Louis Philippe
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Title: Louis Philippe
Author: John S. C. Abbott
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Makers of History
LOUIS PHILIPPE
by
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT
With Engravings
New York and London
Harper & Brothers Publishers
1904
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
Copyright, 1899, by Susan Abbott Mead.
[Illustration: LOUIS PHILIPPE AT THE HOTEL DE VILLE.]
PREFACE.
It would be difficult to find, in all the range of the past, a man
whose career has been so full of wonderful and exciting vicissitude
as that of Louis Philippe. His life covers the most eventful period
in French history. The storms of 1789 consigned his father to the
guillotine, his mother and brothers to imprisonment, and himself and
sister to poverty and exile. There are few romances more replete with
pensive interest than the wanderings of Louis Philippe to escape the
bloodhounds of the Revolution far away amidst the ices of Northern
Europe, to the huts of the Laplanders, and again through the almost
unbroken wilds of North America, taking refuge in the wigwams of the
Indians, and floating with his two brothers in a boat a distance of
nearly two thousand miles through the solemn solitudes of the Ohio
and the Mississippi from Pittsburg to the Gulf.
Again we see the duke, on the recovery of a large portion of his
estates, enjoying the elegant retreat at Twickenham, feted by the
nobility of England, and caressed by the aristocracy of Europe.
Again the kaleidoscope of changeful life is turned. The Empire falls.
The Bourbons are restored. Louis Philippe returns to the palaces of
his fathers. In rank, he takes his stand next to the throne. In
wealth, he is the richest subject in Europe. At one moment he is
caressed by Royalty, hoping to win his support, and again he is
persecuted by Royalty, fearing his influence.
There is another change. The throne of the Bourbons is overthrown.
Louis Philippe finds himself, as by magic, King of the French. He
exchanges his ducal coronet for a royal crown. He enters the regal
mansions of the Tuileries, Versailles, Saint Cloud, and Fontainebleau
the acknowledged sovereign of thirty millions of people. All the
proud dynasties of Europe recognize him as belonging to the family of
kings. Eighteen years pass away, crowded with the splendor, cares,
toils, and perils which seem ever to environ royalty. During this
period the adventures of the Duchess de Berri to regain the throne
for her son, the Count de Chambord, presents an episode of
extraordinary interest.
There is another change. The tocsin of insurrection tolls its dismal
knell in the towers of Paris. Through scenes surpassing fable, the
king and his family escape to the hospitable shores of England. Here,
in obscurity and exile, he reaches the end of life's journey, and
passes away to the unknown of the spirit-land. Such is the wonderful
story which we have endeavored to compress within the limits of these
brief pages. Every event here narrated is sustained by documentary
evidence beyond the possibility of a doubt.
JOHN S. C. ABBOTT.
_Fair Haven, Conn._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF ORLEANS 13
II. THE EXILE 45
III. WANDERINGS IN THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW 76
IV. THE TOMB AND THE BRIDAL 109
V. THE RESTORATION 136
VI. THE DEATH OF LOUIS XVIII. AND THE REIGN OF
CHARLES X 168
VII. CHARLES X. DETHRONED 204
VIII. THE STRUGGLES OF DIPLOMACY 241
IX. LOUIS PHILIPPE'S THRONE 279
X. THE ADVENTURES OF THE DUCHESS DE BERRI 306
XI. THE FINAL STRUGGLE 349
XII. THE THRONE DEMOLISHED 379
ENGRAVINGS.
PAGE
LOUIS PHILIPPE AT THE HOTEL DE VILLE _Frontispiece._
EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI 27
STORMING THE BASTILE 40
FLIGHT AND IMPRISONMENT OF LAFAYETTE 50
SAINT GOTHARD 71
NORTH CAPE 80
LOUIS XVII. IN PRISON 113
LOUIS XVIII. LEAVING PARIS 147
NAPOLEON ENTERING THE TUILERIES 151
MARSHAL NEY 162
ASSASSINATION OF THE DUKE DE BERRI 171
PALACE OF ST. CLOUD 222
CHARLES X. AT VALOGNES 234
THE PALAIS ROYAL 275
THE BARRICADE 312
ST. HELENA 353
LOUIS PHILIPPE LEAVING FRANCE 391
LOUIS PHILIPPE.
CHAPTER I.
ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF ORLEANS.
1669-1793
Louis and Philippe.--The regent.--Louis de Valois.--Louis le
Gros.--Pride of royalty.--Birth of Egalite.--Fortune of the Duke
of Orleans.--Democracy of the Duke of Orleans.--Wealth of the
Duke of Orleans.--Banishment of the duke.--Popularity of the
Duke of Orleans.--Assembling of the States-General.--Commotion
in Paris.--Flight of the nobles.--Petition of the Duke of
Orleans.--Domestic discord.--Flight of General Dumouriez.--Arrest
of the Duke of Orleans.--Execution of Egalite.--Birth of Louis
Philippe.--His daily journal.--Educational influences.--Mental and
physical training.--Testimony of Madame de Genlis.--Demolition of
the Bastile.--The Duke of Chartres joins the Jacobin Club.--His
affability.--Noble sentiment.
The origin of the House of Orleans is involved in some obscurity. The
city of Orleans, from which the duke takes his title, was the
Aurelium of imperial Rome. The first Duke of Orleans with whom
history makes us familiar was Philip, the only brother of Louis XIV.
Louis XIII., the son and heir of Henry IV., married Anne of Austria.
Two children were born to them, Louis and Philippe. The first became
the world-renowned monarch, Louis XIV. His brother, known in history
as Monsieur, enjoyed the title and the princely revenues of the
dukedom of Orleans.
Monsieur married, as his first wife, the beautiful Henrietta Stuart,
daughter of the unfortunate Charles I. of England. Her mother was
Henrietta of France, the daughter of Henry IV., and sister of Louis
XIII. She died in the bloom of youth and beauty, of poison, after the
most cruel sufferings, on the 27th of June, 1669.[A] Philippe took as
his second wife Elizabeth Charlotte, daughter of the Elector Charles
of Bavaria. By this marriage he left a son, Philippe, who not only
inherited his father's almost boundless wealth and princely titles,
but who attained wide-spread notoriety, not to say renown, as the
regent of France, after the death of Louis XIV., and during the
minority of Louis XV. The regent was a man of indomitable force of
will. During his long regency he swayed the sceptre of a tyrant; and
the ear of Europe was poisoned with the story of his debaucheries.
[Footnote A: See Abbott's History of Louis XIV, p. 223.]
He married a legitimated daughter of Louis XIV., Marie Francoise de
Blois, a haughty, capricious beauty. His scandalous immoralities
alienated his duchess from him, and no happiness was to be found
amidst the splendors of their home. Dying suddenly, at the age of
fifty-one, his son Louis succeeded him in the vast opulence, the
titles, and the power of the dukedom of Orleans. The following list
of his titles may give some idea of the grandeur to which these
ancient nobles were born. Louis de Valois, De Chartres, De Nemours,
and De Montpensier, First Prince of the blood, First Peer of France,
Knight of the Golden Fleece, Colonel-general of the French and
Foreign Infantry, Governor of Dauphiny, and Grand Master of the
Orders of Notre Dame, of Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus of
Jerusalem.
Born, as this young man was, in the palace of splendor, and
surrounded by every allurement to voluptuous indulgence, two domestic
calamities opened his eyes to the vanity of all earthly grandeur, and
led him to enter those paths of piety where his soul found true
repose. The death of his father, cut down suddenly in the midst of
his godless revelry, and the decease of his beloved wife, Auguste
Marie Jeanne, a princess of Baden, in her twenty-second year, so
impressed him with the uncertainty of all terrestrial good, and left
his home and his heart so desolate, that he retired to the Abbey of
St. Genevieve, and devoted the remainder of his days to study, to
prayer, and to active works of Christian usefulness.
He became a proficient in the fine arts, an accomplished scholar, and
a patron of all those literary men whose works tended to benefit
society. He founded hospitals and literary institutions; established
a college at Versailles; endowed a professorship at the Sorbonne for
expounding the Hebrew text of the Scriptures, and translated, from
the original Greek and Hebrew, the Epistles of Paul and the Psalms of
David. At the early age of forty-eight he died--cheerfully fell
asleep in Jesus, rejoicing in the hope of a heavenly inheritance. Few
men who have ever lived have crowded their days with more kind,
useful, and generous actions.
His son, Louis Philippe, acquired the sobriquet of _le Gros_, or the
Fat, from his excessive corpulence. His unwieldy body probably
contributed to that indolence of mind which induced him to withdraw
from nearly all participation in political life. Louis XV. was one of
the vilest of men, and by a portion of his subjects was thoroughly
detested. Exasperated by an act of gross despotism, the deputies from
Brittany offered to furnish Louis Philippe with sixty thousand men,
completely armed, to overthrow the reigning dynasty, and to establish
in its place the House of Orleans. The prince received the deputation
courteously, but decidedly declined embarking in the enterprise,
avowing that he had not sufficient energy of character to meet its
demand, and that he was too much attached to his relative, Louis XV.,
to engage in a conspiracy against him. He was an amiable, upright
man, avoiding notoriety, and devoting himself to literary pursuits.
Being of the blood royal, the etiquette of the French court did not
allow him to enter into marriage relations with any one in whose
veins the blood of royalty did not flow. His first wife, Louise
Henriette de Bourbon Conti, was a princess of royal lineage. Upon her
death he married Madame de Montesson, a beautiful woman, to whom he
was exceedingly attached. But the haughty Court of France refused to
recognize the marriage. Notwithstanding his earnest solicitations, he
was not permitted to confer upon her the title of Duchess of Orleans.
Even when he died, in the year 1785, court etiquette would not allow
his widow to assume any public demonstrations of mourning. "The blood
of a Capet," it was said, "is too pure to admit of a _recognized_
alliance below the rank of royalty."
Such, in brief, was the character and career of the first four dukes
of this illustrious house. We are thus brought down to the exciting
scenes of modern history--to scenes in which the house of Orleans
has acted a part so conspicuous as to attract the attention of the
civilized world.
The fourth duke of whom we have spoken, and his first wife, Henrietta
de Bourbon Conti, had a son born on the 13th of April, 1747, at the
Palace of St. Cloud. They gave their child the name of Louis Philippe
Joseph d'Orleans. During the life-time of his father he bore the
title of the Duke de Chartres. No expense was spared in his
education, his parents providing for him teachers of the highest
eminence in all the branches of knowledge. Though the young prince
developed much energy and activity of mind, he was not fond of study,
and did not make any remarkable progress in book-learning.
Surrounded by flatterers, and in the enjoyment of almost boundless
wealth, as the appetites and passions of youth grew strong, he
plunged into the most extravagant excesses of dissipation. He is
described at this time as a young man of handsome features and
graceful figure, above the average size. His skin was remarkable for
its softness and whiteness, and a very sweet smile generally played
upon his lips. Though simple in his ordinary style of living, upon
all state occasions he displayed grandeur commensurate with his
wealth and rank. Immense as was the fortune to which he was born, it
was greatly enhanced by his marriage with the Princess Marie Therese
Louise, only daughter of the Duke of Penthievre, the most
richly-endowed heiress in Europe. Thus he attained wealth which made
him the richest subject in Europe, and which enabled him almost to
outvie the splendors of royalty. But, notwithstanding this vast
wealth, he plunged so recklessly into extravagance that his pecuniary
affairs became much embarrassed.
His father died in the year 1785, just as the storms of the French
Revolution were beginning to darken the horizon. The Duke of Chartres
then took the title of the Duke of Orleans, and rushed into the
tumult of revolution with eagerness and energy, which caused his name
to resound through all Europe, and which finally brought his neck
beneath the slide of the guillotine.
The court, under Louis XVI., in consequence of its arbitrary
measures, about the year 1789, was brought into collision with the
ancient Parliament, which remonstrated, and even refused to register
the royal edicts. The Duke of Orleans headed the party opposed to
the court. At his magnificent mansion, the Palais Royal, nearly
opposite the Tuileries, the leading men in the Opposition,
Rochefoucault, Lafayette, and Mirabeau, were accustomed to meet,
concerting measures to thwart the crown, and to compel the
convocation of the States-General. In that way alone could the people
hope to resist the encroachments of the crown, and to claim any
recognition of popular rights. The people, accustomed to the almost
idolatrous homage of rank and power, were overjoyed in having, as the
leading advocate of their claims, a prince of the blood. The court
was greatly exasperated. It was determined that the high-born leader
of the revolutionary party should feel the heaviest weight of the
royal displeasure. This severity, however, did but augment the
popularity of the duke among the people.
Louis XVI., through his advisers, ordered the Parliament to register
a loan, thus compelling the people to furnish the money it
despotically demanded. The Opposition in vain urged that the
States-General should be convened, as alone competent to impose
taxes. The royal measure was carried, notwithstanding the Opposition.
As the keeper of the seals, amidst the most profound emotion of the
Parliament, read the decree, the Duke of Orleans rose, and, with much
agitation of voice and manner, inquired:
"Is this assemblage a _lit de justice_, or a free consultation?"
"It is a _royal sitting_," the king answered, somewhat sternly.
"Then," replied the duke, "I beg that your majesty will permit me to
deposit at your feet, and in the bosom of the court, the declaration,
that I regard the registration as _illegal_, and that it will be
necessary, for the exculpation of those persons who are held to have
deliberated upon it, to add that it is by _express command_ of the
king."
This bold act announced to all France that the Duke of Orleans was
ready to place himself at the head of the opposition to the court,
and that he was endowed with the courage and energy which would be
found essential to maintain that post. The wealth of the Duke of
Orleans was so great that a former loan of twenty-five million
dollars he had taken up himself. Immediately upon the withdrawal of
the king from the Parliament, the Duke of Orleans presented and
carried a resolve declaring the action which had taken place as
illegal.
The king, who was quite under the influence of the stronger mind of
his wife, Maria Antoinette, was deeply offended. The duke was
banished from Paris to his rural chateau of Villers Cotterets, and
his leading friends in the Opposition were exiled to the isles of
Hieres. The indignation of Parliament was roused, and very vigorous
resolutions of remonstrance were adopted, and presented to the king.
In these resolves it was written:
"The first prince of the royal family is exiled. It is asked
in vain, What crime has he committed? If the Duke of Orleans
is culpable, we are all so. It was worthy of the first prince
of your blood to represent to your majesty that you were
changing the sitting into a _lit de justice_. If exile be the
reward for fidelity in princes, we may ask ourselves, with
terror and with grief, What protection is there for law and
liberty?"
In allusion to the universal impression that the king was urged to
these severe measures by the influence of Maria Antoinette, the
Parliament added, "Such measures, sire, dwell not in your own heart.
Such examples do not originate from your majesty. They flow from
another source. Your Parliament supplicates your majesty to reject
those merciless counsels, and to listen to the dictates of your own
heart."
The plea was unavailing. The agitation throughout France was rapidly
increasing--the people everywhere struggling against the
encroachments of the crown. From all parts of the kingdom the cry
arose for the assembling of the States-General. The Duke of Orleans,
maddened by his banishment, and exasperated to the highest degree
against Maria Antoinette, whom he considered as the author of his
exile, was intensely engaged in plotting measures of revenge. During
his banishment he won the affections of the peasantry by the kindly
interest he seemed to take in their welfare. He chatted freely with
the farmers and the day-laborers--entered their cottages and
conversed with their families on the most friendly terms--presented
dowries to young brides, and stood sponsor for infants.
This course rapidly increased the popularity of the duke among the
people, and the Parliament was unceasing in its solicitations for his
recall. The court became embarrassed, and at length gladly availed
itself of the opportunity of releasing him, in response to a petition
from the Duchess of Orleans.
The current of the revolution was now beginning to flow with
resistless flood. The hostility between the court and the people was
hourly increasing. Famine added its horrors to the general tumult and
agitation. A winter of unparalleled severity--the winter of
1789--terribly increased the general suffering. The Duke of Orleans
was profuse in his liberality, opening a public kitchen, and
supplying the wants of famishing thousands. The duke, having thus
embarked, without reserve, in the cause of the people, added to his
own popularity and to the exasperation of the court, by publicly
renouncing all his feudal rights, and permitting the public to hunt
and shoot at pleasure over his vast domains. His popularity now
became immense. The journals were filled with his praises. Whenever
he appeared in public, multitudes followed him with their acclaim.
On the 4th of May, 1789, the States-General, or National Assembly,
met. The duke, followed by about forty others of the nobility,
renounced all his aristocratic privileges, and took his place as an
equal in the ranks of the _tiers etat_, or third estate, as the
common people were called. The clergy, the nobility, and the people
then constituted the three estates of the realm.
The French Revolution was now advancing with rapid strides,
accompanied by anarchy, violence, and bloodshed. The court party was
increasingly exasperated against the popular duke, and many stories
were fabricated against him to undermine his influence. The situation
of the king and royal family became daily more irksome and perilous.
He endeavored to escape, to join the armies of Austria and Prussia,
which were marching to his relief. He was arrested at Varennes,
brought back to Paris, and held as a prisoner in the Tuileries. The
question was now discussed of deposing the king and establishing a
regency under the Duke of Orleans.
The first National Assembly, called the Constituent, which was
convened to draw up a constitution for France, having completed its
work, was dissolved; and another assembly, denominated the
Legislative, was chosen to enact laws under that constitution. The
allied armies of foreign dynasties were on the march to rob the
French people of their constitution, and to impose upon them the
absolute despotism of the _old regime_. Fearful riots ensued in
Paris. The palace of the Tuileries was stormed. The king, with his
family, fled to the Legislative Assembly for protection, and was
imprisoned in the Temple. On the 20th of January, 1793, he died upon
the scaffold.
The National Convention, which speedily succeeded the Legislative
Assembly, brought the accusation of treason against the king--tried,
condemned, and executed him. The Duke of Orleans, a member of this
Convention, voted for the death of the king. The abolition of
monarchy and the establishment of a republic immediately followed.
The question was with much interest discussed, whether the republic
should be federal, like that of the United States, or integral, like
the ancient republics of Greece and Rome. The Duke of Orleans
advocated the concentration of power and the indivisibility of
France. Fanaticism usurped the place of reason; the guillotine was
busy; suspicions filled the air; no life was safe. The Duke of
Orleans was alarmed. He sent his daughter, under the care of Madame
de Genlis, to England. The nobles were flying in all directions.
Severe laws were passed against the emigrants. The duke, who had
assumed the surname of Egalite, or Equality, excited suspicion by
placing his daughter among the emigrants. It was said that he had no
confidence in the people or in the new order of things. To lull
these suspicions, the duke sent a petition to the Convention on the
21st of November, 1792, containing the following statement:
[Illustration: EXECUTION OF LOUIS XVI.]
"Citizens,--You have passed a law against those cowards who
have fled their country in the moment of danger. The
circumstance I have to lay before you is peculiar. My
daughter, fifteen years of age, passed over to England in the
month of October, 1791, with her governess and two companions
of her studies. Her governess, Madame de Genlis, has early
initiated them in liberal views and republican virtues. The
English language forms a part of the education which she has
given to my daughter. One of the motives of this journey has
been to acquire the pronunciation of that tongue. Besides
that, the chalybeate waters of England were recommended as
restoratives of my daughter's health. It is impossible, under
these circumstances, to regard the journey of my daughter as
emigration. I feel assured that the law is not applicable in
this case. But the slightest doubt is sufficient to distress
a father. I beg, therefore, fellow-citizens, that you will
relieve me from this uneasiness."
But by this time the Convention began to look upon the Duke of
Orleans with suspicion. Rumors were in circulation that many of the
people, tired of republicanism--which was crowding the prisons, and
causing blood to gush in an incessant flow--wished to reinstate the
monarchy, and to place the Duke of Orleans upon the throne. The
Duchess of Orleans, the child of one of the highest nobles, was not
in sympathy with her husband in his democratic views. His boundless
profligacy had also alienated her affections, so that there was no
domestic happiness to be found in the gorgeous saloons of the Palais
Royal.
Robespierre wished to banish the Duke of Orleans from France, as a
dangerous man, around whom the not yet extinct spirit of royalty
might rally. He moved in the Convention, "That all the relatives of
Bourbon Capet should be obliged, within eight days, to quit the
territory of France and the countries then occupied by the Republican
armies."
