[Thomas Mahy, Marquis de Favras, was accused in the month of December, 1789, of having conspired against the Revolution.  Having been arrested by order of the committee of inquiry of the National Assembly, he was transferred to the Chatelet, where he defended himself with much coolness and presence of mind, repelling the accusations brought against him by Morel, Turcati, and Marquis, with considerable force.  These witnesses declared he had imparted his plan to them; it was to be carried into execution by 12,000 Swiss and 12,000 Germans, who were to be assembled at Montargis, thence to march upon Paris, carry off the King, and assassinate Bailly, La Fayette, and Necker.  The greater number of these charges he denied, and declared that the rest related only to the levy of a troop intended to favour the revolution preparing in Brabant.  The judge having refused to disclose who had denounced him, he complained to the Assembly, which passed to the order of the day.  His death was obviously inevitable.  During the whole time of the proceedings the populace never ceased threatening the judges and shouting, “A la lanterne!” It was even necessary to keep numerous troops and artillery constantly ready to act in the courtyard of the Chatelet.  The judges, who had just acquitted M. de Besenval in an affair nearly similar, doubtless dreaded the effects of this fury.  When they refused to hear Favras’s witnesses in exculpation, he compared them to the tribunal of the Inquisition.  The principal charge against him was founded on a letter from M. de Foucault, asking him, “where are your troops? in which direction will they enter Paris?  I should like to be employed among them.”  Favras was condemned to make the ‘amende honorable’ in front of the Cathedral, and to be hanged at the Place de Greve.  He heard this sentence with wonderful calmness, and said to his judges, “I pity you much if the testimony of two men is sufficient to induce you to condemn.”  The judge having said to him, “I have no other consolation to hold out to you than that which religion affords,” he replied, nobly, “My greatest consolation is that which I derive from my innocence.”—­“Biographic Universelle”]

On the morning of the Sunday following this execution M. de la Villeurnoy came to my house to tell me that he was going that day to the public dinner of the King and Queen to present Madame de Favras and her son, both of them in mourning for the brave Frenchman who fell a sacrifice for his King; and that all the royalists expected to see the Queen load the unfortunate family with favours.  I did all that lay in my power to prevent this proceeding.  I foresaw the effect it would have upon the Queen’s feeling heart, and the painful constraint she would experience, having the horrible Santerre, the commandant of a battalion of the Parisian guard, behind her chair during dinner-time.  I could not make M. de la Villeurnoy comprehend my argument; the Queen was gone to mass, surrounded by her whole Court, and I had not even means of apprising her of his intention.