Maria Antoinette

An alarm

La Fayette had informed the king, that, should he see any alarming movement among the disaffected, threatening the exposure of the royal family to new acts of violence, he would give them an intimation of their danger by the discharge of a few cannon from the battery upon the Pont Neuf. One night the report of guns from some casual discharge was heard, and the king, regarding it as the warning, in great alarm flew to the apartments of the queen. She was not there. He passed hastily from room to room, and at last found her in the chamber of the dauphin, with her two children in her arms. "Madame," said the king to her, "I have been seeking you. I was very anxious about you." "You find me," replied the queen pointing to her children, "at my station."

Attempts to assassinate the queenRemoval to St. CloudAnother plan for flightIt is abandoned

Several unavailing attempts were made at this time to assassinate the queen. These discoveries, however, seemed to cause Maria no alarm, and she could not be induced to adopt any precautions for her personal safety. Rarely did a day pass in which she did not encounter, in some form, ignominy or insult. As the heat of summer came on, the royal family removed to the palace of St. Cloud without any opposition, though the National Guard followed them, professedly for their protection, but, in reality, to guard against their escape. Here another plan was formed for flight. The different members of the royal family, in disguise, were to meet in a wood four leagues from St. Cloud. Some friends of the royal family, who could be perfectly relied upon, were there to join them. A large carriage was to be in attendance, sufficient to conduct the whole family. The attendants at the palace would have no suspicion of their escape until nine o'clock in the evening, as the royal carriages were frequently out until that hour, and it would then take some time to send to Paris to call together the National Assembly at midnight, and to send couriers to overtake the fugitives. Thus, with fleet horses and fresh relays, and having six or seven hours the start, the king and queen might hope to escape apprehension. The queen very highly approved of this plan, and was very anxious to have it carried into execution. But for some unknown reason, the attempt was relinquished.

Exhibitions of attachmentEmotions of the queen

There were occasional exhibitions of strong individual attachment for the king and queen which would, for a moment, create the illusion that a reaction had commenced in the public mind. One day the queen was sitting in her apartment at St. Cloud, in the deepest dejection of spirits, mechanically working upon some tapestry to occupy the joyless and lingering hours. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. The palace was deserted and silent. The very earth and sky seemed mourning in sympathy with the mourning queen. Suddenly, an unusual noise, as of many persons conversing in an under tone, was heard beneath the window. The queen immediately rose and went to the window; for every unaccustomed sound was, in such perilous times, an occasion of alarm. Below the balcony, she saw a group of some fifty persons, men and women, from the country, apparently anxious to catch a glimpse of her. They were evidently humble people, dressed in the costume of peasants. As soon as they saw the queen, they gave utterance to the most passionate expressions of attachment and devotion. The queen, who had long been accustomed only to looks and words of defiance and insult, was entirely overpowered by these kind words, and could not refrain from bursting into tears. The sight of the weeping queen redoubled the affectionate emotions of the loyal group, and, with the utmost enthusiasm, they reiterated their assurances of love and their prayers for her safety. A lady of the queen's household, apprehensive that the scene might arrest the attention of the numerous spies who surrounded them, led her from the window. The affectionate group, appreciating the prudence of the measure, with tears of sympathy expressed their assent, and with prayers, tears, and benedictions retired. Maria was deeply touched by these unwonted tones of kindness, and, throwing herself into her chair, sobbed with uncontrollable emotion. It was long before she could regain her accustomed composure.

The assassin in the garden

Many unsuccessful attempts were made at this time to assassinate the queen. A wretch by the name of Rotondo succeeded one day in scaling the walls of the garden, and hid himself in the shrubbery, intending to stab the queen as she passed in her usual solitary promenade. A shower prevented the queen from going into the garden, and thus her life was saved. And yet, though the assassin was discovered and arrested, the hostility of the public toward the royal family was such that he was shielded from punishment.

