Eighteenth century France has always been my passion. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette have been slandereed by history. He is not the fat, incompetent dullard; she never said "Let them eat cake." Rather they were quite unassuming, very much in love, and destined for tragedy.
Here I've written about their escape attempt at the height of the Revolution. They were just a few miles from freedom, but it ws not meant to be.
“A young and frisky Queen,
Whose most August Spouse was a bad f***,
From time to time, most prudently,
Relieved herself of her misery,
By putting into play whatever,
A mind tired of waiting,
…………………………”
She had never been so exhausted. So angry and so exhausted. She couldn’t get the filthy verses out of her mind. She had found the filth, titled “Charlot et Toinette”, right there in the Tuileries, outside the doorway to the gardens, obviously left for her to see. If they were still at Versailles, she would have thought du Barry to be responsible. Even though exiled, that trollop still had friends at court to do her bidding. It was she, after all, who sent the Queen an empty cradle on her wedding anniversary every year until she became pregnant with ‘la mousseline serieuse’ (Antoinette’s pet name for Marie Therese, literally meaning ‘the serious muslin’. The Queen had passed along to her daughter the ‘Hapsburg lip’ that made her look quite stern when not smiling. Unlike Antoinette, the child’s demeanor matched the lip.)
As if that weren’t enough, the permanent presence of the National Guard was a constant reminder of their state of bondage. Troops loyal to the King were slowly turning their backs, as were the aristocrats. Both groups had nothing but contempt for Louis XVI, whose weakness and compromises they found disgraceful. Nor did the Queen find favor in their eyes. Since she paid lip service to the Revolution, they called her a ‘democrat’ and slandered her daily. The Parisians were now vocal with death threats against the Royal Family, their tempers ignited by the obscene pamphlets and dangerous rumors rife in the capital.
Marie Antoinette was still the main target for the public’s consternation. The allegation that she had betrayed France to benefit her brother, the Austrian Emperor, had surfaced once again. She was accused of having lesbian relationships with both the Princesse de Lamballe and the Duchesse de Polignac. Antoinette’s distress became even more acute when she learned that many of the more moderate representatives saw a royal divorce as the perfect solution. Because she inspired such aversion, they thought that the Queen discredited Louis XVI and the regime he stood for. In order to create the constitutional monarchy they desired, the elected representatives needed a docile, popular and respected queen. Freed of his wife, Louis XVI could become the perfect monarch.
When the Royal Family returned to the Tuileries in early November, 1790, the King’s divorce was the main topic of conversation. Lafayette bluntly told her that an attempt would be made to convict her of adultery. Though overcome with panic, she maintained her bearing while realizing that she would spend the rest of her life in a convent if found guilty. The Queen’s loathing for the Revolution grew even more intense. Every day she repeated to her husband that his oaths had been exhorted by force and that it behooved him to use force to crush the Revolution. Restoring the old order was her sole goal; she refused to lean on the nobles or the émigrés to achieve it. It was she, not Louis, who saw no other salvation but to escape from Paris. Fersen and other close friends were insisting that the Royal Family flee to foreign soil. There the King could re-assert his authority with some loyal regiments backed up by Austrian troops.
Plans for the escape were discussed between General Bouille (a fervent royalist) and Fersen and then presented to the King and Queen. After much discussion, all agreed that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, their children, Madame de Tourzel (the children’s governess) and Madame Elisabeth (the King’s sister) would leave in the same carriage. They would go to Montmedy, a fortified town under Bouille’s command. Montmedy was just a few miles from the Austrian border so that, if problems arose, safety was close by. Louis insisted that the entire trip take place on French soil since the new constitution called for his removal from office should he leave the country without the Assembly’s permission. Initial plans called for the group to be split between two small, fast carriages but the Queen refused to be separated from her children. A larger coach was obtained with the understanding that troops would accompany the coach beginning at Chalons, more than one hundred fifty kilometers from Paris, a trip of fourteen to fifteen hours should all go well.