The motion was, for the time, frustrated by the following
expostulation by M. Lamarque:
"Would it not be the extreme of injustice to exile all of the
Capets, without distinction? I have never spoken but twice to
Egalite. I am, therefore, not open to the suspicion of
partiality, but I have closely observed his conduct in the
Revolution. I have seen him deliver himself up to it
entirely, a willing victim for its promotion, not shrinking
from the greatest sacrifices; and I can truly assert that but
for Egalite we never should have had the States-General--we
should never have been free."
Thus public sentiment fluctuated. An event soon occurred which
brought matters to a crisis. General Dumouriez, a former minister of
Louis XVI., was in command of the army on the northern frontier.
Disgusted with the violence of the Convention, which was silencing
all opposition with the slide of the guillotine, and apprehensive of
personal danger, from the consciousness that he was suspected of not
being very friendly to the Government, he resolved to abandon the
country which he thought doomed to destruction, and to seek safety in
flight. Louis Philippe, the eldest son of the Duke of Orleans, then a
lad of about 16, was on his staff. They fled together. This aroused
popular indignation in Paris to the highest pitch. This young prince,
Louis Philippe, then entitled the Duke of Chartres, and who, as
subsequently King of the French, is the subject of this memoir, had
written in a letter to his father, which was intercepted, these
words: "I see the Convention utterly destroying France." It was
believed that Dumouriez had entered into a plot for placing the Duke
of Orleans on the throne, and that the duke was cognizant of the
plan.
A decree was immediately passed ordering the arrest of every Bourbon
in France. The duke was arrested and conveyed to Marseilles, with
several members of his family. Here he was held in durance for some
time, and was then brought to Paris to be tried for treason. Though
there was no evidence whatever against him, he was declared guilty of
being "an accomplice in a conspiracy against the unity and
indivisibility of the Republic," and was condemned to death.
The duke, as he heard the sentence, replied: "Since you were
predetermined to put me to death, you ought at least to have sought
for more plausible pretexts to attain that end; for you will never
persuade the world that you deem me guilty of what you now declare me
to be convicted. However, since my lot is decided, I demand that you
will not let me languish here until to-morrow, but order that I be
led to execution instantly." His request was not granted; but he was
conducted back to the cells of the Conciergerie, to be executed the
next day. The next morning he was placed in the death-cart at the
Conciergerie, with four others of the condemned, to be conveyed to
the guillotine, which stood in the _Place de la Concorde_. He was
elaborately dressed in a green frock-coat, white waistcoat, doe-skin
breeches, and with boots carefully polished. His hair was dressed and
powdered with care. As the cart passed slowly along in front of his
princely abode, the Palais Royal, and through immense crowds, lining
the streets, who formerly had been fed by his liberality, and who now
clamored for his death, he looked around upon them with apparently
perfect indifference.
At the guillotine the executioner took off his coat, and was about to
draw off his boots, when he said, calmly, "It is only loss of time;
you will remove them more easily from my lifeless limbs." He examined
the keen edge of the knife, and was bound to the plank. The slide
fell, and his head dropped into the basket. Thus perished Louis
Philippe Egalite in the 46th year of his age. It was the 6th of
November, 1793, ten months after Louis XVI. had perished upon the
same scaffold. The immoralities of the Duke of Orleans were such that
it has often been said of him, "Nothing became his life so much as
his manner of leaving it." Louis Philippe Egalite, inheriting from
his ancestors vast opulence, had become, by his marriage with the
daughter of the immensely wealthy Duke of Penthievre, the possessor
of almost royal domains. His wife, the duchess, though aristocratic
in all her prepossessions, and sympathizing not at all with her
husband in his democratic views, was a woman of unblemished
character, of amiable disposition, and of devoted piety.
Having thus given a brief account of the origin of the Orleans
family, we must, at the expense of a little repetition, turn back to
the birth of Louis Philippe, the oldest son of the Duke of Orleans,
and the subject of this memoir.
Louis Philippe was born in the Palais Royal, in Paris, on the 6th of
October, 1773. In his early years, he, with the other children of the
ducal family, was placed under the care and tuition of the celebrated
Madame de Genlis. Until the death of his father, he bore the title of
the Duke of Chartres.
"The Duke of Chartres," writes Lamartine, "had no youth. Education
suppressed this age in the pupils of Madame de Genlis. Reflection,
study, premeditation of every thought and act, replaced nature by
study, and instinct by will. At seventeen years of age, the young
prince had the maturity of advanced years."
Madame de Genlis was unwearied in her endeavors to confer upon her
illustrious pupil the highest intellectual and religious education.
The most distinguished professors were appointed to instruct in those
branches with which she was not familiar. His conduct was recorded in
a minute daily journal, from which every night questions were read
subjecting him to the most searching self-examination. The questions
were as follows:
1. Have I this day fulfilled all my duties towards God, my
Creator, and prayed to Him with fervor and affection?
2. Have I listened with respect and attention to the
instructions which have been given me to-day, with regard to
my Christian duties, and in reading works of piety?
3. Have I fulfilled all my duties this day towards those I
ought to love most in the world--my father and my mother?
4. Have I behaved with mildness and kindness towards my
sister and my brothers?
5. Have I been docile, grateful, and attentive to my
teachers?
6. Have I been perfectly sincere to-day, disobliging no one,
and speaking evil of no one?
7. Have I been as discreet, prudent, charitable, modest, and
courageous as may be expected at my age?
8. Have I shown no proof of that weakness or effeminacy
which is so contemptible in a man?
9. Have I done all the good I could?
10. Have I shown all the marks of attention I ought to the
persons, present or absent, to whom I owe kindness, respect,
and affection?
These questions were read to him every night from his journal. To
each one he returned a reply in writing. He then kneeled, and in
prayer implored the forgiveness of his sins, and Divine guidance for
the future. Under such training, notwithstanding the enjoyment of
almost boundless wealth, the influence of a dissolute father, and the
measureless corruptions of the times, Louis Philippe developed a
character embellished by the loftiest principles and the purest
integrity.
The Orleans children, consisting of three sons and a daughter, were
taught in their earliest years to speak French, English, German, and
Italian, so that each of these languages became, as it were,
vernacular. At St. Leu, where they resided most of the time, a garden
was laid out, which they dug and cultivated with their own hands. A
German gardener superintended their work, while a German valet
accompanied them in their morning walks. A physician, who was a
distinguished chemist, instructed them in botany, pointing out the
medicinal virtues of the various plants. They were taught to
manufacture numerous articles of domestic utility, and the boys
became skillful in turning, weaving, basket-making, and other
mechanical employments. The Duke of Chartres became a very skillful
cabinet-maker, and, aided by his brother, the Duke of Montpensier,
manufactured a bureau for a poor woman at St. Leu which was equal to
any which could be found in the market. They were also accustomed to
fatigue and hardship, that they might be prepared for any of the
vicissitudes of future life. Madame de Genlis, in reference to this
training of her pupil, and his subsequent trials and privations,
writes:
"How often, since his misfortunes, have I applauded myself
for the education I have given him; for having taught him the
principal modern languages; for having accustomed him to
wait on himself; to despise all kinds of effeminacy; to sleep
habitually on a wooden bed, with no covering but a mat; to
expose himself to heat, cold, and rain; to accustom himself
to fatigue by daily and violent exercise, by walking ten or
fifteen miles with leaden soles to his shoes; and, finally,
for having given him the taste and habit of travelling. He
had lost all that he inherited from birth and fortune; and
nothing remained but what he had received from nature and
me."
In one of her earlier letters, she wrote: "The Duke of Chartres has
greatly improved in disposition during the past year. He was born
with good inclinations, and has now become intelligent and virtuous.
Possessing none of the frivolities of the age, he disdains the
puerilities which occupy the thoughts of so many young men of
rank--such as fashions, dress, trinkets, follies of all kinds, and a
desire for novelties. He has no passion for money, is disinterested,
despises glare, and is, consequently, truly noble. Finally, he has an
excellent heart, which is common to his brothers and sister, and
which, joined to reflection, is capable of producing all other good
qualities."
[Illustration: STORMING THE BASTILE.]
During the boyhood of Louis Philippe, revolutionary principles were
rapidly spreading over France; and, as he approached manhood, they
had reached their maturity. The example of his father, and the
teachings of Madame de Genlis, inclined him strongly in the direction
of popular rights, though his mother did not at all sympathize with
these revolutionary principles. When the exasperated people rose and
demolished the Bastile--the symbol and the instrument of as great
despotic power as ever existed upon earth--Madame de Genlis took her
pupils into Paris to witness the sublime drama. In describing the
scene, she writes eloquently:
"This redoubtable fortress was covered with men, women, and
children, working with unequalled ardor, even on the most
lofty parts of the building and on its turrets. The
astonishing number of these voluntary laborers, their
activity, their enthusiasm, their delight at seeing the fall
of that terrible monument of tyranny--these avenging hands,
which seemed consecrated by Providence, and which annihilated
with such rapidity the work of many centuries--all this spoke
at once to the imagination and the heart."
When the Duke of Chartres was informed that the Assembly had
annulled all the rights of primogeniture--thus depriving him, as the
first-born, of his exclusive right to the title and the estate--he
threw his arms around his brother, the Duke of Montpensier, and said,
"Now, indeed, we are brothers in every respect." The unconcealed
liberal opinions of the young prince increased the exasperation of
the court against the whole Orleans family. And when, guided by his
radical father, and in opposition to the advice of Madame de Genlis,
the young duke became a member of the Jacobin Club--then numbering,
as it was estimated, four hundred thousand in France--the indignation
of the court reached its highest pitch.
On the 20th of November, 1785, the young Duke of Chartres, then in
his thirteenth year, became colonel of the nineteenth regiment of
dragoons. He proceeded, not long after, to Vendome, and devoted
himself, with all the enthusiasm of youth, to the duties of his
profession. His democratic principles led him, in opposition to the
example of most of his brother-officers, to associate quite
familiarly with the common soldiers.
"Far from imitating the example of these young noblemen, who
disdained to mix or converse with the soldiers, the duke was
constantly in the midst of them, and the advice and reprimands which
they received from his lips had double the force of usual orders. On
every occasion he proved himself the soldier's friend. He heard their
complaints with kindness, and the generous, noble familiarity with
which he replied to their demands in a little time won for him all
their hearts. Strengthened by those affections, which he so well knew
how to merit, he was enabled, without any exertion, to establish and
preserve the strictest discipline. His men obeyed him with pleasure,
because his orders were always given with urbanity.
"His exemplary conduct had the happiest influence over the
whole garrison of Vendome. The soldiers now forgot his youth;
the oldest officers found in him such intelligence and
punctuality as sometimes left their experience in arrear. He
frequently reached the stables, in the morning, before the
lieutenant, whose duty it was to call there; and he exhibited
equal energy in every other subject. His lieutenant-colonel,
imagining that this too frequent appearance among the men
would lessen that respect for the dignity of colonel which he
considered essential to the maintenance of discipline,
ventured to remonstrate with him upon his conduct. He
replied:
"'I do not think that I shall forfeit the respect of my men,
or be less entitled to their regard, by giving them an
example of punctuality, and by being the first to submit
myself to the demands of discipline.'"[B]
[Footnote B: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, King of the French, by
Rev. G. N. Wright.]
CHAPTER II.
THE EXILE.
1791-1794
Plans for the invasion of France.--The campaign of 1792.--The invasion
of France.--Proclamation of the Assembly.--Imprisonment of
Lafayette.--Measures of defense.--Battle of Valmy.--Gallantry of the
Duke of Chartres.--Embarrassment of Egalite.--Continued war against
France.--The Battle of Jemappes.--Peril of the Orleans family.--Decision
of the Duke of Orleans.--Origin of the Tri-color.--The Decree of
Banishment.--Battle of Nerwinde.--Charges against Dumouriez.--The
Flight.--Supposed Plan of Dumouriez.--Wanderings on the Rhine.--Arrest
of the Orleans family.--Life in Switzerland.--Letter from General
Dumouriez.--Hardships of travel.--A college professor.--Political
divisions in France.--The wilds of Scandinavia.
In the month of August, 1791, the Duke of Chartres left Vendome with
his regiment, and went to Valenciennes, where he spent the winter. He
had been appointed commandant of that place, and, young as he was,
discharged the important duties of the position with ability and
firmness, which secured for him a very high reputation. The emigrant
nobles had assembled on the French frontier, in the electorate of
Treves, where they were organizing their forces for the invasion of
France. It was understood that Leopold II., then Emperor of Germany,
was co-operating with them, and was forwarding large bodies of troops
to many points along the German banks of the Rhine for a crusade into
France.
The French government demanded of the emperor an explanation of his
intentions. He replied: "We do not know of any armaments in the
Austrian states which can be magnified into preparations for war."
Though Louis XVI. was in cordial sympathy with the emigrants, and, by
his secret agents, was urging the Emperor of Austria to lend him
troops to aid in crushing the revolution in France, still he was
compelled not only to dissemble, but on the 20th of April, 1792,
publicly to declare war against the Emperor of Austria, who was
brother of his queen, Maria Antoinette.
The Duke of Orleans, _Egalite_, begged permission of the king to join
the armies of revolutionized France in their march against Austria,
and to take with him his two oldest sons, the Duke of Chartres (Louis
Philippe), and the Duke of Montpensier. In the campaign of 1792,
which ensued, both of these young men acquired distinction and
promotion. General Biron, in command, wrote to the minister of war:
"Messieurs Chartres and Montpensier have accompanied me as
volunteers, and, being exposed for the first time to a brisk
fire from the enemy, behaved with the utmost heroism and
intrepidity."
The Duke of Chartres, in command of a brigade of dragoons, was soon
after transferred to a corps at Metz, under General Kellerman, who
subsequently obtained such renown in the wars of the Empire.
When the Duke of Chartres first appeared at head-quarters, General
Kellerman, not knowing who he was, and surprised by his youthful
appearance, exclaimed:
"Ah, monsieur! I never before have had the pleasure of seeing so
young a general officer. How have you contrived to be made a general
so soon?"
The duke replied: "By being a son of him who made a colonel of you."
They clasped hands cordially, and a warm friendship commenced between
them.
In July, 1792, the united armies of Prussia and Austria commenced
their march from the German fortresses upon the Rhine into France.
The emigrant nobles, and all their partisans, were received into the
ranks of these invaders. Their combined strength amounted to 160,000
men. The Duke of Brunswick, in command of the united armies, issued
from Coblentz, on the 15th of July, 1792, his famous manifesto, in
which he declared, "That he would punish as rebels every Frenchman
who should oppose the allied army; and that, should any attack be
made upon the royal family in the Tuileries, the whole city should
be given up to destruction, and the rebels to instant death."
In view of these terrible menaces, the Legislative Assembly issued a
proclamation, in which it was said:
"A numerous army has moved upon our frontiers. All those who
are enemies to liberty have armed themselves against our
constitution. Citizens! the country is in danger! Let all
those who have had the happiness of taking up arms in the
cause of liberty remember that they are Frenchmen, and free;
that their fellow-citizens enjoy in their homes security of
persons and property; that the magistrates are vigilant; that
every thing depends on calm resolution; that they should take
care to acknowledge the majesty of law, and the country will
still be safe."
[Illustration: FLIGHT AND IMPRISONMENT OF LAFAYETTE.]
The plan of the campaign, adopted by the Duke of Brunswick, was to
press rapidly forward, with his combined army, from the banks of the
Rhine to Paris, cut off its supplies, and by famine to compel it to
surrender. He would then destroy the liberal constitution, punish and
disperse the friends of popular rights, and restore the king to the
absolutism of the old regime. To oppose this formidable army of
invasion, France had one corps of 14,000 men near Metz, and another
of 33,000 at Sedan, under General Dumouriez. General Lafayette had
been in command of the latter force; but, by his opposition to some
of the radical measures of the Convention, had excited the hostility
of the Paris mob and the Jacobin clubs. They had burned him in effigy
at the Palais Royal, accused him of treason before the Assembly, and
set a price upon his head. Argument was of no avail against the fury
of the populace--in flight only was his safety. While thus pursued by
the Jacobins of Paris as an aristocrat, he was arrested by a patrol
of the Austrian army as a democrat. With the greatest secrecy, his
captors hurried him to Olmutz, where he was thrown into close
confinement, and subjected to the most cruel privations. It was two
years before his friends could discover the place of his captivity.
His wife and daughters then, after much difficulty and delay,
succeeded in obtaining permission to share the glooms of his dungeon.
It was not until after an imprisonment of five years that he was set
at liberty, Napoleon commanding his release in tones which Austria
did not dare to disregard.
The proclamation by the Assembly that the country was in danger,
caused volunteers in large numbers to set out from every portion of
France. From Paris alone, in three days, an army of 32,000 men,
completely equipped, were on the advance to the scene of conflict.
General Dumouriez, in command at Sedan, drew up his lines of defense
before the defiles of Argoun, where he thought he could make the most
effectual stand against the invading host. The Duke of Brunswick fell
fiercely upon his left wing, and, breaking through, poured his troops
like a flood into the plains of Champagne. For a time a terrific
panic spread through the French army, and it became needful for
Generals Dumouriez and Kellerman to unite their forces. In the mean
time, the triumphant Prussians, defiling rapidly by Grandpre and
Croix-aux-Bois, were approaching Chalons.
The French troops concentrated at Valmy. There they drew up in line
of battle, to arrest the advance of their foes. The second line of
the French army was commanded by the Duke of Chartes. The battle
which ensued was one of the most memorable and hard-fought in French
history. In the early morning a dense mist covered the field of
conflict. At eleven o'clock the fog dispersed, and the sun came out
brightly, revealing the Prussian columns advancing in beautiful
order, with a glittering display of caparisoned horses and polished
weapons, deploying with as much precision as if on a field of parade.
The eye took in at a glance 100,000 men preparing for the
death-struggle. It was, indeed, an imposing spectacle, for such hosts
had then been rarely collected on any field of blood.
Neither party seemed disposed to come into close contact with the
other, but each brought forward its batteries, and a terrific
cannonade commenced, which continued until the close of the day. It
was estimated that forty thousand balls were hurled by the opposing
armies into each other's ranks. Each army, however, maintained its
position. Yet it was considered a French victory, for the Prussians
failed in their attempt to break through the lines of the French, and
the French succeeded in arresting the march of the Prussians. Indeed,
it was admitted by the Prussians that their plan was hopelessly
thwarted. The Duke of Brunswick proposed an armistice to the French
officers, and this was speedily followed by the evacuation of the
French territory by the whole body of Prussian troops. Thus, for the
time, the Germanic project of invasion was abandoned.
The Duke of Chartres again, upon this occasion, distinguished himself
by bravery and military skill. General Kellerman, in his official
report of the battle, said: "I shall only particularize, among those
who have shown distinguished courage, M. Chartres and his
aid-de-camp, M. Montpensier, whose extreme youth renders his presence
of mind, during one of the most tremendous cannonades ever heard, so
very remarkable."
It will be observed that General Kellerman speaks of the young dukes
as simply M. Chartres and M. Montpensier. At that time all honorary
titles were abolished in France, and the highest nobles were
addressed, as were the humblest peasants, by the only title of
_Citizen_. Still, the lower classes regarded with great jealousy
those higher orders to whom they had been accustomed to pay the
homage which slaves render their masters. The laborers, the humble
artisans, the toil-worn peasants, could not appear with any thing
like equality in the presence of the high-born men and courtly dames
who, through their ancestry of many generations, had been accustomed
to wealth and rank and power. Thus, to the lower orders, the dress of
a gentleman, the polite bearing of the prince, the courtly manner of
the noble, excited suspicion, and created hostile feelings.
Even Egalite himself, though he had renounced all his titles, all his
feudal rights, and had assumed, as far as possible, the manners of a
blunt, plain-spoken man, was still, next to the king, in the
enjoyment of the richest revenue in France. He could by no
possibility place himself upon a social equality with his boot-black.
He manifested no disposition to divide his vast possessions with the
mob in Paris, and to send his wife to work with the washer-women, and
his daughter to a factory, and to earn himself his daily bread by
menial toil. And the washer-women were asking, "Why should we toil at
the tub, and Citizeness Orleans ride in her carriage and dress in
satins? We are as good as she, and our blood is as red." And at the
corners of the streets, the uncombed mob were beginning to inquire,
"Why should Citizen Orleans, who, by adopting the title of Egalite,
has confessed himself to be only our equal, be in possession of
magnificent palaces, and of thousands of acres of the public domain,
and of a revenue of millions of francs, while we dwell in hovels, and
eat the coarsest food, and, by the most menial toil, obtain a bare
subsistence? Citizen Orleans has given up his titles, as he ought to
have done; now let him give up his enormous estates, and divide them
among us, his brethren; and, if he is unwilling to do this, let us
compel him to do so."