Midnight interviewsDeliberations of the king's friends

The king and queen occasionally held private interviews at midnight, with chosen friends, secretly introduced to the palace, in the apartment of the queen. And there, in low tones of voice, and fearful of detection by the numerous spies which infested the palace, they would deliberate upon their peril, and upon the innumerable plans suggested for their extrication. Some recommended the resort to violence; that the king should gather around him as many of his faithful subjects as possible, and settle the difficulties by an immediate appeal to arms. Others urged further compromise, and the spirit of conciliation, hoping that the king might thus regain his lost popularity, and re-establish his tottering throne. Others urged, and Maria coincided most cordially in this opinion, that it was necessary for the royal family to escape from Paris immediately, which was the focus of disaffection, and at a safe distance, surrounded by their armed friends, to treat with their enemies and to compel them to reasonable terms. The indecision of the king, however, appeared to be an insuperable obstacle in the way of any decisive action.

Taunting gift

One day a delegation appeared before the royal family from the conquerors of the Bastile, with a new year's gift for the young dauphin. The present consisted of a box of dominoes curiously wrought from the stone of which that celebrated state prison was built. It was an ingenious plan to insult the royal family under the pretense of respect and affection, for on the lid of the box there was engraved the following sentiment: "These stones, from the walls which inclosed the innocent victims of arbitrary power, have been converted into a toy, to be presented to you, monseigneur, as an homage of the people's love, and to teach you the extent of their power."

The king's aunts leave FranceThey are arrestedExciting debateThe ladies permitted to depart

About this time, the two aunts of the king left France, ostensibly for the purpose of travelling, but, in reality, as an experiment, to see what opposition would be made to prevent members of the royal family from leaving the kingdom. As soon as their intention was known, it excited the greatest popular ferment. A vast crowd of men and women assembled at the palace, to prevent, if possible, with lawless violence, their departure. It was merely two elderly ladies who wished to leave France, but the excitement pervaded even the army, and many of the soldiers joined the mob in the determination that they should not be permitted to depart. The traces of the carriages were cut, and the officers, who tried to protect the princesses, were nearly murdered. The whole nation was agitated by the attempts of these two peaceful ladies to visit Rome. When at some distance from Paris, they were arrested, and the report of their arrest was sent to the National Assembly. The king found the excitement so great, that he wrote a letter to the Assembly, informing them that his aunts wished to leave France to visit other countries, and that, though he witnessed their separation from him and his family with much regret, he did not feel that he had any right to deprive them of the privilege which the humblest citizens enjoyed, of going whenever and wherever they pleased. The question of their detention was for a long time debated in the Assembly. "What right," said one, "have we to prohibit these ladies from traveling." "We have a law," another indignantly replied, "paramount to all others – the law which commands us to take care of the public safety." The debate was finally terminated by the caustic remark of a member who was ashamed of the protracted discussion. "Europe," said he, "will be greatly astonished, no doubt, on hearing that the National Assembly spent four hours in deliberating upon the departure of two ladies who preferred hearing mass at Rome rather than at Paris." The debate was thus terminated, and the ladies were permitted to depart.

The royal family start for St. CloudThey are compelled to return

Early in the spring of 1791, the king and queen, who had been passing some time in Paris at the Tuileries, wished to return to their country seat at St. Cloud. Many members of the household had already gone there, and dinner was prepared for the royal family at the palace for their reception. The carriages were at the door, and, as the king and queen were descending, a great tumult in the yard arrested their attention. They found that the guard, fearful that they might escape, had mutinied, and closed the door of the palace, declaring that they would not let them pass. Some of the personal friends of the king interposed in favor of the insulted captives, and endeavored to secure for them more respectful treatment. They were, however, seized by the infuriated soldiers, and narrowly escaped with their lives. The king and queen returned in humiliation to their apartments, feeling that their palace was indeed a prison. They, however, secretly did not regret the occurrence, as it made more public the indignities to which they were exposed, and would aid in justifying before the community any attempts they might hereafter make to escape.