Marie Antoinette had maintained an intense correspondence with other crowned heads of Europe, with Louis’ knowledge and consent, since the beginning of summer. The Austrian Emperor had no desire to intervene in favor of his sister and brother-in-law. Joseph II had died in 1790, and was succeeded by his brother Leopold with whom Antoinette had not been close. Other sovereigns distanced themselves from the Queen’s terrified appeals. Of the few who did respond, each required a piece of French territory as ‘payment’ for their intervention. Several of these letters were intercepted and given to the Assembly, the result being very compromising for the King and Queen. This further inflamed the Paris mobs that now had ‘conspiracy’ and ‘coalition’ on their lips and even more hatred in their hearts. The lack of a positive response from her own brother drained all of Marie Antoinette’s remaining strength. Unlike Louis, who became even more introverted during times of stress and strain, Antoinette became more vocal, bordering on the insulting and nasty. This came to a head on Palm Sunday, April 17, when the King and Queen were to go to St. Cloud with the Assembly’s approval. When Louis and Antoinette entered their coach to begin the trip, the National Guard prevented their departure. A crowd soon gathered and became vocal with their support of the Guard. Lafayette arrived on the scene and began losing control of the crowd after trying to make a path for the King’s carriage to depart; he advised the Royal couple to return to the palace. “You must admit that we are no longer free,” the Queen cried out as she stepped from the carriage. One of her ladies in waiting was crying. “This is no time to cry, but to show courage. I will set the example for you,” she said. Proud and haughty, she mounted the palace steps holding her son by the hand. More determined than ever to leave the Tuileries prison, Marie Antoinette actively pursued preparations for escape. Though nothing positive in terms of assistance had been received from her brother, Louis and Antoinette decided to leave Paris on June 20th.
On Monday, 20th June, 1791, nothing about the King and Queen’s behavior would have aroused suspicion that the day of escape had arrived. The King spent the morning in his study; the Queen attended the children’s lessons. At noon, the entire Royal Family attended mass in the palace chapel just as they always did. After lunch, Louis told his sister, Elisabeth, of the plans for the escape; he had preferred to keep her ignorant of the plan until the very end. The Queen and her husband played their usual game of billiards and then retired to the Queen’s room. Shortly thereafter, Fersen was announced. He had the final details of the trip. When he left at four o’clock, Marie Antoinette took the children for a walk in the gardens as had been her habit for months. She appeared completely calm and composed.
At nine o’clock, the Dauphin and his sister went to bed and the Compte and Comptesse de Provence arrived for dinner. When her brother-in-law kissed her, Marie Antoinette whispered, “Take care not to make me feel moved. I don’t want anyone to see that I have been crying.” By nine thirty, the meal was completed and, in hushed voices, they discussed ‘the great undertaking.’ Having learned of the King and Queen’s escape plan a week earlier, the Compte and Comptesse had made plans to escape that same evening via a different route.
At ten o’clock the Queen went upstairs to wake the children. “We are going to a fortified place where there will be many soldiers,” she whispered to the Dauphin, who leaped out of bed asking for his sword and boots. He would be so disappointed minutes later to learn that he was to wear a dress. When the Queen returned to the sitting room, the King went upstairs to kiss his children. At the same time, he handed Mme. de Tourzel a note stating that she would be taking the Children of France (any offspring with Bourbon blood) away on his orders.
At ten thirty the adventure began. The Queen went back upstairs where the children were ready to leave. She led Mme. de Tourzel with the Dauphin and Marie Therese into the apartment vacated by the Duc de Villequier. Their steps echoed in the dark, unfinished rooms. They held their breath. They crossed several rooms until they reached a glass enclosed room that let out onto the courtyard of the Carrousel. The Queen looked out carefully. A shadow emerged on the other side of the dusty panes. and the door opened. It was Fersen, dressed as a coachman. He took the Dauphin by the hand and gestured to Mme. de Tourzel to take Marie Therese by the arm and follow him. Marie Antoinette retraced her steps back to the sitting room where she joined the King, the Compte and Comptess de Provence and Mme. Elisabeth. At eleven o’clock the King and his brother said farewell, keeping their emotions in check. The King and Queen retired to their bedchambers for the nightly ‘coucher’.
