The hours were fast darkening into despair. Messengers were anxiously sent to the Palais Royal, the sumptuous city residence of the duke, to ascertain if he had arrived. No tidings could be heard from him. The domestics seemed to be packing up the valuables in preparation for removal. The utter failure of Beranger and his associates to gain the co-operation of the Democrats was reported. The decisive resolution adopted at the Hotel de Ville was known. All seemed lost. There was nothing before the eye but a frightful vision of anarchy and bloodshed. A general panic seized all those assembled in the apartments of Lafitte, and there was a sudden dispersion. It was near midnight; but three persons were left—Lafitte, Adolphe Thibodeaux, and Benjamin Constant. A few moments of anxious conversation ensued.

"What will become of us to-morrow?" sadly inquired Lafitte.

"We shall all be hanged," replied Benjamin Constant, in the calm aspect of despair.

In this crisis of affairs, matters threatened to become still more involved by two energetic young men, M. Ladvocat and M. Dumoulin, who proposed to bring forward the claims of the Empire. The name of Napoleon then pronounced in the streets, and the unfurling of the eagle-crowned banner under any recognized representative of his renown, would, perhaps, have called a party into being which would instantly have overridden all others. This peril was adroitly averted by the sagacity of M. Thiers and M. Mignet. By their powerful persuasion they induced M. Ladvocat to desist from the attempt The other young man, who was found inflexible in his resolve, they lured into a room in the Hotel de Ville, where they caused him to be arrested and imprisoned.

In the following terms Louis Blanc describes this singular event:

"While every one was seeking to realize his wishes, a few voices only were heard uttering the name of the emperor in a city that had so long echoed to that sound. Two men without influence, military reputation, or celebrity of any kind, MM. Ladvocat and Dumoulin, conceived, for a while, the idea of proclaiming the Empire. M. Thiers easily persuaded one of them that fortune gives herself to him who hastens to seize her. The other appeared, dressed as an orderly-officer, in the great hall of the Hotel de Ville. But, being politely requested by M. Carbonel to pass into an adjoining room, he was there locked up and kept prisoner.

"This is one of those curiosities of history the key of which is found in the grovelling nature of most human ambition. The son of Napoleon was far away. For those who were actuated by vulgar hopes, to wait was to run the risk of losing those first favors which are always easiest to obtain from a government that has need to win forgiveness for its accession. Nevertheless, Napoleon's memory lived in the hearts of the people. But what was requisite to the crowning of the immortal victim of Waterloo in the first-born of his race?—That an old general should appear in the streets, draw his sword, and shout, Vive Napoleon II!

"But no; General Gourgaud alone made some tentative efforts. Napoleon, besides, had pigmied all minds round his own. The imperial regime had kindled in the plebeians he had abruptly ennobled a burning thirst for place and distinction. The Orleanist party recruited itself among all those whose promptitude to revive the Empire needed, perhaps, but one flash of hardihood, a leader, and a cry. Of all the generals whose fortunes were of imperial growth, Subervic alone gave his voice for a Republic in M. Lafitte's saloons—at least he was the only one that was remarked. Thus all was over as regards Napoleon. And some little time after this, a young colonel, in the service of Austria, died beyond the Rhine—the frail representative of a dynasty whose last breath passed away with him."[X]

[Footnote X: "The History of Ten Years," by Louis Blanc, vol. i, p. 187.]

When Louis Blanc penned these lines he little supposed that but a few years would pass away ere the almost unanimous voice of the French people would call Napoleon III. to the throne of France, and that under his energetic sway France would enjoy for twenty years prosperity at home and influence abroad which almost eclipsed the splendors of the first Empire.

In the mean time an agitated crowd poured out through the gates of Paris, and, invading Neuilly, surrounded the chateau, intending to seize the Duke of Orleans and carry him into the city. But he, as we have mentioned, had retired to Rancy. The leaders of this multitude, professing to be a deputation from the Chamber of Deputies, demanded to see the duchess, and informed her that they should take her and her children as hostages to the city, and there keep them until the duke should appear in Paris. The duchess, terrified in view of the peril to which she and her children would be exposed in the hands of an ungovernable mob, wrote to her husband entreating him to return immediately.

Thus influenced, the duke resolved to repair to Paris. The streets were thronged with an excited mob, who would surely assassinate him should he be recognized. The peril of his family overcame his constitutional timidity. In disguise, accompanied by three persons only, who were also disguised, this reluctant candidate for one of the most brilliant of earthly crowns, a little before midnight, set out on foot from his rural retreat; and, entering Paris, traversed the thronged streets, with Republican cries resounding everywhere about him. In several instances the mob, little aware whom they were assailing, compelled him to respond to the cry. Upon reaching his sumptuous palace, sometime after midnight, he threw himself, in utter exhaustion, upon a couch, and sent the welcome announcement to his friends of his arrival. M. de Montmart, one of the most prominent of the Orleans party, immediately called. He found the duke in a state of extreme agitation, bathed in sweat, undressed, and covered only with a light spread.

The duke gave vehement utterance to his perplexities and alarm. He declared his devotion to the principles of Legitimacy, and his inalienable attachment to his friends and relatives of the elder branch of the Bourbon family. He remonstrated against the cruelty of placing him in the false position of their antagonist, saying, "I would rather die than accept the crown." Seizing a pen, he wrote a letter to Charles X., full of protestations of loyalty and homage. M. de Montmart concealed this epistle in the folds of his cravat, and it was conveyed to the fugitive king.

This epistle was probably intended only to be a forcible expression of the extreme reluctance with which Louis Philippe yielded to those influences which seemed morally to compel him to accept the crown. Charles X. was cruelly deceived by the letter. He interpreted it to signify that the Duke of Orleans would remain firm in his allegiance to the dynasty which had been driven by successful insurrection from Paris.



At an early hour the next morning, a delegation from the Chamber of Deputies, with General Sebastiani at its head, arrived at the Palais Royal. The agitations of the hour were such that, without waiting for an announcement, they broke into the presence of the duke with the entreaty that he would accept from them the lieutenant-generalcy of the kingdom, which was merely the stepping-stone to the throne. The duke was still very undecided, or, to save appearances, feigned to be so. The deputies assured him that the crisis was so imperious, that not only the destinies of France, but also his own life, were probably dependent upon his accepting the appointment. The duke implored a few more moments for private reflection, and retired to his cabinet with General Sebastiani, who was then hurriedly dispatched to the hotel of M. Talleyrand in the Rue St. Florentin. Talleyrand had been one of the firmest supporters of Legitimacy. Louis Philippe sought his advice. The wily statesman, who had lived through so many revolutions, had not yet left his bed-chamber, and was dressing. He, however, promptly returned the sealed answer, "Let him accept."

The duke hesitated no longer. Returning to the Deputies, he announced his decision. The most vigorous action was now required. A proclamation to the inhabitants of Paris was immediately drawn up in the name of Louis Philippe, and which was unanimously agreed to by the delegation, announcing that, in obedience to the wishes of the Deputies, he had assumed the office of lieutenant-general of France. At the same time, the illustrious writer, M. Guizot, was intrusted with the duty of preparing a more full exposition of the principles of the Orleanist party, which was to be signed by ninety-one of the Deputies. The proclamation issued by Louis Philippe, and which was simply expanded in the longer one drawn up by M. Guizot, was as follows:

"INHABITANTS OF PARIS,—The Deputies, at this moment assembled in Paris, have expressed their desire that I should betake myself to this capital to exercise there the functions of lieutenant-general of the kingdom. I have not hesitated to come and partake of your dangers, to place myself in the midst of this heroic population, and use all my endeavors to preserve you from civil war and anarchy. On entering the city of Paris, I wore with pride those glorious colors you have resumed, and which I had myself long carried.

"The Chambers are about to assemble. They will consult on the means of securing the reign of the laws and the maintenance of the rights of the nation. A charter shall be henceforth a true thing.

"LOUIS PHILIPPE D'ORLEANS."



CHAPTER IX.

LOUIS PHILIPPE'S THRONE.

1830

The duke at the Hotel de Ville.—Discordant cries.—Decisive action of Lafayette.—The social contract.—Singular statement.—Support of the journals.—Endeavors to reconcile the democracy.—The treaties of 1815.—The duke interviewed.—Interesting statement of Chateaubriand.—The conversation.—Counsel of Chateaubriand.—Termination of the interview.—Remonstrance of M. Arago.—Flattering offers to Chateaubriand.—Speech of Viscount Chateaubriand.—Resolve passed by the Deputies.—Louis Philippe chosen king.—Subsequent vote for Napoleon.—Reply of the Duke of Orleans.—Testimony of Alison.—The inauguration.

By the movement chronicled in the previous chapter, the Duke of Orleans became virtually dictator. Could his dictatorship be maintained, it was of course a death-blow to all other parties. The Republican party, weak as it was if we consider the whole of France, was strong in the streets of Paris. It was a matter of great moment to try to conciliate the leaders of that party. It was soon evident that this would be no easy matter. The proclamation of the duke was very angrily received in the streets. Loud mutterings were heard. Those who were distributing the proclamation were fiercely assailed, and one of the agents narrowly escaped with his life.

At length the bold resolve was adopted for the Duke of Orleans to go in person to the Hotel de Ville, accompanied by an escort of Deputies. A throng of Orleanists surrounded the Palais Royal and cheered the duke as he came out. As the procession advanced, insulting shouts began to assail their ears. The duke was on horseback. The Place de Greve was thronged with Republicans. Angry outcries greeted him. "He is a Bourbon," some shouted; "away with him! We will have nothing to do with him."