Preparations for flightImprudence of the king and queenGarments for the children

The king had at length become thoroughly aroused to a sense of the desperate position of his affairs. But the royal family was watched so narrowly that it was now extremely difficult to make any preparations for departure; and the king and queen, both having been brought up surrounded by the luxuries and restraints of a palace, knew so little of the world, and yet were so accustomed to have their own way, that they were entirely incapable of forming any judicious plan for themselves, and, at the same time, they were quite unwilling to adopt the views of their more intelligent friends. They began, however, notwithstanding the most earnest remonstrances, to make preparations for flight by providing themselves with every conceivable comfort for their exile. In vain did their friends assure them that they could purchase any thing they desired in any part of Europe; that such quantities of luggage would be only an encumbrance; that it was dangerous, under the eyes of their vigilant enemies, to be making such extensive preparations. Neither the king nor queen would heed such monitions. The queen persisted in her resolution to send to Brussels, piece by piece, all the articles of a complete and extensive wardrobe for herself and her children, to be ready for them there upon their arrival. Madame Campan, the intimate friend and companion of the queen, was extremely uneasy in view of this imprudence; but, as she could not dissuade the queen, she went out again and again, in the evening and in disguise, to purchase the necessary articles and have them made up. She adopted the precaution of purchasing but few articles at any one shop, and of employing various seamstresses, lest suspicion should be excited. She had the garments made for the daughter of the queen, cut by the measure of another young lady who exactly resembled her in size. Gradually they thus filled one large trunk with clothing, which was sent to the dwelling of a lady, one of the friends of the queen, who was to convey it to Brussels.

The queen's dressing-caseThe queen's diamonds and jewelsThe faithful Leonard

The queen had a very magnificent dressing-case, which cost twelve hundred dollars. This she also determined that she could not leave behind. It could not be taken from the palace, and sent away out of the country, without attracting attention, and leading at once to the conviction that the queen was to follow it. The queen, in her innocent simplicity of mankind, thought that the people could be blinded like children, by telling them that she intended to send it as a present to the Archduchess Christina. However, by the most earnest remonstrances of her friends, she was induced only so far to change her plan as to consent that the chargé d'affaires from Vienna should ask her at her toilet, and in the presence of all around her, to have just such a dressing-case made for the archduchess. This plan was carried into execution, and the dressing-case was thus publicly made; but, as it could not be finished in season, the queen sent her own dressing-case, saying that she would keep the new one herself. It, however, did not deceive the spies who surrounded the queen. They noticed all these preparations, and communicated them to the authorities. She also very deliberately collected all her diamonds and jewels in her private boudoir, and beguiled the anxious hours in inclosing them in cotton and packing them away. These diamonds, carefully boxed, were placed in the hands of the queen's hair-dresser, a man in whom she could confide, to be carried by him to Brussels. He faithfully fulfilled his trust. But one of the women of the queen, whom she did not suspect of treachery, but who was a spy of the Assembly, entered her boudoir by false keys when the queen was absent, and reported all these proceedings. The hair-dresser perished upon the scaffold for his fidelity. Let the name of Leonard be honored. The infamous informer has gone to oblivion, and we will not aid even to embalm her name in contempt.

Chapter VII.

The Flight

1791Increasing excitementInflammatory speech of Marat

The ferment in the National Assembly was steadily and strongly increasing. Every day brought new rumors of the preparation of the emigrants to invade France, aided by the armies of monarchical Europe, and to desolate the rebellious empire with fire and sword. Tidings were floating upon every breeze, grossly exaggerated, of the designs of the king and queen to escape, to join the avenging army, and to wreak a terrible vengeance upon their country. Furious speeches were made in the Assembly and in the streets, to rouse to madness the people, now destitute of work and of bread. "Citizens," ferociously exclaimed Marat, "watch, with an eagle eye, that palace, the impenetrable den where plots are ripening against the people. There a perfidious queen lords it over a treacherous king, and rears the cubs of tyranny. Lawless priests there consecrate the arms which are to be bathed in the blood of the people. The genius of Austria is there, guided by the Austrian Antoinette. The emigrants are there stimulated in their thirst for vengeance. Every night the nobility, with concealed daggers, steal into this den. They are knights of the poniard – assassins of the people. Why is not the property of emigrants confiscated – their houses burned – a price set upon their heads? The king is ready for flight. Watch! watch! a great blow is preparing – is ready to burst; if you do not prevent it by a counter blow more sudden, more terrible, the people and liberty are annihilated."