After she had undressed and washed, the Queen got into bed and dismissed her chambermaids. As soon as they had left, she got up, went to her dressing room and put on a very simple plain gray silk dress and a large black hat with a black muslin veil that hid her head. She was to follow the same route she took with the children. On stepping out of her apartment her heart stopped; a National Guardsman was on duty in front of the door to the hall leading to the Duc de Villequier’s quarters. Fortunately, the guard was pacing up and down. As soon as his back was turned, the Queen dashed out of her apartment and ran stealthily across the few yards that separated her from the road to freedom. When she finally reached the glass door giving onto the courtyard, she saw the outline of M. de Malden, the bodyguard who was supposed to take her to Fersen’s coach which was parked not far from the Tuileries on the Rue de L’Echelle. As she went out, her heart stopped again. There, in front of her, was Lafayette in his well-lit coach. The General did not recognize her. Her knees trembling, Marie Antoinette left the Tuileries, leaning on Malden’s arm. Unfortunately, her guide did not know Paris well; he could not find the meeting place and had to ask a sentinel for directions. A few minutes later, Marie Antoinette climbed into Fersen’s coach; all embraced and rejoiced. The King had started to worry and had wanted to get out and look for his wife. Fersen had dissuaded him. Wearing a big black wig and a round hat, Louis XVI had left the chateau without incident. While his valet was putting his clothes away in the wardrobe, he had slipped out of bed keeping the curtains drawn. He inched his way to the study, where he dressed in bourgeois clothes and walked out, as quietly as possible, with the crowd of people who had come to watch his 'coucher.’
As his passengers chatted nervously, Fersen drove through the Parisian streets. Instead of taking a road out of Paris, he stopped in the center of Paris on the Rue de Clichy where the new large coach (berlin) was to be ready and waiting. After a short search, it was found. The Royal Family quickly settled inside the large green carriage with yellow wheels. The interior, upholstered in white Utrecht velvet, was particularly comfortable with green Morocco leather seats hung with matching taffeta. Fersen had accomplished a masterly coup – the Royal Family’s escape from the Tuileries and Paris. The expedition looked extremely promising even though they were running two hours behind schedule. Fersen wanted to complete the entire trip with the Royal Family, but Louis XVI turned him down categorically with a firmness rarely shown. Louis then thanked his friend warmly for all he had done to make the escape possible.
Inside the berlin, high hopes prevailed as they discussed the parts they would play as the trip continued. To avoid being recognized, the King and Queen were supposed to be in the employ of Mme. de Tourzel, who traveled under the name of Baroness de Korff, a Russian aristocrat. Marie Antoinette was supposed to be Madame Rochet, the governess to Mme. de Korff’s children Amelie and Aglae (the Dauphin and Marie Therese Charlotte). Mme. Elisabeth, now Rosalie, was the Baroness’ lady’s companion. As for the King, he was the lowly steward Durand. It was just like the little Trianon theatre -- they enjoyed playing against type but times had changed; now their roles gave them no pleasure.
When the berlin arrived at Meaux it was daylight, and the King was positively joyful. While attacking the excellent food provisions provided by Fersen in the berlin, he rejoiced at the thought of Lafayette discovering perhaps at that very moment that the Royal Family had escaped. “Believe me, “ he told the group while chewing, “once my backside is in the saddle, I’ll be very different than I’ve been up to now.
For Marie Antoinette, who was enjoying the exhilaration of recovered freedom, all political and legal considerations were secondary; her main goal had always been to save the lives of her children, the King and herself. Better to brave the physical risks of an adventure like this one than face riots from the angry mobs. Without her knowledge, Louis had left on his desk in the Tuileries his written manifesto justifying his departure in plain view so it would be immediately discovered. It denounced the Revolution from its very beginning; he stated that all of his deeds had been wrung out of him under duress. Since he had lost hope of ever seeing his subjects return to reason, he had decided to leave Paris with his family. Without making his intentions clear, he promised to forget “the wrongs” done to him when he returned to impose the constitution of his choice.