Louis Philippe, accustomed to profound reflection, and trained in the
school of these tremendous political agitations, clearly foresaw all
these menaces. He was well aware that it was no longer safe for him
to be in Paris, and that the perils of the battle-field were among
the least he had to encounter. Though the Prussian troops had
withdrawn from the alliance against France, the Austrians, encouraged
by the intrigues and the gold of the British cabinet, still continued
the conflict. The Austrian court had an additional motive for
perseverance, in the war against revolutionary France, in the anxiety
it felt for the safety of the Austrian princess, Maria Antoinette.
On the 5th of November, 1792, the French army, under General
Dumouriez, found itself intrenched upon the heights of Jemappes.
Directly before it was the camp of the Austrians, containing a
veteran force of twenty-two thousand men, commanded by General
Clarfait.
The renowned battle of Jemappes ensued, which commenced, after a
cannonade of three hours, by an attack upon the whole of the Austrian
lines by the entire French army. Again the young Duke of Chartres,
who commanded the centre, greatly distinguished himself by his
coolness, bravery, and skill. The carnage was serious on both sides,
and for some hours the result was doubtful. At length victory
declared in favor of the French. The Austrians, driven from all their
positions, fled, leaving the battle-field covered with their dead,
and abandoning nearly all their cannon to the victors.
The French vigorously pursued the routed Austrians until they again
overtook them, and drove them out of the kingdom. On the 8th day
after the victory of Jemappes, Dumouriez advanced the French standard
to Brussels. As we have mentioned, the sister of the Duke of
Chartres, the Princess Eugene Louise Adelaide, with her governess,
Madame de Genlis, had been included in the proscriptive laws against
emigration. The Duke of Chartres visited them in Switzerland, where
they had taken refuge, and conducted them to Tornay.
While there, a new decree was issued by the Assembly, declaring that
every member of the Bourbon family then in France, with the exception
of the royal household itself, which was held in imprisonment in the
Temple awaiting trial under the charge of treason, should leave
France, and all the territory occupied by the newly-established
Republic, within eight days. The position of the Orleans branch of
the Bourbon family now became every hour increasingly perilous. The
nation was demanding the life of the king, and the banishment of all
who bore his name. St. Just, in urging in the Assembly this decree of
banishment, said: "As to the king, we shall keep him; _and you know
for what?_"
The Duke of Chartres, who very fully comprehended the peril in which
his father's family was involved, urged him to avail himself of the
decree of banishment, which opened an honorable avenue of escape for
him, and all his family, from France.
"You will assuredly," said he to his father, "find yourself in an
appalling situation. Louis XVI. is about to be accused before an
assembly of which you are a member. You must sit before the king as
his judge. Reject the ungracious duty; withdraw, with your family,
to America, and seek a calm retreat, far from the enemies of France,
and there await the return of happier days."
But the Duke of Orleans did not deem it consistent with his honor to
desert his post in the hour of danger. Yet the arguments urged by his
son were so strong that he desired him to consult an influential
member of the Assembly upon the subject. The deputy replied:
"I am incompetent to give your father any advice. Our positions are
dissimilar. I myself seek redress for personal injuries. Your father,
the Duke of Orleans, ought to obey the dictates of his conscience as
a prince, and the dictates of duty as a citizen."
This undecided answer led the Duke of Orleans to the decision that,
in the prominent position which he occupied as a citizen of rank and
wealth, he could not with honor abandon his country in her hour of
peril. The Duke of Chartres desisted from any further solicitation,
and, oppressed with much anxiety, returned to the army.
The badge of the Bourbons was a white banner. The insurgents, if we
may so call the opponents, of all varieties of opinions, who assailed
the ancient despotism, at the siege of the Bastile, wore red
cockades. But very many were in favor of monarchy who were also in
favor of constitutional liberty. Blue had been, in ancient times, the
royal color, and they adopted that. Others, who were in favor of the
Bourbons, and advocated reform only, not revolution, adopted white,
the livery of the Bourbons. Thus arose the celebrated tri-color flag,
which became the emblem of all in France who adopted the principles
of political liberalism, whether monarchists or republicans. The
white banner of the Bourbons and the tri-color of the revolutionists
thus became arrayed against each other.
It was well known that there was a strong party in favor of placing
the Duke of Orleans upon the throne. The king was awaiting his trial
in the Temple. The monarchy was virtually overthrown, and a republic
was established. The Republicans were in great fear of a reaction,
which might re-establish the throne in favor of the Orleans family.
It was, therefore, proposed in the Assembly that the Duke of Orleans
and his sons should be banished from France. But it could not be
denied that the Duke of Orleans had been one of the most prominent
leaders in the revolution. He had given all his influence, and
consecrated his immense wealth, to the cause. He had made great
sacrifices, and had alienated himself entirely from the royal family,
and from the nobility generally, by his bold advocacy of democratic
principles. Under these circumstances, it seemed peculiarly
ungrateful to proscribe and persecute him, merely because the blood
of the Bourbons flowed in his veins, and because he was born near the
throne.
After a violent discussion in the Assembly, the decree of banishment
was passed. But the friends of the duke rallied, and succeeded, after
a struggle of two days, in obtaining a reversal of the decree. It was
known that the Duke of Chartres had urged his father to yield to the
decree, and to retire from France. This increased the suspicion that
the Duke of Chartres was not friendly to the new state of things in
republican, anarchic, France.
"It can not be denied," says a French historian, "that upon this
occasion the young prince evinced that high sagacity which, by
foreseeing events, succeeds in dispersing their dangers. He looked
upon it that the revocation of the decree of banishment against his
family was a great misfortune; because the name of Orleans having
been once pronounced suspected and dangerous, could never again be
useful to their country, and would be infallibly persecuted. 'If we
can no longer be useful,' said he, 'and if we only give occasion of
offense, can we hesitate in expatriating ourselves?'"
But, as we have said, the duke decided to remain at his post; and his
son, returning to the army, anxiously awaited events. The Austrians
speedily filled up their depleted ranks with reinforcements, and on
the 18th of March, 1793, were again in battle array near the village
of Nerwinde. Another terrible battle ensued, in which the Duke of
Orleans again won many laurels; but victory decided against the
French. The army of Dumouriez was utterly routed. The Duke of
Chartres had a horse shot from under him; but he spent the whole
night upon the field, struggling to rally the fugitives. It was
attributed to his heroism that the army did not, on that occasion,
experience an irreparable disaster.
General Dumouriez now found himself in the most painful and perilous
position. It was not safe for any leader of the Republican armies to
allow himself to be defeated. The loss of a battle was considered
equivalent to treason. A committee was sent by the Assembly to spy
out his conduct. The _Moniteur_ of the 27th of March, 1793, contains
the following report:
"We arrived at Tournay on Tuesday, the 26th. Citizen
Proly--who was previously known to General Dumouriez--waited
upon him. He found him at the house of Madame Sillery, in
company with that lady, the Misses Egalite, and Pamela. He
was attended, also, by Generals Valence and Chartres.
"Among other unbecoming observations, which he did not
hesitate to make, General Dumouriez said that the Convention
was the cause of all the misfortunes of France; that it was
composed of 745 tyrants, all regicides; that he was strong
enough to bring them to a sense of propriety; and that, if
they were to call him Caesar, Cromwell, or Monk, he was still
resolved to save his country."
The publication of this report rendered it certain to Dumouriez and
his friends that he would immediately be arrested and conveyed to
Paris, under circumstances which would render condemnation and
execution inevitable. He had not an hour to lose. He was supping with
the Duke of Chartres, anxiously conversing upon the peril in which
they both were involved, when a courier arrived, summoning him
immediately to repair to Paris to explain his conduct to the
Convention. The Duke of Chartres said sadly to his general: "This
order is your death-warrant." As he said this, the general was
opening another document, and replied: "Now it is your turn, my young
friend; this letter incloses a similar invitation for you."
They both mounted their horses, and bidding adieu to unhappy France,
set out, with a small retinue, for the frontier. A detachment of
dragoons was sent in pursuit of them. By the extraordinary sagacity
and self-possession of Baudoin, the faithful servant of the prince,
they effected their escape. It is altogether probable that Dumouriez
was intending, by the aid of the army, to overthrow the Convention,
and re-establish the throne in favor of the Duke of Chartres. An
anonymous French writer, commenting upon these events, says:
"We do not hesitate to place among the number of the plans of
Dumouriez a project which did him honor--that of abolishing
the republican system and erecting a constitutional monarchy
in favor of the Duke of Chartres. Many persons have imagined
that the Duke of Chartres was aware of this design. It is
certain that in the army, as well as among the moderates of
the interior, the prince would have found a crowd of
adherents. But he was too conscientious to usurp a crown
which had just fallen in blood--too good a son to authorize
proceedings which would have endangered the life of his
father; in short, too enlightened, too prudent,
notwithstanding his extreme youth, to be instrumental in any
ambitious or ill-conceived scheme emanating from such a man
as Dumouriez. However, whether the Duke of Chartres was
conscious or not of the designs of General Dumouriez, a stern
necessity rendered a union of their fortunes indispensable
for a time."
The fugitives repaired first to Mons, the head-quarters of the
Austrians, to obtain their passports. Prince Charles urged the duke
to enter the service of the Empire, and to co-operate with foreign
armies and the emigrants in restoring monarchy to France. The duke
emphatically declined. Indeed, such an act would probably have
brought his father's head, and the head of every member of the
family, within reach of the Convention, beneath the slide of the
guillotine. Nothing now remained for the prince but exile and
poverty.
In the month of April, 1793, the duke, assuming the name of Mr.
Corby, and the appearance of an English traveller, accompanied only
by a servant and his aid-de-camp, Caesar Ducrest, commenced travelling
in Germany. While the Republicans assailed him from suspicion of his
secret hostility to Republican principles, the emigrants thoroughly
hated both him and his father for the countenance which they had
given to the Revolution. The region was full of emigrants who would
gladly surrender him to his enemies. It was necessary for him to
practise the utmost caution, that he might preserve his incognito. In
the cities of Liege, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Cologne, he did not dare to
dine at the table d'hote, lest he should be recognized.
The duke had reached Frankfort, when he read the account in the
journals of the arrest of his father and brothers. Lafayette, laden
with irons, was pining in the dungeons of Olmutz. Such was the reward
which these patriots received for their devotion to the cause of
popular liberty.
Departing from Frankfort, the duke proceeded to Basle. From an
eminence in the environs of the town the tri-color flag was visible,
floating in the distance above the battlements of the fortress of
Huninguen. With deep emotion the duke saluted the flag of liberty,
for which he had suffered so much, and continued his sad journey. At
Basle he learned that his sister, accompanied by Madame de Genlis,
had taken refuge at Schaffhausen, in Switzerland. His mother and two
brothers, as well as his father, had been arrested, and were
imprisoned in France. Joining his sister and Madame de Genlis, the
little party of exiles proceeded, oppressed with anxiety and grief,
to Zurich. Here it became necessary for them to acquaint the
magistrates with their real names.
The emigrant royalists who had taken refuge there ostentatiously
displayed their detestation of the democratic prince. At the same
time, the Helvetic magistrates trembled lest they should incur the
wrath of Revolutionary France by affording a refuge to the
illustrious exiles. The _Moniteur_, of the 12th of June, 1793,
contained the following notice:
"The _ci-devant_ Duke of Chartres and his suite are not in
Italy, as had been supposed, but reside in a solitary house
on the margin of Lake Zug, in Switzerland. They pass for an
Irish family."
It was on the 14th of May that the sorrowful exiles took up their
residence upon the banks of this silent lake. In Zurich, where they
were recognized, they had been exposed to many insults. One evening,
as they were walking out, an emigrant cavalier purposely caught his
spur in a portion of the dress of Mademoiselle d'Orleans, rudely
tearing it.
Soon they were again discovered by some emigrants who were passing
through Zug. A dispatch from Berne reproached the authorities for
their imprudence in allowing the noble wanderers an asylum. The
magistrates called upon the duke and respectfully, but with much
embarrassment, entreated him to depart from their coasts. It was now
evident that the party could no longer, with safety, reside together.
The duke succeeded, through some influential friends, in obtaining
admission for his sister into the convent of Sainte Claire, near
Bremgarten.
"As for you," said M. de Montjoie to the Duke of Chartres, "there is
no alternative but to wander in the mountains, not sojourning long in
any place, but pursuing this life of sorrow until the circumstances
of your country shall assume a more favorable aspect. If fortune
shall prove propitious, your wanderings will be an Odyssey, the
details of which will one day be collected with avidity."
General Dumouriez, who was also wandering in obscurity and exile, at
this time wrote to General Montesquieu, who was a friend of the Duke
of Chartres, and a gentleman possessed of much influence and power in
Switzerland:
"Embrace for me our excellent young friend. What you are
doing to serve him is worthy of you. Let him derive
instruction and strength from his adversity. This frenzy
will pass away, and then he will find his place. Induce him
to make a circumstantial diary of his travels. It will be
curious to see the diary of a Bourbon treating of other
subjects than the chase, women, and the table. I am
convinced that this work, which he will one day produce,
will serve as a certificate for life, either when he shall
have re-entered it, or to make him return to it."
Darker and darker grew the path of the exiled prince. His funds
became very low. He was separated from all his friends except his
faithful servant, Baudoin, who absolutely refused to leave him. He
retained but one horse. His servant chanced to be so sick that he
could not walk. The duke left Basle on foot, leading by the hand the
horse upon which his humble but faithful companion in exile was
mounted.[C]
[Footnote C: Vie Anecdotique de Louis Philippe. Par MM. A. Laugier et
Carpentier, p. 108.]
Passing through Neufchatel, Zellen Blatt, and Kussnacht, he reached
the ruins of Halsburg. Here, in the midst of silence and solitude,
the great-grandson of the brother of Louis XIV. sought a refuge from
his countrymen, who were thirsting for his blood.
[Illustration: ST. GOTHARD.]
During one of his adventurous excursions among the Alps, on foot,
accompanied only by his servant, he approached the hospitium of Saint
Gothard. It was on the 28th of August, 1793. Having rung the bell, a
Capuchin friar appeared at the casement and inquired, "What do you
want?" "I request," replied the duke, "some nourishment for my
companion and myself." "My good young men," said the friar, "we do
not admit foot-passengers here, particularly of your description."
"But, reverend father," replied the duke, "we will pay whatever you
demand." "No, no," added the Capuchin, pointing to a shed where some
muleteers were partaking of Alpine cheese, "that little inn there
is good enough for you."
At Gordona the duke and his servant met with a similar repulse.
Covered with the dust of travel, and with knapsacks on their backs,
with night and storm approaching, they found the door of a hostlery
closed against them. It was not until after much entreaty that the
way-worn travellers were allowed shelter, with a bed of straw, in an
outhouse.
While engaged in these wanderings, the duke received a letter from M.
de Montesquieu, offering him the situation of professor at the
college of Reichenau. This was a chateau near the confluence of the
upper and lower Rhine. He was then but twenty years of age. Assuming
the name of M. Chabaud, he underwent a very rigid examination,
without exciting the slightest suspicion as to his real character.
For eight months he discharged the duties of teaching the French and
English languages with marked success, and so secured the respect of
the inhabitants of Reichenau that they elected him their deputy to
the Assembly at Coire.
Here the tidings reached him of the sad fate of his father.
Overwhelmed with grief, and restless in view of the peril of other
members of the family, he resumed his wanderings. Proceeding to
Bremgarten, the residence of his influential friend M. de
Montesquieu, he remained with him, as aid-de-camp, until some time in
the year 1794.
But it was impossible for a man so widely known to remain long
concealed in any place. There was still an energetic and increasingly
powerful party in France opposed to the disorders which the Republic
had introduced, and anxious to restore monarchical forms. The
situation of the sister of the _Duke of Orleans_, as Louis Philippe
now became, on the death of his father, was considered so unsafe in
the convent of Bremgarten that she was removed to Hungary.
One day, as the duke was sitting silently, lost in thought, in a
parlor adjoining the one occupied by his generous host, he overheard
some conversation which led him to fear that the hospitality which he
was receiving might endanger the safety of his friend. He immediately
resolved to withdraw from Bremgarten and to seek refuge in Hamburg.
Here, finding his position very insecure, he resolved to hide himself
in the cheerless climate of Northern Europe. Accustomed to the
severest privations, he was enabled to recommence his wanderings
with the slender funds at his disposal. Assuming the character of a
Swiss traveller, he made arrangements to disappear from Southern
Europe, and seek refuge in the wilds of Scandinavia. He obtained
passports from the King of Denmark, which allowed him to take with
him his steadfast friend Count Montjoie, and his faithful servant
Baudoin, who had shared all the sufferings of his exile. A letter of
credit upon a banker at Copenhagen supplied his immediate pecuniary
wants.
CHAPTER III.
WANDERINGS IN THE OLD WORLD
AND THE NEW.
1794-1798
Louis Philippe in Sweden.--His incognito.--Journeying northward.--Court
ball of King Gustavus.--Despotism of the Directory.--The duke urged to
join the emigrants.--Letter from the duchess to her son.--Embarkation
for America.--Sufferings of the young princes.--Their destitution.--The
attempt to escape.--Strong affection for each other.--The release of
the captives.--The contrast.--Blending of joy and anxiety.--The long
and stormy voyage.--Visit to Mount Vernon.--The republican
landlord.--Driven from the inn.--Journeying in the wilderness.--Indian
hospitality.--Letter from the Duke of Montpensier.--Hardships of
travel.--Return to Philadelphia.--Crossing the Alleghanies.--Floating
down the river.--Welcome in New Orleans.--Arrogance of the British
Government.--Action of the French Government.--The "right of
search."--Narrow escape.
The peninsula of Scandinavia can be explored at a very slight
expense. The exiled prince, with his companions, travelled in the
most unostentatious manner. He felt quite secure in his wanderings,
as but few of the emigrants had penetrated those distant regions.
From Copenhagen he passed to Elsineur, visiting all objects of
historic interest. Crossing the Sound at Helsinbourg, he entered the
hospitable realms of Sweden. After a brief tarry at Gottenburg, and
ascending Lake Wener, he directed his steps towards Norway, remaining
for a short period at Friedrichsthal, where, in 1718, the half-mad
Charles XII., after perhaps the most stormy life through which a
mortal ever passed, breathed his last.
Proceeding to Christiania, he was received, as an intelligent and
affable traveller, with much distinction, though no one suspected his
rank. Wherever he went the purity of his character impressed itself
upon the community. M. Monod--subsequently a distinguished pastor of
one of the Protestant churches in Paris--was then at Christiania. He
fully appreciated the unusual virtues of his countryman, who, in
every word and action, manifested the spirit of true Christianity.
"M. Monod has repeatedly since been heard to declare," write A.
Laugier and Carpentier, "that the more the virtuous and instructive
life of this traveller was examined, the more exalted and exemplary
it appeared. What must have been his surprise when, subsequently, in
his own country, he recognized in the young Frenchman of Christiania,
so gentle and modest, a prince of the blood standing upon the very
steps of the throne of France!"
For some time the duke remained at Christiania, receiving many kind
attentions. On one occasion he dined with a numerous party at a
banker's in the city. In the evening, at the close of the
entertainment, as the guests were departing, the duke was startled
and alarmed by hearing the son of the banker, in a loud and somewhat
playful tone, call out, "The carriage of the Duke of Orleans." For a
moment he was much embarrassed. But perceiving that neither the
young man nor any of the company turned their eyes to him, he
recovered his self-possession, and calmly inquired of the young man,
"Why do you call for the carriage of the Duke of Orleans? What have
you to do with him?"
"Nothing at all," he replied, with a smile; "but in a journey which
we, not long ago, made to Paris, every evening, as we were coming out
of the opera, we heard the people shouting on all sides, and with the
greatest eagerness, '_La voiture de Monseigneur le Duc d'Orleans! les
gens de son Altesse Royale?_' I was almost stunned by the noise. At
the moment it occurred to me to imitate them, instead of simply
calling for the carriage."[D]
[Footnote D: Vie Anecdotique de Louis Philippe, p. 120.]
