“Had they taken the Duc de Brissac and the Marquis d’Agoult as their outriders, as was originally planned, they might have got through. To substitute ordinary gentlemen of the bodyguard was a great mistake; they had not the standing to ignore the King in an emergency, and to cut him a way to safety in spite of himself.”
“I heard that Their Majesties committed every sort of stupidity before they even started.”
“They did. There was the refusal to be separated from their children even for a few hours, and their insistence that Madame Elizabeth and Madame de Tourzel should travel with them. For so large a party no ordinary carriage was large enough, so the Comte de Fersan had a great Berlin built specially for their flight, and during the building of it half Paris guessed the purpose for which it was intended. The Queen dispatched clothes of all sorts to the frontier in advance, and news of that leaked out. Then a Madame Rochereuil, one of the Queen’s women who were not in the secret, discovered that she had removed her jewels from their boxes, and laid an information against her.”
“It seems a marvel that they ever got away at all.”
“They succeeded, I think, only because the venture had been talked of for so long, without maturing, that most people had reached the conclusion that they would never pluck up the courage to attempt it.”
“Knowing the habitual vacillation of the King, I can well understand that. How long did it take the poor Queen to bring him to a firm decision?”
“The best part of a year. They were certainly considering it as far back as the late summer of 1790. It would have been easy then, but the delay was at least in part her own fault. She was obsessed with the idea of having her brother, the Emperor Leopold, mass an Austrian army on the frontier before they set out, and months were lost in corresponding about these forces.”
“It is really true, then, that she planned the invasion of France?”
“No, no!” Barnave quickly shook his head. “Far from it. She did everything she possibly could to prevent war breaking out; I am convinced of that. She wanted an Austrian army on the frontier only as a security measure. She felt that its presence, coupled with a joint declaration by King Louis’s fellow Sovereigns of Austria, Prussia, Sweden, Russia and Spain, would deter the Assembly from taking up arms against him; whereas, lacking such support, the King might find himself forced into a civil war.”
Roger smiled. “I see; and as he could never be induced to risk such a commitment, nothing could be done until the Queen had succeeded in eliminating the risk?”
“Yes. The initiative throughout these negotiations was hers, but I incline to think you’ve put your finger on the truth that underlay the matter. In any case they let the winter months slip by without settling anything; and that, I am sure, was because right up till April ’91 they allowed themselves to be lulled into the false belief that they would have no great difficulty in escaping from Paris at any time they liked.”
“What caused them to alter their opinion?”
“The King had been ill. His doctor advised him that he needed country air, so it was arranged that the Royal Family should spend Easter at St. Cloud. D’Orléans had it put about that from there they intended flight, so on the morning that they were to leave a mob gathered in the courtyard of the Tuileries. For over two hours the rabble prevented their carriage from moving and shouted insults at them. Bailly, who was then Mayor, and Lafayette did their utmost to disperse the mob, but without avail. Eventually the whole party had to abandon the attempt and go back into the Palace.”
“Had they had any sense they would have waited until nightfall, and when the mob had dispersed left Paris for good,” remarked Roger.
“You are right; that is just what they should have done. However, the effect of that unhappy episode was to impress upon them that unless they were willing to resign themselves to permanently remaining prisoners, they must make definite plans to escape. The Berlin had been ordered in January by Fersan through a Russian friend of his named Madame de Korff, and was ready. Madame was shortly due to leave France with her two children, so it was settled that the Royal Family should travel as her party. The King finally decided to entrust himself to the Marquis de Bouille, who was commanding at Metz and reported that he could rely on the troops under him. The destination was fixed as Montmédy and plans made for detachments of de Bouillé’s cavalry to protect the royal fugitives from Chalons to that fortress.”
“Why, in the name of Heaven, could they not have taken the shorter and less dangerous route through Flanders?”
“That was urged upon the King; but he would not hear of it, because it would have meant leaving France for a few hours while crossing a salient of territory belonging to the Emperor.”