In Paris, at about seven-thirty, as the berlin was making its way through La Ferte-sous-Jouarre, it was noticed that the King had vanished. There was widespread stupefaction. The King’s departure had been talked about for so long that no one now believed it would really happen. Every conceivable rumor made the rounds. The widespread belief was that Louis XVI had gone to join loyal troops and that they would lay siege to Paris with Austrian reinforcements.
Meanwhile, the King and Queen, elated by their freedom, thought they had been saved. They were far from Paris. No one was following them, so why hurry? Louis was walking outside the berlin speaking to some peasants about the harvest. Mme. de Tourzel took the children for a breath of air. The Queen shared in the general euphoria. They were close to Chalons and had been recognized by the postmaster’s son. This young man was the complete opposite of a fierce revolutionary; he greeted the Royal Family respectfully and invited them to refresh themselves. It was so oppressively hot. Why refuse such an honest offer?
So the King and his family accepted. Word traveled fast. The fact that the King and Queen were in Chalons and would be continuing on to Montmedy preceded the berlin; a galloping horse was much faster than the heavy coach.
They took the road to Metz. At the next relay station the King was supposed to meet the first detachment of troops that were to escort him to Montmedy. But at Pont-de-Somme-Vesle there was no one. A vague anguish permeated the berlin. At Sainte-Menehould, the next stop, everyone in the berlin was watchful. While the horses were being changed, Louis and Antoinette noticed a parade of Dragoons in the square. They weren’t on horseback and did not look ready to escort the King. An officer approached them and told them to get back on the road and proceed because, “things are not going well.”
As the berlin left Sainte-Menehould, the town buzzed with the word that the King had just passed through. The National Guard was immediately called up. The captain of the Dragoons was considered suspect and arrested, and the postmaster, a man named Drouet, was summoned. The young man did not recognize the King. When questioned about the mysterious carriage, all he said was that there was a fat, myopic man with an aquiline nose and a pimply face seated inside. This was enough for the municipal council to decide to catch up with the carriage; Drouet and a man named Guillaume galloped off to Varennes where they knew that the berlin would stop to change horses.
Unaware of the turmoil they had caused, the Royal Family continued tranquilly along the road. The trip seemed to be going well despite the soldiers that were not waiting for them at Chalons. Louis and Antoinette were running about two hours behind schedule; the waiting troops at Chalons disbanded thinking that the escape plans had changed. They were nearing their final destination and, at eleven o’clock, they approached Varennes. The Sainte-Menehould postilions could not locate the private coaching inn where they were to change horses so they stopped at the edge of the town. While one of them wandered down a dark street looking for the coaching inn, the King climbed out of the carriage and knocked at a door. He was rudely told to go away. The Queen was dismissed just as rudely. Then, as the worried sovereigns climbed back into the coach, two galloping horsemen rode into the village. Soon, several lights were lit. The King and Queen, after waiting in vain for the postilion to return, managed to persuade the others to drive to the town center. The berlin set off, but as it entered a vaulted passage, a dozen crisscrossed rifles and fixed bayonets suddenly sprang
In front of the carriage, making the horses rear. Men suddenly appeared out of the darkness, menacing, and the tocsin began to sound. A municipal representative, the grocer Sauce, opened the door of the berlin and asked for passports. Mme. de Tourzel handed her papers, which seemed perfectly in order. Forgetting that she was supposed to be a chambermaid, the Queen demanded that they hurry, saying that she was pressed for time. Sauce returned the passports to Mme. de Tourzel and was willing to let the carriage continue on is way. At that moment, Drouet, the postmaster from their last stop, objected to their leaving. It was he who sounded the tocsin. “I am sure that the carriage we have stopped contains the King and his family,” he shouted. “If you let them escape to a foreign country, you will be guilty of treason.” Louis ordered the postilions to set off but they did not move. Some rifles were cocked, and an increasingly large crowd gathered around the coach. Gloomily Louis XVI had no choice but to accept the hospitality of M. Sauce.
