THE NIGHT OF THE 21ST OF AUGUST, 1791.
One can easily understand that it was late when we sought our
respective couches, and that we rose early the next morning, having
kept one eye open all the time that we slept.
When I say we, of course I speak of M. Billaud and the elder Leblanc,
whom M. Drouet had taken into his confidence.
About eleven in the morning we heard that a detachment of hussars had
been seen on the road from Stenay.
I left my work, giving a few words of explanation to M. Gerbaut and
Mdlle. Sophie. They partook of the general agitation which pervaded
the town, or rather the air which seemed tremendous with coming
events.
Mdlle. Sophie was very much excited, especially when I announced
the approach of the hussars. Two days previously, MM. Malmy and
Courtemont had arrived at Varennes.
I crossed the bridge and entered the Grand Place on one side, at the
same moment as the hussars entered it at the other.
They stopped a moment on the Place, spoke to the groom, who had
arrived the evening before with the relays, which, by superior
orders, they had stabled in the old Convent of the Cordeliers.
They were commanded by a tall officer of effeminate appearance, and
blonde complexion. He spoke French with a very strong German accent.
His name was M. de Rokrey.
He put up in the Place, not at an hotel, but with a tradesman of the
town, to whom he bore a letter of recommendation.
Behind me a great number of the inhabitants of the High Town were
descending and forming themselves in groups with those of the Low
Town.
About one o’clock, two young officers arrived by the same route, and
stopped to speak with him who commanded the detachment.
One of them approached me, and asked if I knew the whereabouts of
Neuvilly.
I told him it was half-way between Clermont and Varennes, and pointed
out the direction to take.
“Can you tell me, sir,” said he, “the cause of the agitation of the
people?”
“The movements of the troops about the city for the last two days. It
is reported that they are to form a convoy for a treasure, and the
inhabitants are curious.”
The two officers looked at each other.
“Can one get to Neuvilly,” asked one of the two, “without passing
through the town?”
“Impossible!” replied I. “A canal of great width intersects the road;
and even if your horses could swim across they would not be able to
mount the opposite bank.”
The officer turned round to his friend.
“What will you do? It appears that the relays must pass through the
town.”
“We have plenty of time,” replied his friend; “the courier will
precede the carriage two hours.”
The two officers thanked me for my information, and proceeded to the
“Hotel du Grand Monarque,” in the court of which they dismounted,
having thrown the bridles of their horses to the stable boys in
attendance.
It was evident that the persons expected would arrive from the
opposite side of the city—that is to say, the side on which Paris
lies.
It was, therefore, but lost time to stay in the Low Town.
I walked up to the High Town, crossed the bridge, and returned to M.
Gerbaut’s just as they were sitting down to dinner. Notwithstanding
the stifling heat, the Place de Latry was crowded.
During dinner, Father Gerbaut lost himself in vain conjectures as to
what was going on. Sophie, on the contrary, said not a word, scarcely
lifted her eyes from her plate, and ate little or nothing.
Not being authorized by M. Drouet to tell what I knew, I also held my
peace.
In the meantime, in order that the reader may fully understand what
was about to take place, it is necessary for me to describe the scene
of action.
Varennes, as I before told you, is divided into two parts, the High
Town and the Low Town. The High Town was called the Château.
On coming from Clermont, you enter Varennes by a straight road,
which, for more than two leagues, has not a single curve in it, with
the exception of where it enters Neuvilly.
All of a sudden as you approach those scattered houses which
always foretell a city, the road takes a sudden turn to the right,
and falls, as it were, into the midst of the city by the Rue des
Réligieuses.
This descent ends at the Place de Latry.
That Place is, or rather was at the time of which I am writing,
entirely blocked for two-thirds of its length by the Church of St.
Gengoulf, the side of which touched the right side of the Place (I
speak of the right side with reference to Paris), and the façades of
which overlooked a cemetery, which, stretching from the side of the
Rue de l’Horloge, left a passage of about thirty yards open to the
sky.
Another passage, intended for carriages, was formed, but on account
of an arch stretching over it, it was impossible for vehicles loaded
too high to pass underneath.
Emerging from under that arch, one stood facing, five or six paces
off, the Rue de la Basse Cour. On entering, you could see on the
right of him the “Hotel du Bras d’Or.”
A little further on to the left stood the house of M. Sauce,
Procureur de la Commune.
I have already said that his house was only separated from M.
Gerbaut’s by a passage.
The Rue de la Basse Cour descends rapidly to a little Place, where it
joins the Rue Neuve and the Rue St. John.
A little running stream of rather deep but clear water, over a pebbly
bottom, intersects the Place. A bridge, narrower than the one you
would find there to-day, joins the two parts of the town—that is to
say, the High and Low Town. The bridge crossed, and the corner of the
“Grand Monarque” rounded, you find yourself in the Grand Place.
