To the scaffold (42 page)

It was some time before the sixth and final passenger made her appearance. She had dressed herself in the plain brown dress, short

black cloak and black hat of a governess, pulling the dark veil of the hat down over her distinctive features before making her way out of the palace through the Due de Villequier's apartments. Once past the sentries, however, she had got lost, and it took her longer than expected to reach the others. Finally, though, she saw the carriage, and knew the handsome driver, and climbed in.

"How glad I am to see you here!" her husband exclaimed, and embraced her. There were kisses, hugs and embraces all around, and then the driver touched his whip to the horses and they were off.

It was well after midnight, there were few people in the dark streets beyond the guardsmen and representatives of the city's sections deputed to keep order. Still, Fersen took the least frequented streets, avoiding well-lit areas, even though this meant slower progress. When the carriage reached the customs barrier, however, the unexpected happened. A marriage feast was in progress, by torchlight, with a large crowd of celebrants. Some of them were bound to be inquisitive. But Fersen was personable, the governess kept her veil over her face and the fat man pulled his round hat low. The wedding guests returned to their revels, the carriage was allowed to pass.

They made for Bondy, six miles outside of Paris, where the berlin, stocked with provisions and luggage, was waiting with fresh horses in harness. Here too were three of the bodyguard, dressed in yellow livery that Fersen had acquired from an emigrating nobleman, and two of the children's servants, Mesdames Bru-nier and de Neuville, who were to make the journey in a separate vehicle, a cabriolet.^ The travelers got into the berlin, with the guards riding on the outside. Fersen took his leave, returning briefly to Paris before emigrating himself, to Belgium.

The two vehicles started off at once. Their route was to take them via Claye, Meaux, Chaintrix and Chalons to Pont-Sommevel, where a detachment of Bouille's hussars under the command of the young Due de Choiseul would be waiting to escort the passengers through Orbeval, Sainte-Men^hould, Clermont, Varennes, Romagne, Bartheville, Dun, Mouzay, Stenay and Baalon to Montmedy, their destination. At each of the towns, more soldiers would be waiting to increase the size of the mounted escort. Any resistance they might encounter past Pont-Sommevel would be nullified by the presence of the soldiers; therefore Pont-Sommevel was the crucial milestone in the journey. According to

the timetable carefully drawn up in advance by Fersen, relying on what he knew of the Baroness de Korff's traveling time and on the information Bouille*s men had provided on the condition of the roads and the availability of post-horses, the berlin should reach Pont-Sommevel at two-thirty in the afternoon, between fourteen and fifteen hours after leaving Paris. Choiseul was to expect them by then. If they failed to arrive, he was to assume that they had been forced to abort their plans and await a more favorable time to make their escape.

Long before they reached Meaux the sky began to grow light, the village cocks crowed and fields and trees emerged into view. The travelers were becoming more and more lighthearted. Chalons and Pont-Sommevel, and safety, were only hours away. They had not been pursued, most likely they were not yet missed.

"When we have passed Chalons we shall have nothing more to fear," said the man in the round hat. He was looking forward to reaching Montm^dy, where he would set up a new government, with himself once more in command. "You may be quite sure that when I am once firmly seated in the saddle, I shall be very different from myself as you have seen me up to now."^

The journey was going so well that the travelers were tempted to let down their guard, but they knew better. They had to remain who they were—the Baroness, her daughters, the nursemaid, the valet and the governess—until all possibility of risk was past. The berlin lumbered along the dusty roads, often trailing behind the lighter cabriolet, bouncing and jolting over stones and ruts and sinking into deep holes. At every hill the passengers had to get out and walk, and they were glad enough to stretch their legs, for no other stops were allowed except when necessary to change horses. They ate beef and cold veal from the well-stocked larder, they dozed when they could, they chatted hopefully about the house they had waiting for them in Montmedy, about Lafayette's dismay when he discovered them gone, about Provence and his wife who had also left Paris the night before, and were on their way to Montmedy by a different route.