Within a few minutes, the Royal Family was sitting in chairs at the rear of Sauce’s grocery store; the children were put in bed with the Sauce children. Alarmed, Sauce went to find a townsman who had lived at Versailles. Amazed and moved, the townsman bowed before Louis XVI who embraced the man. Louis, who just minutes before had denied it, now said, “Yes, I am your King.” Retaining his calm as Marie Antoinette became extremely agitated, the King explained that “…he had left Paris because the lives of his family were being threatened every day, and he could no longer stand living in the midst of daggers and bayonets; he wanted to seek asylum in the midst of his loyal subjects.” Though compassionate to the plight of the Royal Family, the Varennois were not prepared to let the King go. They feared the unknown consequences. Tormented with apprehension, the Queen begged Mme. Sauce to intervene with her husband so that he would consent to let the Royal Family resume their trip. Mme. Sauce refused, saying that she valued her husband’s life more than the King’s. Suddenly, someone shouted, “The hussars!”
These were the soldiers meant to escort the berlin from Pont-de-Somme-Vesle. After waiting in vain for the carriage, the order had been given to pull back since it was assumed that the escape plot had failed. The commanding officer, Colonel de Damas, stormed into the Sauce home with some of his men. When Marie Antoinette saw them she became hopeful again and, approaching them, took their hands effusively. “What should we do,”? asked Louis. “We should save you, Sire. I await your orders,” replied the Colonel. “I have forty hussars with me. I will unseat seven; that will make one horse for you with M. le Dauphin in your arms, one for the Queen, one for Madame Royale (Marie Therese), one for Mme. de Tourzel and one for Mme. Elisabeth…..the thirty-three remaining hussars will surround you. We will try to get through, but we must not lose a minute for in an hour’s time, my hussars will be won over.” When Louis asked him if he would not be putting his family and Mme. de Tourzel to danger, the Colonel replied that he would kill himself immediately if any misfortune occurred. This made the King reject the offer. He did not want his family to run any risk. Plus, he still hoped that Bouille would arrive to help.
The Queen kept silent during the entire exchange. When an aide-de-camp begged her to leave, she said, “I do no want to take responsibility for anything. The King decides on this course of action; it is up to him to give orders; my duty is to follow them. Besides, M. de Bouille cannot be long in coming.” Thus, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette sealed their fate by missing he opportunity to be saved.
The hussars scattered through the town and the inns opened their doors; they began drinking and socializing with the populace. Inhabitants of neighboring villages arrived armed with sickles, rifles and sticks. With food and drink the population calmed down. Their fury was reignited when a rumor circulated that Bouille’s troops were marching on Varennes. The mob began to shout, “To Paris, to Paris!”
At six o’clock, events took a dramatic turn; two emissaries from the Assembly rode into Varennes armed with a decree enjoining “the good citizens to bring the King back to the National Assembly.” The King and Queen were shattered. “There is no longer a King in France,” muttered Louis. He laid the decree on the bed where his children slept. The Queen snatched it and threw it on the floor. “I will not have my children defiled by it,” she growled. Louis wanted to rest; the municipal representatives wanted to get under way. Outside, the mob was growing restless and rowdy. With an expression of annoyance, Louis, followed by the Queen, Mme. Elisabeth, Mme. de Tourzel and his children, walked to the berlin which the people had moved to the front of the store. There were a few faint cries of, “Long live the King,” that were drowned out by, “Long live the nation.” Exhaused and escorted by a large crowd, the Royal Family began the trip back to the capital. The carriage drove away in a thick cloud of dust.
The return trip was a nightmare. When they left Varennes, peasants brandishing rifles, scythes and sticks ran behind the berlin for the first few leagues dreading the arrival of Bouille’s army. These men and women of modest means wanted to save their lives, their prosperity and their villages at the expense of a family that wanted to save its wealth and a certain conception of the French kingdom that was now outdated and no longer cheered by crowds.