The king and queen resolve to flyEffort's of the king's brotherExasperation of the people

The king and queen, in the apartments where they were virtually imprisoned, read these angry and inflammatory appeals, and both now felt that no further time was to be lost in attempting to effect their escape. It was known that the brother of the king, subsequently Charles X., was going from court to court in Europe, soliciting aid for the rescue of the illustrious prisoners. It was known that the King of Austria, brother of Maria Antoinette, had promised to send an army of thirty-five thousand men to unite with the emigrants at Coblentz in their march upon Paris. Every monarch in Europe was alarmed, in view of the instability of his own throne, should the rebellion of the people against the throne in France prove triumphant; and Spain, Prussia, Sardinia, Naples, and Switzerland had guaranteed equal forces to assist in the re-establishment of the French monarchy. It is not strange that the exasperation of the people should have been aroused, by the knowledge of these facts, beyond all bounds. And their leaders were aware that they were engaged in a conflict in which defeat was inevitable death.

Intention of the king

The king had now resolved, if possible, to escape. He, however, declared that it never was his intention to join the emigrants and invade France with a foreign force. That, on the contrary, he strongly disapproved of the measures adopted by the emigrants as calculated only to increase the excitement against the throne, and to peril his cause. He declared that it was only his wish to escape from the scenes of violence, insult, and danger to which he was exposed in Paris, and somewhere on the frontiers of his kingdom to surround himself by his loyal subjects, and there endeavor amicably to adjust the difficulties which desolated the empire. The character of the king renders it most probable that such was his intention, and such has been the verdict of posterity.

Deliberations of the emigrantsDangers thicken

But there was another source of embarrassment which extremely troubled the royal family. The emigrants were deliberating upon the expediency of declaring the throne vacant by default of the king's liberty, and to nominate his brother M. le Comte d'Artois regent in his stead. The king greatly feared this moral forfeiture of the throne with which he was menaced under the pretense of delivering him. He was justly apprehensive that the advance of an invading army, under the banners of his brother, would be the signal for the immediate destruction of himself and family. Flight, consequently, had become his only refuge; and flight was encompassed with the most fearful perils. Long and agonizing were the months of deliberation in which the king and queen saw these dangers hourly accumulating around them, while each day the vigilance of their enemies were redoubled, and the chances of escape diminished.

The plan of flight

The following plan was at last adopted for the flight. The royal family were to leave Paris at midnight in disguise, in two carriages, for Montmédy, on the frontiers of France and Germany, about two hundred miles from Paris. This town was within the limits of France, so that the king could not be said to have fled from his kingdom. The nearest road and the great public thoroughfare led through the city of Rheims; but, as the king had been crowned there, he feared that he might meet some one by whom he would be recognized, and he therefore determined to take a more circuitous route, by by-roads and through small and unfrequented villages. Relays of horses were to be privately conveyed to all these villages, that the carriages might be drawn on with the greatest rapidity, and small detachments of soldiers were to be stationed at important posts, to resist any interruption which might possibly be attempted by the peasantry. The king also had a large carriage built privately, expressly for himself and his family, while certain necessary attendants were to follow in another.

