Louis-Charles, he did not escape the Terror and died in prison after suffering terrible abuse at the age of ten.” 
    They looked up at him.  He didn’t say a word.  Finally Eve said, “If Louis-Joeseph died on the fourth of June 1791…” 
    Jim interrupted, “…then why did his father ask the executioner not to touch him in 1793?”
    “Exactly,” said Rousseau.

 
    Chapter 10
     
    I
     
    The Musée du Louvre in