Benjamin Constant and Beranger mingled with the crowd, doing every thing in their power to appease and calm it. It was feared, every moment, that some pistol-shot would strike the duke from his horse. His countenance was pale and care-worn; but there was no visible perturbation. Having with difficulty forced his way through the angry crowd, Louis Philippe alighted from his horse and ascended the stairs. Lafayette, who was already in heart in sympathy with the Orleanist movement, came forth courteously to meet him, and conducted him to the great hall of the palace. There was here a very excited interview, the more passionate of the Orleanists and of the Republicans coming very near to blows. But Lafayette and the most illustrious men of the liberal party, seeing no other possible way of rescuing France from anarchy, now openly espoused the cause of Louis Philippe.

Lafayette took the Duke of Orleans by the hand, and led him out upon a balcony, where they were in view of the vast multitude swarming in the vacant space below. The devotion of the marquis to popular rights was universally known. He could not, in that tumultuous hour, make his voice heard. But in the use of action, more expressive than words, he threw his arms around the neck of the duke in an affectionate embrace. The best part of the multitude accepted this as the indorsement of his fitness for the trust, by one in whom they could confide. It was on this occasion that the following incident occurred:

"You know," said Lafayette to Louis Philippe, "that I am a Republican, and that I regard the Constitution of the United States as the most perfect that has ever existed."

"I think as you do," Louis Philippe replied. "It is impossible to have passed two years in the United States, as I have done, and not be of that opinion. But do you think that in the present state of France a republican government can be adopted?"

"No," said Lafayette; "that which is necessary for France now is a throne, surrounded by republican institutions. All must be republican."

"That is precisely my opinion," rejoined Louis Philippe.

After this scene, the duke, immensely strengthened in his position, returned to the Palais Royal, accompanied by a decided increase of acclamations. Still there were many murmurs. The people could not forget that he was by birth an aristocrat and a Bourbon; that he had taken no part, either by word or deed, in the conflict for the overthrow of the despotic throne; that, concealed in the recesses of his palace at Neuilly, he had not shown his face in Paris until the conflict in which they were shedding their blood was terminated, and that then he had come merely to assume a crown.

Immediately after the withdrawal of Louis Philippe from the Hotel de Ville, Lafayette and his friends drew up a programme, or social contract, in which they endeavored to reconcile republican institutions with the forms of a monarchy. Lafayette himself took this contract to the Palais Royal, and submitted it to the duke. He gave it apparently his candid consent. There were, however, Legitimists as well as Republicans who had no faith in this union. The Abbe Gregoire is reported to have exclaimed in disgust, "Good God, are we then to have both a republic and a king?"

There were yet many dangers to be encountered. The word king had not been distinctly spoken. And still the supreme power was placed in the hands of Louis Philippe, the Duke of Orleans. It was necessary to the more full organization of the government that he should be recognized as a sovereign. But it was no easy matter to reconcile the populace of Paris to the idea of placing a Bourbon at the head of the new government.

"To obviate the unfavorable impression thus produced," writes Alison, "the Orleans committee prepared and placarded all over Paris a proclamation not a little surprising, considering that M. Mignet and M. Thiers were members of it—'The Duke of Orleans is not a Bourbon; he is a Valois.' A remarkable assertion to be made, by historians, of a lineal descendant of Henry IV., and of the brother of Louis XIV."

The leading journals had all been won over to the side of the Orleans party. We would not intimate that any unworthy means had been employed to secure their support. Such men as Thiers, Guizot, Mignet, are above suspicion. They doubtless felt, as did Lafayette, that the attempt to establish a Republic would result only in anarchy; that it would be impossible to maintain a Republic in a realm where the large majority of the people were monarchists. Still, it is obvious that the wealth of a party composed of nearly all the moneyed men in the kingdom, and whose leader was the richest noble in France, if not in Europe, was amply sufficient to present very persuasive influences to secure the support of any journalist who might be wavering. The result was, that nearly all the periodicals of the kingdom opened their broadsides against a Republic. They denounced that form of government as the sure precursor of anarchy, pillage, and a reign of terror, and as certain to embroil France in another war with combined Europe.

It was, indeed, greatly to be feared that the foreign dynasties, who would not allow France to lay aside the Bourbons and place Napoleon upon the throne, would resist, through the same devotion to the principles of legitimacy, the "usurpation" of Louis Philippe. To conciliate them it was necessary for the Duke of Orleans to represent that he was in sympathy with the hereditary thrones, co-operating with them in their advocacy of exclusive privilege, and that he was, providentially, a barrier to whom they owed a debt of gratitude, arresting France from rushing over to democracy. But the open avowal of these opinions would rouse the liberal party to desperation against him.

Notwithstanding all these efforts of the journalists to discredit republicanism in every possible way, there still remained a democratic party in Paris among the populace, led by very bold, impetuous, and determined men. These leaders had great influence with a portion of the people who could be easily roused to insurrection, which, however impotent, might still cause the streets of Paris to run red with blood. It was deemed a matter of much importance to win over these men. A meeting was arranged between them and the Duke of Orleans. M. Boinvilliers, a man who understood himself, and who was entirely unawed in the presence of dignitaries, was the spokesman of the delegation. His scrutinizing interrogatories embarrassed the duke exceedingly.

"To-morrow," said M. Boinvilliers, "you are to be king. What are your ideas upon the treaties of 1815?"

By the treaties which in that year the conquerors of Waterloo formed at Vienna, Europe was partitioned out among the dynasties, so as to bind the people hand and foot, and render any future uprising in behalf of liberty almost impossible. The River Rhine, since the days of Caesar, had been regarded as the natural boundary between France and Germany. Large provinces on the French banks of the Rhine were wrested from France and placed in the hands of Prussia, that, in case the French people should again endeavor to overthrow the aristocratic institutions of feudal despotism, the allied dynasties might have an unobstructed march open before them into the heart of France.

Though the Bourbons, replaced by foreign bayonets, had entered into this arrangement for their own protection against democracy, still, the discontent of the French people, in view of the degradation, was so great that even Charles X. was conspiring to regain the lost boundary. According to the testimony of his minister, Viscount Chateaubriand, he was entering into a secret treaty with Russia to aid the czar in his designs upon Turkey, and, in return, Russia was to aid France in regaining her lost Rhenish provinces. In reference to these treaties of 1815 even one of the British quarterlies has said:

"Though the most desperate efforts have been made by the English diplomatists to embalm them as monuments of political wisdom, they should be got under ground with all possible dispatch, for no compacts so worthless, so wicked, so utterly subversive of the rights of humanity, are to be found in the annals of nations."

When the question was asked of Louis Philippe, "What are your ideas upon the treaties of 1815?" his embarrassment was great. Should he say he approved of those treaties, all France would raise a cry of indignation. Should he say that he was prepared to assail them, all the surrounding dynasties would combine in hostility to his reign.

The reply of the duke was adroit. "I am no partisan to the treaties of 1815. But we must avoid irritating foreign powers."

The next question was still more embarrassing, for it was to be answered not only in the ears of this democratic delegation, but in the hearing of all aristocratic Europe eagerly listening. "What are your opinions upon the subject of an hereditary peerage?" Still the duke manifested no little skill in meeting it. He replied:

"In hereditary aristocracy is the best basis of society. But if the hereditary peerage can not maintain itself, I certainly shall not endow it. I was once a Republican; but I am convinced that a Republic is inapplicable to such a country as France."

The interview was unsatisfactory to the delegation, and the members retired in disgust.[Y]

[Footnote Y: Louis Blanc, i., 359.]

Chateaubriand, with all the ardor of his poetic and religious instincts, was a Legitimist. As the representative of the old Bourbon regime, he sought an audience with the duke, hoping to induce him to decline the crown, and to act in the interests of the expelled dynasty. In his "Memoires d'Outre Tombe," this illustrious man has given a minute account of the conversation which took place. Chateaubriand was received by the Duchess of Orleans, who very cordially invited him to take a seat near her. Rather abruptly she commenced the conversation by saying,

"Ah, Monsieur de Chateaubriand, we are very unhappy. If all parties could unite, we might yet be saved. What do you think about it?"

"Madame," Chateaubriand replied, "nothing is so easy. Charles X. and Monsieur the Dauphin have abdicated. Henry, the Duke of Bordeaux, is now king. The Duke of Orleans is lieutenant-general of the realm. Let him be regent during the minority of Henry V., and all is right."

"But, Monsieur de Chateaubriand," said the duchess, "the people are very much agitated. We shall fall into anarchy."

"Madame," replied Chateaubriand, "may I venture to inquire of you what is the intention of the Duke of Orleans? Will he accept the crown, if it is offered to him?"

The duchess, after a moment's hesitation, added, without replying to the question, "Reflect, Monsieur de Chateaubriand, upon the evils to which we are exposed. It is necessary that all good men should unite in the endeavor to save us from a Republic. You could render great service as ambassador to Rome, or in the ministry here, should you not wish to leave Paris."

"Madame is not ignorant," Chateaubriand rejoined, "of my devotion to the young king and to his mother. Your royal highness could not wish that I should give the lie to my whole life"—que je dementisse toute ma vie.

"Monsieur de Chateaubriand," replied the duchess, "you do not know my niece. She is so frivolous. Poor Caroline! But I will send for the Duke of Orleans. He can persuade you better than I can."

The duke soon entered, in dishevelled dress and with a countenance expressive of great anxiety and fatigue. After a few words, which Chateaubriand rather contemptuously records as an "idyl upon the pleasures of country life," Chateaubriand repeated what he had said to the duchess.

The duke exclaimed, "That is just what I should like. Nothing would please me better than to be the tutor and guardian of that child. I think just as you do, M. Chateaubriand. To take the Duke of Bordeaux would certainly be the best thing that could be done. I fear only that events are stronger than we."