Continuing his journey to the north, the prince passed through
Drontheim and Hamersfeldt, which latter place was then the most
northern town in Europe. Some years after, when Louis Philippe had
ascended the throne of France, he sent a clock to the church tower in
Hamersfeldt, in graceful recognition of his hospitable reception
there as a stranger.
[Illustration: NORTH CAPE.]
Continuing along the coast of Norway, he reached the Gulf of
Salten, and visited the world-renowned Maelstrom. Taking an
Icelander, by the name of Holm, as his guide, he entered Lapland.
Thus journeying, he, on the 24th of August, 1795, reached North Cape,
the extreme northern point of Europe, within eighteen degrees of the
North Pole. It is said that no Frenchman had ever before visited
those distant and frigid regions. Here the duke remained for
several weeks, enjoying the hospitality of the simple-hearted
inhabitants--winning their confidence by his affability, and deeply
interested in studying their manners and customs.
Then, turning directly south, accompanied by several of the natives,
he reached Tornev, on the extreme northern shore of the Gulf of
Bothnia. Thence he traversed the eastern shores of the gulf for many
weary leagues, to Abo, in Finland, where he embarked for the Aland
Islands, and reached Stockholm the latter part of October. Here,
notwithstanding all his endeavors to preserve his incognito, his
curiosity to witness a grand court ball, given in honor of the
birth-day of King Gustavus II., led to his recognition by the French
envoy at that court, though he had adopted the precaution of
entering the highest gallery in the ball-room.
The king, being informed of his presence, immediately dispatched a
messenger to say that his majesty would be happy to see the
duke. The kindest attentions were lavished upon him. From such
attentions he deemed it prudent to escape, and speedily resumed his
wanderings--searching out and carefully examining all objects of
historical interest. Recrossing the Sound, he returned to Hamburg, by
the way of Copenhagen and Lubeck. The Revolution was still running
riot in France. The duke, having exhausted the resources at his
disposal, found himself in truly an embarrassing situation.
The _Directory_ was at that time ruling France with despotic sway.
Ever trembling in fear of a reaction, the Directors would gladly
place beneath the slide of the guillotine any one in whose veins
there ran a drop of royal blood. Fearful of the great influence of
the house of Orleans, even when its property was sequestered, and its
members were in prison or in exile, the greatest efforts had been
made, by means of secret agents, to find out the retreat of Louis
Philippe. At length, by some means, they discovered him in the small
town of Frederichstadt, in Holstein. His two brothers were then in
prison in Marseilles, in hourly danger of being dragged to the
guillotine, upon which their father had perished.
The Directory proposed to the Duchess of Orleans, who was imprisoned
in Paris, and to Louis Philippe, now the head of the family, that if
the duke and his brothers would embark for America, leaving Europe,
the two imprisoned princes should be restored to liberty, and the
sequestrated property of the family should be refunded.
Louis XVIII., also an emigrant, in the bosom of the armies of
Austria, and surrounded by the armed nobility of France, had
previously, through an envoy, urged Louis Philippe to join the
emigrants, in their attempt, by the aid of the sword of foreigners,
to re-establish the throne of France. But the prince was not willing
to bear arms against his native land.
The agents of the Directory, who now approached the prince, presented
him a letter from his mother. Her husband had suffered a cruel death
from the executioner. Her two sons were in hourly peril of the same
fate. Her eldest son and her daughter were in exile, wandering in
poverty, she knew not where. She herself was a captive, cruelly
separated from all her family, exposed to many insults, and liable,
at any hour, to suffer upon the scaffold the same fate which her
queen, Maria Antoinette, and many others of the noblest ladies of
France had already endured.
The affectionate heart of this amiable woman was lacerated with
anguish. She wrote a letter to her son, which was intrusted to the
agents in search of him, imploring him, in the most affecting terms,
to rescue the family, by a voluntary exile to America, from its
dreadful woes and perils. In the letter she wrote:
"May the prospect of relieving the misfortunes of your
distressed mother, of mitigating the sorrows of your family,
and of contributing to restore peace to your unhappy
country, reward your generosity."
The duke, upon the reception of this letter, decided at once to
embark for America. To his mother he wrote: "When my beloved mother
shall have received this letter, her commands will have been
executed, and I shall have sailed for America. I shall embark in the
first vessel destined for the United States. I no longer think that
happiness is lost to me while I have it in my power to alleviate the
sorrows of a cherished mother, whose situation and sufferings have
for a long time rent my heart."[E]
[Footnote E: A. Laugier et Carpentier, p. 132.]
On the 24th of September, 1796, the Duke of Orleans embarked at
Hamburg in an American vessel, "The America," then a regular packet
plying between that port and Philadelphia. Still retaining his
incognito, he represented himself as a Dane, and obtained Danish
passports. He paid thirty-five guineas for his passage, and took with
him his ever-faithful servant Baudoin, for whom he paid seventeen and
a half guineas. A favorable passage of twenty-seven days landed them
at Philadelphia, on the 21st of October, 1796.
We have not space here to describe the cruel sufferings of the two
younger brothers of Louis Philippe during their captivity. The elder
of the two, the Duke of Montpensier, was but seventeen years of age;
the younger, Count Beaujolais, was but thirteen. The brothers were
confined separately, in dark, fetid dungeons, and were not allowed
any communication with each other. The health of Beaujolais soon
began to suffer, and it was evident that he must die unless he could
have fresh air. The Duke of Montpensier writes, in his touching
autobiography:
"My brother Beaujolais was consequently permitted to spend
two or three hours each day in the open air, and was then
remanded to his dungeon. His cell being above mine, he was
obliged to pass my door on his way out, and he never failed
to call out, 'Good-day, Montpensier; how are you?' It is
impossible to describe the effect his gentle voice had upon
me, or the distress I felt when a day passed without my
hearing it; for he was sometimes actually forbidden to utter
these words, and was always hurried by so quickly that he had
scarce time to hear my answer. Once, however, that he was
permitted to remain until my dinner was brought, he kept so
close to the heels of the basket-bearer that, in spite of the
administrators, who tried to hold him back, he darted into my
cell and embraced me. It was six weeks since I had seen
him--six wretched weeks. The moment was precious, but how
short! He was torn from me forthwith, with threats of being
no more allowed to go out should the same scene be repeated.
I myself was not afterwards permitted, when my cell door was
opened, to go near enough to catch the breeze which passed up
the narrow staircase."
The princes were not allowed to see the public journals, or to
receive from their friends any letters which had not been previously
examined by their jailers. They were left in entire ignorance of
their father's execution until some time after his head had fallen.
When the awful tidings were conveyed to them, both of the young
princes, weakened by imprisonment and misery, fainted away. The
hatred with which they were pursued is evinced by the epithet of
_wolves' cubs_, which was ever applied to them in the clubs of the
Jacobins. Eight francs a day were allowed for their support. Their
mother had sent to them, for their immediate necessities, twelve
thousand francs ($2400); but the magistrates had seized the whole
sum. As the weary months rolled on, there were variations in the
treatment of the illustrious prisoners--it sometimes being more and
sometimes less brutal, but ever marked with almost savage ferocity.
After the fall of Robespierre, a decree was passed--
"That the imprisoned members of the Orleans family should
have the outer walls of the fort as the limits of their
captivity, the privilege of ranging about within those
bounds, and in future they were not to be locked up in their
cells."
The mother of the princes, the Duchess of Orleans, who had been in
close surveillance in the palace of the Luxembourg, in Paris, also
experienced very considerable alleviation in the severity of her
treatment. From various quarters the captives at length obtained
funds, so that their pecuniary wants were supplied. On the 18th of
November, 1795, the princes made a desperate but unavailing effort to
escape. The breaking of a rope by which Montpensier was endeavoring
to let himself down, outside of the walls, precipitated him from a
great height to the ground, very seriously breaking one of his legs.
He was recaptured, and suffered terribly from mental and bodily
anguish. His brother, Beaujolais, having effected his escape,
learning of the misfortune which had befallen his brother, returned,
with true brotherly love, to voluntary captivity, that he might do
something to cheer the sufferer.
Upon the return of Beaujolais, the commandant of the prison said,
exultingly, to the Duke of Montpensier, who was writhing upon a bed
of bodily suffering and of mental anguish:
"Your young brother is again my prisoner in the fortress, and burns
with anxiety to see you. You are henceforth to be confined
separately, and will no longer have an opportunity to communicate
with each other."
The two brothers were allowed one short interview. "Ah, brother,"
said Beaujolais, "I fear we shall derive no benefit from what I have
done, for we are to be confined separately. But without you it was
impossible for me to enjoy liberty."
For forty days Montpensier was confined to his bed. It was a year and
a half before he entirely recovered the use of his broken limb. Thus
three years of almost unmitigated wretchedness passed away. There
were many massacres in the prison; and often it seemed that
miraculous interposition alone had saved them from a bloody death.
Gradually the horrors of the Reign of Terror seemed to subside. The
captive princes were allowed to occupy a room together, and that a
comfortably furnished apartment in the fort, overlooking the sea. It
was under these circumstances that the mother consented to their
banishment to America, as the condition of their liberation. The
Directory, however, would not open their prison doors until it had
received official intelligence of the embarkation of Louis Philippe.
Immediately upon being satisfied that the Duke of Orleans had sailed
from Hamburg, the authorities prepared to release the princes from
their captivity, and to send them also to the New World. When all
things were ready, General Willot, a humane man, who had arrived at
Marseilles with extensive powers, informed them that the hour for
their release had come.
"The prisoners at first could scarcely credit their senses. They
looked steadfastly at each other; then, throwing themselves into each
other's arms, they began to cry, laugh, leap about the room, and for
several minutes continued to manifest a temporary derangement."
It would still be a few days before the vessel would sail.
Jacobinical fury was such in Marseilles that it was not safe for the
princes to appear in public, lest they should be torn in pieces by
the mob. They were therefore removed to the house of the American
consul, Mr. Cathalan, who had manifested almost a brotherly interest
in their welfare.
"It is impossible to describe," writes the Duke Montpensier,
in his autobiography, "the sensations I experienced in
crossing the draw-bridge, and contrasting the present moment
with the frightful occasions on which I had passed it before;
the first time, on my entrance into that dismal fortress,
where I had been immured for nearly three years of my life;
and the second, on my unfortunate attempt to escape from it
and recover my liberty. The gratifying reflection that I now
trod on it for the last time could with difficulty impress
itself upon my mind; and I could not avoid fancying that the
whole was a sleeping vision, the illusion of which I was
every moment apprehensive of seeing dissipated. On our exit
from the fort, we were received by a strong detachment of
grenadiers, who conducted us to the sloop."
Being thus placed under the protection of the stars and stripes, the
soldiers of the Directory left them, and they repaired immediately
from the vessel to the house of the American consul, where several
friends had assembled to greet them.
"Here," continues M. Montpensier in his journal, "we passed
very agreeably the few days that remained before the
departure of the vessel for America. We were, indeed, true
birds of the night--only venturing out after dusk; but our
days passed happily enough. Still, we were too near that
abode of misery, the fort, which we never ceased to think of
without anguish. And so apprehensive were we of a sudden
change in the sentiments of the existing Government, or an
actual revolution in the Government itself, that our anxiety
to depart was almost insupportable. At last we were informed
that the vessel would sail the following day. The effect of
this joyous news was the total loss of our rest during the
night. Seven o'clock in the morning of the 5th of November,
1796, found us awake and in transports of delight at being
permitted to take wings and fly to some land of toleration
and liberty, since our own had ceased to be such.
"The citizens of Marseilles, being informed of our intended
departure, assembled in crowds to see us embark. The ramparts
of the fort were lined, the windows filled. Almost all
congratulated us upon the recovery of our liberty. Some
envied us our lot; while a few, undoubtedly, wished that the
sea might ingulf us where its depth was greatest, and rid
France of two members of the proscribed and hated race. The
anchor was raised, and the sails were set. A favorable breeze
springing up, we soon lost sight of that country in which we
had been victims of a persecution so relentless, but for
whose prosperity and happiness we never ceased to offer up
our prayers to heaven."
The voyage was long and stormy. It was not until after the expiration
of _ninety-two_ days that the vessel, the "Jupiter," reached
Philadelphia, in February, 1797. Here, with inexpressible emotions of
joy, they found their brother awaiting their arrival. They took up
their residence in a humble house in Walnut Street, between Fourth
and Fifth streets, adjoining the church; from which they soon removed
to a house which they rented from the Spanish consul, in Sixth
Street.
Philadelphia was then the seat of the Federal Government. The
incognito of the princes was removed, and they were received with
marked respect and attentions. They were present when Washington
delivered his Farewell Address to Congress, and also witnessed the
inauguration of President Adams. The funds of the princes, though
not large, enabled them to meet their frugal expenses. In the
early summer the three princes--accompanied by the faithful
servant Baudoin, who had accompanied Louis Philippe in all his
wanderings--set out on horseback to visit Baltimore and other
Southern cities. The present City of Washington did not then exist.
They, however, visited Georgetown, where they were hospitably
entertained by Mr. Law.
Passing through Alexandria, they took the road to Mount Vernon, where
they had been invited to pass a few days with perhaps the most
illustrious man of modern ages. Washington, with whom they had become
acquainted in Philadelphia, and who had invited them to his house,
received them with the greatest kindness. The modest, gentlemanly,
heroic character of these remarkable young men deeply impressed him.
He furnished them with letters of introduction, and drew up an
itinerary of their journey, south and west, directing their attention
to especial objects of interest.
In those early days, and through that wild, almost uncultivated
country, travelling was attended with not a little difficulty and
with some danger. Mounted on horseback, with all their baggage in
saddle-bags, the princes took leave of their honored host, and rode,
by the way of Leesburg and Harper's Ferry, to Winchester, where they
were entertained in the celebrated inn of Mr. Bush. An American has
in the following terms described the character and appearance of this
celebrated landlord:
"I have him in my mind's eye as he was then, portly, ruddy,
though advanced in life, with a large, broad-brimmed hat, and
with his full clothes of the olden time, looking the very
patriarch of his establishment. He had two houses--one for
his family, and the other for his guests; and there was no
resting-place in all that rich valley more frequented by
travellers than his. It was a model of neatness and comfort,
and the excellent man who built it up, and who continued it
more from the desire of employment than from the love of
gain, seemed to consider the relations subsisting between the
traveller and himself as a favor to the former rather than to
the latter."
Mr. Bush had been in Manheim, which Louis Philippe had recently
visited, and he could speak German. This created quite an intimacy
between guest and host, and led to a long conversation. The journey
had been rough, the exposure great, and the youngest brother,
unaccustomed to such fatigue, was greatly exhausted. The Duke of
Orleans, who watched over his brother with parental tenderness, out
of regard to his prostration, asked the privilege, so common in
Europe, of having their dinner served to them in their own room. The
pride of the republican inn-keeper was touched.
"Such a request," writes G. N. Wright, "had never been heard
in the fair and fertile vale of Shenandoah, or, at all
events, within the limits of Bush's Winchester Hotel. It
infringed his rules; it wounded his professional pride; it
assailed his very honor. The recollection of Manheim, and the
pleasant days he had passed there--the agreeable opportunity
of living over those hours again in the conversation of the
Duke of Orleans--the gentle conduct of the three young
strangers--were all, in a moment of extravagant folly,
passion, and intractableness, forgotten, flung to the winds,
when, with a scornful air, he addressed Louis Philippe:
"'Since you are too good to eat at the same table with my
guests, you are too good to eat in my house. I desire,
therefore, that you leave it instantly.'"[F]
[Footnote F: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, by Rev. G. N. Wright,
p. 21.]
In vain did the Duke of Orleans endeavor to explain and convince his
irate host that he intended no disrespect. The weary travellers were
compelled immediately to leave, and to seek hospitality elsewhere.
Continuing their journey through a variety of adventures, some
amusing and some painful, they passed through Staunton, Abington, and
Knoxville, and reached Nashville, in Tennessee. After a short tarry
here, they continued their ride through Louisville, Lexington,
Maysville, Chilicothe, Lancaster, Zanesville, Wheeling, to Pittsburg,
in Pennsylvania. Their accommodations in these vast wilds were often
of the humblest kind. The three brothers often slept on the floor,
wrapped in their cloaks, in some wretched hut, with their feet
towards the blazing fire, while their landlord and his wife occupied
the only bed in the only room.
At Pittsburg the travellers rested for several days. From that place
the princes directed their steps to Buffalo, skirting, for some
distance, the shores of Lake Erie. At Cattaraugus they were the
guests, for one night, of the Seneca Indians. They felt some anxiety
in reference to their baggage, the loss of which, in those distant
regions, would have been a serious calamity. The chief, perceiving
their solicitude, said that he would be personally responsible for
every article which might be committed to his care, but for nothing
else. After a little reflection, the duke placed in his hands
saddles, bridles, blankets, clothes, and money--every thing, except a
beautiful dog, which he did not think of including in the inventory.
All were restored in the morning, excepting that the dog was missing.
"If the dog," said the chief, "had been intrusted to my care, it
would have been waiting your departure." With some difficulty the
favorite animal was reclaimed.
At Buffalo the travellers crossed the head of the Niagara River, and,
passing down the Canadian shore, visited the world-renowned falls. On
their way, they passed a night in the huts of the Chippewa Indians.
The following extracts, written by the Duke of Montpensier to his
sister, throw much light upon the character of these excellent young
men. It was dated August 14, 1797:
"I hope you have received the letters which we wrote to you
from Pittsburg about two months ago. We were then in the
midst of a long journey, which we have terminated only
fifteen days since. It occupied us four months. We
journeyed during all that time a thousand leagues, and
always upon the same horses, except the last hundred
leagues, which we performed partly by water, partly on foot,
partly on hired horses, and partly by stage, or the public
conveyance.
"We have seen many Indians, and we remained even many days
in their country. They are, in general, the best people in
the world, except when they are intoxicated or inflamed by
passion. They received us with great kindness; and our being
Frenchmen contributed not a little to this reception, for
they are very fond of our nation. The most interesting
object we visited, after the Indian villages, was certainly
the Cataract of Niagara, which I wrote you word from
Pittsburg that we were going to see. It is the most
astonishing and majestic spectacle I have ever witnessed. I
have made a sketch of it, from which I intend to make a
water-color drawing, which our dear little sister shall
certainly see at our beloved mother's home.
"To give you an idea of the agreeable manner in which they
travel in this country, I must tell you, dear sister, that
we passed fourteen nights in the woods, devoured by all
kinds of insects, often wet to the bone, without being able
to dry ourselves, and our only food being pork, a little
salt beef, and maize bread. Independently of this adventure,
we were forty or fifty nights in miserable huts, where we
were obliged to lie upon a floor made of rough timber, and
to endure all the taunts and murmuring of the inhabitants,
who often turned us out of doors, often refused us
admission, and whose hospitality was always defective. I
should never recommend a similar journey to any friend of
mine; yet we are far from repenting what we have done, since
we have all three brought back excellent health and more
experience.
"Adieu, beloved and cherished sister--so tenderly loved.
Receive the embraces of three brothers, whose thoughts are
constantly with you."
As the travellers were proceeding from Buffalo to Canandaigua, over a
country so rude that they suffered more than on any other part of
their journey, they met Mr. Alexander Baring, afterwards Lord
Ashburton, whose acquaintance they had made in Philadelphia. Mr.
Baring was on a tour to Niagara, from which the princes were
returning. His patience was quite exhausted by the hardships he was
enduring on the way; and he expressed the doubt whether the sight of
Niagara could repay one for such excessive toil and privation. His
experience must, indeed, have been different from that of the modern
tourist, who glides smoothly along in the palace-cars. Arriving at
Geneva, they took a boat and sailed up Seneca Lake to its head;
whence they crossed over to Tioga Point, on the Susquehanna. The last
twenty-five miles of this trip they accomplished on foot, each one
carrying his baggage. Passing through the country, in almost a direct
line, by the way of Wilkesbarre, they returned to Philadelphia.
Soon after their return the yellow-fever broke out in Philadelphia
with great malignity, in July, 1797. The princes had expended on
their long journey all their funds, and were impatiently awaiting
remittances from Europe. They were thus unable to withdraw from the
pestilence, from which all who had the means precipitately fled. It
was not until September that their mother succeeded in transmitting
to them a remittance.