The closer they got to Paris, the greater the hostility of the people. In oppressive heat the melancholy cortege continued its slow journey. In the village of Chouilly, the crowd spat in Louis’ face and tore the dresses of the Queen and Mme. Elisabeth. While two compassionate women mended the dresses as best they could, the two princesses sat sobbing next to the children, who clung fearfully to their skirts. At last they were met by three representatives of the Assembly who greeted the King and Queen with deference. Two of them, Petion and Barnave, climbed in the berlin to join the King and Queen. Overwrought, Marie Antoinette kept repeating, “The King did not want to leave France.” The two representatives were studying the Royal couple with fascination; they had heard so much about them and pictured them quite differently. To their amazement, they discovered a distraught couple, not particularly arrogant, expressing themselves with simplicity. Not at all like the images being spread by all of the malicious gossip.
By the time they reached Meaux to stop for the night, the Royal Family was in a state of utter exhaustion. Their dirty clothes astonished everyone. Dust and grime coated the skin and hair. Perspiration-saturated gowns were peeled off, dropped on the floor and then worn again.
They set off again at six thirty in the morning. Approaching the capital the mobs became truly menacing. In Pantin, enraged women hurled themselves at the berlin screaming obscenities and abuse. Fortunately, Lafayette had sent out some National Guard troops that dispersed the assailants. Paris, strangely, awaited the sovereigns in a state of absolute calm that created en eerie, frightening backdrop. One almost wished for the screams and shouts. “Whoever applauds the King will be flogged, whoever insults him will be hanged,” could be read on the walls in the capital. “Keep your hat on,” wrote one journalist, “he will pass before his judges.” The National Guard stood at attention controlling a huge, silent crowd. It had been waiting for hours to catch a glimpse of the strange procession now making an entrance in its cloud of burning dust. In this oppressive silence, the King and Queen looked as though they were going to their execution. From time to time, Marie Antoinette buried her face in her son’s hair, holding him tightly on her lap while she cried.
When the berlin stopped in front of the Tuileries, they came within a hairbreadth of tragedy. Stiff from the long journey, looking like someone lost within a nightmare, the King clumsily climbed out of the berlin and walked up the steps of the chateau without anyone assisting or interfering. But as soon as the Queen was seen, cries of hatred rang out and a few crazed individuals tried to lunge at her. The National Guard stepped in just in time; several deputies picked her up and carried her into the palace. One of the elected officials had briskly taken the Dauphin in his arms, to bring him to safety as well but, for a few minutes, the Queen thought that her child had been taken away from her.
Recovering from her nightmare, Marie Antoinette felt drained as she entered her husband’s room where a number of deputies were waiting. Unrecognizable with dark rings under her eyes and covered with several layer of filth she had but one desire—to wash. Yet she found the strength to joke with Barnave, “I confess that I never expected to spend thirteen hours in a carriage with you,” she said in a tone of simulated playfulness before retiring to her apartments.
The representatives were in an awkward predicament; they were unsure what to do about LouisXVI and his family. In every city, above all Paris, the irate populace demanded the deposing of a King whose duplicity was now obvious. People were talking openly of a republic. The Assembly, which had virtually completed drafting the constitution, saw its work threatened. The deputies, most of whom were constitutional monarchists, wanted to keep this weak, unlucky king on the throne for he was the guarantor of their power. The King and his family continued to be prisoners; the Tuileries, now like a fortified camp, became their prison.
“Don’t let your senses be deceived by appearances;
A beautiful exterior often hides a rotten inside.
Mooning pimps, fake marquis
Who spend half their time gazing at their reflections,
Those splendid specimens they call fops
At the signal to advance, turn traitor.
Madame, your tastes will be taken care of,
The one I think of will *** *** *** twenty times,
No exaggeration………………”
_________________________
I'm not going to buy my kids an encyclopedia. Let them walk to school like I did.
Yogi Berra
VARENNES - An Attempt At Escape
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