"Stronger than we, my lord!" rejoined M. Chateaubriand. "Are you not esteemed by all the powers? Let us go and join Henry V. Call around you, outside the walls of Paris, the Chambers and the army. At the first tidings of your departure all this effervescence will cease, and every one will seek shelter under your protection and enlightened power."

The duke was much embarrassed. He seemed to avoid looking Chateaubriand in the face. With averted eyes he said, "The thing is more difficult than you imagine. It can not be accomplished. You do not know what peril we are in. A furious band can launch against the Chambers with the most frightful excesses; and we have no means of defense. Be assured that it is I alone who now hold back this menacing crowd. If the Royalist party be not massacred, it will owe its life solely to my efforts."

M. de Chateaubriand responded in brave words, which perhaps the occasion warranted:

"My lord, I have seen some massacres. Those who have passed through the Revolution are inured to war. The gray mustaches are not terrified by objects which frighten the conscripts."

These not very courteous remarks, which implied that, though the duke might be a coward, the viscount was not, terminated the interview.

Chateaubriand, then the most distinguished writer and illustrious orator in France, had prepared an "accusing and terrible speech," to be addressed to the Chamber of Peers, pleading the cause of the vanquished dynasty, and protesting against the Orleans usurpation.

"This news," writes Louis Blanc, "had reached the Palais Royal, which it threw into the utmost uneasiness. Such a danger was to be averted at any cost. Madame Adelaide saw M. Arago, and told him that he would entitle himself to unbounded gratitude if he would see M. de Chateaubriand and entreat him to forego his intended speech; upon which condition he should be assured of having his place in the administration.

"M. Arago called upon the illustrious poet and submitted to him that France had just been shaken to its inmost centre; that it was important to avoid exposing it to the risk of too sudden reactions; that the Duke of Orleans would have it in his power, on becoming king, to do much for public liberty; and that it became a man like Viscount de Chateaubriand to abstain from making himself the mouth-piece of the agitators at the commencement of a reign.

"He ended by telling him that a better means remained to him to serve his country with advantage, and that there would be no hesitation to bestow a portefeuille upon him—that of public instruction, for example. Chateaubriand shook his head suddenly, and replied that, of all he had just heard, that which most touched his heart was the consideration of what was due to the interests of France in its deeply disturbed condition; that he expected nothing, and would accept nothing upon the ruin of his hopes; but, since his speech might sow the seeds of rancor in his native land, he would soften down its tenor. This singular negotiation took place on the eve of the 7th of August."

The next evening, the 8th of August, there was a meeting of the Chamber of Peers. In the eloquent speech which M. Chateaubriand made in advocacy of the old regime, he said;

"A king named by the Chambers, or elected by the people, will ever be a novelty in France. I suppose they wish liberty—above all, the liberty of the press, by which and for which they have obtained so astonishing a victory. Well, every new monarchy, sooner or later, will be obliged to restrain that liberty. Was Napoleon himself able to admit it? The liberty of the press can not live in safety but under a government which has struck its roots deep into the hearts of men.

"A Republic is still more impracticable. In the existing state of our morals, and in our relations with the adjoining states, such a government is out of the question. The first difficulty would be to bring the French to any unanimous opinion upon the subject. What right have the people of Paris to impose a government, by their vote, on the people of Marseilles? What right have they to constrain any other town to receive the rulers which they have chosen, or the form of government which they have adopted? Shall we have one Republic, or twenty Republics? a federal union, or a commonwealth one and indivisible?

"Charles X. and his son are dethroned, or have abdicated, as you have heard. But the throne is not thereby vacant. After them a child is called to the succession; and who will venture to condemn his innocence? I know that in removing that child it is said you establish the sovereignty of the people. Vain illusion! which proves that in the march of intellect our old democrats have not made greater advances than the partisans of royalty. It were easy to show that men may be as free and freer under a Monarchy than a Republic. After all I have said, done, and written for the Bourbons, I should be the basest of the human race if I denied them when, for the third and last time, they are directing their steps towards exile."[Z]

[Footnote Z: Moniteur, August 3, 1830.]

On the morning of the next day, the 9th, the Chamber of Deputies met at the Palais Bourbon. It was a very exciting scene, and strong opposition was manifested against proclaiming the Duke of Orleans king. After an angry debate the motion was carried, that,

"Considering that the king, Charles X., his royal highness Louis Antoine, dauphin, and all the members of the elder branch of the royal family, are at this moment quitting French territory, the throne is declared to be vacant, de facto and de jure, and that it is indispensably needful to provide for the same."

The friends of the duke felt that their only hope consisted in driving the question to an immediate decision. The Chamber of Deputies had no legal authority to elect a king. M. Fleury demanded that the electoral colleges should be invoked to elect a new assembly, with special powers delegated to the Deputies to elect a king. The demand was not listened to. M. de Corcelles urged that the question should be submitted to the people, that the voice of universal suffrage might decide what should be the form of government for France, and who should be the sovereign. This proposition was rejected. The venerable Labbey de Pompieres then demanded that the voters should inscribe their names and their votes in a register. This they had not courage to do; for, in case of the return of the Bourbons, they would lose their heads.

"Thus," writes Louis Blanc, "the crown of France was voted as a simple matter of by-law regulation."

After some amendments of the charter, the vote was taken. It was a tumultuous scene, and there is some little discrepancy in the number of votes given as the result of the ballot. Louis Blanc gives the result as follows:

Number of voters 252 White balls 229 Black balls 33

"Thus," he adds, "229 Deputies, who in ordinary times would have formed a majority of but two voices, had modified the constitution, pronounced the forfeiture of one dynasty, and erected a new one."

France contained between thirty and forty million inhabitants. Two hundred and twenty-nine Deputies, with no delegated authority to do so, decided upon the form of government for these millions, and chose their sovereign.

When, several years after, the throne of Louis Philippe was overthrown, an appeal to universal suffrage re-established the Empire, and placed the crown upon the brow of Napoleon III. In this act the voice of the nation was heard. The vote was taken throughout the eighty-six departments of France, in Algiers, in the army, and in the navy. The result was as follows:

Affirmative votes 7,844,180 Negative 253,145 Irregular 63,326 ————- Total 8,160,651

The action of the Deputies in choosing Louis Philippe king greatly exasperated the Democrats. They endeavored to stir up insurrection in the streets; but the journals were against them, and they had neither leaders of any repute, organization, or money. A procession, four abreast, marched through the streets to the Palais Royal, to inform Louis Philippe of his election by their body to the throne of France. The newly elected king feelingly replied:

"I receive with deep emotion the declaration you present to me. I regard it as the expression of the national will; and it appears to me conformable to the political principles I have all my life professed. Full of remembrances which have always made me wish that I might never be called to a throne, and habituated to the peaceful life I led in my family, I can not conceal from you all the feelings that agitate my heart in this great conjuncture. But there is one which overbears all the rest—that is, the love of my country. I feel what it prescribes to me, and I will do it."

According to Alison, in the Chamber of Peers eighty-nine voted "the address to the Duke of Orleans to accept the throne, while ten voted against it." But there was great informality in all these hurried proceedings. "We will not," writes Lamartine, "enter into the details of these gradual approaches to the throne during the five days which preceded the election of one who had no title, by a Parliament which had no mission, to a royalty which had no rights."[AA]

[Footnote AA: History of the Restoration, vol. iv., p. 489.]

In the same spirit Sir Archibald Alison writes: "Thus did a small minority, not exceeding a third of either Chamber, at the dictation of a clique in the antechambers of the Duke of Orleans, dispose of the crown to a stranger to the legitimate line, without either consulting the nation or knowing what form of government it desired."[AB] The two Chambers hurriedly prepared a constitution, to which Louis Philippe gave his assent. The ceremony of inauguration—it could scarcely be called coronation—took place with much pomp, in the Chamber of Deputies, on the 9th of August, 1830.

[Footnote AB: Alison, vol. vi., p. 463.]

"Gentlemen, peers, and deputies," said the Duke of Orleans, "I have read with great attention the declaration of the Chamber of Deputies and the adhesion of the peers, and I have weighed and meditated upon all its expressions. I accept, without restriction or reserve, the clauses and engagements which that declaration contains, and the title of King of the French, which it confers upon me." He then took the following oath:

"In the presence of God, I swear to observe faithfully the Constitutional Charter, with the modifications contained in the declaration; to govern only by the laws and according to the laws; to render fair and equal justice to every one according to his right, and to act in every thing in no other view but that of the interest, the happiness, and the glory of the French people."

The hall resounded with shouts of "Vive le Roi!" The new-made sovereign, with a splendid cortege, retired, to take up his residence in the Tuileries as King of the French. The Revolution was consummated. The throne of Louis Philippe was erected.



CHAPTER X.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE DUCHESS DE BERRI.

1831-1836

Death of General Lamarque.—The funeral.—Strength of the royal forces.—Movement of the procession.—Speech of General Uminski.—Advance of the cuirassiers.—The Provisional Government.—Marshal Soult in command.—The conflict.—The conflict at St. Meri.—The insurrection quelled.—Severity of the Government.—Numerous prosecutions.—The Duchess de Berri.—Statement of Louis Blanc.—The reception of the duchess in Italy.—Abolition of the peerage.—Vigilance and severity of the Government.—A midnight adventure.—The embarkation.—The night storm.—The landing at Marseilles.—The insurrection.—Wild adventures.—"Little Peter."—Perilous wanderings.—Letter to the queen.—The letter returned.—Note from Louis Blanc.—The traitor Deutz.—Discovery and arrest.—Imprisonment at Blaye.—The terrible secret.—The marriage announcement.—Humiliations of the duchess.—Comments of Louis Blanc.—The duchess liberated.—Death of the Duke of Reichstadt.—Louis Napoleon.—Statement of Louis Blanc.—Death of Charles X.

