The Lost King of France: A True Story of Revolution, Revenge, and DNA by Deborah Cadbury
Authors: Deborah Cadbury
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utterly terrifying point in their lives. “I am aware that to succeed was in my hands,” he wrote later to General de Bouillé. “But it is needful to have a ruthless spirit if one is to shed the blood of subjects … . The very thought of such contingencies tore my heart and robbed me of all determination.”
During the midafternoon, a local nobleman, the loyal Comte de Dampierre, rode up to salute the king, “in despair at the king’s being stopped.” The crowd was enraged at Dampierre’s proroyalist gesture and tried to pull him off his horse. According to Marie-Thérèse, “Hardly had he spurred
his horse, before the people who surrounded the carriage fired at him. He was flung to the ground … . A man on horseback rode over him and struck him several blows with his saber; others did the same and soon killed him.” The scene was horrible, wrote Marie-Thérèse, “but more dreadful still was the fury of these wretches who, not content with having killed him, wanted to drag his body to our carriage and show it to my father.” Despite his entreaties, “these cannibals came on triumphantly round the carriage holding up the hat, coat and clothing of the unfortunate Dampierre … and they carried these horrible trophies beside us along the road.”
Worse was to come at Épernay the following day. At one point the royal family was obliged to abandon their carriage to enter a hotel, struggling through a crowd of angry people armed with pikes “who said openly that they wished to kill us,” wrote Marie-Thérèse, shocked by their bloodcurdling threats. “Of all the awful moments I have known, this was one of those that struck me most and the horrible impression of it will never leave me … . My brother was ill all night and almost had delirium so shocked was he by the dreadful things he had seen.”
Ahead, a hostile reception was waiting for them in Paris. Following orders from La Fayette, the people lining the streets kept their heads covered and remained absolutely silent, to show their contempt for this monarch who had tried to flee. La Fayette’s orders were so strictly observed that “several scullery boys without hats covered their heads with their dirty, filthy handkerchiefs,” recorded Madame de Tourzel. As they made their way down the Champs-Élysées and across the Place Louis XV, it was like an unspoken, public decoronation, as the citizens of Paris refused to acknowledge the royal status of their king and queen.
The crowds were so great it was evening before they finally reached the Tuileries. As they stepped down from the carriage someone tried to attack the queen. The dauphin was snatched from her and whisked to safety by officials as others helped the queen into the palace. Louis-Charles was becoming increasingly terrified at the violence targeted directly at the royal family. “As soon as we arrived in Varennes we were sent back. Do you know why?” he asked his valet, François Hüe, as he struggled to make sense of it
all. He was not easily comforted and that night, once again, he was woken with violent nightmares of being eaten alive by wolves.
As the dauphin fell into a fitful sleep, “guards were placed over the whole family, with orders not to let them out of sight and to stay night and day in their chambers.” The next day the Assembly provisionally suspended Louis from his royal functions. The once-untouchable king and queen were now finally reduced to the powerless symbols of a vanishing world.
The king’s support collapsed after his abortive flight to Varennes. Those who had remained loyal to the monarchy now questioned the motives of a king who had tried to flee, exposing his people to the risk of civil war. Those who had opposed the monarchy had a tangible weapon: here was evidence that the king would betray his people. Imprisoned in the Tuileries, with little support in the Assembly or outside it, in September 1791, the king reluctantly signed the new constitution.
During the midafternoon, a local nobleman, the loyal Comte de Dampierre, rode up to salute the king, “in despair at the king’s being stopped.” The crowd was enraged at Dampierre’s proroyalist gesture and tried to pull him off his horse. According to Marie-Thérèse, “Hardly had he spurred
his horse, before the people who surrounded the carriage fired at him. He was flung to the ground … . A man on horseback rode over him and struck him several blows with his saber; others did the same and soon killed him.” The scene was horrible, wrote Marie-Thérèse, “but more dreadful still was the fury of these wretches who, not content with having killed him, wanted to drag his body to our carriage and show it to my father.” Despite his entreaties, “these cannibals came on triumphantly round the carriage holding up the hat, coat and clothing of the unfortunate Dampierre … and they carried these horrible trophies beside us along the road.”
Worse was to come at Épernay the following day. At one point the royal family was obliged to abandon their carriage to enter a hotel, struggling through a crowd of angry people armed with pikes “who said openly that they wished to kill us,” wrote Marie-Thérèse, shocked by their bloodcurdling threats. “Of all the awful moments I have known, this was one of those that struck me most and the horrible impression of it will never leave me … . My brother was ill all night and almost had delirium so shocked was he by the dreadful things he had seen.”
Ahead, a hostile reception was waiting for them in Paris. Following orders from La Fayette, the people lining the streets kept their heads covered and remained absolutely silent, to show their contempt for this monarch who had tried to flee. La Fayette’s orders were so strictly observed that “several scullery boys without hats covered their heads with their dirty, filthy handkerchiefs,” recorded Madame de Tourzel. As they made their way down the Champs-Élysées and across the Place Louis XV, it was like an unspoken, public decoronation, as the citizens of Paris refused to acknowledge the royal status of their king and queen.
The crowds were so great it was evening before they finally reached the Tuileries. As they stepped down from the carriage someone tried to attack the queen. The dauphin was snatched from her and whisked to safety by officials as others helped the queen into the palace. Louis-Charles was becoming increasingly terrified at the violence targeted directly at the royal family. “As soon as we arrived in Varennes we were sent back. Do you know why?” he asked his valet, François Hüe, as he struggled to make sense of it
all. He was not easily comforted and that night, once again, he was woken with violent nightmares of being eaten alive by wolves.
As the dauphin fell into a fitful sleep, “guards were placed over the whole family, with orders not to let them out of sight and to stay night and day in their chambers.” The next day the Assembly provisionally suspended Louis from his royal functions. The once-untouchable king and queen were now finally reduced to the powerless symbols of a vanishing world.
The king’s support collapsed after his abortive flight to Varennes. Those who had remained loyal to the monarchy now questioned the motives of a king who had tried to flee, exposing his people to the risk of civil war. Those who had opposed the monarchy had a tangible weapon: here was evidence that the king would betray his people. Imprisoned in the Tuileries, with little support in the Assembly or outside it, in September 1791, the king reluctantly signed the new constitution.
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