It was on that Place that the hussars were stationed before they took
up their lodgings in the old Convent of the Cordeliers, and it was at
the “Grand Monarque,” which bore the effigy of Louis XVI, that the
relays stopped; also the two officers, whom I have since discovered
were M. de Bouillé, the younger, and M. de Raigecourt; and where, for
eight days, they had prepared dinner for an imaginary traveller who
was always expected, and who never came.
This being all explained, the reader will be able the better to
understand the various scenes of the drama, which will, in due time,
be laid before him.
Tired of seeing nothing fresh, though the day had been passed in
excitement, at the moment the clock struck eight I quitted the house
of M. Gerbaut. My intention was to walk along the road leading to
Neuvilly, and if I saw nothing, to return home, go to bed, and
patiently await the morrow.
Many houses had their windows open, and were lighted up.
The “Hotel du Bras d’Or” was one of these.
Some young townsmen were playing at billiards on the first floor.
They were MM. Coquilard, Justin, Georges, and Soucin. Two travellers
staying at the hotel by chance were playing with them. These were M.
Thevenin, of Islettes, and M. Delion, of Montfaucon.
I passed under the arch, and entered the Place; two or three houses
alone were lighted up.
The crowd had dispersed; not a light was burning in the Rue des
Réligieuses, with the exception of two lanterns, which only made the
darkness in the street visible.
I walked up the street, and stopped on the summit, whence I could see
the whole town.
All seemed to sleep. The Low Town betrayed, especially on the Place,
no more life.
I saw torches waving in the direction of the “Grand Monarque.”
I was occupied in watching them, when I fancied that I heard the
gallop of a horse.
I laid myself down with my ear to the ground.
The noise was now more distinct, on account, no doubt, of the horse
having passed from the earth on to the stones.
I jumped up, convinced that a horseman was approaching.
And not only that, I fancied that I heard in the distance the rumble
of the wheels of a carriage.
The event expected all day, and watched for by night, was about to
happen.
I hid myself in the angle of the wall.
The gallop approached rapidly.
Presently I distinguished, in the midst of the road, a horseman.
When the straggling houses came in view, the horseman stopped
indecisively.
It was evident that he knew not whether to stop or continue his route.
For the moment, I thought of showing myself, and offering to guide
them; but, on second thoughts, I considered it the least likely mode
by which to gain information.
I therefore stayed where I was, doubly hidden by the night and the
wall.
The horseman dismounted, passed the bridle of his horse over his arm,
and walked on a few paces, knocking at the doors of the different
houses to see if they would open.
At last he knocked at No. 4. That opened.
It was the property of a small householder, called Jourdan.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” asked a voice.
“Pardon, monsieur,” returned the courier: “but is this Varennes?”
“Did you wake me up to ask me such a question as that? You are
laughing at me!”
“Excuse me, monsieur, but I am a stranger here, and wish to know if I
have really arrived at Varennes.”
“You have, monsieur. If you have come for beds, find them, and leave
me to my sleep. Good night!”
“Your pardon, monsieur,” said the courier; “I came not here to sleep,
but am in advance of a carriage which expects relays at Varennes.”
“I am sorry for you; but it is no use expecting relays at Varennes,
for we do not possess a post-house.”
“I know that, monsieur.”
“Why did you ask me, then?”
A woman’s voice was heard.
“Come to bed, Martin,” said she. “You ought to see that he is only
making fun of you.”
“You hear—my wife calls me!”
He tried to close the door, but the unknown stopped him by placing
his arm in the aperture.
“Ha, monsieur!” said the tradesman; “what does this mean? Do you wish
to do me an injury?”
“Do not be frightened; I only wish to ask you a question.”
“You have asked me ten already.”
“I know that I am at Varennes, thanks to you; I know that there is no
post-house, but I knew that before. Having been so kind as to answer
those questions, perhaps you will not object to one more?”
“How? Did not you tell me that you were preceding a carriage to
Varennes?”
“No doubt; but you have not allowed me to continue. A relay ought to
be ready opposite the first houses of Neuvilly; I wished to ask—have
you seen that relay?”
“Oh, that is another thing; you should have begun to speak in that
manner!”
“Have you seen them?”
“The relay?”
“Yes, the relay.”
“No, monsieur, I have not.”
“You must tell me all that you know, at once,” cried the impatient
courier.
“I have told you about the relay, but you did not ask me till just
now.”
The same woman’s voice was again heard, crying out afresh. “Make him
go, husband,” she said; “he is only making a fool of you—he is doing
it for a wager.”
“You hear, sir,” said the man; “my wife says you are doing it for a
wager.”
“Nothing of the kind, I assure you, monsieur. Thank you for your
information; you can now shut your door, and reseek your wife.”
The tradesman slammed his door in a rage.
“Shall I wait here?” soliloquised the unknown.
He was not long kept waiting. During the dialogue on the door-step,
the carriage was rapidly drawing nigh; not only did he hear the
wheels, but the neighing of the horses.
The courier, placing himself in the midst of the road, awaited its
arrival.