Louis Philippe had scarcely taken his seat upon the throne ere he found himself involved in apparently inextricable embarrassments. Legitimists and Republicans were alike hostile to his reign. That he might conciliate the surrounding dynasties, and save himself from such a coalition of crowned heads as crushed Napoleon I., he felt constrained to avow political principles and adopt measures which exasperated the Republicans, and yet did not reconcile the Legitimists to what they deemed his usurpation. Notwithstanding the most rigid censorship of the press France has ever known, the Government was assailed in various ways, continuously and mercilessly, with rancor which could scarcely be surpassed.

On the 1st of June, 1832, General Lamarque died—one of the most distinguished generals of the Empire. He had gained great popularity by his eloquent speeches in the tribune in favor of the rights of the people. Napoleon, at St. Helena, spoke of him in the highest terms of commendation. His death occurred just at the moment when Paris was on the eve of an insurrection, and it was immediately resolved to take advantage of the immense gathering which would be assembled at his funeral to raise the banner of revolt. A meeting of all the opposition had just been held at the house of the banker, M. Lafitte, who had been so influential an agent in crowning the Duke of Orleans. A committee had been appointed, consisting of Lafayette, Odillon Barrot, M. Manguin, and others of similar influence and rank, to draw up an address to the nation. All the leaders of the popular committees were very busy in preparation for the outbreak, and arms were secretly distributed and officers appointed, that they might act with efficiency should they be brought into collision with the royal troops.

The funeral took place on the 5th of June. It was one of the most imposing spectacles Paris had ever witnessed—assembling, apparently, the whole population of the metropolis, with thousands from the provinces. A magnificent car, decorated with tri-color flags, bore the remains. The procession moved from the house of the deceased through the Rue St. Honore to the Church of the Madeleine, and thence, by way of the teeming Boulevards, to the Place of the Bastile, where several funeral orations were pronounced, and where the body was received, to be taken to its place of burial in the south of France. All the Republican and Democratic clubs turned out in full strength. The Chamber of Deputies was present. Banners, inscribed with exciting popular devices, floated in the air.

The police of Paris was maintained by two thousand municipal guards. In anticipation of an outbreak, the Government had summoned into the squares of the city an additional force of twenty-two thousand troops, consisting of eighteen thousand infantry, four thousand cavalry, and eighty pieces of cannon. And, as an additional precaution, there was a reserve of thirty thousand troops stationed in the vicinity of Paris who could in an hour be brought into the streets. Apparently here was ample force to crush any uprising of the populace.

But, on the other hand, the populace could easily rally an enthusiastic mass of one hundred thousand men. Large numbers of these were accustomed, in their clubs, to act in concert. Their leaders were appointed—each one having his special duty assigned to him. Not a few of these were veteran soldiers, who had served their term in the army, and there were military men of distinction to lead them. The forces, therefore, which might be brought into collision were not very unequal.

The immense procession commenced its movement at ten o'clock in the morning. The whole city was in excitement. All hearts were oppressed with the conviction that tumultuous scenes might be witnessed before the sun should go down. When the head of the procession reached the Place Vendome, it was turned from its contemplated course, so as to pass up through the Place and the Rue de la Paix to the Boulevards, thus marching beneath the shadow of the magnificent column of Austerlitz, which has given the Place Vendome world-wide renown.

Cries of Vive la Republique began now to be heard. A hundred and fifty pupils of the celebrated military school, the Polytechnic, joined the procession, shouting "Vive la Liberte!" These shouts were soon followed by the still more ominous cry, "A bas Louis Philippe!" "Vive Lafayette!" The storm of popular excitement was rapidly rising.

When the funeral-car had reached its point of destination, near the bridge of Austerlitz, where the remains were to be transferred to those who would carry them to their distant place of burial, several brief funeral orations were pronounced, adroitly calculated still more intensely to arouse popular feeling. A Polish refugee, General Uminski, in an impassioned harangue, said:

"Lamarque, you were the worthy representative of the people. You were ours. You belonged to the human race. All people who love freedom will shed tears at your tomb. In raising your noble voice for Poland, you served the cause of all nations as well as France. You served the cause of liberty—that of the interests dearest to humanity. You defended it against the Holy Alliance, which grew up on the tomb of Poland, and which will never cease to threaten the liberties of the world till the crime which cemented it shall have been effaced by the resurrection of its unfortunate victim."[AC]

[Footnote AC: Louis Blanc, iii., 296.]



The agitation was now indescribable. General Lafayette was urged to repair to the Hotel de Ville and organize a provisional government. The crowd unharnessed his horses and began, with shouts, to draw him in his carriage through the streets. Suddenly the cry was raised, "The Dragoons!" A mounted squadron of cuirassiers, with glittering swords and coats of mail, in a dense mass which filled the streets, came clattering down at the full charge upon the multitude, cutting right and left. Blood flowed in torrents, and the wounded and the dead were strewn over the pavements. The battle was begun. Fiercely it raged. Barricades were instantly constructed, which arrested the progress of the troops. As by magic, fire-arms appeared in the hands of the populace. Notwithstanding the general tumult and consternation, order emerged from the chaos. Every house became a citadel for the insurgents, and two armies were found confronting each other.

The king and his council, in session at the Tuileries, were greatly alarmed. At three o'clock the tidings were brought that one-third of the metropolis, protected by barricades, was in the possession of the insurgents, and that the aspect of affairs was threatening in the extreme. Orders were transmitted for all the royal troops within thirty miles of Paris to hasten to the capital. The night passed in tumult and terror. Armed bands were surging through the streets. The solemn boom of the tocsin floated mournfully through the air. The shoutings of the populace, and the frequent explosions of artillery and musketry, added to the general dismay and gloom. There was no sleep in Paris that night. Fifty thousand troops of the line and fifty thousand of the National Guard were marching to their appointed places of rendezvous in preparation for the deadly strife which the morrow would certainly usher in. The populace were no less busy, organizing in military bands, collecting arms, throwing up barricades, and seizing important posts. Both parties were alike aware that the Government could place but little reliance upon the National Guard, as many of them were known to be in sympathy with the people.

A provisional government had in reality, as it were, organized itself. While Louis Philippe and his ministers were in session at the Tuileries, Lafayette, M. Lafitte, and other distinguished men, who but a few months before had placed Louis Philippe upon the throne, were in secret assembly at the mansion of M. Lafitte, issuing orders for the overthrow of that throne. Their orders were received by the leaders of the populace, and thus there was unity and efficiency of action.[AD]

[Footnote AD: Alison, vol. vii., p. 77.]

During the night there were several bloody conflicts, in which the populace were generally successful. With their head-quarters at the Porte St. Martin, and pushing out their intrenchments on both sides of the river, before the dawn a large part of the city was under their control. The Government forces were mainly concentrated at the Tuileries, the Louvre, and the Hotel de Ville.

Marshal Soult was in command of the royal troops. Wherever his sympathies might be in the peculiar emergency which had risen, he felt bound to be true to his oath and his colors. By ten o'clock in the morning he had eighty thousand men under his command, including six thousand cavalry, with one hundred and twenty pieces of artillery. Strong as this force was, it was none too strong for the occasion. There was great consternation at the Tuileries. To prevent the soldiers of the National Guard from passing over to the people, they were intermingled with the troops of the line.

The conflict which ensued was one of the most terrible ever recorded in the history of insurrections. Thirty thousand compact royal troops, cavalry, infantry, and artillery, slowly marched along the Boulevards, battering down the barricades, and sweeping the streets with musketry and grape-shot. Another band of thirty thousand traversed, in an equally sanguinary march, the streets which bordered the banks of the Seine. They were to meet at the bridge of Austerlitz.

The houses of Paris are of stone, five or six stories high. Each house became a citadel filled with insurgents, which kept up a deadly fire upon the advancing columns. The slaughter on both sides was dreadful; on either side was equal courage and desperation. A very bloody struggle took place at the Cloister of St. Meri, which strong position the insurgents held with the utmost determination.

"The tocsin," writes Sir Archibald Alison, "incessantly sounded from the Church of St. Meri to call the Republicans to the decisive point; and they were not wanting to the appeal. Young men, children of twelve years of age, old men tottering on the verge of the grave, flocked to the scene of danger and stood side by side with the manly combatants. Never had there been, in the long annals of revolutionary conflicts, such universal enthusiasm and determined resolution on the part of the Republicans."

Before the terrific fire from the windows and from behind the barricade the whole column of royal troops at first recoiled and fled back in confusion. But heavy artillery was brought forward; a breach was battered through the barricade; shells were thrown beyond to scatter the defenders, while an incessant storm of bullets penetrated every window at which an assailant appeared. The royal troops rushed through the breach. Quarter was neither given nor asked. On both sides the ferocity of demons was exhibited. This closed the conflict. The insurrection was crushed. The royal troops admitted a loss in killed and wounded of 417. The loss of the insurgents can never be known, as both the dead and the wounded were generally conveyed away and secreted by their friends.

On the morning of the 6th, the leaders of the Liberal party were sanguine of success. But the unexpected display of governmental force rendered the revolt hopeless. The leaders, who had been acting in entire secrecy, dispersed, and Alison says that they quietly slipped over to the other side, and sought only to mitigate the victor's wrath. A deputation was appointed by some of the citizens to call upon the king, congratulate him upon his victory, and implore him to temper justice with mercy.

The king angrily replied, "Who is responsible for the blood which has been shed? The miserable wretches who took advantage of the funeral of General Lamarque to attack the Government by open force. The cannons you have heard have demolished the barricades of St. Meri. The revolt is terminated. I do not know why you should suppose that violent measures are to be adopted; but, rely upon it, they are loudly called for. I know that the press is constantly endeavoring to destroy me; but it is by the aid of falsehood. I ask you, is there any person of whom you have ever heard, against whom a greater torrent of calumny has been poured forth than against myself?"[AE]

[Footnote AE: Les Dix Ans de Louis Philippe, vol. iii., p. 318.]