They were clattering along a narrow bridge when suddenly the berlin lurched sharply, there was a tremendous jolt, and all at once the horses were screaming. The berlin had scraped the wall, and the resulting jerk had broken the harness and the horses had

fallen. Repairs took an hour—during which the passengers must have waited nervously, trying not to attract too much attention— and by the time they were complete, and the berlin was jolting its way along again, the afternoon was well advanced. Clearly they would be very late for their rendezvous with the hussars at Pont-Sommevel.

Meanwhile at Pont-Sommevel, the young Due de Choiseul was making a fateful decision. He had been waiting in the village with his hussars for the berlin to arrive, and it had not come. He continued to wait, even though his men were being harassed by the villagers, who were certain the soldiers had come to extort from them overdue rents owed to the local landowner. The peasants were armed, and growing angrier by the minute. They refused to believe that the hussars were waiting in Pont-Sommevel to escort a shipment of specie. How long was he to wait? His instructions had been vague on that point. Eventually, becoming impatient with the tense situation in the village and telling himself that the King must have changed his plans, Choiseul decided to withdraw his men. He sent couriers to inform the detachments in Orbeval, Sainte-M^n€hould and Clermont that they need not wait any longer. The King was not coming.

At five o'clock in the evening the berlin lumbered into Chalons, where the horses were changed. The post master, curious about the passengers in the expensive berlin, glanced at them— and glanced again. The fat man looked familiar. He was familiar. He was King Louis, dressed as an ordinary servant. Well then, let him be on his way, the post master must have thought. I won't betray him.^

Finally at six-thirty the passengers reached Pont-Sommevel, and looked out the windows eagerly, expecting to see the hussars. But there was not a soldier in sight, only knots of villagers, still armed, still suspicious about the unexplained goings-on in their village that day. Something was wrong. Where was Choiseul? Was the road impassable, had a bridge broken? Had they been betrayed? Should they wait for the Duke? They dared not ask questions of anyone in the village. They dared not even stop, except to change the horses. The valet and the governess consulted together, and decided to go on. After all, they had been assured that there would be soldiers at every post. They would pick up their escort at the next one.

But at Orbeval, an hour later, there were no hussars, only stone houses, barking dogs, and curious peasants. They sped on through, by now "in a state of violent agitation," as Madame de Tourzel wrote later in her detailed account of the journey. Montmedy, and Bouille's troops, were now just over fifty miles away, but it would be dark before long and the country roads made for slow going. If they should meet with an accident, in the hilly road between Sainte-Menehould and Clermont, it might be hours before they were rescued. And the risk of discovery would be high. They had been promised an escort of troops who knew the roads, who could protect them under any circumstances. If the soldiers were not at Orbeval, they would have to be at Sainte-M^nehould.

But here too nothing was as expected, and Antoinette, agitated even under the best circumstances, must have been extremely frightened. There were soldiers in the town, but they had been off duty for many hours, drinking and fraternizing with the townspeople. Their horses were unsaddled and stabled for the night. Only the captain, one Daudouins, was alert to the berlin's arrival. Trying to appear casual, he rode up to the vehicle and murmured, "The arrangements have been badly made. I am going away, in order not to arouse suspicion."

He rode off, and presumably managed to gather a few of his men together to form a small escort, for when the berlin and the cabriolet reached the staging post there were soldiers surrounding both vehicles. The post master, Jean-Baptiste Drouet, thought that there must be "some treasure" inside, to warrant such protection. He looked at the passengers. "I thought I recognized the Queen," Drouet recalled later, "and on seeing a man at the back of the carriage on the left I was struck by his resemblance to the effigy on the fifty-livre assignat.""^ Drouet, a former cavalryman, knew where his duty lay. He said nothing, but mounted his horse and rode off at once to warn the National Guard and raise the alarm.

The travelers, dismayed and uncertain, glad of their small escort but extremely worried about the next stretch of their journey—the last stretch, if all went well—set out for Varennes, the next stage. They knew that the district they were in was politically hostile to the monarchy. "All the towns in it," wrote Madame de Tourzel, "were ill-disposed." They were quite near

the frontier, Austrian troops had been gathering just across it, and on the French side Bouille's German and Swiss soldiers were a common sight and were greatly feared. The peasants, always watchful, had been on edge for months, and the recent movements of the hussars in the district told them that "something very odd was going on." The easiest route from Sainte-M^n^hould to Montmedy was through Verdun, but Verdun was not safe, so a more roundabout way had been chosen.

