This excerpt presents a more emotional, human Marie Antoinette dealing with the disaster that was Varennes.


There were only two ways possible. Open or closed. Open, one had to inhale thick clouds of dust blown in by occasional 90 degree breezes, not to mention the contorted faces of the angry mob that insisted on running alongside the coach trying to reach inside, spitting, screaming obscenities and waving knives, sticks and rifles. Closed was little better; the horrid faces were gone and the thick dust for the most part stopped. But the 90 degrees felt like 190 degrees and, although it was the middle of the day, the lack of light made it seem like twilight. With the windows closed, one could still hear the mob though they were muffled; this made the threat of violence not so immediate. No longer able to see outside, they looked at each other, averting glances. So much to say, yet no one dared to say a word.

The children slept fitfully, sheer exhaustion closing their eyes every time they tried to open them. Madame de Tourzel wept quietly while Madame Elisabeth kept mumbling the rosary. Louis sat, defeated and silent, staring at his shoes between brief naps. Marie Antoinette was furious with herself and frightened for all of them. The only constant sounds were the heavy breathing of the children, Tourzel’s sniffling, Elisabeth’s mumbling, Louis’ occasional snoring, and the incessant tapping of Antoinette’s foot on the carriage floor.

The luxury of the white velvet and white taffeta with Moroccan leather interior of the coach was
in direct contrast to the foul, fetid stench of clothes and bodies that not been changed or washed
for four days, and there was still the rest of the way to go before they were back in the Tuileries.
It could have been worse; the ladies could have been trapped in formal court dress back at
Versailles which would have included heavy, uncomfortable and clumsy panniers over skin tight
corsets reinforced with whalebone or steel. As it was, Marie Antoinette was wearing a gray silk
dress (called lustring: a crisp, light silk) that was appropriate for the summer months. Her female
traveling companions were similarly dressed, down to the cotton or muslin shift (a thin shirt-like
garment) worn under the corset. Louis and the Dauphin (had he not been dressed as a girl) fared much better than the females in both comfort and coolness. Their undergarments were called ‘braies’ and were loose-fitting, trouser-like garments which the wearer stepped into and tied around the waist and legs at about mid-calf. Wealthier men also wore ‘chausses’ which covered only the legs. The temperature and discomfort did little to improve Antoinette’s mood. These damn French; why couldn’t they control the mob so that they could hasten the trip back to the Tuileries?

Ungrateful louts. Antoinette had done her best to make a favorable impression on not only the court, but also with the peasants. As soon as she had arrived from Austria, both she and Louis had waived ‘le droit de joyeux avenement’, an amount of money that was by law rightfully theirs when they married; it was collected from the Parisians’ tax on wine and coal and would have amounted to 24 million livres. But, because the past few winters had been so cold, they decided not to accept the gift. And, shortly after she and Louis were married, had she not paid to gown and fete one hundred Parisian brides and grooms? And this is how they thank her….with threats, insults, spitting and obscenities.

If only Antoinette could see into the future. The Revolution would sweep away the ancien regime and open the path of power to Napoleon. The throne of this Emperor rose upon the ruins of Louis XVI’s. Marie Antoinette’s very own niece, Marie Louise, would share the throne of the Emperor, becoming Empress after Josephine was gotten rid of. The Palace of the Tuileries from which Antoinette and her family fled would in less than twelve years’ time become witness to the Consulate. The halls that now filled with recriminations against the king would in little more than a decade resound with the hosannas of those come to pay homage to Napoleon. Unlike Louis XVI, Napoleon had little qualms about bloodshed.. The army in the end is the base on which power is built and Napoleon knew how to use and reward this army. The ‘gloire’ of Imperial France would be achieved by military conquest. This replenished the empty treasury that had been the ruin of Louis XVI. War and bloodshed became the cornerstone on which the Empire was built.

Marie Antoinette snapped back from her daydream. Louis Charles had to go to the bathroom again. The angry mobs prevented the coach from stopping so that the inhabitants could relieve themselves. The poor child had to use the already overflowing chamber pots, the foul contents of which had saturated the hem of Marie Antoinette’s dress. The stench reminded her of Destez, the townsman found at Varennes who, because he once lived at Versailles, could recognize the King. How she loathed him. He approached the berlin with a smirk and, seeing Louis XVI, sweetly said with a bow, “Bonjour, Sire.” Those two words were enough to destroy the lives of the five people with royal blood in the carriage. His “bonjour” meant the guillotine for Louis and Antoinette and Mme. Elizabeth, death for the Dauphin and exile for Marie Therese. After Destez’s recognition, Louis finally admitted, “I am indeed your King.” He then embraced Destez and Sauce, the shopkeeper. He then went around the room and took each of the municipal officers into his arms. These were the sort of people that Louis enjoyed being around; he always felt at ease with them. Sincere emotion overtook Louis and the officers. Such gestures were not Marie Antoinette’s specialty and she withdrew into herself at the spectacle of her husband in the arms of a grocer. She had learned not to challenge Louis when this type of spectacle occurred; it was better to work on him when they were alone.

Where were the troops that were supposed to meet and accompany them to Montmedy? What had happened to Bouille? Every simple military maneuver of the entire escape plan had collapsed. The debacle at Varennes just proved what she had long felt from her experiences at Versailles - that the French were unable to organize themselves into any coherent or efficient body. Bickering and self-interest always prevented them from becoming an effective military people. Louis again infuriated her when he refused to blame anyone for the failure of Varennes. On the contrary, he tried to mitigate the remorse of those who felt that they might have failed him.

