At the time fixed for departure, both children were taken out into the passage, where they were joined a moment later by the Queen. She took them by the hand and led the way, Madame de Neuville, Madame Brunier, and Madame de Tourzel, the Dauphin’s governess, following. They descended a staircase, hurried through several dark corridors to a door in the farthest corner of the courtyard, which had been left unguarded, and near which a hackney-coach was standing. It had been agreed they should not all leave the palace together, for fear of attracting the attention of the sentries, so the Queen lifted her children into the coach, entrusted them to the care of Madame de Tourzel, and returned to the palace. The driver was Count Axel Fersen[10]—a Swedish gentleman who, next to M. de Bouillé, enjoyed the highest favor at court. He drove out of the courtyard, took a roundabout way through the quarter to elude observation, and then came back to the Petit Carrousel, where he was to wait for the rest of the party. While they stood there, Lafayette’s carriage drove by, surrounded by torch bearers; he was on his way to the Tuileries, but recognized no one and observed nothing; for that matter, the Dauphin was in the bottom of the coach, hiding under his governess’s skirt.
An hour passed, but no one came. Finally Madame Élisabeth arrived, and not long after her the King appeared. The Queen was only a short distance behind him, but she caught sight of Lafayette’s carriage again approaching, and, afraid of being discovered, hurried down one of the narrow streets near by. Confused by the labyrinth of alleys, she lost her way, and dared not ask it of anyone so near the palace. Thus another precious half-hour was lost before she found the coach again. At last they started, and reached the new Barrier of the suburb St. Martin, without further mishap, where they found the large travelling-coach awaiting them, drawn by five strong horses, although it was fully two hours past the time agreed on.
It was the shortest night of the year, and the first faint light of dawn was already visible in the sky, as, shortly after two o’clock, the carriage containing the royal family rattled up. The change to the waiting travelling-coach was made without delay, and Count Fersen swung himself onto the box beside his coachman, Balthasar Sapel.
“Drive on, quickly!” he ordered. “Make haste!” They started forward. Their rôles were distributed as follows: Madame de Tourzel was to appear as the Baroness von Korff; the Princess and the Dauphin as her daughters Amalie and Algan; the Queen passed as the children’s governess, Madame Rochet; Madame Élisabeth personated the waiting-woman called Rosalie; the King took the part of valet-de-chambre under the name of Durand; and three officers of the bodyguard who accompanied them, Messieurs de Maldent, de Moustier, and de Valory, passed for servants and couriers. All were suitably dressed.
Count Fersen, on the coachman’s box in front, constantly cracked the whip and urged the driver on. “Faster! faster! Balthasar!” he called to him. “Do not spare the horses—they will have time enough to rest when we are safe with the regiment.” The horses almost flew, but their furious speed seemed slow to the anxious impatience of the Count, who realized but too well the dangers of the enterprise. Bondy was reached in half an hour, and here, through the forethought of M. de Valory, six fresh horses were waiting for them, while he himself rode on in advance to Claye to take the same precaution there. At Bondy, Count Fersen took leave of them with reluctance, and returned to Paris, to escape as soon as possible to Belgium.
At Claye the travellers found the waiting-maids, Brunier and de Neuville, who had left Paris a little before them in a postchaise. It was important to continue their journey without delay, but the new travelling-coach already needed some repairs, and again invaluable time was lost. At the village of Étoges, between Montmirail and Châlons, they had an anxious moment, fearing themselves recognized. The King, with his usual carelessness, allowed himself to be seen too often. He descended from the coach more than once, walked up one or two of the long hills with the children, and even talked with some peasants they met. At Châlons, where they arrived about noon, they were indeed recognized by the postmaster and some other persons who had seen the King; but they were shrewd and loyal, and did all in their power to aid the fugitives, harnessing the horses themselves and urging the postilions to depart. The travellers were amply supplied with provisions, and nowhere was a stop made for meals. At the bridge in Sommevesle, the first post-station after Châlons, they should have found a detachment of hussars to act as escort on the road to Montmédy; but when they reached there at six o’clock, not a hussar was to be seen. It was discovered afterward that six hours earlier the troops had been at their post, according to orders; but, having already waited some hours, a longer stay was deemed imprudent, owing to the suspicious attitude of the people. M. de Choiseul, the commander of the hussars, fearful of arousing fresh disturbances in Ste. Menehould, had then given orders to avoid that town in their retreat, and make their way by cross-roads; and hence the travellers missed them altogether. Again the unfortunate consequences of these delays were felt; but even worse results were to follow. At Ste. Menehould an escort of the King’s dragoons should have been waiting; but their leader, Captain d’Andoins, had been forced to go to the town hall to account for the presence of his troops, which had alarmed the now excited populace, and was held there virtually a prisoner, while his troopers unsaddled their horses and dispersed.