The Marquis de BouilléThe king refuses to change his planThe Marquis d'Agoult

The Marquis de Bouillé, who commanded a portion of the troops still faithful to the king, was the prime confidant and helper in this movement. He earnestly, but in vain, endeavored to induce the king to make some alterations in this plan. He entreated him, in the first place, not to excite suspicion by the use of a peculiar carriage constructed for his own use, but to make use of common carriages such as were daily seen traversing the roads. He also besought him to travel by the common high way, where relays of horses were at all times ready by night and by day. He represented to the king that, should he take the unfrequented route, it would be necessary to send relays of horses beforehand to all these little villages; that so unusual an occurrence would attract attention and provoke inquiry. He urged also upon the king that detachments of troops sent along these solitary roads would excite curiosity, and would inevitably create suspicion. The king, however, self-willed, refused to heed these remonstrances, and persisted in his own plan. He, however, consented to take with him the Marquis d'Agoult, a man of great firmness and energy, to advise and assist in the unforeseen accidents which might embarrass the enterprise. He also reluctantly consented to ask the Emperor of Austria to make a threatening movement toward the frontier, which would be an excuse for the movement through these villages of detachments of French troops.

These arrangements made, the Marquis de Bouillé sent a faithful officer to take an accurate survey of the road, and present a report to the king. He then, under various pretexts, removed to a distance those troops who were known to be disaffected to the royal cause, and endeavored to gather along the line of flight those in whose loyalty he thought he could confide.

The Count de FersenHis noble character

At the palace of the Tuileries, the secret of the contemplated flight had been confided only to the king, the queen, the Princess Elizabeth, sister of the king, and two or three faithful attendants. The Count de Fersen, a most noble-spirited young gentleman from Sweden, most cheerfully periled his life in undertaking the exterior arrangements of this hazardous enterprise. He had often been admitted, in the happy days of Maria Antoinette, to the parties and fêtes which lent wings to the hours at the Little Trianon, and chivalrous admiration of her person and character induced him to consecrate himself with the most passionate devotion to her cause. Three soldiers of the body-guard, Valorg, Monstrei, and Maldan, were also received into confidence, and unhesitatingly engaged in an enterprise in which success was extremely problematical, and failure was certain death. They, disguised as servants, were to mount behind the carriages, and protect the royal family at all risks.

The king and queen leave the palaceThe queen loses her wayDeparture from ParisArrival at BondyDeparture of the Count de Fersen

The night of the 20th of June at length arrived, and the hearts of the royal inmates of the Tuileries throbbed violently as the hour approached which was to decide their destiny. At the hour of eleven, according to their custom, they took leave of those friends who were in the habit of paying their respects to them at that time, and dismissed their attendants as if to retire to their beds. As soon as they were alone, they hastily, and with trembling hands, dressed themselves in the disguises which had been prepared for their journey, and by different doors and at different times left the palace. It was the dark hour of midnight. The lights glimmered feebly from the lamps, but still there was the bustle of crowds coming and going in those ever-busy streets. The queen, in her traveling dress, leaning upon the arm of one of the body-guard, and leading her little daughter Maria Theresa by the hand, passed out at a door in the rear of the palace, and hastened through the Place du Carrousel, and, losing her way, crossed the Seine by the Pont Royal, and wandered for some time through the darkest and most obscure streets before she found the two hackney-coaches which were waiting for them at the Quai des Théatins. The king left the palace in a similar manner, leading his son Louis by the hand. He also lost his way in the unfrequented streets through which it was necessary for him to pass. The queen waited for half an hour in the most intense anxiety before the king arrived. At last, however, all were assembled, and, entering the hackney-coaches, the Count de Fersen, disguised as a coachman, leaped up on the box, and the wheels rattled over the pavements of the city as the royal family fled in this obscurity from their palace and their throne. The emotions excited in the bosoms of the illustrious fugitives were too intense, and the perils to which they were exposed too dreadful, to allow of any conversation. Grasping each other's hands, they sat in silence through the dark hours, with the gloomy remembrance of the past oppressing their spirits, and with the dread that the light of morning might introduce them to new disasters. A couple of hours of silence and gloom passed slowly away, and the coaches arrived at Bondy, the first stage from Paris. The gray dawn of the morning was just appearing in the east as they hurriedly changed their coaches for the large traveling carriage the king had ordered and another coach which there awaited them. Count de Fersen kissed the hands of the king and queen, and leaving them, according to previous arrangements, with their attendants, hastened the same night by another route to Brussels, in order to rejoin the royal family at a later period.