The hellish trip continued. Slow. So slow. Louis and Antoinette became the living symbols of all the grievances that anyone had against the ancien regime in particular and the bitterness of life in general. The passengers in the berlin watched a man shot to death and his head cut off because he had made a gesture of respect to the Queen. At Epernay, where they had just paused to eat, the mob was so menacing that they feared leaving the carriage. A man bearing a gun was heard to say that he would kill the Queen when she left the berlin. On the way back to the coach, the mob surged around them even more. When Marie Antoinette hesitated a moment before boarding, a woman gave her a rough shove and said, “Step pretty, little lady. There’re going to give you lots worse when you get back to Paris.”

By this time, Petion and Barnave from the Assembly had entered the carriage to watch the King and Queen for the remainder of the trip. The conversation got off to a bad start when Petion in an insinuating tone announced that people in Paris were saying that the Royal Family had been taken from the Tuileries in a hired coach driven by a Swede. He pretended not to know the Swede’s name and turned to Marie Antoinette for help. “I am not in the habit of knowing the names of hired coachmen, “ she replied haughtily. She lowered her veil and showed her intention of having nothing further to say. The King then started to chat with Babette (his pet name for his sister); Petion joined in. They were soon chatting together in what Petion later reported to be in a “ most natural way.” Barnave listened but, like Marie Antoinette, remained silent. The Dauphin broke the ice between them. The little boy spotted the inscriptions on the brass buttons of Barnave’s coat ‘Vivre Libre ou Mourir’ (Live free or die). Eager to show everyone how well he could read, Louis Charles spelled out the words then, in a hesitating voice, pronounced them. Barnave was delighted and complimented the parents on their son’s accomplishment. Although the slogan was not one to gain the support of the Queen, the compliment was more than she could resist. She made a few observations about the education of children; one comment followed another, and, before long, she had joined in the general conversation. When she lifted her veil, the atmosphere grew less tense and she talked more and more freely.

Both Petion and Barnave were surprised by the familiar and unpretentious manner of the Royal Family. The so-called ‘tyrants’ appeared to be of the same bourgeois milieu as they were. As he watched the Queen talk, Barnave became aware of something else – she was an attractive woman who in no way resembled the popular opinion of her. Instead of a licentious, insatiable lesbian he found a solicitous mother. Instead of an “Austrian Bitch” he found a charming woman who bore her difficult and dangerous position with quiet dignity and grace. Marie Antoinette smiled to herself. It didn’t take her long to realize that she had made a conquest. In this idealistic revolutionary of stern principles she perceived a man of honor and integrity, qualities she prized highly. Antoinette looked over at Elisabeth and almost laughed out loud. Poor, fat, innocent Babette! Petion was absorbed in whispers with Elisabeth and it was obvious that both had been taken with each other, but Babette was unaware of the passions she was inspiring in her neighbor. She was just like her brother. Neither she nor Louis knew anything about the game of coquetry or those who played it. The fine art of flirting was lost to both of them. Elisabeth lived at Versailles like a nun, protected by a cluster of pious and elderly waiting women and three old, controlling aunts. Marie Antoinette was different; as Dauphine then Queen, she received her training in this fine art in the world’s most celebrated school, Versailles. Despite her fatigue, despite the thickening chin, the filthy reeking clothes, the too ample bosom and her thirty-six years, she remained, and she knew it, a woman who could arouse the desire of men, especially men of a chivalrous, idealistic or serious bent such as Barnave or Fersen.

As the procession approached Paris, the mob grew even more menacing with their threats of unspeakable horrors. The women were particularly malevolent. Many howled for, “the whore’s head.” Others called for her intestines to be circulated among the crowd and worn as cockades (the symbol of the revolution). At one point, Antoinette lifted her son to the open window, hoping to appease the screaming women, but someone yelled, “Take him away. Everyone knows that the fat pig isn’t his father.” The King face froze into an expressionless mask and Marie Antoinette turned away to hide her tears. The Dauphin began to cry in terror. They finally entered Paris by the Champs-Elysees; at last they were just a short drive to the Tuileries. Varennes seemed like a year ago. After she had washed and rested, Marie Antoinette sent for her lady-in-waiting, Madame Campan, who was shocked to see that the Queen’s hair had turned from ash blonde to white during the course of the Varennes debacle “….like that of a woman of seventy.”

She knew in her heart that it was over. Destez’, “Bonjour, Sire” had sealed their fate. The final blow came from her brother-in-law, Provence, now safe in Belgium. One wonders if the Compte de Provence was able to conceal his satisfaction with the current situation. As Bouille noted, when the Compte learned of his brother’s captivity, “There wasn’t a trace of a tear in those eyes as dry as his heart. All one could discern was their customary expression of falsity across which darted a few sparks of perfidious satisfaction.” He charged Fersen with telling the King and Queen in Paris that he, Provence, should be given the unlimited powers of Regent. He even had the temerity to dictate the wording of his ‘plein pouvoir’ in which he stripped his brother of sovereignty more thoroughly had the National Assembly. Provence did not wait for a reply from Paris. Within a few weeks time, he set up his own government and court and presented himself as the legitimate executive power of France. He appointed his brother, Artois, as Lieutenant General of the Realm and even appointed a Chief of the Armies (at this point non-existent). He accredited and received ambassadors and established himself and his court at Coblenz in a palace given to him by his uncle, the Elector of Treves. This court-in-exile became Marie Antoinette’s bitterest enemy.

Antoinette continued her correspondence with the Crowned Heads of Europe seeking assistance in heir plight. All of this tired her beyond endurance. In one of her last letters to Fersen, she wrote, “Adieu….I am exhausted from writing. I’ve never done such work as this before and I’m always afraid of forgetting something or of making a stupid mistake. Sometime I barely recognize myself and I have to pause to realize that this person is really me.”

Word was received from Emperor Leopold of Austria, Antoinette’s brother, in reply to her plea for assistance. “I have a sister in France, but France is not my sister,” he said. Now, all was lost.