At Bondy the king, the queen, Madame Elizabeth, the two children, Maria Theresa being about ten years of age and Louis seven, with their governess, took their seats in the large carriage. One of the body-guard of the king, disguised as a servant, sat on the box, and another, as footman, sat behind. M. de Vallory rode on horseback, that he might gallop forward and order the relays of horses. The waiting women of the queen, who, by the strangest infatuation, had been included in the party, took the other carriage.
The Marquis of Bouillé, an energetic, heroic man, finding that he could not control the arrangements of the king, did every thing in his power to avert the suspicion which the strange-looking cortège would be likely to excite. He had a passport prepared, in which the governess was represented as a German baroness, Madame de Korff, traveling with her two children. The king was her valet-de-chambre, the queen her waiting-maid. The proverbial wealth of the German barons and the peculiar style of the equipage to which they were accustomed happily favored this idea.[274]
The morning was just beginning to dawn as Count Fersen kissed the hands of the king and queen and left them to prosecute their perilous journey, while he took flight for the frontier through Flanders. The coach was drawn by six horses, who were driven at the utmost speed, relays of horses having been established at short stages. The sun at length rose bright and cheerful. The country was smiling in all the verdure of blooming June. Every revolution of the wheels was bearing them farther from Paris. It was hardly possible that their flight could be discovered until a late hour in the morning. There were no telegraphs in those days to send intelligence with lightning speed to arrest their flight. Having six or eight hours the start of their pursuers, and being abundantly supplied with fresh horses, escape seemed now almost certain. Hope began to cheer their hearts.
Some slight interruptions had retarded their progress, and it was about three o'clock in the afternoon when they entered Chalons, some ninety miles from Paris. The queen, with an exultant smile, exclaimed, "All goes well. If we were to have been stopped at all it would have been before now."
At Chalons they exchanged horses. The king now felt that he was safe, for the Marquis of Bouillé had posted detachments of troops at every important point between Chalons and Montmedy. With characteristic imprudence, as the carriage was surrounded with idlers at Chalons, the king put his head out of the window, showing his well-known face to the crowd. The postmaster instantly recognized the king, but, being himself an ardent Royalist, divulged not his secret, but aided in putting in the fresh horses, and ordered the postillions to drive on.
About ten miles from Chalons is the bridge of Sommeville, which crosses a narrow stream, where the Duke of Choiseul and M. Goguelat were stationed with fifty hussars. They were to secure the king's passage, and then to remain and block up the road against all pursuers. Faithful to the plan, they were at the bridge, with the mounted hussars, at the appointed hour. The strange assemblage of a military force at that spot excited the curiosity of the peasants, and a great crowd was gathered. Every mind throughout France was then in a very sensitive state. The crowd increased, and in the adjoining villages the alarm-bells were beginning to ring. As the royal carriages did not appear for five or six hours later than they were expected, the Duke of Choiseul, to appease the ferment, left the spot, and the people then dispersed.
Soon after the detachment had left the king arrived, and was surprised to find no troops. It was then between four and five o'clock in the evening. In great perplexity and anxiety he drove rapidly on two hours farther to St. Menehould, where he was to find another detachment of troops; but the Duke of Choiseul had sent forward to St. Menehould and Chalons, informing the detachments there that he had waited six hours for the arrival of the king; that the plan had probably miscarried; that excitement was rapidly rising among the people; and that the detachments had better retire.
The king, unaware of all this, was astonished and bewildered in still finding no troops, and naturally, but imprudently, again looked out of the window. The excited crowd which was gathered around the carriages suspected that they contained the royal family. A young man named Drouet, son of the postmaster, instantly recognized the king, from his resemblance to the imprint on the coins in circulation. Without communicating his discovery to any one, he mounted a horse, and, taking a cross road, galloped some twelve or fifteen miles to Varennes, to inform the municipality and cause the arrest of the party.
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