The next morning a decree was issued ordering all the printing-presses opposed to the Government to be broken to pieces, and substituting courts-martial instead of the ordinary tribunals to try all cases connected with the insurrection. The Government regarded the movement as a combined attempt of the Republicans and the Legitimists. Hence Garnier Pages, the Democrat, and Viscount Chateaubriand, the Bourbonist, found themselves arrested as accomplices in the same rebellion.

Three days after, on the 10th of June, Chateaubriand wrote from his prison to M. Bertin, editor of Le Journal des Debats, that he had refused to take the oath of allegiance to Louis Philippe, first because his government was not founded upon legitimate succession, and second, that it was not founded on popular sovereignty.

A few weeks after this, upon his release, Chateaubriand visited the young prince, Louis Napoleon, who, in studious retirement, was residing with his mother, Queen Hortense, in their beautiful retreat at Arnemberg, on the Lake of Constance. The prince had just published a work entitled "Political Reveries," in which he took the ground that the voice of the people is the legitimate foundation of all government; that the people, in the exercise of universal suffrage, should decide upon their form of government and choose their rulers. Chateaubriand read this treatise with much interest, suggested the substitution of the word nation for that of people, and became personally the warm friend of the young prince, though still adhering to the doctrine of legitimacy and to his allegiance to the Bourbons.[AF]

[Footnote AF: Oeuvres de Napoleon III., t. i., p. 393.]

The government of Louis Philippe pursued and punished with the greatest energy those engaged in the revolt. "The number of the prosecutions," writes Alison, "exceeded any thing previously witnessed, not merely in French, but in European history. The restrictions complained of during the Restoration were as nothing compared to it. From the accession of Louis Philippe to the 1st of October, a period of a little more than two years, there occurred in France 281 seizures of journals and 251 judgments upon them. No less than 81 journals had been condemned, of which 41 were in Paris alone. The total number of months of imprisonment inflicted on editors of journals during this period was 1226, and the amount of fines levied 347,550 francs [$80,000]. This is perhaps the hottest warfare, without the aid of the censorship, ever yet waged, during so short a period, against the liberty of the press. The system of Louis Philippe was to bring incessant prosecutions against the parties responsible for journals, without caring much whether they were successful or not, hoping that he should wear them out by the trouble and expense of conducting their defenses."[AG]

[Footnote AG: History of Europe from the Fall of Napoleon to the Accession of Louis Napoleon, by Sir Archibald Alison, vol. iii., p. 82.]

Thus terminated the Republican attempt to overthrow the throne of Louis Philippe. And now let us turn to an attempt of the Legitimists to accomplish the same end. About eleven months after the enthronement of Louis Philippe, in March, 1831, the Duchess de Berri, having obtained the reluctant consent of Charles X., set out from Scotland for the south of France, to promote a rising of the Bourbon party there in favor of the Duke of Bordeaux—whom we shall hereafter call by his present title, the Count de Chambord—and to march upon Paris. The Legitimist party was rich, and was supported generally by the clergy and by the peasantry. In the south of France and in La Vendee that party was very strong.

"The idea of crossing the sea at the head of faithful paladins; of landing after the perils and adventures of an unexpected voyage, in a country of knights-errant; of eluding, by a thousand disguises, the vigilance of the watchful enemies through whom she had to pass; of wandering, a devoted mother and banished queen, from hamlet to hamlet, and chateau to chateau; of testing humanity, high and low, on the romantic side, and, at the end of a victorious conspiracy, of rearing in France the standard of the monarchy—all this was too dazzling not to captivate a young and high-spirited woman, bold through very ignorance of the obstacles she had to surmount, heroic in the hour of danger through levity; able to endure all but ennui, and ready to lull any misgivings with the casuistry of a mother's love."[AH]

[Footnote AH: Louis Blanc.]

The ex-king, Charles X., who, having abdicated, had no power to nominate to the regency, still issued a decree, dated Edinburgh, March 8th, 1831, by which he authorized "a proclamation in favor of Henry V., in which it shall be announced that Madame, Duchess de Berri, is to be regent of the kingdom during the minority of her son."[AI]

[Footnote AI: By the laws of France the dauphin attained his majority at the age of thirteen.]

The duchess, assuming the title of Countess of Segana, crossed over to Holland, and, ascending the Rhine and traversing the Tyrol, safely reached Genoa. The King of Sardinia, Charles Albert, received her kindly, and loaned her a million francs. But the French consul discovered her through her disguise, and by order of the French Court the Sardinian king felt constrained to request her to withdraw from his domains.

The Duke of Modena received her hospitably, and assigned to her use the palace of Massa, about three miles from the sea. Here, with confidential advisers, she matured her plans. Secret agents were sent to all the principal cities in France, to organize royalist committees and to prepare for a general uprising. The plan was for the insurrection to break out first in the west of France, to be immediately followed by all the southern provinces.

While affairs were in this posture, a very curious measure was adopted by the Government, which merits brief notice. The Chamber of Deputies, composed of the bourgeoisie, voted the abolition of the hereditary peerage. This was a constitutional amendment, which needed to be ratified by the Chamber of Peers. But the Peers were not disposed thus to commit suicide. Louis Philippe had been placed upon the throne by the bourgeoisie. The nobles were Bourbonists. He felt constrained to support the measures of his friends. He therefore created, by royal ordinance, thirty-six new peers to vote the abolition of the peerage, and thus the vote was carried.[AJ] A vote was also passed banishing forever from the soil of France every member of the elder branch of the house of Bourbon. These measures, of course, exasperated the friends of the ancient regime, and rendered them more willing to enter into a conspiracy for the dethronement of the Citizen King.

[Footnote AJ: In the British House of Lords the Crown will often carry a measure by a similar action. By the Constitution of the Empire in France, under Napoleon III., this was rendered impossible.]

At Massa the duchess had assembled several prominent men to aid her with their advice and co-operation. But, as was to have been expected, these men soon quarrelled among themselves. The brother of the Duchess de Berri was now King of Naples. But he did not dare to afford his sister an asylum, as the French Government threatened, in that case, immediately to send a fleet and an army from Toulon and bombard the city of Naples.

Proclamations and ordinances were prepared, to be widely distributed. A provisional government, to be established in Paris, was organized, on paper, to consist of the Marquis de Pastoret, the Duke de Bellino, the Viscount Chateaubriand, and the Count de Kergarlaz.

In the mean time the officers of the Government were watching with the utmost vigilance every movement in the south of France, and punishing with terrible severity, by shooting, bayoneting, and hanging, and often without trial, those who were suspected of being implicated in the anticipated Bourbon uprising. The duchess was much deceived by the flattering reports she was receiving from her friends. Though they correctly described the intense dissatisfaction of the country with the government of Louis Philippe, they greatly exaggerated the numbers and the zeal of those whom they supposed to be ready to rally around the banner of the Bourbons.

The 24th of April, 1832, was fixed for the departure. The utmost secrecy was necessary, as the spies of Louis Philippe were all around. Arrangements had been made for a small steamer, the Carlo Alberto, in the darkness of the night to glide into the harbor, take on board the duchess and her suite, and convey them to Marseilles. It was given out that the duchess was about to visit Florence. At nightfall of the 24th a travelling carriage, with four post-horses, was drawn up before the ducal palace. The duchess, with one gentleman and three ladies, entered, and in the darkness the carriage was rapidly driven a short distance from the gate of Massa, when, upon some pretext, it stopped for a moment beneath the shadow of a high wall. While some directions were given, to engage the attention of the postilion, the duchess, with Mademoiselle Lebeschu and M. de Brissac, glided out of the door unperceived, when the door was shut and the horses again set out upon the gallop for Florence.

The duchess and her friends stealthily moved along under the shadow of the wall, until they reached a secluded spot upon the sea-shore where the steamer was expected. The major of a body of troops in that vicinity joined them, with a lantern, as a signal to guide the boat from the expected steamer to the shore. Here they remained, in breathless silence and in much anxiety, for an hour. Just as the clocks in the distant churches were tolling the hour of midnight, a feeble light was seen far away over the water. It was the Carlo Alberto, the steamer for which they were waiting. Rapidly it approached; a boat was sent ashore. The Princess Marie Caroline, worn out with cares and anxieties, or—which is the more probable—possessed of that gay, untroubled spirit which no cares could agitate, was wrapped in her cloak and soundly asleep on the sand. Her companions did not awake her till the boat was about to touch the beach. It was three o'clock in the morning. The duchess and her suite, composing a party of seven—Mademoiselle Lebeschu being her only lady attendant—were soon transferred from the shore to the deck of the Carlo Alberto.

All were conscious that the enterprise upon which they had embarked was perilous in the extreme. Its success would greatly depend upon what is called chance. The duchess appeared calm and cheerful, as if determined not to doubt of a triumphant result, and manifestly resolved to wipe from the Bourbon name the charge of pusillanimity which it has so often incurred.

To avoid the French cruisers the Carlo Alberto kept far out to sea, and did not reach Marseilles until midnight of the 28th. The party was to be landed near the light-house, where a rendezvous had been fixed for the small but determined band who were to meet her there. The moment the steamer cast anchor the signal of two lanterns was raised, one at the foremast head and the other at the mizzen-mast head, which signal was instantly responded to from the shore. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, and the moanings of a rising gale and the dashings of the surge added to the gloom of the hour. The gentlemen who were to accompany Marie Caroline to the shore were dressed in the disguise of fishermen. The sea had become so high that it was with difficulty and peril that the party could embark. At one time the boat was dashed so furiously against one of the paddle-boxes of the steamer that the destruction of all on board seemed inevitable. Through all these trying scenes the fragile, sylph-like duchess manifested intrepidity which excited the wonder and admiration of every beholder. The little skiff which was to convey her to the beach soon disappeared in the darkness of that stormy sea.

