King with having left M. de Montmorin and his most intimate friends ignorant of his intentions.
“Il était ignoré,” says M. de Lafayette, “de ses ministres, des royalistes de l’Assemblée, tous laissés exposés à un grand peril. Telle était la situation non seulement des gardes nationaux de service, de leurs officiers, mais des amis les plus dévoués du roi, du duc de Brissac, commandant des cent-suisses, et de M. de Montmorin qui avait très-innocemment donné un passeport sous le nom de la baronne de Korff.”24
It is difficult to account for the inconsistency in Louis XVI.’s conduct, except by referring to the inconsistency of his character: I am, however, disposed to surmise that, after Mirabeau’s death, he considered it would be impossible to unite a considerable portion of the Assembly and the army in one common plan; and that he then began carrying on at the same time two plans: the one relative to the policy he should pursue in the event of his stay in the capital, which he probably conducted through M. de Montmorin, who was intimate with the leading members of the constitutional party in the Assembly; the other relative to his flight, which he only entrusted to the general whose camp he was about to seek, and to those private friends and adherents who took little part in public affairs. It is further to be presumed that, according to his constant incertitude and indolence, never long or firmly fixed on any one project, he was scared by apprehensions of the mob at the moment when most disposed to remain quietly in his palace, and alarmed at the risk and trouble of moving when actually pressing the preparations for his journey.
In this manner we may best reconcile his writing to M. de Bouillé, to expect him at Montmedy within a week of his declaring to the sovereigns of Europe (23rd April) that he was satisfied with his condition at Paris: in this manner, likewise, we may explain his solemnly assuring the general of the National Guard that he would not quit the Tuileries, only two or three days before he actually did so.25
He rarely did what he intended to do; and belied himself more frequently from change of intentions, than from intentional insincerity.
At all events, it seems probable (returning to the fact with which we are in the present instance most concerned) that Louis XVI.’s departure took place without M. de Talleyrand’s active assistance, but I do not think it probable that it was altogether without his knowledge.
The ex-Bishop had such a varied and extensive acquaintance that he was pretty certain to know what he wished to know; and it was according to his usual practice to contrive that he should not be compromised if the King’s projects failed, and yet that he should be in a situation to show that the King was indebted to him if those projects succeeded. It is useless to speculate on what might have occurred had the unfortunate monarch reached his destination; for travelling in a carriage peculiarly heavy and peculiarly conspicuous at the rate of three miles an hour, walking up the hills, putting his head out of the windows at the post-houses, Louis XVI. arrived at the place where he was to have met his escort twenty hours later than the appointed time, and was finally stopped at the bridge of Varennes by a few resolute men, and reconducted leisurely to the capital, amidst the insults of the provinces and the silence of Paris.
The important question then arose, What was to be done respecting him?
Was he to be deposed in favour of a republic? All contemporary writers agree that, at this moment, the idea of a republic was only in a few visionary minds. Was he to be deposed in favour of a new monarch, which, considering the emigration of his brothers and the infancy of his child, could only be in favour of a new dynasty? or, was he to be reinstated in the position he had quitted?
The views and conduct of M. de Talleyrand are at this crisis interesting. We have been told by contemporaries, that he and Sieyès were of opinion that there was a better chance of making the Revolution successful with a limited monarchy under a new chief, elected by the nation, than under the old one, who claimed his throne in virtue of hereditary right; and we can easily understand their reasoning.
A king who had succeeded to a throne from which his ancestors had been accustomed for centuries to dictate absolutely to their people, could hardly be sincerely satisfied with possessing on sufferance a remnant of his ancestors’ former authority; nor could a people be ever wholly without suspicion of a prince who had to forget the ideas with which he had received the sceptre before he could respect those which restricted the use of it.
Louis XVI., moreover, had attempted to escape from his palace, as a prisoner escaping from his gaol, and as a prisoner thus escaping he had been caught and brought back to his place of confinement.
It was difficult to make anything of a sovereign in this condition save a puppet, to be for a while the tool, and ere long the victim, of contending parties.
Now, M. de Talleyrand had always a leaning to the Orleans branch of the House of Bourbon: neither did he think so ill of the notorious personage who was then the representative of the Orleans family, as the contemporaries from whose report posterity has traced his portrait.
Of this prince he once said, in his own pithy manner, “Le duc d’Orléans est le vase dans lequel on a jeté toutes les ordures de la Révolution;”26 and this was not untrue.
Philippe d’Orléans, indeed, who has figured in history under the nickname or sobriquet of “Egalité,” was neither fitted for the part of a great sovereign in turbulent times nor for that of a quiet and obscure citizen at any more tranquil period. Nevertheless, he was not so bad a man as he has been represented; for both Legitimists and Republicans have been obliged to blacken his character in order to excuse their conduct to him.
His character has, furthermore, been mystified and exaggerated, as we have looked at it by the lurid glare of that unnatural vote which brings the later period of his life always prominently and horribly before us. Still, in reality, he was rather a weak man, led into villainous deeds by want of principle, than a man of a strong and villainous nature, who did not scruple at crimes when they seemed likely to advance his ambition. His only one strong passion was a desire to be talked about.
It is possible that the King, by skilful management, might have turned this ruling wish of his most powerful subject to the profit of his monarchy: for the young Duc de Chartres was at one time anxious to shine as an aspirant to military fame. The government, however, denied his request to be employed as became his rank; and when, despite of this denial, he engaged in a naval combat as a volunteer, the court unjustly and impoliticly spread reports against his courage. To risk his life in a balloon, to run riot in every extravagance of debauch, to profess the opinions of a republican though the first prince of the blood royal, were demonstrations of the same disposition which might have made him a gallant soldier, a furious bigot, a zealous royalist, and even a very tolerable constitutional monarch.
As to the various stories of his incessant schemes and complicated manœuvres for exciting the populace, debauching the soldiery, and seizing the crown, they are, in my opinion, no more worthy of credit than the tales which at the same period were equally circulated of Louis XVI.’s drunkenness, and Marie-Antoinette’s debaucheries. Belonging to those whom Tacitus has described as “men loving idleness – though hating quiet,” seeking popularity more than power, and with a character easily modelled by circumstances, I am by no means certain, that if M. de Talleyrand did think of bestowing on him what was afterwards called a “citizen crown,” (it must be remembered that he had not then been lowered and disgraced by the follies or crimes into which he was subsequently led), the plan was not the best which could have been adopted. But there was one great and insurmountable obstacle to this design.
General Lafayette commanded the National Guard of Paris, and although his popularity was already on the wane, he was still – Mirabeau being dead – the most powerful citizen that had been raised
“The ministers, the royalists of the Assembly, were all left in ignorance of the King’s intentions, and exposed to great peril. Such was the situation, not only of the National Guards and their officers, but also of the most devoted of the King’s friends, the Duc de Brissac, commander of the Swiss Guards, and M. de Montmorin, who had unwittingly given a passport in the name of the Baroness de Korff.”
“Ce prince (Louis XVI.) dont on ne peut trop déplorer le manque de bonne foi dans cette occasion, lui donna les assurances si positives, si solennelles, qu’il crut pouvoir répondre
“The Duc d’Orléans is the vase into which people have thrown all the filth of the Revolution.”