It was here that the King, uneasy over the failure of their plans, and putting his head out of the coach window, was recognized by the postmaster Drouet.[11] The sight of the King struck the fellow with amazement; he compared the head of the traveller with that of the King stamped on an assignat (the paper money used at that time), and his malignant expression betrayed his thoughts. The Queen caught his evil smile and felt her heart sink; but they passed on without hindrance, and she gradually forgot her fears. The traitor Drouet, however, lost no time in profiting by his discovery. He communicated it at once to the town council, and the whole village was in commotion. At that moment a special messenger arrived from Châlons, confirming the news of the King’s escape. It was resolved that Drouet, accompanied by a former dragoon of the Queen’s regiment, should start instantly in pursuit of the fugitives, and, in case he succeeded in overtaking them, place them under arrest. In hot haste they mounted, and set off at furious speed in the direction taken by the royal party.
Meanwhile M. de Damas, with a company of dragoons, had arrived at Clermont the previous afternoon, at five o’clock, with orders to wait there for the King, and as soon as he had passed to follow him along the road to Varennes. They remained at their post till nightfall, when Damas ordered his troopers’ horses to be unsaddled and allowed the men to disperse. Half an hour later the coach arrived, and continued on its way without stopping. M. de Damas, who saw it pass, sent an officer to summon the dragoons in haste from their quarters. The town was soon in great excitement; the council was disturbed; discussions grew more and more heated. When Damas finally gave the signal to mount, the troopers refused to obey, and it was with the greatest difficulty he persuaded them to follow him—another link in the chain of fatalities!
The King’s coach had scarcely left Clermont when Drouet himself arrived, obtained a fresh mount, and set off again in hot pursuit. One of the King’s bodyguard was riding in advance of the coach as courier, another behind it as rear guard. Beside these, Damas, when he saw Drouet ride off, had sent one of his officers to overtake and stop him. This man had almost succeeded in his attempt, when, favored by the darkness, the traitor turned off into by-ways known only to himself, and, thoroughly familiar with the country, reached Varennes shortly after eleven o’clock, fully an hour before the King and his family arrived there.
Varennes was a secluded little village and had no post-house, but a place in the outskirts of the town, where he might obtain a change of horses, had been so carefully described to the King that he had no difficulty in finding it. Here they stopped, expecting to get the horses, but nothing was to be seen of them. In vain the King knocked on the door; no one answered. As a matter of fact, the plan had been changed at the last moment, owing to the disturbances existing all over the country, and the horses had been sent to an inn on the other side of the river; but, through more misunderstandings and errors, someone had neglected to notify the King. Lights were still visible in the house, and the Queen herself alighted from the coach and tried to obtain some response from the inmates; but her hope of obtaining information by some chance was not realized, and half an hour was lost. Drouet knew how to make the most of the time. When at last the travellers were forced to abandon the attempt and re-enter the coach, the postilions refused to go any farther, pretending that their horses were too exhausted to continue the journey. Just then the courier returned, bringing with him a man in a dressing-gown and with a nightcap on his head. As he approached the royal couple they demanded impatiently: “Where are our horses, fellow? Tell us at once!”