The landing occurred without accident, and Marie Caroline scaled the rocks, along a path which tried the nerves even of the boldest smugglers, till she reached a temporary hut which had been reared to afford her shelter. The vigilance, however, of the Government police had not been entirely eluded. That very evening the authorities, in some way, received the rumor that the duchess had landed, or was about to land, at Marseilles, to commence the uprising there. Immediate and vigorous preparations were adopted to quell it. The force of every military post was doubled.

A band of about two thousand of her partisans was the next morning assembled at an appointed rendezvous in the city. They ran up the white banner of the Bourbons upon the spire of St. Laurient, and began shouting vociferously, "Vive Henri Cinq!"—hoping to excite a general insurrection, and that the whole populace of the city would join them. They did create intense agitation, and wonder, and bewilderment. Men, women, and children ran to and fro, and the alarm-bells were violently rung from the steeples. The duchess was still in her hut, waiting for the favorable moment in which to make her appearance. When she saw the Bourbon flag unfurled from St. Laurient, she was deluded by the hope that the success of the enterprise was secured.

But soon the regular troops appeared in solid battalions. The crowd fled before them. A few of the insurgents who attempted to make a stand were dispersed by a bayonet charge, their leaders captured, and the Bourbon flag disappeared! By one o'clock it was all over—the emeute had utterly and hopelessly failed!

Her despairing friends urged her immediately to repair to the steamer, and to take refuge with the Bourbons of Spain. Heroically she replied, "I am in France now, and in France will I remain." We have not space here to enter into the detail of her wonderful adventures, which she seemed to enjoy as if she were merely engaged in a school-girl frolic. Probably she felt assured that if she were taken prisoner, her royal blood, her relationship with the queen, as her niece, and the sympathy of most of the courts of Europe in what they deemed the righteousness of her cause, would save her from any very severe treatment.

"Disguised as a peasant-boy, and accompanied by no one but Marshal Bourmont, also in disguise, she set out on foot to walk across France, through fields and by-paths, a distance of four hundred miles, to the department of La Vendee, where the Bourbon party was in its greatest strength. The first night they lost their way in the woods. Utterly overcome by exhaustion, the duchess sank down at the foot of a tree and fell asleep, while her faithful attendant stood sentinel at her side.

"There is nothing in the pages of romance more wild than the adventures of this frivolous yet heroic woman. She slept in sheds, encountered a thousand hair-breadth escapes, and, with great sagacity, eluded the numerous bands who were scouring the country in quest of her. At one time, in an emergency, she threw herself upon the protection of a Republican, boldly entering his house, and saying, 'I am the Duchess of Berri: will you give me shelter?' He did not betray her. After such a journey of fifty days, she reached, on the 17th of May, the chateau of Plassac, near Saintes, in La Vendee, where a general rising of her friends was appointed for the 24th. Nearly all the Vendean chiefs were then awaiting the summons. On the 21st of May, the duchess—still in the costume of a young peasant, presenting the aspect of a remarkably graceful and beautiful boy, and taking the name of 'Little Peter'—repaired on horseback to an appointed rendezvous at Meslier."[AK]

[Footnote AK: Abbott's Life of Napoleon III., p. 87.]

Here her disappointment was bitter. The Government troops were on the alert, fully prepared for any conflict. Her own friends were despairing. There was no enthusiasm manifested to enter upon an enterprise where defeat and death seemed inevitable. Passionately she entreated her friends not to abandon her, delineating the great risks she had run. It was all in vain. No general uprising could be secured. There were a few despairing conflicts, but the feeble bands of the insurgents rapidly melted away before the concentration of the Government troops.

Still, the duchess herself escaped capture. Accompanied by a single guide, and apparently insensible to hardship or peril, she wandered through the woods, often sleeping in the open air, and occasionally carried upon the shoulders of her attendant through the marshes.

"On one occasion," writes Alison, "when the pursuit was hottest, she found shelter in a ditch covered with bushes, while the soldiers in pursuit of her searched in vain, and probed with their bayonets every thicket in the wood with which it was environed. The variety, the fatigue, the dangers of her life, had inexpressible charms for a person of her ardent and romantic disposition. She often said, 'Don't speak to me of suffering. I was never so happy at Naples or Paris as now.'"[AL]

[Footnote AL: Alison.]

She took great pleasure in a variety of disguises. Sometimes, in the picturesque costume of a peasant-girl, with coarse wooden shoes on her little feet, she would enter a town filled with Royalist troops, and converse gayly with the gendarmes who guarded the gates. The coasts of France were so watched by Governmental vessels as to render her escape by water almost impossible. She consequently decided to seek a retreat in Nantes, a city in which she had so few adherents that no one would suspect her taking refuge there.

In the disguise of a peasant-girl, with one female companion, she entered the city, and was concealed by a few friends who perilled their lives in so doing. For several months she eluded all the efforts of the Government to find her. In the mean time, the partisans of the duchess were pursued and punished with the most terrible severity. No mercy was shown them. The duchess, from her retreat, kept up a lively correspondence with her friends, still hoping that fortune might turn in her favor. Pleading in behalf of these men, she wrote as follows to her aunt, the queen:

"Whatever consequences may result for me, from the position in which I have placed myself while fulfilling my duties as a mother, I will never speak to you, madame, of my own interests. But brave men have become involved in danger for my son's sake, and I can not forbear from attempting whatever may be done with honor, in order to save them.

"I therefore entreat my aunt, whose goodness of heart and religious sentiment are known to me, to exert all her credit in their behalf. The bearer of this letter will furnish details respecting their situation. He will state that the judges given them are men against whom they have fought.

"Notwithstanding the actual difference in our positions, a volcano is under your feet, madame, as you know. I knew your alarm—your very natural alarm—at a period when I was in safety, and I was not insensible to it. God alone knows what He destines for us, and perhaps you will one day thank me for having had confidence in your goodness, and for having given you an opportunity of exerting it in behalf of my unfortunate friends. Rely on my gratitude. I wish you happiness, madame, for I think too highly of you to believe it possible that you can be happy in your present situation. MARIE CAROLINE."

This letter was conveyed to the queen at St. Cloud. She probably read it; but it was immediately returned to the bearer, who was in waiting, with the declaration that the queen could not receive it. Five months had now elapsed since the duchess entered Nantes. It is by some supposed that Louis Philippe did not wish to have her arrested. He would be fearfully embarrassed to know what to do with her. It would hardly do to restore her to liberty while her partisans were cruelly punished with death. It was not easy to decide upon the tribunal which would sit in judgment upon her. The peerage would have recoiled with horror from passing judgment upon a princess, who endeavored to gain the throne for a child, who was entitled to that throne by the avowed principles of legitimacy.

A renegade Jew, by the name of Deutz, at length betrayed her. By the most villainous treachery he obtained an interview with the duchess, and then informed the police of the place of her retreat. It was the 6th of November. In the following words Louis Blanc describes the preparations made for her arrest:

"The first communication between M. Thiers and Deutz took place under the following circumstances: M. Thiers one day received a letter wherein a stranger begged him to repair in the evening to the Champs Elysees, promising to make him a communication of the very highest importance. At the appointed hour he proceeded to the Champs Elysees, with a brace of pistols ready in his coat-pockets. At the spot indicated in the letter he perceived a man standing, who seemed agitated with fear and doubt. He approached and accosted this man. It was Deutz. A conference was opened, which ended in a base crime. The next night, by an arrangement of the police, Deutz was introduced into the office of the Minister of the Interior. 'You can make a good thing of this,' said M. Thiers. The Jew shook with agitation at the idea; his limbs trembled under him, and his countenance changed. The price of the treachery was settled without difficulty."

No sooner had Deutz withdrawn than bayonets glittered in every direction, and commissioners of police rushed into the house, with pistols in their hands. The duchess had barely time to take refuge, with three companions, in a small recess behind the fire-place, which was adroitly concealed by an iron plate back of the chimney. The police commenced a minute search, calling masons in to aid them. The walls were sounded with hammers, articles of furniture moved and broken open. Night came while the search continued. The space in which they were confined was very narrow, with but one small aperture for the admission of air. They barely escaped suffocation by applying their mouths in turn to this hole, but three inches in diameter.

The gendarmes, fully satisfied that the duchess must be concealed somewhere in the house, took possession of the room and lighted a fire in the chimney, which converted their hiding-place into a hot oven. The heat soon became insupportable. The iron plate had become red-hot. One of the prisoners kicked it down, and said, "We are coming out; take away the fire." The fire was instantly brushed away, and the duchess and her companions, after having endured sixteen hours of almost insupportable torture, came forth in great exhaustion, and yet the duchess almost gayly said, referring to the ancient martyr roasted upon a gridiron,

"Gentlemen, you have made war upon me a la St. Laurent. I have nothing to reproach myself with. I have only discharged the duty of a mother to gain the inheritance of her son."[AM]

[Footnote AM: Memoires de la Duchesse de Berri, pp. 87-90.]

The captive was treated with the respect due to her rank. After a brief confinement at Nantes, she was transferred to the citadel of Blaye, one of the most gloomy of prisons, on the left bank of the Gironde. All the effects of this princess of royal birth, who had entered France as regent, were tied up in a pocket-handkerchief. Measures were apparently adopted to keep her in close captivity, without trial, for a long time. The fortress was thoroughly manned with nine hundred men, and put in a state of defense, as if anticipating a siege. Three gun-boats were stationed in the river. The small building within the walls of the citadel, which was assigned to the duchess, was surrounded with a double row of palisades ten or twelve feet high. The windows were covered with strong iron bars, and even the apertures of the chimneys were closed with an iron grating. Even the gay spirit of the princess was subdued by the glooms in which she was enveloped.