With these fresh resources they commenced a journey to the Eastern
States, passing through the States of New York, Connecticut, Rhode
Island, and Massachusetts, to Boston; and it is said that they
extended their travels to Hallowell, in the District of Maine, to
call upon the Vaughans, an illustrious family from England, then
residing there.
Louisiana at that time belonged to Spain. The exiles decided to cross
the country to the Ohio, descend the river to New Orleans, and thence
to proceed to Havana, on the island of Cuba, by some Spanish vessel.
Returning to Philadelphia, they set out, on the 10th of December,
1797, to cross the Alleghanies. Upon those heights and gorges winter
had already set in, and the cold was very severe. Just before
leaving, they learned that the Directory had passed a decree
banishing every member of the Bourbon family from France, including
their mother, who was a Bourbon only by marriage, and that their
mother had taken refuge in Spain. At that time Spain was in alliance
with France, and the British Government was consequently at war
against it.
At Pittsburg they found the Alleghany still open, but the Monongahela
was frozen over. They purchased a small keel-boat, which they found
lying upon the ice, and with considerable difficulty transported it
to a point where they could launch it in the open water, though the
stream was encumbered with vast masses of floating ice. Then the
three brothers, with but three attendants, embarked to float down the
Ohio and the Mississippi, through an almost unbroken wilderness of
nearly two thousand miles, to New Orleans. When they arrived at
Wheeling, Virginia, where there was a small settlement, they found
their way hedged up by solid ice, which filled the stream, from shore
to shore. They drew their boat upon the land, to wait for an opening
through this effectual barricade. Louis Philippe, with characteristic
energy, impatient of delay, ascended an eminence, and, carefully
surveying the windings of the river, found that the obstruction of
ice occupied only about three miles, beyond which the stream was
clear.
Watching their opportunity, they forced their way through some miles
of broken ice, and continued their adventurous voyage. An American
military courier, less energetic, was detained three weeks by the
obstructions which the French party thus speedily overcame. At
Marietta, Ohio, they found another small village. Here they landed to
lay in supplies; and they spent some time in examining those Indian
mounds so profusely scattered there--interesting memorials of an
extinct race.
Continuing their voyage amidst the masses of ice which still
encumbered these northern waters, they one day, through the
negligence of their helmsman, ran against a branch of a tree, termed
a _snag_, and stove in their bows. The boat was immediately unloaded,
drawn upon the shore, and in twenty-four hours was so repaired as to
enable them to continue their journey. As they entered more southern
latitudes the floating ice disappeared, and the voyage became more
pleasant, as they rapidly floated down the tortuous stream, by
forests and headlands, and every variety of wild, sublime, and
beautiful scenery, until they reached New Orleans, on the 17th of
February, 1798.
Here they met with a very friendly welcome, not only from the
colonists generally, but from the Spanish governor, Don Gayoso. They
were detained in New Orleans five weeks, awaiting the arrival of the
corvette which was engaged in conveying passengers and light freight
from that port to Havana. Impatient of the delay, as the packet did
not arrive, they embarked in an American vessel. England was then
truly mistress of the seas. She made and executed her own laws,
regardless of all expostulations from other nations.
As the American vessel was crossing the Gulf of Mexico, she was
encountered by an English frigate, which, by firing several guns,
brought her to, and immediately boarded her. The British Government
had adopted the very extraordinary principle that an English ship
might stop a ship, of whatever nationality, on the seas, board her,
summon her passengers and crew upon the deck, and impress, to serve
as British seamen, any of those passengers or crew whom the officers
of the frigate might pronounce to be British subjects. From their
decision there was no appeal.
"The princes," says the Rev. G. N. Wright, "had an
opportunity of witnessing one of those violations of
international law which not only marked but degraded the
maritime history of that period, by the gross sacrifice of
public law and private liberty. This was the seizure and
impressment of men employed on board neutral vessels, and
compelling them to enter the navy of a foreign country. The
crew, being mustered on the deck, Captain Cochrane selected
the ablest hands from among them--taking them on a service
in which they not only had no interest, but with which some
of them were actually at variance, and might, therefore, be
compelled to fight against their own country.
"It is not the least strange, of all the strange events which
have occurred in those days of change, that a young man, a
passenger on board an American ship, and who was brought by
circumstances in contact with the practical operation of the
iniquitous claim which Great Britain set up--of taking out of
vessels sailing under the American flag any person they
pleased--should have been called upon subsequently, when upon
the throne of France, by the English Government to disavow
the forcible abduction of a seaman from an English ship."
Many years after this, when Louis Philippe was king of the French, a
French frigate, from a squadron blockading Vera Cruz, boarded an
English packet-ship, and took out of her a Mexican pilot. All England
resounded with a burst of indignation. Both Houses of Parliament
passed a decree that such an act was a gross outrage upon the British
flag, which demanded immediate apology from the French Government.
"The pilot," said Lord Lyndhurst, "had come on board, under the
protection of the British flag. But in this instance it was no
protection. A more grave and serious outrage was never committed
against our country."
"Any man," said Lord Brougham, "on board a British merchantman is as
much under the protection of the British flag as if he were on board
the queen's ship. The gravemen of the charge is _that a man has been
taken from an English ship_."
Louis Philippe, who deemed it essential to the stability of his
throne to maintain friendly relations with the British Government,
humbly disavowed the act in the name of his country, while he
considerately forbore from taunting the British Government with its
own opposite and arbitrary course, or from congratulating it upon the
happy change of principles which it had so suddenly experienced.
Captain Cochrane, learning that the Duke of Orleans, with his
brothers, the Duke of Montpensier and Count Beaujolais, were on board
the small and uncomfortable American vessel, politely invited them to
continue the remainder of their voyage in the enjoyment of the
superior accommodations of his large and commodious ship. The deck of
the frigate towered far above that of the humble American
merchantman. A rope was lowered to assist the travellers in their
ascent. The Duke of Orleans slipped his hold and fell into the sea.
Being an excellent swimmer, he swam around to the stern of the ship,
where a boat was lowered, which rescued him from his unwelcome bath.
On the 31st of March, 1798, the British frigate landed them safely in
Havana.
CHAPTER IV.
THE TOMB AND THE BRIDAL.
1799-1809
The antagonistic parties.--Driven from Cuba.--Take refuge in
England.--Courted by the Bourbons.--Reconciliation.--Embarrassments
of the princes.--Aristocratic attentions.--Fashionable life in
London.--Domestic habits.--Death of the Duke of Montpensier.--Sickness
of Count Beaujolais.--Death of Count Beaujolais.--The Princess
Amelia.--Banner of the Empire.--The Duke of Orleans in the Sicilian
Court.--Spanish intrigues.--Wandering of the Duchess of Orleans.--The
brother and sister united.--Their arrival at Malta.--Anarchy in
Spain.--Unfriendly conduct of the Queen of Sicily.--Eulogy upon the
Duchess of Orleans.--The wedding.--Character of the bride.--Her
benevolence.
The position of the French princes was peculiarly embarrassing. Both
of the parties into which all the nations of Europe were then divided
suspected and feared them. The Royalists could not forget that the
father of the princes had taken the title of Egalite, had renounced
all feudal privileges, had voted for the death of the king, and had
placed himself at the head of the democratic movement in France.
The liberal or democratic party could not forget that the young
princes were by birth in the highest ranks of the nobility, that by
blood relationship they were nearly connected with the crown, that
their whole family had been so utterly crushed by democratic rule
that they could not but hate that rule, and that there was a party in
France, sustained by many of the courts in Europe, in favor of
reaction and of re-establishing the throne with the young Duke of
Orleans as king. Thus the Orleans princes were alike suspected and
feared by both parties.
The government in Madrid was in entire sympathy with the aristocratic
party in Europe. Though the Orleans princes had been received in
Cuba, by the Spanish authorities and leading citizens, with much
attention, as the victims of democratic fury, the government of
Madrid, remembering only the democracy of Egalite, and fearing that
the princes, retaining their father's principles, might unfurl the
dreaded tri-color in Havana, sent an order dated May 21, 1799,
ordering the captain-general of the island not to permit any longer
the presence of the dukes of Orleans and of Montpensier, and of their
brother, Count Beaujolais, but to send them immediately to New
Orleans, without any regard to their mode of subsistence.
Under these circumstances the exiles, withdrawing from Cuba,
succeeded in reaching the Bahama Islands, which belonged to England,
and thence sailed for Halifax. The Duke of Kent, son of George III.,
and father of Queen Victoria, was then in Halifax, and received them
with guarded and formal courtesy. Not certain what might be the
feelings of the British Cabinet in reference to them, he did not feel
authorized to grant them a passage to England on board a British
vessel of war. They, therefore, embarked in a small vessel for New
York, and there took passage in a regular packet-ship for England.
In the first week in February, 1800, the ship reached Falmouth.
Immediately the princes forwarded a request to George III. that they
might be permitted to land in England and proceed to London. The
request was promptly granted, and on the sixth of the month they
reached the capital. To convince the court and the nobility of
England that they were entirely weaned from all those democratic
tendencies which had brought such awful ruin upon their house, they
selected Twickenham as their place of residence. It was a beautiful
and salubrious site in the midst of the family seats of the English
aristocracy, and in the vicinity of Windsor Castle, the ancient and
world-renowned palace of the British kings. Here every movement would
be open to the eyes of the British aristocracy, and the mode of life
of the princes, their associates, and their manner of spending their
leisure hours, would all be known. The spotless and amiable
character of these young men rapidly secured for them the confidence
and esteem of all their acquaintances.
The unhappy son of Louis XVI., whom the Legitimists regarded as their
sovereign under the title of Louis XVII., had perished of brutal
treatment in his dungeon, on the 6th of June, 1796.[G] The
Legitimists now recognized the elder brother of Louis XVI., the Count
de Provence, as king, with the title of Louis XVIII. The Count de
Provence, assuming all the etiquette of royalty, and recognized by
nearly all the courts of Europe as the lawful sovereign of France,
held his court at Mittau, in Courland, surrounded by a crowd of
emigrant courtiers. His only brother, Count d'Artois, who
subsequently ascended the throne of France as Charles X., resided in
London, punctiliously maintaining court etiquette.
[Footnote G: There have been efforts to prove that the dauphin was
removed from prison, and another child was substituted in his place,
who died and was buried. Several claimants have risen, professing to
be the dauphin. But there is no evidence upon this point sufficient
to change the general verdict of history.]
[Illustration: LOUIS XVII. IN PRISON.]
The Count d'Artois, anxious to secure the open and cordial
co-operation of the Duke of Orleans in behalf of the Royalist
cause, sent him an earnest invitation to come to London, assuring him
of an affectionate greeting on his own part and that of his friends.
The duke repaired to London, and was received on the 13th of February
with princely hospitality by the count and other members of the
Bourbon family, at his residence in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square.
"The king, Louis XVIII.," said the Count d'Artois, "will be delighted
to see you; but it will be proper and necessary that you should first
write to him." The Duke of Orleans did so. In this letter he must
have recognized the sovereignty of Louis XVIII., a sovereignty
founded on legitimacy, for he received a courteous and cordial reply.
Thus there seemed to be a perfect reconciliation, social and
political, between the elder and younger branches of the Bourbon
family.
General Dumouriez had visited the court of the exiled monarch,
pledged to him his homage, mounted the white cockade, and, receiving
a commission in the Russian army, was marching with the Allies
against republican France. All his energies were consecrated to the
restoration of the house of Bourbon-Orleans.
Count d'Artois left no means untried to induce the Duke of Orleans
and his brothers to enlist under the standard of emigration. But an
instinctive reluctance to unite with foreigners in their war against
France, and the entreaties of their anxious mother that they should
not, in those dark and perilous hours, commit themselves to the
apparently hopeless cause of the royal confederacy, led the cautious
duke to adhere to the life of privacy upon which he had entered. But
it is scarcely possible but that, under the circumstances, both he
and his brothers must have longed for the restoration of the
Bourbons, which would have enabled them to return to France and to
enter upon the enjoyment of their exalted rank and their vast
estates.
Still, the princes were subject to many humiliations and annoyances.
The partisan press, on both sides, assailed them with every species
of calumny. "The leading ministerial journals in London declared
openly that they suspected the sincerity of the young Duke of Orleans
in his late repentance; and that his past exemplary conduct should
not be accepted as any security against his future treachery."
But the emigrants in London generally, and the British Court,
assumed to place full reliance in the reconciliation between the
Bourbon and the Orleans branches of the royal family. All the arts of
flattery were employed to cement this union, and to lead the princes
to commit themselves irreparably to the royal cause. England, under
the ministry of William Pitt, was waging relentless warfare against
revolutionary France. On the 20th of February the princes were
invited to meet England's most renowned prime minister, and the most
implacable foe of republican institutions in France, at a
dinner-party, at the town mansion of the Count d'Artois. Lord
Grenville gave a magnificent entertainment in their honor, on the 1st
of March, 1800; and the next Sunday the exiles were presented to his
majesty George III. at a levee held especially for that purpose.[H]
[Footnote H: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, p. 22.]
On the 13th of March the Russian ambassador, Count Woronzo, following
in the train of these marked civilities, invited them to a princely
banquet, which was attended by all the aristocracy of London, at his
mansion in Harley Street; and on the 13th of March his Royal Highness
the Prince of Wales honored them by an invitation to Carlton House
to meet all the foreign ambassadors.
The Orleans princes were now fully introduced to fashionable life in
London. Their presence was deemed essential to the completeness of
any soiree or banquet. The Marchioness of Salisbury, then the
arbitress in London of fashion and elegance, invited the princes to
meet at her house four hundred guests of the highest rank and
distinction, among whom was the Prince of Wales. Then the Lady
Mayoress of the city, Lady Harvey Combe, threw open to them Egyptian
Hall in as magnificent an entertainment as the times could furnish.
Immediately following this brilliant scene, the Duke of Clarence,
subsequently William IV., invited them to a dinner-party, which in
many respects surpassed all which had preceded it in splendor. All
these people who thus feted them were combining their energies to
overthrow revolutionary principles in France, and to reinstate the
Bourbons.
At this time the British Cabinet was preparing an armed force for the
invasion of France by a descent on the southern coast. The report was
circulated that the three Orleans princes were to assume the white
cockade and accompany this military expedition against their native
country. At the same time, the Bourbon princes renewed their
solicitations to the Orleans princes to range themselves, with arms
in their hands, under the standard of emigration. But the great
victory of Marengo just then took place, which threw into the power
of the First Consul all of upper Italy, and compelled the utterly
discomfited Austrians to withdraw from the British alliance. It was a
dark hour for the Royalist cause in France.
The exiled princes, who found but little in the festivities of London
to alleviate their world-weariness, or to cheer them in the peculiar
embarrassments and trials of their position, after several minor
adventures, withdrew to their retreat in Twickenham, where they
endeavored to seclude themselves from observation and from all
participation in public affairs.
The Duke of Orleans devoted himself to the study of English
institutions, visiting the prominent establishments of learning and
of industry. The irreproachable character of this virtuous prince,
his high intellectual culture, dignified bearing, amiable
disposition, and persistent refusal to involve himself in any
intrigues, secured for him general admiration. Months of
tranquillity, almost of happiness, glided away. But sorrow is the
doom of man. The Duke of Orleans had not yet drained the cup which
was prepared for his lips.
The health of the Duke of Montpensier had been for some time rapidly
failing. His constitution and that of his brother, Count Beaujolais,
had been quite undermined by the hardships they had endured during
their imprisonment. All the remedies which the best medical advice
could administer proved unavailing. It soon became manifest that
death was approaching by slow but resistless strides. The young duke,
conscious that his end was approaching, bore all his sufferings with
the most amiable and uncomplaining resignation, until, on the 18th of
May, 1807, he fell asleep.
The grief of the Duke of Orleans and of the Count of Beaujolais, in
the loss of so gentle and tenderly-beloved a brother, was very great.
The funeral ceremonies were attended in London with almost regal
pomp. The Count d'Artois was present as one of the principal
mourners. The gloom of twilight had begun to fall upon the city as
the imposing procession approached Westminster Abbey, to convey the
remains of the long-suffering prince to the darkness of the tomb.
The procession was led by mules bearing plumes of white feathers. A
mourning-carriage, containing the heart of the deceased in an urn,
was drawn by six horses, decorated with the richest funereal
caparisons, and led by postilions in the mourning-livery of the house
of Orleans. The hearse followed, preceded by a herald with a coronet
on a velvet cushion.
The empty private carriage of the deceased was followed by many other
carriages filled with the noblesse of France, each drawn by six
horses. The state equipages of the Prince of Wales and of the Dukes
of Sussex and York, with postilions in state livery, closed the
procession. With such mournful pageants were the mortal remains of
the exile consigned to the ancient mausoleum of the kings of England.
"Sorrows," says the poet, "come in troops." Scarcely were the remains
of the Duke of Montpensier placed in the tomb, ere his brother, Count
Beaujolais, began rapidly to fail. He was urged to seek a milder
climate in Malta or Madeira. To the solicitations of his fond and
anxious brother he replied:
"I feel that my life is soon to terminate as Montpensier's did. What
is the use of going so far to seek a tomb, and thus to lose the
consolation of dying in this retreat where we have at last found
repose. Let us remain in this hospitable land. Here, at least, I
shall be permitted to die in a brother's arms, and share a brother's
tomb."
Still, amiably yielding to the anxiety of his brother, he consented,
against his own judgment, to accompany him to the island of Malta.
The climate not agreeing with him, and his strength rapidly failing,
the Duke of Orleans wrote to Ferdinand IV., king of Naples,
soliciting permission to visit the salubrious clime where he had
established his court. Ferdinand IV., flying from the revolution
beneath which his throne had crumbled, had sought refuge, protected
by the British fleet, in the old Moorish castle, called the _Palazzo
Reale_, near Palermo, on the island of Sicily. To the application of
the duke to repair with his dying brother to those genial skies, a
very cordial consent was returned. But before the reply arrived, the
gentle spirit of Beaujolais had taken its flight to join the spirit
of Montpensier in the eternal world. With tearful eyes and an almost
broken heart, the bereaved Duke of Orleans deposited the wasted
remains of his dearly-beloved brother in the vaults of the church of
St. John, in Valetta.
Having performed these last sad rites, and feeling almost alone and
desolate, in a world where he had experienced so many sorrows and so
few joys, influenced by the friendly invitation of the Sicilian
Court, he embarked for the island of Sicily, and reached Messina in
safety. Proceeding to Palermo, he was welcomed with great cordiality
to the ancient and massive palace. The commanding figure of the
prince, his finely chiselled features, his dignified bearing, united
with a frank, cordial, unaffected address, his intelligence and
accomplishments, all combined with that nameless charm of a pensive
spirit, created by the greatest sufferings patiently endured, secured
for him the admiration and the warmest sympathy of the Sicilian
family.
The second daughter of the king, the Princess Amelia, was a young
lady whom all unite in describing as possessed of unusual attractions
of person and character. A strong attachment almost immediately
sprang up between them. But the Duke of Orleans was a wanderer, an
exile, deprived of his patrimonial estates, and living upon the
hospitality of others or upon those fragments which by chance had
been saved from the utter wreck of the possessions which had
descended to him from his ancestors. Should he recover his rank and
possessions, it would be a suitable match. Should he fail, he would
prove but a needy adventurer. The proud queen was perplexed whether
to frown upon or to encourage his suit.
In France the anarchy of the Conventions and of the Directory had
given place to the Consulate and the Empire. Under the sagacious and
energetic rule of Napoleon, France had risen to dignity and power
unequalled by that of any other nation in Europe. Napoleon had seized
upon the fundamental principle of the Revolution, _Equal Rights for
all Men_, and, inscribing that upon his banners, had reorganized
France with such skill as to enable her to bid defiance to despotic
Europe in arms against that principle. All France seemed united in
this government of _republican principles under monarchical forms_,
and, notwithstanding the implacable hostility and persistent
coalition of foreign dynasties, all hopes of the restoration of the
Bourbons seemed to have vanished. Ferdinand of Naples and his queen,
who was an Austrian princess, and sister of Maria Antoinette, had,
with great determination, espoused the cause of the Allies against
France. A revolution in their own kingdom, aided by French arms, had
driven them from the continent of Italy to the island of Sicily,
where they were protected by an English army of twenty thousand men,
and by the invincible fleet of Great Britain, which had entire
command of the seas.