“Mon Dieu! What a nit-picking!” exclaimed Roger in disgust. “I am at a loss to understand the mind of a monarch who is ready to accept the support of his brother-in-law’s troops yet boggles at driving across a corner of his country.”
Barnave shrugged. “That is one of his troubles; all his life he has strained at gnats and swallowed camels. His brother, de Provence, was afflicted with no such scruples; he and his wife left the Luxembourg Palace the same night, and made straight for Flanders. When they heard that the King had been captured, instead of going to Montmédy they drove on to Brussels.”
“The flight took place on June 20th—just a year ago tonight—did it not?”
“Yes. After the St. Cloud fiasco, they planned to join de Bouille early in May. But for one reason or another they kept postponing the date, and that, coupled with a most extraordinary series of minor accidents, proved their undoing.”
“Who was responsible for planning the actual escape?”
“The Queen and Fersan, as far as Chalons; from there on the King.”
“I gathered that they got quite a long way past Chalons.”
“They did, but not until several hours after they were expected. To avert suspicion the King had to go ceremonially to bed as was the custom. Bailly and Lafayette who were loyal to the Assembly were both present, so matters could not be hurried, and the coucher lasted twenty minutes longer than usual. Each member of the Royal Family left the Palace separately, with only one gentleman of the bodyguard. The Queen and her escort missed their way and for over half an hour were lost in the maze of alleys leading off the Place du Carrousel before they found the rendezvous where Fersan was waiting with a carriage to pick them all up. Fersan was acting as coachman, and in the dark he also missed his way, so another half an hour was lost in reaching the Barriere St. Martin, at which the party was to transfer to the big Berlin. At the end of the first stage, at Bondy, Fersan left them. Although they were two hours behind their time-table, he had succeeded in getting them safely out of Paris, and had every reason to suppose that no further delays or difficulties would arise. But before they reached Chalons the Berlin broke down; a further hour was lost whilst repairing it.”
“Heavens, what a series of misfortunes!” exclaimed Roger.
“Yes, each was little enough in itself, but added up they spelled ruin. The Baron de Goguelat, who had acted as courier in carrying all the secret messages between the King and General de Bouille, had advanced to Pont de Sommeville, the first post past Chalons, with forty hussars, to meet the Royal Party. Had he been any other officer, he would probably have waited there until ordered to retire, but de Goguelat, having been privy to so many preparations and postponements, used his own judgment. The King was due there at three o’clock; at five there was still no sign of him, so de Goguelat concluded that once again the attempt had been put off, and withdrew across country towards Varennes.”
“Had not the King already been recognised at Chalons?”
“Yes, by a number of people; but all except the postmaster proved loyal, and no attempt was made to stop the party proceeding. All might yet have been well but for another series of unpredictable misfortunes. Finding no troops at Pont de Sommeville, the King pushed on to St. Ménehould, whither forty dragoons had been
despatched under Captain d’Andoins. There, the townsfolk proved revolutionary in sentiment and hostile to the troops. Had the King arrived promptly d’Andoins could have carried off the situation, but during the long wait the people began to demonstrate against his men. To avoid a riot he was compelled to order them to dismount and walk unarmed about the streets. When the Berlin at last appeared there was no way of collecting them without the crowd guessing what was afoot, so d’Andoins could only urge the King to press on, still unescorted, with all speed to Clermont. At Clermont, Colonel Comte de Damas was awaiting him with a hundred dragoons, but there again the unexplained sight of a body of troops hanging about the posting-house for hour after hour had made the townsfolk first suspicious, then hostile. By the time the King arrived a great crowd had collected. It was only with considerable difficulty that Damas forced the Berlin through the town at all, and the majority of his men, by then influenced by the mob’s belief that they were being used in some Royalist plot, refused to follow it.”
Roger groaned. “What incredible stupidity to post these bodies of troops in the towns! Anyone but a fool would have arranged for them to occupy crossroads in the open country, where they would neither have aroused suspicion nor been liable to be got at.”