Still, from many eminent men of her own party she received gratifying proofs of fidelity. Chateaubriand issued an eloquent pamphlet which won the applause of the Legitimists throughout Europe. In this he had the boldness to exclaim, "Madame, your son is my king." In a letter of condolence to the princess, in which he offered his professional services in her defense, he said:

"MADAME,—You will deem it inconsiderate, obtrusive, that at such a moment as this I entreat you to grant me a favor, but it is the high ambition of my life. I would earnestly solicit to be numbered among your defenders. I have no personal title to the great favor I solicit of your new grandeur, but I venture to implore it in memory of a prince of whom you deigned to name me historian, and in the name of my family's blood. It was my brother's glorious destiny to die with his illustrious grandfather, M. de Malesherbes, the defender of Louis XVI., the same day, the same hour, for the same cause, and upon the same scaffold. CHATEAUBRIAND."

But a terrible secret was soon whispered abroad, which overwhelmed the princess with shame, and which filled the court of Louis Philippe with joy, as it silenced all voices which would speak in her favor. It became evident that the duchess was again to become a mother. For a princess, the child, sister, and mother of a king, secretly to marry some unknown man, was deemed as great a degradation as such a person could be guilty of. The shame was as great as it would be in New York for the daughter of a millionaire secretly to marry a negro coachman. It consigned the princess to irremediable disgrace. But the situation in which she found herself compelled her to acknowledge her marriage. The universal assumption was that she had not been married. Secrecy divests marriage of its sanctity.

The sufferings through which the princess passed were awful. No pen can describe them. Could she but be released from prison, her shame might be concealed. Her tears and entreaties were all unavailing. Louis Philippe, unmindful that the princess was the niece of his wife, deemed that the interests of his dynasty required that she should be held with a firm grasp until the birth of her child should consign her to ignominy from which there could be no redemption.

On the 22d of February, 1833, the duchess placed in the hands of General Bugeaud, governor of the citadel of Blaye, the following declaration:

"Urged by circumstances, and by the measures ordered by the Government, though I had the strongest reason to keep my marriage secret, I think it a duty to myself and my children to declare that I was secretly married during my residence in Italy."

To a friend, M. de Mesnard, she wrote: "I feel as if it would kill me to tell you what follows, but it must be done. Vexatious annoyances, the order to leave me alone with spies, the certainty that I can not get out till September, could alone have determined me to declare my secret marriage."

The humiliations to which the unhappy duchess was compelled to submit were dreadful. The detail would be only painful to our readers. On the morning of the 10th of May a daughter was born, whom God kindly, ere long, removed to another world. The fact, minutely authenticated, was proclaimed to all Europe. Thus far Marie Caroline had kept secret the name of her husband. But it was now necessary that his name should be given, to secure the legitimacy of her child. It was then announced, by the officiating physician to the group of officials which the Government had placed around her bed, that the father of the child was Count Hector Sucheri Palli, gentleman of the chamber to the King of the Two Sicilies.

In commenting upon these events, Louis Blanc writes: "The partisans of the new dynasty exulted with indecent zeal at the event of which the ministers had so well prepared the scandal. The Republicans only manifested the contempt they felt for this ignoble triumph. As for the Legitimists, they were overwhelmed with consternation. Some of them, however, still persisted in their daring incredulity; and they did not hesitate to denounce the document, upon which their enemies relied as the denouement of an intrigue which had begun with violence and ended with a lie. Separated from her friends, deprived of their counsels, dead to the world, to the laws, to society, was it possible for Marie Caroline to make any valid deposition against herself, and that, too, surrounded by her accusers, by her keepers, by the men who had vowed her destruction?"

Thus, while one party affirmed that there was no truth in the alleged birth or marriage, the Orleanists declared that the Duchess of Berri had not only given birth to a child of no legitimate parentage, but that the Duke of Bordeaux, who was born seven months after the assassination of the Duke of Berri, was also the child of dishonored birth, and had, therefore, no title whatever to the crown. Such is the venom of political partisanship.

On the 8th of June, Marie Caroline, who could no longer claim the title of Regent of France, but who had sunk to the lowly condition of the wife of an Italian count, was liberated from prison. She had fallen into utter disgrace, and was no longer to be feared. With her child and her nurse, abandoned by those friends who had gathered around the regent, she sailed for Palermo. Her brother, the king, received her kindly, and she was joined by Count Lucheri Palli. Few troubled themselves to inquire whether she were ever married to the count or not. We hear of her no more.

These events broke up the Legitimists into three parties. The one assumed that, under the circumstances, the abdication of Charles X. was not to be regarded as binding; that he was still king, and to him alone they owed their allegiance. The second took the position that, in consequence of the suspicions cast upon the birth of the Duke of Bordeaux, the abdication in favor of the duke was null, and that the dauphin, the Duke de Angouleme, was the legitimate heir to the crown. The third party still adhered to the Duke of Bordeaux, recognizing him as king, under the title of Henry V. Thus terminated in utter failure the Legitimist endeavor to overthrow the throne of Louis Philippe.

While these scenes were transpiring, the Duke of Reichstadt, the only son of Napoleon I., and, by the votes of the French people, the legitimate heir to the throne of the Empire, died in Vienna, on the 22d of July, 1832. Commenting upon this event, Louis Blanc writes:

"In a calm, lovely day, there was seen advancing through a perfectly silent crowd, along the streets of that capital of Austria which once looked down abashed and terror-struck beneath the proud eagles of Napoleon, a hearse, preceded by a coach and a few horsemen. Some attendants walked on either side, bearing torches. When they arrived at the church, the court commissioner, in pursuance of a remarkable custom of the country, proceeded to enumerate the names and titles of the deceased. Then, knocking at the door, he solicited for the corpse admission to the temple. The princes and princesses of the house of Austria were there awaiting the body, and attended it to the vault, into which the fortune of the Empire then descended forever. The death of the son of Napoleon occasioned no surprise among the nations. It was known that he was of a very sickly constitution, and besides poison had been spoken of. Those who think every thing possible to the fear or ambition of princes had said, He bears too great a name to live."

The attempts subsequently made by Louis Napoleon for the restoration of the Empire, which failed at Strasbourg and Bologne, but which finally gave the Empire to France through twenty years of unparalleled prosperity, we have not space here to record. They will be found minutely detailed in Abbott's History of Napoleon III.

In reference to these unsuccessful attempts, Louis Blanc writes: "Of the two sons of the ex-king of Holland, Napoleon's brother, the elder, we have seen, had perished in the Italian troubles, by a death as mysterious as premature. The younger had retired to Switzerland, where he applied himself unceasingly to the preparation of projects that flattered his pride and responded to the most earnest aspirations of his soul.

"Nephew to him whom France called the Emperor, the emperor par excellence (imperator), and condemned to the vexations of an obscure youth; having to avenge his proscribed kindred, while himself exiled by an unjust law, from a country he loved, and of which it might be said, without exaggeration, that Napoleon still covered it with his shadow—Louis Bonaparte believed himself destined at once to uphold the honor of his name, to punish the persecutors of his family, and to open to his disgraced country some way to glory.

"His design was to make trial of the prestige of his name to overthrow the Orleans dynasty, after which he would convoke the people, consult and obey it. Nothing is more certain than that this respect for the principle of the sovereignty of the people was perfectly sincere and honest on the part of the young prince. But the hopes with which he flattered his ambition were not the less grand on that account. Heir to the imperial tradition, might he not be the choice of the people?

"He was generous, enterprising, prompt in military exercises, and the uniform sat upon him with a manly grace. There was no braver officer—no more gallant cavalier. Though the expression of his countenance was gentle, rather than energetic and imperious—though there was an habitual languor in his looks, often dashed with thought, no doubt the soldiers would love him for his frank bearing, his honest and hearty speech, his small figure, resembling his uncle's, and the imperial lightning which the passion of the moment kindled in his blue eye. What a name, too, was his!"[AN]

[Footnote AN: "The History of Ten Years," by Louis Blanc, vol ii., p. 453.]

Charles X. was overwhelmed by his misfortunes. His health rapidly failed. He was often heard to say, "The day is not far distant that shall witness the funeral of the poor old man." On the morning of November 4, 1836, he was seized with a chill, while temporarily residing at Goritz, in Styria. It proved an attack of cholera. His sufferings were severe, but he was calm and resigned, and conversed freely upon the eternity opening before him. The Duke of Bordeaux and his sister were brought into the room to receive his blessing. He placed his trembling hands upon their heads and said, "God protect you, my children. Walk in the ways of righteousness; do not forget me; pray for me sometimes." A deep lethargy came upon him; and, after a few hours of apparent insensibility, he breathed his last, at the age of 79 years.



CHAPTER XI.

THE FINAL STRUGGLE.

1833-1848

Letter to Louis Napoleon.—Honors to the memory of Napoleon I.—The Arc de l'Etoile.—The "Target King."—Death of the Duke of Orleans.—The Count de Paris.—Testimony of Louis Blanc.—Opposition of the king.—Liberals and Legitimists.—Letter from the Prince de Joinville.—The banquets.—Agitation in Paris.—The procession prohibited.—The procession abandoned.—Concentration of the royal troops.—Defection of the National Guard.—Consternation at the Tuileries.—A cabinet council summoned.—Resignation of the ministry.—Organization of the revolutionists.—Collision with the troops.—The conflict commenced.—Flight of the insurgents.—Unpopularity of the king.—The Duchess of Orleans.—Midnight tumult.—Consternation of the royal family.—Marshal Bugeaud.

