The king trusted foreigners, but not the princes of his own blood and kingdom.
On reading the note, he comprehended that the hour to draw the sword for France had come, and that there was no receding.
Who was to bear the flag of the revolution? Lafayette, who had lost his fame by massacring the populace on the Paris parade-ground; Luckner, who was known only by the mischief he wrought in the Seven Years' War, and old Rochambeau, the French naval hero in the American Revolution, who was for defensive war, and was vexed to see Dumouriez promote young blood over his head without benefiting by his experience.
It was expected that Lafayette would be victorious in the north; when he would be commander-in-chief, Dumouriez would be the Minister of War; they would cast down the red cap and crush Jacobins and Girondists with the two hands.
The counter-revolution was ready.
But what were Robespierre and the Invisibles doing—that great secret society which held the agitators in its grasp as Jove holds the writhing thunder-bolts? Robespierre was in the shade, and many asserted that he was bribed by the royal family.
At the outset all went well for the Royalists; Lafayette's lieutenants, two Royalists, Dillon and Biron, headed a rout before Lille; the scouts, dragoons, still the most aristocratic arm of the service, turned tail and started a panic. The runaways accused the captains of treachery, and murdered Dillon and other officers. The Gironde accused the queen and Court party of organizing the flight.
The popular clamor compelled Marie Antoinette to let the Constitutional Guard be abolished—another name for a royal life-guard—and it was superseded by the Paris National Guards.
Oh! Charny, Charny, where were you?—you who, at Varennes, nearly rescued the queen with but three hundred horsemen—what would you not have done at Paris with six thousand desperadoes?