The position of the Duke of Orleans in the Sicilian Court must have
been very embarrassing. Ferdinand, a weak man, and his wife, an
intriguing, reckless woman, did every thing they could to entangle
their illustrious visitor, and the suitor of their daughter, in the
meshes of the intrigues in which they were ever involved. Napoleon
had shown a very decided disposition to conciliate the Orleans
family, and to restore to them their possessions if he could have any
assurance that the vast influence which they would thus possess would
not be used in the attempt to overthrow the republican empire which
France had so cordially accepted. The cautious duke felt that it
would be the height of folly to hurl himself against a power which
seemed irresistible.
The Spanish Court had treacherously, while professing friendship for
France, entered into a conspiracy with the Allies to strike her in
the back in the anticipated hour of disaster. The Spanish war ensued,
into the merits of which we have no space here to enter. The king and
queen of Sicily hoped to place upon the throne of Spain their son
Leopold; and they urged the Duke of Orleans to go to Spain, and,
under the patronage of England, to take command of an army for the
invasion of France.
Influenced by these importunities, the duke repaired with evident
reluctance to Gibraltar; but seeing no chance for Leopold, he passed
over to England to confer with the British Cabinet.[I] The duke was a
Frenchman, and, instead of being cordially received in Spain, found
himself in danger of being mobbed by the ignorant and fanatic
populace. Lord Collingwood wrote to the British Government, in
reference to this movement, in behalf of Prince Leopold, through the
agency of the Duke of Orleans:
"Several of the nobles who attend his royal highness are
French, and there is no government here which can give
protection to any Frenchman from the populace."
[Footnote I: "I have another great puzzle come to me. The Queen of
Sicily has sent her son, Prince Leopold, to Gibraltar to propose
himself to be regent of Spain. It appears to me to be extreme want of
knowledge of the state of Spain. The Duke of Orleans came down with
him, and on the 13th of August I discussed the subject fully with his
highness, much to his satisfaction, and he went off to England with a
light heart."--_Collingwood's Correspondence._]
England did not favor the idea of placing a Sicilian prince on the
throne of Spain by the aid of a French duke. Thus the enterprise was
finally abandoned. In the then disturbed state of Europe, nearly all
the countries being more or less ravaged by the sweep of hostile
armies, and there being no regular postal communication, and no free
passage from one country to another, it was often impossible for the
Duke of Orleans to learn, for long periods of time, what was the fate
of his mother and his sister, or even where they were. Upon the
decree by the Directory of the expulsion of all the Bourbons from
France, the Duchess of Orleans had retired to Figueras, in Spain.
In June, 1808, one of the tempests of war reached that town, and in a
terrific bombardment of a few hours it was laid in ashes. The Duchess
of Orleans fled from her home at midnight, only a few hours before it
was blown into the air by a shower of bombs. Escaping from these
scenes of ruin and woe, the widowed, almost childless, and friendless
duchess, but still maintaining wonderful fortitude of character,
found refuge, after many painful adventures, in Port Mahon, on the
island of Minorca.
The Duke of Orleans, thwarted in his plans, regarded with jealousy by
the British Cabinet, and assailed with bitterest contumely in both
aristocratic and democratic journals, applied to the English
Secretary of State for permission to pass to Port Mahon to join his
mother. But the British authorities would not consent to his landing
anywhere on the Spanish territories. They, however, at length yielded
to his importunities so far as to allow him to embark in an English
frigate for the island of Malta, the captain of the frigate receiving
strict injunctions not even to approach the Spanish coast.
Proceeding to Portsmouth, where he was to embark, he there, to his
inexpressible joy, met his only and dearly beloved sister, from whom
he had so long been separated. This virtuous, amiable, but unhappy
princess, had long been striving to join her wandering brothers and
share their fate. Thus far she had been baffled in every endeavor,
and two of them had sadly gone down into the grave, unsustained by
those consolations which a sister's love and attentions might have
afforded them. The princess had finally succeeded in tracing her only
surviving brother from Sicily to Gibraltar, and from Gibraltar to
England. She had thus providentially met him just as he was embarking
for Malta.
The brother and sister sailed together, and landed at the port of
Valetta, in Malta, in February, 1809. Thence the duke dispatched a
private messenger, the Chevalier de Brovul, to seek an interview with
his mother, to explain to her the impossibility of their going to
Minorca, and to entreat her to join them, if possible, in Malta.
"The duke's agent," writes the English historian, Rev. G. N. Wright,
"was faithful, intelligent, and active. But the impediments which
were placed in his path rendered his progress in negotiation slow,
and at length completely obstructed them."
The Spaniards did not love the English, and the English made no
efforts to disguise their contempt of the Spaniards. There was no
cordial co-operation of action. There was a strong party in Spain in
favor of the regeneration of their country by the enlightened and
liberal views which Joseph Bonaparte was introducing. There was
another powerful party opposed to France, and equally opposed to
British domination.
"The greatest anarchy," says Mr. Wright, "prevailed in every part of
the Peninsula. The Spaniards were divided in their allegiance, and a
Bonapartist party was formed in the heart of the country. The
national resources were exhausted; and their co-operation with the
English wanted that cordiality to which her noble efforts had
entitled her, and which Spanish policy ought to have extended to
them.
"Brovul, who had been dispatched to convey a mere affectionate
expression of regard and love from her children to the venerable
duchess, became, on his route, transformed into a political envoy. It
was now distinctly and emphatically proposed, by several of the most
distinguished men of the Spanish national party, that the Duke of
Orleans should be invited over into Spain, and that he should place
himself at their head, and lead an army of invasion into France.
"A secret agent was sent into the southern provinces of France to
ascertain the public sentiment there. He reported that the people
looked to the Duke of Orleans as the only member of the Bourbon
family who enjoyed a military reputation; as a prince whose sword had
been sharpened by the wrongs of his race, and that they declared, in
the most enthusiastic manner, their readiness to follow him to
victory or death."
Misled by this report, which proved to be a gross exaggeration, the
Spanish Junta appointed the Duke of Orleans to a command destined to
act on the frontiers of Catalonia. But the local juntas were opposed
to the movement. There was no harmony--no combined action. All was
confusion, and the duke made no attempt to enter upon his command.[J]
The Sicilian queen, Maria Caroline, irritated by the utter failure of
the movement in behalf of her son, and disappointed that the Duke of
Orleans had so little influence over the British Cabinet, became
quite alienated from her prospective son-in-law, wrote very cold
letters to him, and the failure of the marriage treaty was openly
spoken of in the court and in the journals.
[Footnote J: "Besides, possibly England did not think, and the exiled
Bourbons of the elder branch would naturally have concurred in the
sentiment, that it would be prudent or politic to send a gallant
prince of Orleans to lead the Spaniards to victory, a prince who was
the great-grandson of that Philippe of Orleans who, by the lustre of
his talents and the many attractions of his character, became the
idol of the army and the nation."--_Life and Times of Louis
Philippe_, by Rev. G. N. Wright.]
The duke--whose attachment to the Princess Amelia was very
strong--alarmed by these procedures, repaired immediately to Palermo
to confront his enemies and to plead his cause. He was successful.
The confidence and love of Amelia had never abated. The presence of
the illustrious young man--so handsome, so intelligent, so spotless
in character, so fascinating and princely in his bearing--soon
dispelled all clouds. The queen could no longer withhold her consent
to the nuptials. With happiness thus beginning to dawn upon him, the
duke wrote as follows to his mother:
"Their majesties urged some objections to the marriage of a
princess of their house to a wandering exile like myself.
Upon which I stated that I should apply to you and induce you
to advocate my cause, and become security for my principles
and fidelity to those to whom I promised allegiance. 'Ah,'
replied the queen, 'if you can obtain the advocacy of that
angel, it will, indeed, be impossible to refuse you any
thing.' I should like, dear mother, to give you a faithful
portrait of the princess, who was destined to be my bride,
even before her birth. But I feel that I could make but an
indifferent and very unworthy sketch. She possesses many
amiable and elevated qualities, which I shall take the
liberty of summing up in one brief sentence, by assuring you
that she seems to be a perfect model of my mother."
Soon after this the duchess embarked in an English frigate for
Palermo, and reached there in safety on the 15th of October, 1809.
Thus, after long, long years of separation, the survivors of the
exiled family, though still in exile, were reunited. On the 25th of
November the nuptial benediction was pronounced in the beautiful old
Norman chapel of the Palazzo Reale.
"The most remarkable and curious fact connected with the origin and
structure of the Capella Reale is, that to the completion of this
most perfect illustration of the art of ecclesiastic building three
nations have contributed--the Greeks, Saracens, and Normans. And by
this fortuitous association the chaste style of the ancients, the
cold manner of the Northerns, and the luxurious fashion of the East
are all here blended in perfect harmony."[K]
[Footnote K: Wright's Shores and Islands of the Mediterranean.]
General Cass, the American minister to France, who, thirty years
after these events, wrote from the palace of the Tuileries, where
Louis Philippe and his amiable queen were then enthroned, says:
"The queen was the daughter of that King of Naples who was
driven from his Continental dominions by the French, and took
refuge, with his family and court, in Sicily. Here the king,
Louis Philippe, then poor and in exile, married her; and the
match is understood to have been one of affection on both
sides. The thirtieth anniversary of their union has just
expired, and they are at the summit of human power, with a
most interesting family of seven children, and, as is known
to every body, with the warmest attachment to each other. In
the bitterness of French political discussions no whisper of
calumny has ever been heard against the queen. And one who
could pass through this ordeal has nothing more to dread from
human investigation. A kinder, more anxious mother is nowhere
to be found. She is a sincere believer in the Christian
religion, and devout in the performance of its duties. Her
charity is known throughout the country, and appeals for the
distressed are never made to her in vain. In the performance
of her regal duties, while her bearing is what the nature of
her position requires, there is a kind of affability which
seems continually seeking to put all around her as much at
their ease as possible."[L]
[Footnote L: France in 1840. By an American--[General Cass].]
CHAPTER V.
THE RESTORATION.
1814-1817
The Sicilian Court.--Retirement of the duke.--The Restoration.--The
return to Paris.--Arrival in Paris.--Reception by the
Bourbons.--Testimony of an American.--Pride of the Bourbons.--Madame
de Genlis.--Triumphal advance of Napoleon.--Flight of Louis
XVIII.--Signal triumph of Napoleon.--Retirement of the
Bourbons.--Efforts of the Duke of Orleans.--Dejection of the Duke
of Orleans.--Calumnies of the journals.--Return of the Bourbons to
Paris.--The duke's possessions restored.--The duke returns to the
Palais Royal.--Humanity of the Duke of Orleans.--The duke persecuted
by the court.--Execution of Marshal Ney.--Again an exile.--Testimony
of Madame de Genlis.--The princes in the national lyceums.--Democratic
tendencies of the duke.
The court of Ferdinand IV., one of the most worthless and corrupt of
the old feudal dynasties, was maintained in Sicily by the army, the
navy, and the purse of England. His Sicilian majesty received from
the British Government an annual subsidy of four hundred thousand
pounds sterling ($2,000,000), to support the dignity of his throne,
and to pay for the troops which Sicily furnished England for her
interminable warfare against the French Empire. The Duke of Orleans
severely condemned the errors and follies continually developed by
the reigning dynasty, and yet he found himself utterly powerless to
remedy them. The queen was the ruling power at the court, and her
prejudiced and impassioned nature was impervious to any appeals of
reason. She knew very well that England did not loan her protection
and lavish her gold upon the Sicilian Court from any love for that
court, but simply from dread and hatred of the republican principles
advocated by Napoleon. She, therefore, often treated the English with
the utmost disdain. And yet, sustained by twenty thousand British
troops upon the island, she trampled upon all popular rights,
consigning, by arbitrary arrests, to the dungeon or to exile all who
opposed her sway.
"Against these violations of law, infringements of liberty, and
manifestations of absolutism, the Sicilians rose with becoming
firmness. The Duke of Orleans had long foreseen the approaching
hurricane, the gathering wrath of an injured people; but finding his
remonstrances vain, his principles of government almost directly
contrary to those of his august mother-in-law, he retired from a
court where there was no room for a virtuous counsellor, and, with
his wife and her infant prince, lived in retirement a few miles from
Palermo."[M]
[Footnote M: Life and Times of Louis Philippe.]
The duke was living tranquilly, and perhaps not unhappily, in this
retirement, abstaining from all participation in the intrigues of the
Sicilian Court, when, on the morning of the 23d of April, 1814, an
English frigate, with every banner floating triumphantly in the
breeze, entered the harbor of Palermo. It brought the astounding
intelligence of the fall of Napoleon and the restoration of the
Bourbons. The exciting tidings soon reached the ears of the duke. He
hurried to Palermo, and drove directly to the palace of the English
ambassador, where he was greeted with the words:
"I congratulate you upon the downfall of Napoleon, and on the
restoration of the illustrious race, of which you yourself are a
member, to the throne of their fathers."
For a moment the duke was speechless with astonishment, and then
declared the story to be quite incredible. He however was soon
convinced that it was even so, by reading a copy of the _Moniteur_,
which gave a detailed account of the whole event. All the shipping
and all the forts of Palermo were now resounding with the thunders of
exultation. The Duke of Orleans had fought under the tri-color flag.
Mingled emotions agitated him. He saw that national banner which had
waved so proudly over many a field of victory now trampled in the
dust beneath the feet of foreign squadrons, and their allied armies
exultingly encamped within the parks of his native city. The
restoration of the Bourbons had been accomplished at the expense of
the humiliation of his country.
The next day, the commander of the ship which had brought the
intelligence called at the residence of the Duke of Orleans, and said
to him,
"I am directed by Admiral Lord William Bentinck, who is now at Genoa,
to wait upon your royal highness, and ascertain if you wish to return
to France. If so, my vessel and my personal services are at your
command. If you prefer to remain at Naples, I hope you may enjoy that
lasting happiness to which, by your eventful and virtuous life, you
are so eminently entitled."[N]
[Footnote N: During much of his exile, Louis XVIII. had occupied the
chateau of Hartwell, in the county of Buckingham, about fifty miles
from London.]
The duke pondered the fact that he was invited to return to Paris,
not by an envoy from the restored king, but by an officer in the
British navy. Still the prince resolved immediately to repair to
Paris. Taking an affectionate farewell of his wife and their infant
son, he embarked on board the English frigate, accompanied by a
single servant, and on the eighteenth of May, 1814, entered his
native city, from which he had so long been an exile. Louis XVIII.
was already there, having returned to Paris in the rear of the
bayonets and the batteries of foreign troops. It was his majesty's
expressed wish that the Palais Royal, the hereditary mansion of the
Orleans family, should be repaired and restored to its former owners.
During the republican and imperial rule, its numerous and spacious
apartments had been appropriated to private residences. The duke,
upon arriving in Paris, availed himself of temporary accommodations
in furnished apartments in the Rue Grange Bateliere. One of his first
steps was to repair incognito to the home of his fathers. The Swiss
servants who guarded the palace still wore the imperial livery. With
some reluctance they yielded to the importunities of the stranger,
and allowed him to penetrate the interior apartments.
"As he approached the grand staircase, the recollections of his
boyhood, the lustre of his ancient race, the agonies of mind he had
endured since he last beheld that spot, and gratitude to that
Providence which had spared him amidst such universal ruin,
completely overwhelmed him, and, falling prostrate on the tesselated
pavement, he imprinted a thousand kisses on the cold white marble,
while tears gushing from his eyes indicated, while they relieved, the
emotions with which he contended."[O]
[Footnote O: Life and Times of Louis Philippe.]
The next day the duke was presented to his majesty, Louis XVIII., at
the Tuileries. As he approached the royal presence, the king advanced
towards him, and said,
"Your highness was a lieutenant-general in the service of your
country twenty-five years ago, and you are still the same."
The assumption adopted by Louis XVIII. that there had been no
interruption of the Bourbon reign, and the attempt to blot from
history the twenty-five most eventful years in the annals of France,
deservedly excited both contempt and ridicule. An American writer of
distinction says:
"The unconquerable prejudices of the Bourbons, and their
studied ignorance of the feelings of the country they were
called to govern after an exile of twenty-five years, were
the prognostics as well as the cause of their ultimate fall.
"Their imperial predecessor had indeed left them a difficult
task. His career was so brilliant that it may well have
dazzled his countrymen, and left them unfitted for a milder
domination. He was, indeed, a wonderful man; and I have been
more powerfully impressed than ever, since my arrival in
France, with the prodigious force of his character, and with
the gigantic scope as well as the vast variety of his plans.
"I am satisfied that circumstances have not been favorable to
a just appreciation of the whole character of Napoleon in the
United States. While he was at the head of the nation, we
surveyed him very much through the English journals, and we
imbibed all the prejudices which a long and bitter war had
engendered against him in England. To be sure, his military
renown could not be called in question; but of his civic
talents a comparatively humble estimate was formed. I have
since learned to correct this appreciation."[P]
[Footnote P: General Cass.]
It was the undisguised effort of Louis XVIII., now restored by
foreign armies to the throne, to annihilate the memory of all that
France had achieved at home and abroad, under the administration of
Napoleon. The tri-color was exchanged for the white banner of the
Bourbons, and the eagles were replaced by the Gallic cock. All the
insignia of imperialism were carefully obliterated. The evidence
seems quite conclusive that the king, notwithstanding his apparent
reconciliation with the Duke of Orleans, still regarded him with much
suspicion, and would have been very willing that he should have
continued in exile. Indeed, the king seemed disposed to revive old
family feuds, that he might keep the duke estranged, as far as
possible, from the sympathies of the Legitimist party.
The Duchess of Orleans was of royal blood, the daughter of a king.
But the father of the Duke of Orleans had worn only a ducal, not a
royal crown. The king, consequently, gave orders that, whenever the
Duke of Orleans and his suite should appear at court, both of the
folding-doors of the grand entrance should be thrown open for the
duchess, while but one should be opened for her husband.
In July the duke embarked in a French ship of the line, with Baron
Athalin and Count Sainte Aldegonde as his aids, to transfer his
family from Palermo to Paris. Early in August they were luxuriously
domiciled in his magnificent ancestral home. Madame de Genlis, now
venerable in years, and having ever retained the reverence and
affection of her distinguished pupils, hastened to join the ducal
family in the saloons of the Palais Royal.
"This resolution," she writes, "procured me the inexpressible
happiness of once more seeing my pupils, Mademoiselle and the Duke of
Orleans. In our first interview they both displayed to me all the
affection, all the emotion and delight which I myself experienced.
Alas! how deeply I felt, at this meeting, the absence of the beloved
pupils, the Duke of Montpensier and his brother Count Beaujolais, who
both died in exile."
The winter passed rapidly away, and on the 5th of March, 1815, to the
dismay of the Bourbons, and of all the crowned heads of Europe, the
tidings reached Paris that Napoleon had left Elba, landed at Cannes,
and, accompanied by ever-increasing thousands of enthusiastic
supporters, was on the triumphal march towards the metropolis. The
most terrible proclamations were hurled against him by Louis XVIII.,
but all in vain. All opposition melted before the popular emperor.
The path from Cannes to Paris was over six hundred miles in length,
through the heart of France. But the Bourbons, with the armies of
France nominally at their disposal, and the sympathies of all the
feudal dynasties in Europe enlisted in their behalf, could summon no
force sufficient to arrest the progress of that one unarmed man. The
Duke of Orleans hastened to the presence of his majesty, and,
addressing the trembling monarch, said:
"Sire, as for me, I am prepared to share both your bad and good
fortune. Although one of your royal race, I am your subject, servant,
and soldier. Do with me as your majesty pleases, for the honor and
peace of our country."
The king sent him to Lyons; to co-operate with the king's brother,
the Count d'Artois, subsequently Charles X., in the endeavor to
retard, by every means in their power, the advance of the ex-emperor
upon Paris. A council of war was immediately held, the Count d'Artois
presiding. Marshal Macdonald proved to the satisfaction of all
present that it would be impossible to prevent the occupation of
Lyons by Napoleon. Thence his march to Paris would be unimpeded.