“The King and de Bouille must share the blame for that,” Barnave replied; “but the chapter of accidents is not yet exhausted. Damas did succeed in getting a quartermaster and a troop of loyal dragoons out of the town shortly after the Berlin had departed, with orders to overtake and escort it; but they took the wrong turning and galloped off along the road to Verdun instead of towards Varennes.”
“Ah! The last stage of that ill-fated journey?”
“It need not have proved so but for a final mishap. It is widely believed that Drouet, the postmaster at St. Ménehould, had recognised the King by comparing his face with the profile on a louis d’or. That is not true; he invented the story for his own glorification. It was the postmaster at Chalons who recognised the King, and although he had not the courage to prevent the Berlin leaving, he sent a message on to his colleague at St. Ménehould. Drouet did not receive it until an hour after the Royal Party had passed through, but he mounted and set off in pursuit, taking a short cut through some woods.
“The King reached Varennes at eleven o’clock, well ahead of Drouet. The town is situated on the slope of a hill and divided into two parts by a river and bridge. In its lower part, beyond the river, another body of hussars was waiting, with a change of horses for the Berlin. The King had been told that he would find his relays in the upper part of the town and he halted at a house that had been described to him. No one there knew anything about the matter; so, thinking he must have been mistaken in the house, he and the Queen alighted to search for another like it.
“In that action lay Fate’s final irony. They had only a further twenty-two miles to go to reach Montmédy and be safe in the heart of de Bouillé’s army. Even another half-mile would have brought them to loyal troops and the horses for which they sought in vain. The night was fine but pitch dark. For half an hour the King and Queen roamed the streets and argued with their postillions, who did not know their identity and were averse to driving another stage without a fresh team. In the meantime Drouet passed them, gave the alarm at an inn, and made preparations to barricade the bridge.”
Roger sadly shook his head. “It seems as though all the forces of darkness were in league against them.”
“Were I a superstitious man I would certainly believe it,” Barnave agreed. “Yet, even then, they might have got through had the King shown resolution, or have been rescued but for a further series of most evil mischances. It was getting on for midnight, so nearly everyone at Varennes was asleep and Drouet had had time to collect only a score or so men to hold up the Berlin. The bridge had not yet been barricaded, so if the three gentlemen with the Royal Party had shot down the ringleaders, they could have forced a passage and driven through to safety. Instead, the King’s usual horror of bloodshed prevailed and when called on to halt he stopped to parley.
“A grocer named Sauce, who was a Municipal officer, had taken charge. He demanded that the travellers should prove their identity. Madame de Tourzel was travelling as Madame de Korff, the Queen as governess to her two daughters—the little Dauphin having been dressed for his part as a girl. Madame Elizabeth’s rôle was that of companion, and the King’s that of steward. Sauce refused to accept their declarations and insisted that they alight and remain in his house until further investigations had been made. Meanwhile the tocsin was sounded, the whole town was roused and the bridge was barricaded to prevent the hussars on the far bank from intervening. De Goguelat, still believing that the flight had been postponed, was approaching Varennes across country, but in the dark he lost his way, so did not arrive there with his forty men until it was too late for them to overcome the great crowd that had collected. Meanwhile de Bouille, who could easily have advanced to the town during the night and had ample troops under him to subdue it, also believed by now that another postponement had taken place, so retired to Stenay.”
Again Roger shook his head. “This chapter of accidents seems never-ending.”
“Yes; yet one last chance was given them. In the dawn the Duc de Choiseul arrived with de Goguelat and his hussars, and de Damas turned up with another half a dozen troopers from Clermont. By then the King had been definitely identified by a magistrate named Destez, but the three officers drew their troops up outside the house and forced a way in. De Choiseul begged the King to let them charge the mob and cut a way out of the town for him, but he would not hear of it.”
“If only he had displayed one-tenth of the courage then that he showed this afternoon,” Roger murmured. “I heard it said that when the mob was breaking down the door of the Œil de Bœuf, he made one of the soldiers who were with him place a hand on his heart to prove that it was not beating a fraction faster.”