The Liberal party in France, despairing of any effectual reform under the government of Louis Philippe, began to turn their thoughts to the re-establishment of the Empire under Louis Napoleon, a young prince, the nephew and heir of Napoleon I., then residing in studious seclusion at Arnemberg, in Switzerland. The prince had already obtained some celebrity by his writings in favor of popular rights. One of the leading republicans wrote to him:

"The life of the king is daily threatened. If one of these attempts should succeed, we should be exposed to the most serious convulsions; for there is no longer in France any party which can lead the others, nor any man who can inspire general confidence. The great name which you bear, your opinions, your character, every thing, induces us to see in you a point of rallying for the popular cause. Hold yourself ready for action. When the time shall come, your friends will not fail you."[AO]

[Footnote AO: Vie de Louis Napoleon, t. i., p. 22.]

Every month there seemed to be rising enthusiasm in respect to the Napoleonic name. Louis Philippe had but just taken his seat upon the throne, when a petition was presented to the Chamber of Deputies praying that the remains of the Emperor might be claimed of the British Government, and transferred from St. Helena to Paris. In a speech made by M. Mortigny, on the occasion, he said:

"Napoleon established order and tranquillity in our country: he led our armies to victory: his sublime genius put an end to anarchy: his military glory made the French name respected throughout the world, and his name will ever be pronounced with emotion and veneration."

In the Place Vendome a column was reared in commemoration of the deeds of the French army. It had been surmounted by the statue of Napoleon. The Allies tore down the effigy. The people now demanded that the statue should be restored. The Government could not refuse. On the 28th of July, 1833, the statue of the emperor again rose to that proud summit, in the midst of, apparently, the universal acclaim of Paris and France.

On the 1st of August, 1834, a statue of the emperor was placed in the court-yard of the Royal Hotel des Invalides, accompanied by as imposing civil and religious ceremonies as France had ever witnessed.

In the year 1806, Napoleon I. had laid the foundations of the Arc de l'Etoile, at the entrance of the most superb avenue in the world. The people now demanded the completion of the monument. Preparations were made for a magnificent fete on the 29th of July, 1836, when the completed arc was to be unveiled. But Louis Philippe had become so excessively unpopular, he was so incessantly pursued by assassins, that it was not deemed safe for him to appear at the ceremony. The magnificent monument was unveiled without any ceremony—the Moniteur proclaiming to Europe the humiliating declaration that the king could no longer with safety appear in the streets of Paris. "The soil," writes a French annalist, "was so sown with assassins that there was no safety for the monarch but within the walls of his palace."[AP]

[Footnote AP: Alison, vol. iii., p. 206.]

All over the kingdom insurrections were constantly bursting out, and there were bloody conflicts in Lyons, Marseilles, and other places. And now the demand became irresistible for the transfer of the remains of Napoleon to Paris. Such a scene of national homage as this great occasion manifested the world never witnessed before. In 1840, the eyes of the world were fixed upon this grand funereal pageant. The honored remains were transferred from the lonely grave at St. Helena, placed beneath the dome of the Invalides, and over those remains a nation's gratitude has reared a monument which attracts the admiration of the world.



But these reluctant yieldings to popular sentiment did not add to the popularity of Louis Philippe. He was shot at so frequently that he received the sobriquet of the Target King! A volume might be filled with the recital of the foul attempts to assassinate him. His days must have passed in constant wretchedness. He was assailed in low blackguardism in the journals: he was assailed with envenomed eloquence, by such men as Lamartine, at the banquets; and his path was dogged, with dagger and pistol, by such brutal wretches as Fieschi, Boirier Meunier, Alibaud, and many others.

Louis Philippe, in the relations of private life, was one of the best of men. His character had been formed in the school of misfortune. He was not a man of generous affections; the fearful discipline through which he had passed rendered this almost impossible. He was greedy of money, and exceedingly desirous of aggrandizing his family by such matrimonial alliances as would strengthen his dynasty.

On the 13th of July, 1842, the king experienced one of the heaviest calamities of his life—a calamity quite irreparable. His eldest son, who, upon the enthronement of his father, had taken the title of the Duke of Orleans, was a very noble young man, quite popular with the people and in the army. He was believed to be far more liberal in his views than his father. He was driving in his carriage from Paris to Neuilly; the horses took fright, and the driver lost his control over them. The duke endeavored to leap from the carriage; his head struck the ground, and his brain was so injured that he breathed but a few hours, in insensibility, and died. Thus sadly the direct heir to the throne was cut off. The succession reverted to his son, the Count of Paris—an infant child, then in the arms of its nurse.

This young man—who subsequently married his cousin, a daughter of the Duke of Montpensier, and who has been residing much of the time at Twickenham, in England—is, at the present writing, the Orleans candidate for the throne of France. He is deemed a worthy man—has two children, but never has been placed in circumstances to develop any marked traits of character. As the Count of Chambord has no children, upon his death the Count of Paris becomes the legitimate candidate for the throne.

The Count of Chambord had married the Archduchess Maria Theresa-Beatrice, of Modena, eldest sister of the reigning duke of that principality, and the only prince in Europe who had refused to recognize Louis Philippe. "It was a singular proof of the mutations of fortune that the direct descendant of Louis XIV. deemed himself fortunate upon being admitted into the family of a third-rate Italian potentate."[AQ]

[Footnote AQ: Alison, vol. viii., p. 193.]

Louis Philippe, during his reign of about eighteen years, encountered nothing but trouble. The advocates of legitimacy—of the divine right of kings—regarded him as an usurper. As the voice of the nation was not consulted in placing him upon the throne, the masses of the people deemed themselves defrauded of their rights, and hated him, as the representative only of the moneyed aristocracy of Paris. The bitterness with which he was assailed by the Liberal party may be inferred from the following extract from the "Revolution of 1848," by Louis Blanc:

"Whatever may have been the baseness of Rome under the Caesars, it was equalled by the corruption in France in the reign of Louis Philippe. Nothing like it had ever been witnessed in history. The thirst for gold having obtained possession of minds agitated by impure desires, society terminated by sinking into a brutal materialism. The formula of selfishness, every one by himself and for himself, had been adopted by the sovereign as the maxim of state; and that maxim, alike hideous and fatal, had become the ruling principle of government. It was the device of Louis Philippe—a prince gifted with moderation, knowledge, tolerance, humanity, but skeptical, destitute of either nobility of heart or elevation of mind—the most experienced corrupter of the human race that ever appeared on earth!"

There were thirty-four millions of people in France. Of these, but one hundred and fifty thousand of the richest proprietors enjoyed the right of suffrage. Consequently, the laws were framed to favor the rich. All the efforts of the people to secure a reform of the electoral law proved unavailing. The agitation of the subject increased every year, and the cry for parliamentary reform was ever growing louder and more menacing. Many of the illustrious men in France joined this reform party. Among others, there were M. Lafitte, the wealthy banker, M. Odillon Barrot, the renowned advocate, and M. Arago, the distinguished philosopher.

We may search history in vain for the record of any monarch so unrelentingly harassed as was Louis Philippe from the time he ascended the throne until he was driven from it. He was irreproachable in morals, a man who had seen much of the world in all its phases, sagacious and well meaning. But he was placed in a position in which no earthly wisdom could rescue him from the direst trouble. There were two antagonistic and very powerful parties watching him.

The one was the Liberal party in France, of varied shades of opinion, demanding equal rights for all men, hating the old dynastic despotisms of Europe, who had forced the Bourbons upon them, and hating those treaties of Vienna, of 1815, which had shorn France of a large portion of her territory, and had bound Europe hand and foot, so as to prevent any future uprising of the friends of popular liberty.

The other party consisted of the old aristocracy of France, the Legitimists, supported by the sympathies of all the courts of Europe, who were supposed to be not only willing but eager to unite their armies to maintain the principles of the old regime in France, and thus to prevent the establishment there of those principles of popular liberty which would endanger all their thrones.

The difference between these two parties was irreconcilable. As Louis Philippe was situated, he was compelled to choose between the two. He chose the latter. This involved him in unrelenting and unintermitted war with the former. Alison says: "Concession to the Republican party and a general change in external policy, so earnestly pressed upon him by the Liberals, would lead at once to a general war;" that is, the surrounding dynasties would not permit free institutions to be established in France.

Louis Philippe was a man of great decision of character, as his friends would say. His enemies called that trait stubbornness. In a letter purporting to have been written on the 9th of November, 1847, by his son, the Prince de Joinville, to the Duke de Nemours, the writer says to his brother:

"I write one word to you, for I am disquieted at the events which I see on all sides thickening around us. Indeed, I begin to be seriously alarmed. The king is inflexible. He will listen to no advice. His own will must prevail over every thing. There are no longer any ministers. Their responsibility is null. Every thing rests with the king. He has arrived at an age when observations are no longer listened to. He is accustomed to govern, and he loves to show that he does so."

The king is reported to have said, at the close of a cabinet meeting, in reply to some who urged concessions to the Liberal party, "Every one appears to be for reform. Some demand it, others promise it. For my part, I will never be a party to such weakness. Reform is another word for war. When the opposition succeed to power, I shall take my departure."

This was the declaration of the king that the surrounding dynasties would not permit popular rights in France. An ancient law of the old regime did not allow the people to assemble to discuss affairs of state. Louis Philippe revived the law, and enforced it vigorously. To evade this prohibition, large dinner-parties, or banquets, as they were called, were introduced, which afforded an opportunity of offering toasts and making speeches, in which the measures of Government were vehemently assailed. These banquets sprang up in all parts of the kingdom, and were attended by thousands. Arrangements were made for a mammoth banquet in the city of Paris on the 22d of February, 1848. The place selected was a large open space near the Champs Elysees. It would accommodate six thousand persons at the tables, and was to be covered with a canvas awning.