All was consternation in the Bourbon Court. Louis Philippe broke up
his establishment, and dispatched his wife and family, by the most
expeditious route, to England. The armies of France were concentrated
as rapidly as possible on the borders of the Rhine, where the allied
troops could hurry to their support. The Duke of Orleans was invested
with the command of this army of the north. Louis XVIII., surrounded
by a small body of Guards, entered his carriage and fled
precipitately across the Rhine, to place himself again under the
protection of the allied sovereigns who were convened in Congress at
Vienna.
The accompanying cut will give the reader a vivid idea of the
departure. The king was enormously fat. His figure, with long body
and very short legs, was peculiar almost to deformity. He entered his
carriage for his flight, with apparently none to regret his
departure, at one o'clock, on the morning of the 19th of March. The
evening of the next day, the 20th, the emperor arrived, and,
surrounded by the acclamations of thousands, was borne, in a scene of
indescribable enthusiasm, on the shoulders of the people into the
vacant palace.
[Illustration: LOUIS XVIII. LEAVING PARIS.]
"The moment that the carriage stopped," says Alison, "he was seized
by those next the door, borne aloft in their arms, amidst deafening
cheers, through a dense and brilliant crowd of epaulets, hurried
literally above the heads of the throng up the great staircase into
the saloon of reception, where a splendid array of the ladies of the
imperial court, adorned with a profusion of violet bouquets, half
concealed in the richest laces, received him with transports, and
imprinted fervent kisses on his cheeks, his hands, and even his
dress. Never was such a scene witnessed in history."
This triumphal journey of Napoleon for nearly seven hundred miles,
through the heart of France, alone and unaided invading a kingdom of
thirty millions of inhabitants, vanquishing all the armies of the
Bourbons, and regaining the throne without drawing a sword or firing
a musket, presents one of the most remarkable instances on record of
the power of one mighty mind over human hearts. Boundless enthusiasm,
from citizens and soldiers, greeted him every step of his way. A more
emphatic vote in favor of the Empire could not have been given. A
more legitimate title to the throne no monarch ever enjoyed. And yet
the Allies, in renewing the war against him, had the unblushing
effrontery to proclaim that they were contending for the _liberties
of the people against the tyranny of an usurper!_ In view of such
achievements of Napoleon, we do not wonder that Lamartine, his
unrelenting political foe, should say that, as a man, "Napoleon was
the greatest of the creations of God."
"The emperor, notwithstanding the Bourbons had set a price upon his
head, issued special orders that they should not be molested; that
they should be permitted to retire without injury or insult. He
could, with perfect ease, have taken them prisoners, and then, in
possession of their persons, could have compelled the Allies to
reasonable terms. But his extraordinary magnanimity prevented him
from pursuing such a course. Louis XVIII., accompanied by a funeral
procession of carriages containing members of his family, his
ministers, and returned emigrants, trembling and in dismay, retired
to Lille, on the northern frontiers of France. The inhabitants
of the departments through which he passed gazed silently and
compassionately upon the infirm old man, and uttered no word of
reproach; but as soon as the cortege had passed, the tri-colored
banner was run up on steeple and turret, and the air resounded with
shouts of _Vive l'Empereur_."[Q]
[Footnote Q: Abbott's Life of Napoleon, vol. ii., p. 465.]
[Illustration: NAPOLEON ENTERING THE TUILERIES.]
Immediately Napoleon dispatched by telegraph the following order
throughout France: "The emperor having entered Paris at the head of
the very troops that were sent to oppose him, the civil and military
authorities are hereby cautioned against obeying any other than the
imperial orders, and are enjoined, under the last penalty of military
law, to hoist the tri-colored flag upon the receipt of this
intelligence."
Regardless of this order, the Duke of Orleans, in the north of
France, made very great efforts, by visiting all the posts, to
inspire the soldiers to fidelity to the Bourbons, and to rouse them
to oppose the emperor. "Finding," says a writer, who was in sympathy
with his efforts, "his great exertions as fruitless as the assaults
of the winds upon the mountain's rocky ridge, he at length abandoned
the project. The conduct of Louis XVIII. was but little calculated to
inspire his subjects with respect, or to restore their fading
fidelity. Having reached Lille on the 22d, on the next day he fled,
with indecent haste, towards the frontier, not remaining long enough,
even if his faculties had been sufficiently collected to do so, to
give final or further instructions to the lieutenant-general. Terror
of Napoleon occupied his every thought; and the wings of the wind
were unequal to keep pace with the eagerness of his mind to escape
from the iron grasp of the mortal enemy of his race. Louis Philippe
had lent the protection and encouragement of companionship to his
majesty to a distance of five miles from Lille; yet the timid monarch
never delivered to him any instructions or command as to the
operations of the army, nor confessed his future project."[R]
[Footnote R: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, by Rev. G. N. Wright.]
The Duke of Orleans was annoyed and irritated by the pusillanimity
displayed by the king, and by the mortifying reserve with which he
himself was treated. He called upon the commandants of the different
towns, and informed them that the king had left France without giving
him any authority to act. He then issued a public proclamation, in
which he resigned his entire command to Marshal Mortier. In this he
said:
"I go to bury myself in retirement and oblivion. The king
being no longer in France, I can not transmit you any further
orders in his name; and it only remains for me to release you
from the observation of all the orders which I have already
transmitted to you, and to recommend you to do every thing
that your excellent judgment and pure patriotism will suggest
to you. Farewell, my dear marshal. My heart is oppressed in
writing this word."
On the 22d Louis Philippe broke up his establishment at
head-quarters, and set out to rejoin his family in England. He had
but little hope then of ever again revisiting France. His sufferings
must indeed have been agonizing in finding all his newly-born hopes
vanishing, and in again entering upon the weary life of an exile.
Arriving in England, he directed his steps to the beautiful and
sequestered retreat of Twickenham. It was a hallowed spot, endeared
to him by the memory of days of tranquillity and of a pensive joy,
and by scenes of heart-rending anguish, as he had there seen his two
beloved brothers sinking sadly into the grave.
"The triumph of legitimacy," says Mr. Wright, "which dethroned
Napoleon," inspired its followers in foreign lands with new zeal,
fresh devotion, and increased prospects of ascendency. In England the
most servile of that faction had the malignity to invent and
publish, by means of the dishonest portion of the daily press, the
grossest and most painful calumnies against the Duke of Orleans. The
Bourbon faction, expert at calumny and intrigue, employed every means
their art supplied to accomplish their darling object, which was the
still further separation of the elder from the younger branch of the
royal family. It was now that the persecutors of the Duke of Orleans
hit upon the scheme of defaming him by forgery. They forged various
protestations and confessions of faith, which they subscribed with
the name of Louis Philippe, and procured their publication in English
journals; "the tendency of which was to place him in a false position
with respect to the elder branch of his family."
The hundred days of Napoleon's second reign passed rapidly away. The
defeat at Waterloo restored Louis XVIII. to the throne, with a better
prospect of its permanent possession. Napoleon, in the long agony at
St. Helena, expiated the crime of raising the banner of _Equal Rights
for All Men_, in opposition to the exclusive privileges of kings and
nobles. Louis XVIII., escorted by nearly a million of foreign troops,
returned to the Tuileries. All the members of the royal family
followed from their wide dispersion. Louis Philippe joined the crowd,
and again presented himself in the royal saloons. The king suspected
him, and in the presence of a full court received him with marked
coldness. Conscious of his own unpopularity, and of the general
impression that the Duke of Orleans was tinctured with liberal
sentiments, the king was ever apprehensive that a faction might arise
in favor of placing the Duke of Orleans upon the throne.
The shrewd, intriguing Fouche, duke of Otranto, in a letter written
to the Duke of Wellington at this time, says:
"The personal qualities of the Duke of Orleans, the
remembrance of Jemappes, the possibility of making a treaty
which would conciliate all interests, the name of Bourbon,
which might serve outside, but not be pronounced within--all
these motives, and many others that might be mentioned,
present in this last choice a perspective of repose and
security even to those who could not perceive in them an
omen of happiness."
Though the king declined the assistance of the Duke of Orleans in
reorganizing his government, he restored to him his vast ancestral
possessions. Recrossing the Channel, the duke conducted his family
from Twickenham back to the sumptuous saloons of the Palais Royal. A
royal ordinance commanded all the princes of the blood royal to take
seats in the Chamber of Peers. Under this decree the Duke of Orleans
became a member of that august and influential body.
And now commenced the reign of what was called the _Terreur Blanche_,
or White Terror, consisting of a series of proscriptions and bloody
executions, under the white flag of the Bourbons, which shocked the
spirit of humanity. Unrelenting revenge was dominant. Marshal Ney,
General Labedoyere, and many others of the noblest men in France,
were ere long put to death or driven into exile. The friends of Louis
XVIII. in the Chamber of Peers urged on these merciless executions. A
resolution was introduced into that body and strongly supported,
calling for the exemplary chastisement of all political delinquents.
There were a few who indignantly repudiated this revengeful spirit.
The Duke of Orleans ascended the tribune. His person was but little
known by the majority of those present. As the son of Egalite, and
as one suspected of liberal principles, he was hated by the returned
emigrants of the old Bourbon party. As he took his stand in the
tribune there was breathless silence throughout the whole assembly.
Every eye was fixed upon him. His majestic figure, his fine
countenance, intellectual, thoughtful, upon which there remained the
traces of many sufferings, his calm, dignified, self-possessed
bearing, and his exalted rank as a prince of the royal line, created
profound sentiments of respect. For a moment he looked upon the
assembly in silence. Then in slow, solemn, decisive terms he
remonstrated against the malevolent spirit which was being developed.
"I propose," said he, "the total suppression of the obnoxious clause.
Let us leave to his majesty's parental care the charge of maintaining
public order. Let us not urge a revengeful spirit which malevolence
may convert into a weapon for disturbing the peace of the nation. Our
position as judges of appeal over those very individuals to whom you
recommend the exercise of severity, rather than of mercy, should
impose absolute silence upon us in respect to them."
These just and noble sentiments the majority applauded, and the vote
was carried in behalf of humanity. But the king and his coterie were
very angry, and assailed the duke in the most violent terms of
condemnation. The king, in a petty spirit of revenge, issued a
decree, recalling the ordinance that all the princes of the blood
royal were to sit in the Chamber of Peers, and declaring that none in
future were to appear there but by special authority of the king,
delivered at each particular sitting.
This was intended as a deliberate insult to the Duke of Orleans, to
exclude him from the Chamber of Peers, and to degrade him in the eyes
of the partisans of the king. This pitiful spirit of persecution
greatly increased the general popularity of the duke, which led to a
redoubled clamor of calumny on the part of his opponents. He was
accused of seeking to rally around him the malcontents, of courting
the favor of the populace, and of trying to organize an _Orleans
faction_ in his interests.
[Illustration: MARSHAL NEY.]
The clamor was so loud and so annoying, and the duke found himself so
entirely excluded from the sympathies of the court and of the
dominant nobles, that, to escape from the storm, he imposed upon
himself voluntary exile, and again, forsaking France, sought refuge
with his family in his English retreat at Twickenham.
The annoying report was circulated, that the duke was banished by an
indignant decree of the king, which, out of regard to the duke's
feelings, he had not made public. Louis Philippe was fully conscious
of the great unpopularity of the elder branch of the Bourbons, and of
the feeble tenure by which they held their power, sustained against
the popular will by the bayonets of the Allies.
The duke had hardly arrived at Twickenham ere he received an
affecting letter from the wife of Marshal Ney, entreating him to
intercede with the Prince Regent of England for the life of her noble
husband, then in prison awaiting the almost certain doom of death.
The duke did plead for him in the most earnest terms; but his efforts
were unavailing. Thus one of the most illustrious of the sons of
France, "the bravest of the brave," was led out into the garden of
the Luxembourg and shot down like a dog. Marshal Ney had fought a
hundred battles for France, not one against her. His crime was, that,
having accepted command under the Bourbons, he had been guilty of
treason in deserting his standard, and had welcomed back the
emperor, whom he had served in so many battles, and whom he so dearly
loved. By the capitulation of Paris it was expressly declared that
"no person should be molested for his political opinions or conduct
during the Hundred Days;" but the Allies paid no regard to their
plighted faith.[S]
[Footnote S: "England entailed a lasting disgrace upon her name by
not prohibiting the execution of a vengeance so long delayed; by not
claiming as her victims those brave men whom the glory of her arms
had unfortunately placed at the mercy of the Bourbons, and by
allowing the French king to put those fine fellows to death on the
scaffold, whose military prowess was honorable to France."--_Life and
Times of Louis Philippe._]
One important object of Louis Philippe, in withdrawing from France,
was to avoid the embarrassment of being brought forward in opposition
to the king, and in being made the head of the Liberal party. This
refusal to identify himself with any democratic movement rendered him
very popular with the English Court, a popularity increased by
England's adoration of exalted rank and princely fortune. The duke
was received, in palace and castle, with splendid hospitality, which
he frequently eclipsed in the brilliant entertainments which he in
return gave at Twickenham.
The duke now devoted himself, in his voluntary exile, to the
administration of his sumptuous household, and to the rearing of his
rapidly increasing family, abstaining entirely from all participation
in the politics and intrigues of Paris. His mansion was ever thronged
with distinguished guests, and multitudes, ruined by the storms which
had swept over their several lands, frequented his saloons, seeking
pecuniary aid. The applicants were so numerous and the claims so
complicated, that the duke found it necessary to establish a bureau
of charity to examine these claims and to disburse his bounty.
In 1817 the duke returned to France, and divided his time between the
Palais Royal and his magnificent rural retreat at Neuilly. Wealth,
rank, and hospitality will always draw a crowd. The duke lived, as it
were, in a small but brilliant court of his own. He seldom appeared
in the court of Louis XVIII., and took no part in public affairs.
Much of his time was devoted to superintending the education of his
very interesting group of children. Madame de Genlis gives the
following description of this ducal family:
"I continued to pay my respects to Mademoiselle d'Orleans,
who is still as kind and affectionate towards me as ever. I
saw the young Prince de Joinville, who was only two years
old, but who spoke as distinctly as a child of six or seven.
He was also as polite as he was handsome and intelligent. In
fact, the whole family of the Duke of Orleans is truly the
most interesting I ever knew. The members of it are charming
by their personal attractions, their natural qualities and
education, and by the reciprocal attachment of parents and
children."[T]
[Footnote T: Autobiography of Madame de Genlis.]
But again the duke incurred the displeasure of the court. Anxious
that his sons should derive the benefit of free intercourse with the
world, he decided to place them, for the completion of their
education, in the national lyceums. Here they were on a level with
other boys, and could only secure distinction by merit. The court,
however, and the old nobility, deemed it gross contamination for
princes of the blood royal to associate with the children of
citizens, and they regarded the measure as merely another attempt on
the part of the Duke of Orleans to secure the favor of the populace.
Even the king himself remonstrated with the duke upon the
impropriety of his course. But the duke reminded his majesty that
their illustrious ancestor, Henry IV., had been thus brought up,
having been sent by his mother to the public school in Berne.
One of the Paris journals, commenting upon this republican measure of
the duke, wrote: "Already has the Duke of Chartres, the eldest son of
the Duke of Orleans, entered a college in Paris; a natural thing, it
may be said, provided he is only old enough to comprehend the course
of study. Princes have not hitherto been seen in public colleges
since princes and colleges were in existence; and this noble youth is
the first who has been educated in this manner.
"What would that great king Louis the Superb say--he who could not
tolerate the idea even of his illegitimate children being confounded
with the nobility of the kingdom, such was his sensitiveness in view
of the degradation of the blood royal--if he beheld his grand-nephew,
without page or Jesuit, at a public school, mixing with the common
herd of the human race, and disputing with them for prizes, sometimes
conquered, sometimes conqueror!"
CHAPTER VI.
THE DEATH OF LOUIS XVIII., AND REIGN OF CHARLES X.
1816-1830
Marriage of the Duke de Berri.--Family of the Duke de
Berri.--Assassination of the Duke de Berri.--The dying
scene.--Assembling of the royal family.--Noble conduct of
the Duchess de Berri.--Death and burial.--Character of Louis
XVIII.--Death of Louis XVIII.--Charles X. and family.--Ball
at the Palais Royal.--Striking remarks of the Duke of
Orleans.--Complaints against the crown.--The fatal
ordinances.--Character of the ministry.--M. de Bourmont.--Dramatic
scene.--Charles X. and his ministers.--Their unanimity.--The
antagonistic forces.--Issuing the ordinances.--Risings of
opposition.--Silencing the journals.--Diversity of counsel.--The
conflict in Paris.--Threatening aspect of affairs.--Incidents of
the battle.--Fraternization of the troops and the
populace.--Retreat of the king.--All Paris in arms.--Triumph of
the insurgents.--Success of the insurgents.--Tactics of General
Marmont.
We have alluded to the Duke de Berri, the second son of Count
d'Artois. As he became the father of Count de Chambord, the present
_Legitimist_ claimant of the throne of France, his career calls for
more minute mention.
On the 28th of March, 1816, the French people were informed, by an
announcement to both of the Chambers, that the young Duke de Berri
was about to enter into a matrimonial alliance with Caroline Mary,
eldest daughter of the heir to the crown of Naples. Caroline Mary was
the niece of the Duchess of Orleans, being the child of her brother.
The Chambers, in token of their satisfaction, voted the Duke de Berri
a nuptial gift amounting to three hundred thousand dollars. The duke
manifested his generous character, and won great popularity, by
accepting the gift only upon condition that he might be allowed to
distribute the sum among the poor in the provinces, who were then
suffering severely from famine.
The marriage proved a happy one, until death sundered the tie.
Caroline Mary, who thus became the Duchess de Berri, was of
sylph-like grace of figure, beautiful in features, and by her affable
manners and unaffected amiability won all hearts. Four years glided
swiftly away. Two children were born, a son and a daughter; both died
in infancy. A third child proved to be a daughter. As, by an ancient
law of the realm, daughters were not eligible to the throne of
France, there was great anxiety felt throughout the kingdom. Unless a
prince were born, there would be a failure in the direct line of
succession, and civil war might be the result. On the 13th of
February, the duke and duchess attended the opera. The duchess was
expecting soon again to be a mother. By the sudden opening of a door,
she was unexpectedly struck in the side with violence, which caused
her some alarm, and she expressed the wish to return home.
The duke led her to her carriage. She took her seat in it, saying to
him with a smile, "Adieu; we shall soon meet again." As the duke was
returning to the opera, an assassin, by the name of Louvel, who had
been lying in wait for him, sprang from the darkness of a projecting
wall, and seizing the duke by the shoulder with one hand, with the
other plunged a dagger to the hilt in his side. It was the deed of an
instant, and the assassin, in the darkness, fled, leaving the dagger
in the side of the victim.
The footman was just closing the door of the carriage of the duchess
when she heard her husband cry out, "I am assassinated! I am dead! I
have the poniard! That man has killed me!" With a shriek, the duchess
sprang from her carriage and clasped her husband in her arms, as the
gushing blood followed the dagger which he drew from the wound.
"I am dead!" exclaimed the duke. "Send for a priest. Come, dearest,
let me die in your arms!"
[Illustration: ASSASSINATION OF THE DUKE DE BERRI.]
The dying man was conveyed to an adjoining room, and medical
attendance was summoned. Nothing could staunch the gushing blood, and
life was rapidly ebbing away. The duke was informed that the assassin
was arrested. "Alas!" he said, "how cruel it is to die by the hands
of a Frenchman!" Overhearing some one say to the almost distracted
duchess that he hoped the wound would not prove fatal, the duke
replied, "No; I am not deceived; the poniard has entered to the
hilt." His sight became dim, and he inquired, "Caroline, are you
there?" "Yes," she answered, "and I will never leave you."
His father's confessor, the Bishop of Chartres, entered, and the
dying man had a few moments of private conversation with the
ecclesiastic. He then called for his infant daughter. She was brought
to him, asleep, for it was near midnight. Placing his hand upon her
head, he said, "Poor child! may you be less unfortunate than the rest
of your family."
The wound ceased to bleed externally, and its inward flow threatened
suffocation. The duke's physician, M. Boujou, endeavored to restore
circulation by sucking the wound. "What are you doing?" exclaimed the
duke. "For God's sake stop! Perhaps the poniard was poisoned."
Respiration was now very difficult, and the hand of the duke was
clammy with the damp of death. As a last resort, the surgeon, with
his knife, opened and enlarged the wound. The duke, grasping the hand
of the duchess, patiently bore the painful operation, and then said,
"Spare me further pain."
