Yes; it was on that very same spot that the messenger came to her, a few months later, to announce the crowd of disaffected women from Paris en route for Versailles. She could never forget that October morning, for from that time her life had entirely altered in character and the Queen had endured a weary round of perpetual and open insult. Throughout the preceding summer the grounds at the Petit Trianon, which had formerly been so jealously guarded even from the Court, had been thrown open to the public,[[124]] and in order to take the chance of walking there in any privacy the Queen had lately been in the habit of driving over during the morning. That fifth of October had been fairly fine during the early hours, and she remembered having seen the gardeners at work in the different parts of the gardens;[[125]] and on her way from the Temple de l’Amour to the Hameau, she had passed the prairie, and had seen two labourers in their picturesque brown tunics and coloured chaperons rouges[[126]] filling a hired cart with sticks.[[127]]
Crossing the Vergelay bridge she had approached the cavernous mouth of her favourite grotto,[[128]] over which ivy fell in graceful wreaths.[[129]] For the first time in her experience she had noticed that the little stream issuing from the grotto had not been cleared, but was choked with dead autumn leaves.[[130]] This unusual and forlorn sight had remained in her mind. Here she had sat for a time looking at the place now deserted by all who had formerly been with her there, and, as was inevitable at that time of political anxiety, became engrossed in mournful anticipations of further troubles.[[131]] They had pressed more than she could bear, and feeling a sudden desire to speak to someone she had entered the moss-lined grotto.[[132]] Passing the point on her left hand where the little cascade entered from above,[[133]] she climbed the rock staircase[[134]] leading to the upper opening[[135]] near the porte d’entrée. Coming out upon the elevated rocks, she called to Marie Anne Lemaignan, whose father’s cottage was not far off. Fancying that she heard the girl running to her, the Queen had turned and was surprised to see, instead of the girl, a garçon de la Chambre, who, in a state of great agitation, handed her a letter from M. de Saint Priest, a minister at the Palace.[[136]] Her memory recalled the look of that man, also in the fashionable Spanish hat and cloak, flying over one of the upright rocks placed near the path by her orders.[[137]] He had been so anxious that she should wait at the house whilst he fetched the carriage that she relinquished her first thought of hurrying back by the woods, and she turned instead to go to the little bridge which crossed the tiny waterfall. How fond she was of that little rustic bridge, which she had had placed high up on rocks, hiding the Theatre and surrounded by thujas and pine trees![[138]] It had been one of the most charming of her inventions, and in fancy the Queen again saw every step of the way, and the trickling stream pouring over the rocks at her right hand, amidst ferns and moss, on its way into the grotto below the bridge.
Sitting under the north terrace near the door leading from the house to the Jeu de Bague, she had re-opened and re-read the minister’s letter whilst waiting for the carriage. Womanlike, the Queen remembered that the dress she had been wearing that morning was one of the light skirts repaired during that summer, the green silk bodice made in July, a large white fichu, and a straw hat.[[139]]
At that moment two of the many strangers who now came in as they liked passed her by and even went up on to the terrace behind her by the staircase at her left hand.[[140]] The Queen knew that her concierge (Bonnefoy Du Plan)[[141]] was informed that she was there, and would certainly, on seeing them from his attic window over the chapel, send someone to ask them to go further from the house. It might not have been wise, but her old servants had done all they dared to protect her privacy. She had before now, when wandering about alone, heard the coldness and unconcern with which the Bersy brothers had directed strangers in the grounds. Just as she had expected, a moment later, the Queen had heard the slam of the chapel door[[142]] and had thought that Lagrange[[143]] would probably conduct them into the avenue by the passage of the porte de la ménagerie, that being the nearest way out of the gardens.[[144]]
The carriage was ready, and the moment had come for rallying her force to act the part of a true queen in whatever circumstances were before her. The vivid dream was over, and in proportion as her retrospect was concerned with more important matters, the details stood out less clearly in her mind.
There was no refreshment in going over the events of the rest of that day; though some of them came back to her in rapid succession. The hurried return of the King from hunting at Meudon; the councils; the variations of policy; the presence of a rough and alarming-looking crowd on the Place d’Armes; the free fights; the deputation of women escorted by Mounier on the part of the Assembly: then the final ordering of the carriages too late for escape; the heavy depressing rain from 4 p.m. onwards which at last helped to clear away the crowd; the arrival at midnight of Lafayette and his national guard. All had been confusing and miserable. But agitating as the 5th had been, there was no comparison between it and the tension of October 6th.
The Queen remembered that she had only gone to bed that morning at 2 a.m. in order that her ladies might have some rest, but for herself there was none. Both on October 6th, 1789, and now on August 10th, 1792, outside disturbances had begun at 5 a.m. amidst the glories of a perfect summer dawn. But on the former occasion it had been first realised in one of her own suite of rooms. She had heard the sounds of actual fighting close to her bedroom, and the hasty shout of the guards, “Sauvez la Reine!” informed her of their deadly peril. The escape to the King’s room and the gathering of the family together was quickly effected; but the comfort of the reunion had been followed by terrible hours when Lafayette had done his utmost to quell the fury of the mob. There had been amongst it a company of, as it seemed, veritable fiends, come from no one knew where, whose faces were terrible to look at.[[145]] It was they who enacted the horrid scene of beheading the two murdered guards (Varicourt and Deshuttes) under the royal windows in the Cour de Marbre; and until they marched off to Paris carrying with them the two decapitated heads on spikes, it was impossible to come to any terms with the mob. But after their departure, by Lafayette’s wish (which at that time amounted to command), first the King and then the Queen had ventured on to the balcony, and had been greeted with some warmth.
And now, three years later, they had not the protecting influence of Lafayette to depend on, nor even the doubtful friendship of Mirabeau. The mob had gained the upper hand, and seemed to be altogether composed of wild beasts thirsting for blood. Who would save them from the horrible crowd pressing against the grille? It had not been without relief that Marie Antoinette had just heard the decree passed to keep them in the building where they were for the night. But what afterwards? Clearly they were not to go back to the Tuileries. The mention of the Luxembourg palace was interesting; still more so, the arguments of the opposition that it contained dangerous subterranean passages and opportunities for escape. The Queen’s brain was eagerly at work again, and intensely conscious of the present.
But Madame Royale and the Dauphin had borne all they could, and at 7 p.m. Madame de Tourzel was allowed to see the accommodation being prepared for the party in the cells of the ancient couvent des Feuillants. It was not till 10 p.m. that they were escorted thither by representatives of the Assembly; but for the elders it was neither to rest nor to sleep, for they were still within sound of the fierce mob outside as well as of the distant hum of the all-powerful Assembly about to decree their final destiny.
Three more weary days and nights spent in much the same manner were forced upon the unhappy family before they were conducted to the Temple, and into what proved to be for the majority of them the valley of the shadow of death.