Barnave wrinkled up his thin nose. “Such fearlessness is commendable enough where only one’s personal safety is concerned, but he seems oblivious of the fact that others are imperilled by his complete lack of all but passive courage. His mania for preventing a single sans-culotte from receiving a scratch may one day cost his children and the Queen their lives.”
“You express exactly what I have often thought. But pray continue and tell me of the last scenes of this tragedy.”
“There is little more to tell. The King was under the impression that by this time de Bouillé had learned of his flight and must be hastening to his rescue. Four o’clock came, and five, but no de Bouillé. Instead, Lafayette’s aide-de-camp Romeuf, and a Commander of the National Guard named Bayon, arrived from Paris, bringing with them a decree of the Assembly ordering the King to return to the capital. Still hoping that de Bouillé would reach Varennes in time to save them, the Royal Party resorted to every possible expedient which might delay their departure. Romeuf secretly hoped for their rescue, so would have aided them; but Bayon proved inexorable, and soon after seven he forced them to set out.
“There followed for them four days of misery and humiliation such as few families can ever have been called on to endure. The Berlin moved only at a foot-pace so that the mob could keep up with it, and the heat, dust and smell were almost beyond bearing. During the whole of the journey back to Paris it was surrounded by a shouting, jeering crowd. As some tired of the spectacle and fell out, others from every village and town through which the cavalcade passed took their places. Anyone who attempted to offer the Royal Family sympathy was set upon and maltreated. A poor old gentleman in St. Ménehould who took off his hat to the Queen was murdered before her eyes, and his head, dripping with blood, was held up at the window of the Berlin for her to see. Later, when Pétion and I had joined them in the Berlin, I only succeeded in saving a village priest from a similar fate by leaning from its window and screaming, ‘Tigers, have you ceased to be Frenchmen? From brave men have you become a nation of assassins?‘”
Barnav
e broke off to laugh grimly. “I was so excited that I nearly fell out of the window, and was saved from doing so only by the presence of mind of Madame Elizabeth. How the Queen laughed about that afterwards; and what volumes it speaks for her fortitude that even at such a time she should have preserved her sense of humour. When I came to know her better she told me much of what I have been recounting to you, and it was then that she said it had struck her as incredibly funny to see the saintly Princess saving a revolutionary from breaking his neck, by hanging on to his coat-tails.”
“I remember Marie Antoinette when she was always laughing,” Roger remarked with a sigh.
“What?” Barnave gave him a surprised look. “I was unaware that you had ever met her.”
“Oh yes, I was first presented to her at Fontainebleau, and afterwards went many times to Versailles. Like your friends the de Lameths, the Duc de Laincourt, and a hundred others, I saw no reason why I should allow the fact that I held strongly liberal views to prevent my going to Court. Besides, I have always felt that nobody should allow politics to prejudice their personal relationships, and long ago I formed a most devoted attachment to the Queen.”
“You never before made mention of it to me.”
Roger smiled. “And with good reason. Had I done so at the time when you could believe nothing but ill of her, it might have wrecked the pleasant friendship that had developed between ourselves. But now, for your private ear, I will admit that it is largely the desire to be of some service to the Queen in her present sad situation that has brought me back to France. We digress though. You were telling me of that terrible return journey. Whereabouts did you join the Royal Party?”
“At Epernay. They spent the first night at Chalons and we should have met them there, but news arrived that the scum of Rheims was advancing in a body with intent to murder them, so they were hurried off on the next stage before we had set out. Pétion and Latour-Maubourg were the other two deputies nominated by the Assembly to escort the fugitives back to the capital. The former travelled with the Queen’s two waiting-women in a carriage that had followed the party, Pétion and I in the Berlin. I would it had been otherwise, as Latour Maubourg is a decent fellow, and Pétion’s behaviour was abominable. Even now, it makes me go hot when I think of it.”
The Man who Killed the King Page 12