Turning to his wife, whom he tenderly loved, he said, "Caroline, take
care of yourself for the sake of our infant, which you bear in your
bosom."
The duke and the duchess of Orleans, being immediately summoned, were
the first of the relatives to arrive in this chamber of death. They
were speedily followed by the Count d'Artois, the father of the
sufferer, and by the Duke d'Angouleme, his elder brother. Other
members of the royal family soon arrived. In the feeble accents of
approaching death, the duke inquired,
"Who is the man who has killed me? I wish I could see him, to inquire
into his motives. Perhaps it is some one whom I have unconsciously
offended. Would that I might live long enough to ask the king to
pardon him. Promise me, my father, promise me, my brother, to ask of
the king the life of that man."
Another touching scene, of a very delicate nature, which I can not
refrain from recording occurred in this solemn hour. It was manifest
to the duke, as well as to all of his friends, that before the hour
should expire the spirit of the dying would pass to the tribunal of
that God in whose presence both prince and peasant are alike. The
memory of all past sins, in such an hour, often crowds the soul with
its tumultuous array. In whispering tones, inaudible to others, a few
words were interchanged between the dying man and his wife. Then two
illegitimate children, who were born to the duke when he was an exile
in London, were brought in. It seems that he had ever recognized them
as his own, and that they had been protected and fostered by both
himself and his lawful wife.
As these children entered the chamber, and knelt, sobbing
convulsively, at their father's dying bed, the duke embraced them
tenderly, and, turning his fading eye to his wife, said,
"I know you sufficiently, Caroline, to be assured that, after me, you
will take care of these orphans."
The duchess responded in an action far more impressive than words.
Taking her own babe into her arms from its nurse, she drew the
unfortunate children to her bosom, and said, "Kiss your sister." It
was a noble deed. All eyes were suffused in tears. Few can read the
simple record without emotion.
The duke then received, from the bishop, absolution, repeatedly
attempting the prayer, "My God, pardon me, pardon me; and pardon the
man who has taken my life!"
Just then the king, Louis XVIII., who was very infirm, arrived. "My
uncle," said the dying man, "give me your hand, that I may kiss it
for the last time. I entreat you, in the name of my death, to spare
the life of that man."
The king replied, "You are not so ill as you suppose. We will speak
of this again."
"Ah!" exclaimed the duke, "you do not say yes. The pardon of that man
would have softened my last moments, if I could die with the
assurance that his blood would not flow after my death."
These were his last words. There was a slight gasping, a convulsive
shuddering passed over his frame, and the spirit of the duke took its
flight to the judgment-seat of Christ. The remains were conveyed,
with much funereal pageantry, to the vaults of St. Denis, the ancient
mausoleum of the kings of France. Louvel, a miserable fanatic, who
sought notoriety by the murder of a prince, expiated his crime upon
the scaffold.
Seven months after this assassination, on the 20th of September,
1820, the Duchess de Berri gave birth to a son. He was christened
Henry, duke of Bordeaux. He is now known as the Count de Chambord,
the _Legitimist_ candidate for the throne of France. Indeed the
Legitimists regard him as their lawful sovereign, though in exile,
and give him the title of Henry V.
Louis XVIII. retained the throne, upon which the Allies had placed
him, for eight years, until his death. He was a good-natured,
kind-hearted old man, but so infirm from gout and excessive obesity,
that he could with difficulty walk, and he was wheeled around his
saloons in a chair. Lamartine, whose poetic nature ever bowed almost
with adoration before hereditary royalty, gives the following
pleasing account of his character:
"His natural talent, cultivated, reflective, and quick, full
of recollections, rich in anecdotes, nourished by philosophy,
enriched by quotations, never deformed by pedantry, rendered
him equal, in conversation to the most renowned literary
characters of his age. M. De Chateaubriand had not more
elegance, M. De Talleyrand more wit, Madame De Stael more
brilliancy. Since the suppers of Potsdam, where the genius
of Voltaire met the capacity of Frederick the Great, never
had the cabinet of a prince been the sanctuary of more
philosophy, literature, talent, and taste."
To this it should be added that he was devoted to the interests of
the aristocracy; that his mind was almost exclusively occupied in
making happy hits in conversation, and in writing graceful
_billet-doux_; that the priests and the nobles controlled him through
the all-persuasive influence of the fascinating Madame Du Cayla. He
died on the 16th of September, 1824. As his last hour approached, and
his extremities became cold, and it was manifest that he had but a
few moments to live, his mind remained clear and composed. Assuming a
cheerful air, he said to his family, gathered around his bed:
"A king of France may die, but he is never ill. Love each other, and
thus console yourselves for the disasters of our house. Providence
has replaced us upon the throne."
He then received extreme unction, bade adieu to all, and, ordering
the curtains of his bed to be closed, composed himself as for
ordinary sleep. With the earliest dawn of the morning the chief
physician opened the curtains, and found that his pulse was just
ceasing to beat. In a few moments he breathed his last. In accordance
with court etiquette the physician said, solemnly, "The king is
dead." Then, turning to the king's brother, Charles, previously known
as the Count d'Artois, he bowed and said, "Long live the king."
Charles X., into whose hands the sceptre thus passed, was then in the
sixty-seventh year of his age--having been born in Versailles,
October 9, 1757. This unfortunate monarch is represented, by his
friends, as having been one of the most accomplished of men. His
horsemanship attracted universal admiration. In all social circles he
charmed every one who approached him by his grace and courtesy. He
was warm-hearted and generous. Though in early life a man of
pleasure, he had become quite a devotee; and, to an extraordinary
degree, was under the influence of the priesthood. Leaving the
affairs of State in the hands of others, he gave his time, his
thoughts, his energies, to the pleasures of the chase. This pursuit
became, not his recreation, but the serious occupation of his life.
Charles was the father of two sons. The eldest, and consequently the
heir to the crown, was the Duke d'Angouleme. He had married the
daughter of Louis XVI., whose sufferings, with her brother, the
dauphin, in the Temple, have moved the sympathies of the whole
civilized world. The duke and duchess were childless, and with no
hope of offspring.
His second son, the Duke de Berri, had been assassinated, as we have
mentioned, about four years before, as he was coming from the opera,
leaving his wife _enciente_. In the course of a few months she gave
birth to a son--the Duke of Bordeaux. This child--now called Count de
Chambord--was the legitimate heir to the throne, next to his uncle,
the Duke d'Angouleme.
Six years of the reign of Charles X. passed away, during which the
discontent of the people was continually making itself increasingly
manifest. They regarded the Government as false to the claims of the
masses, and devoted only to the interests of the aristocracy.
The spirit of discontent which had long been brooding now rose in
loud and angry clamor everywhere around the throne. The court was
blind to its peril; but thoughtful men perceived that the elements
for a moral earthquake were fast accumulating. In the midst of these
hourly increasing perils, the Duke of Orleans, on the 31st of May,
1830, gave a ball at the Palais Royal in honor of his father-in-law,
the King of Naples. This festival was of such splendor as to astonish
even splendor-loving Paris, and was long remembered as one of the
most brilliant entertainments the metropolis had ever witnessed. The
immense fortune of the duke, his refined taste, and the grandeur of
the saloons of his ancestral palace, enabled him almost to outvie
royalty itself in the brilliance of the fete.
Vast amphitheatres bloomed with flowers in Eden-like profusion. The
immense colonnades of the Palais Royal were crowded with
orange-trees, whose opening buds filled the air with fragrance, and
whose clusters of golden fruit enhanced the beauty of the scene. The
spacious roofs and rotundas of glass sparkled with thousands of
wax-lights, creating a spectacle so gorgeous and glittering that even
those who were accustomed to royal splendor were reminded of the
enchanter's palace in Oriental fable.
The marriage of the Duke de Berri, the son of Charles X. with
Caroline Mary, niece of the Duchess of Orleans, had produced some
reconciliation between the Bourbon and the Orleans branches of the
royal family. The king and his family this evening, for the first
time, in regal state visited the Palais Royal. As the duke was
receiving the congratulations of his guests upon the marvellous
splendor which the palace presented, thronged with courtiers
sparkling with jewels and decorated with all the costly and
glittering costumes of the old regime, one of the guests, M.
Salvandy, shrewdly observed to the duke,
"It is, indeed, quite a Neapolitan fete, your highness, for we dance
upon a volcano."
The duke with some emotion replied, "That there is a volcano here I
believe as firmly as you do. But I know that the fault is not mine. I
shall not have any occasion, hereafter, to reproach myself for not
having endeavored to open the eyes of the king. But what could be
expected when nothing is listened to? God only knows where all this
will end--I certainly do not foresee what is about to happen. I can
not tell where all those who are producing this state of things will
be in six months hence; but one thing I do know, which is, where I
shall be myself.
"Under all circumstances or changes which may occur, my family and
myself will remain in this palace. This is our throne. Whatever may
be the peril of so doing, I shall not move from the home of my
fathers. I shall never again consent to separate the fate and fortune
of myself and children from those of my country. This is my
unchangeable determination."
One of the saloons contained two very fine paintings of Montmiral and
Champ-Aubert, two towns in France in which Napoleon, heroically
struggling against dynastic Europe combined in arms against him,
signally defeated and drove back the Allies. The duke, being asked
why he allowed paintings commemorative of the victories of the Empire
to hang upon his walls, replied, "Because I like every thing French."
Soon after this the popular complaints against the crown became so
general, so bitter, and the excitement so great, that the king, by
the advice of the ministers who governed him, issued several
ordinances which were regarded by the people as so despotic, as so
subversive of all popular rights, as to call for resistance by
insurrection and the force of arms.
The first of these famous ordinances suspended the liberty of the
press, and prohibited the publication of any journals excepting such
as were authorized by the Government.
The second dissolved the new Chamber of Deputies, or Legislature,
because the members were too liberal in their political opinions,
assuming that the electors had been deceived by the popular clamor,
and had chosen such persons as they ought not to have chosen.
The third reduced the number of deputies from three hundred and
ninety-five to two hundred and twenty-eight, and so altered the
electoral franchise, in order to secure the return of members
favorable to the Government, as to deprive a large number of the
right of suffrage who had heretofore exercised it.
Such, in brief, were the ordinances which overthrew the throne of
Charles X. and drove the elder branch of the Bourbons into exile.
There were others issued at the same time, but which were of no
material importance.
Frivolous as was the character of Charles X., he had sagacity enough
to know that such decrees could not be issued in France without
creating intense agitation. His ministers also, though the advocates
of the despotic principles of the old regime, were men of ability.
They recognized the measures as desperate. Popular discontent had
reached such a crisis that it was necessary either to silence it by
despotic power or yield to it, introducing reforms which would
deprive the ministers of their places.
Prince Polignac was at this time prime minister. His mother had been
the bosom-friend of Maria Antoinette. Through his whole life he was
the unswerving friend of the Bourbons. Implicated in the plot of
Georges for the overthrow of the First Consul, he was condemned to
death. Napoleon spared his life, and finally liberated him, upon
which he followed Count d'Artois (Charles X.) into exile. Returning
with the Bourbons, in the rear of the Allied armies, he was rewarded
for his life-long fidelity to the ancient regime by the highest
honors.
The sorrows of life had left their impress upon his pensive features.
He was well-read, very decided in his views that the people were made
to _be governed_, not to govern. He was energetic, but possessed of
so little worldly wisdom that he thought that the people, however
much exasperated, could be easily subdued by determined action.
M. de la Bourdonnaye, Minister of the Interior, like Polignac, was an
ultra Royalist. He had been one of the most violent of the Vendeans
in their opposition to the Revolution, and is represented, even by
those who were in sympathy with him, as wishing to govern by a
royalist reign of terror.
M. de Bourmont, Minister of War, had been a staunch Royalist in the
days of the Revolution, struggling with the Vendeans in defense of
the monarchy. Upon the establishment of the Empire he gave his
adhesion to Napoleon. Being a man of ability, he was placed in
responsible posts. At Waterloo, upon the eve of the great struggle,
he deserted to the Allies, carrying as his peace-offering the
betrayal of the emperor's plan of campaign. It is supposed that his
testimony against Marshal Ney sealed the fate of that illustrious
man. The French people had not forgotten his defection at Waterloo,
and he was exceedingly unpopular.
These were the prominent ministers. The other members of the cabinet,
though men of ability, were not of historic note. The original
appointment of these ministers, whose opinions were so obnoxious and
well known, had caused great indignation. The liberal press assailed
them with vehemence. The _Journal des Debats_, after announcing the
names of the ministers, exclaimed:
"The emigration of M. de Polignac, the fury of proscription
of M. de la Bourdonnaye, desertion to the enemy in M. de
Bourmont--such are the three principles in the three leading
persons of the administration. Press upon it. Nothing but
humiliation, misfortune, and danger will drive it from power."
M. Guizot was then editor of the journal _Le Temps_. He had already
attained renown. His weighty editorials, distinguished alike for
cogent argument and depth of philosophical thought, carried
conviction to the most intelligent minds. M. Thiers was editor of the
_Nationale_. His great abilities, already developed in his "History
of the French Revolution," had given him a commanding position among
the journalists on the liberal side. Both of these distinguished
writers, and many others, assailed the ministry with such popular
effect, that it was clear that their utterances must be silenced, or
the ministry must fall. Hence the _Ordinances_ were issued.
The scene at the signing of these ordinances is represented by
Lamartine as quite dramatic. The important measure of the _coup
d'etat_ was anxiously discussed under the pledge of secrecy. The
project of the ministers was cordially approved by the king. He is
reported to have said:
"It is not the ministry, it is the crown, which is attacked. It is
the cause of the throne against revolution which is at issue. One or
the other must succumb. I recollect what occurred in 1789. The first
step my unhappy brother, Louis XVI., made in retreat before the
revolutionists was the signal of his ruin. They, too, pretended
fidelity to the crown, and demanded only the dismissal of its
ministers. He yielded, and all was lost. Gentlemen, I will not
dismiss you. No! Let them conduct us, if they please, to the
scaffold. But let us fight for our rights; and if we are to fall,
fall sword in hand. I had rather be led to execution on horseback
than in a cart."
On the morning of the 25th of July, 1830, the king and his ministers
met at the palace of St. Cloud to sign the fatal ordinances. They all
seem to have been in some degree aware of the peril of the step. Many
of them had passed a sleepless night, and were deeply impressed with
the solemnity of the occasion. They sat pale, silent, anxious, as
Prince Polignac slowly read the ordinances and presented them to the
king for his signature. Charles X. took the pen, turned pale, and for
a moment hesitated. Then raising his eyes to heaven, as if imploring
Divine aid, he said, "The more I think of it, the more I am convinced
that it is impossible to do otherwise than I do." With these words he
affixed his signature to the document which expelled him and his
dynasty from France.[U]
[Footnote U: "The ministers took their places in silence around the
fatal table. Charles X. had the dauphin on his right and M. de
Polignac on his left. He questioned each of his servants, one after
another, and when he came to M. d'Hausrez, that minister repeated his
observations of the preceding day. 'Do you refuse?' inquired Charles
X. 'Sire,' replied the minister, 'may I be allowed to address one
question to the king? Is your majesty resolved on proceeding, should
your ministers draw back?' 'Yes,' said Charles, firmly. The minister
of marine took the pen and signed.
"When all the signatures were affixed, there was a solemn and awful
pause. An expression of high-wrought energy, mingled with uneasiness,
sat on the faces of the ministers. M. de Polignac's alone wore a look
of triumph. Charles X. walked up and down the room with perfect
composure."--_France under Louis Philippe_, by Louis Blanc, p. 107.]
The ministers, one after another, countersigned the ordinances. Not a
word was spoken. "Despair," says Alison, "was painted on every
visage." Polignac, in the temporary absence of M. Bourmont, was
acting Minister of War. In reply to the inquiry what means of
resistance the Government had in case of insurrection, he replied,
with confidence equal to his self-deception,
"No popular movement is to be apprehended. At all events, Paris is
sufficiently garrisoned to crush any rebellion and guarantee public
tranquillity."
The force upon which Polignac relied consisted of 11,550 men in
Paris, with twelve pieces of cannon. There were also fifteen
battalions of infantry and thirty-four squadrons of cavalry stationed
in towns not far distant, which could be rapidly collected to aid the
troops within the walls. On the other hand, the city of Paris, in a
general insurrection, could furnish 200,000 fighting men. Many of
these had seen actual service. There was a National Guard, the
militia of the metropolis, organized and well armed, consisting of
40,000 men. A portion of the royal troops, also, could not be relied
upon in a struggle with the people. General Marmont, one of the
marshals of the Empire, was in command of the Royalist troops. He was
exceedingly unpopular in Paris, in consequence of the feeble defense
it was thought he made when the city was captured by the Allies.
The ordinances were secretly printed, and during the night of the
25th were placarded on the walls of Paris. They also appeared
simultaneously the next morning in the _Moniteur_. Though some of the
more sagacious had been suspecting that the Government might resort
to measures of desperation, these ordinances took the whole community
by surprise. Crowds gathered in the coffee-houses, at the doors of
the public journals, and in all the prominent places of resort. There
was no sudden ebullition of indignation, and no immediate
demonstrations of violence. The event had come so suddenly that the
masses were unprepared for action, and the leaders required time to
decide whether it were best to attempt forcible resistance, and, if
so, what measures to that end could most effectually be adopted.
Though throughout the day no insurrectionary movements appeared,
still agitation was rapidly on the increase, and Paris represented a
bee-hive into which some disturbing element had been cast.
The editors of the leading journals, and several others of the most
illustrious advocates of liberal opinions, held a consultation upon
the state of affairs. But night came, and the result of their
deliberations was not made known. The day had been serene and
beautiful, inviting all the population of Paris into the streets. The
balmy summer night kept them there. Innumerable rumors increased the
excitement, and it was evident that a few words from influential lips
would create an insurrection, which might amount to a revolution.
The gentlemen who had met in conference--forty-four in number--after
careful deliberation, and having obtained the opinion of the most
celebrated lawyers that the ordinances were illegal, gallantly
resolved to resist them at the hazard of their lives. They
accordingly issued a protest, to which each one affixed his
signature. The boldness of the act commanded the admiration even of
the advocates of arbitrary power. In their protest they said:
"The Government has lost the character of legality which
commands obedience. We _resist_ it in so far as we are
concerned. It is for France to determine how far resistance
should extend."
The liberal journals refused to take out the license the ordinances
required. This act of defiance the Government met by sending the
police to seize the journals and close their printing-offices. A
commissary of police, with two gendarmes, repaired to the office of
the _Temps_, edited by M. Guizot, in the Boulevard des Italiens. They
found the doors barred against them. A blacksmith was sent for to
force the entrance. This collected a crowd, and he refused to act in
obedience to the police. A second blacksmith was sent for. As he
commenced operations the crowd took his tools from him. At length,
however, an entrance was effected, and a seal was put upon the
printing-presses. This scene, occurring in one of the most populous
thoroughfares of Paris, created intense agitation. Still, thus far,
there had been so little commotion that the king and his ministers
were quite sanguine that their measures would prove triumphant.
Charles X. was so infatuated that on that morning--the 26th--he went
to Rambouillet, and spent the day in hunting.
During the night of the 26th there was another very important meeting
of the leaders of the liberal party at the mansion of M. Casimir
Perier. About thirty were present. Nearly all were members of the
Chamber of Deputies, and in intellectual strength were among the
most illustrious men in France. Anxiously, yet firmly, they
discussed the course to be pursued. It was a fearful question to
decide. Submission placed France, bound helplessly hand and foot,
under the heel of Bourbon despotism. Unsuccessful insurrection would
consign them either to life-long imprisonment in the dungeon or to
death upon the scaffold.
All agreed in condemning the ordinances as illegal. The more cautious
hesitated at rousing the energies of insurrection, and submitting the
issue to the decision of the sword. The young and impetuous advocated
an immediate appeal to arms. While deliberating, a deputation
appeared professing to represent the electors of Paris, and urged
that, as the Government was manifestly resolved to support the
despotic ordinances by force, nothing remained to the people but to
have recourse to insurrection. It was also stated that nearly all the
workmen from the manufactories were in the streets, eager to throw up
barricades and to defend their rights at every hazard.
At the same time committees presented themselves from various bodies
of young men, urging the deputies to take the lead of the patriot
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