About ten miles beyond Sainte-Menehould a rider passed the berlin at full gallop, and shouted something as he went on by. No one understood his words, they were muffled by the noise of the carriage wheels. But his obvious urgency was worrisome, and the passengers looked at one another apprehensively. With the cabriolet preceding it the berlin rolled into the "upper town" of Varennes at eleven o'clock or shortly thereafter. Drouet and a companion who joined him on his ride from Sainte-Menehould were already there, having ridden far faster than the bulky carriages and by a side road through the woods, and they had taken the precaution of blocking off the bridge over the River Aire that led out of the lower town by overturning a cartload of furniture on it. They had also gone to find the Mayor of the town and the local commander of the National Guard, to tell them that the King was coming.

When the berlin arrived, Varennes was dark, but the local guardsmen were beginning to put themselves under arms, and lights went on in the houses as the clatter in the street woke people up. Drouet and his companion continued to spread the alarm, rousing people in the neighboring villages, who before long began to pour into Varennes in their hundreds.

The horses were lathered and drooping, and the postilions wanted to stop and rest them, there being no fresh team available. Louis, feeling keenly the danger they were all in, shouted to them to go on. The hussars became involved, and a noisy quarrel broke out.

Meanwhile Drouet had awakened the procurator of Varennes, Jean-Baptiste Sauce, who kept a chandlery in the lower town. He took charge, ordering the National Guard to position themselves at a point along the main street to wait for the berlin to descend from the upper town. Eventually it did, and the guardsmen stepped into view, their muskets pointed at the carriage.

Sauce and the Guard commander approached the vehicle and questioned its occupants.

Who were they, and where were they going? the two men wanted to know.

They were the Baroness de Korff, her children Am^lie and Aglae, their governess Madame Rochet, their nurse Rosalie and the Baroness's valet Monsieur Durand.

"And we are in a hurry," Madame Rochet snapped.

The two men asked to see the Baroness's passport. She handed it to them, and they brought it into the inn to examine it. Tense with fear, trying not to betray themselves by their nervousness, the passengers waited for the officials to return. By now the church bells were ringing, and a large crowd was gathering around the carriage. The hussars, far outnumbered by the National Guard, were thwarted and restless. More hussars arrived, and one officer came up to the window of the berlin to whisper that he knew a ford across the river, and would be happy to take the King across. But Lx)uis, according to Madame Tourzel, "seeing the number of people around the carriage increasing every moment, and also that they were in a state of extreme exasperation, and being moreover afraid that his force was not strong enough and that he might therefore cause a massacre to no purpose, dared not give the order."

There was no need for drastic action, he reasoned. Bouille was known to be at Stenay, only eight miles farther along the Montmedy road. All that was necessary was to get word to Bouille that the berlin was in Varennes. The General could be there in a matter of hours, with an overwhelming force of cavalry. Louis thanked the officer and told him "to press Monsieur de Bouille to use every effort to extricate him from his cruel posi-tion."5

Sauce came out of the inn at last, his face set and stem. The Baroness's passport was in order, but he and his colleagues thought it prudent to detain the travelers for a day. Drouet had after all been certain that the King and Queen were among the party. They could not take the risk of letting the berlin pass.

Sauce informed the Baroness and her companions that they would have to remain in Varennes for twenty-four hours, but that they were welcome to make themselves comfortable in his chandlery. They had no choice but to accept his hospitality, and fol-

lowed him into his small dark shop and up the wooden stairs to his bedroom. There the two children collapsed on the bed, while the valet (he would not admit, when Sauce questioned him, to being the King) paced anxiously up and down.

The procurator sent for a judge who at one time had lived at Versailles and who would be able to confirm Drouet's identification. After a while the judge arrived, looked at the portly passenger, and without hesitation knelt reverently before him.