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What is new in their works is not true — what is true is not new. It is evident that they write, not to lay open the real springs of the affair, but to conceal them. The works themselves are marked, of course, with the individual characters ef the men. Lamartine's is eau sucree, Louis Blanc's aigre-doux^yfliile Caussidiere's savours more strongly of the ardent spirit ; but however different their styles, they are all pervaded by one common characteristic, an extrava- gance — we had almost said impudence — of personal vanity, which neither a miraculous elevation could satisfy, nor an abject and ridiculous discomfiture abate ; they are all three as much astonished at their fall as the rest of mankind were at their rise. What Pascal says of the general disregard of truth is peculiarly applicable to them : * II y a differens degr^s dans cette aversion pour la verite ; mais on peut dire qu'elle est dans tons, parcequ'elle est inseparable de leur amour 2?ropre,^ We are not so absurd as to complain of egotism in memoirs, and especially in apologetical memoirs. It is their essence. We therefore opened the volumes, expecting that these gentlemen a2 10 11; were to talk largely and favourably of them- selves ; but we were not prepared for so entire a lack of new matter, such a deluge of garrulous mmmr propte — so inordinate and so blind a profusion of self-glorification. We say blind, because, in fact, any man of sense must see that all this self-applause, which turns — in the cases of Lamartine and Caussidiere altogether, and in that of Louis Blanc mainly — on their wonderful, their superhuman e)wertions to preserve society from the extremities of plunder and massa- cre, involves also a heavy weight of self- condemnation on themselves, who had evoked and let loose the elements of massacre and plunder. It is as if a crew of mutineers, having set fire to a ship, should make a merit of having endeavoured to put out the flames when they menaced their own destruction. The praise of having worked hard — some- times by speeches and puppet-shows, some- times by force and terror, and still oftener by deception and intrigue — to maintain them- selves in their sovereign dignities, we wil- lingly concede to them ; but beyond that motive, in which self had so large a share — their own power, their oivn lives depending on the restoration of some kind of public order — we confess we find nothing that a man of sense or even courage ought to be proud of. And this we say, supposing the 1 story indisj have sions many state occu the i mightl shall cimen sever W of M we m to spe < Bert bercei martii tive g on th( bon ; have birthj Bourl Lams error, Ak says- 11 story that they are pleased to tell us were indisputably true ; but, on the contrary, we have abundant proof, from their own confes- sions and that of their accomplices, that many, we believe we might say most, of their statements are essentially false. It would occupy our whole article to give a tithe of the inconsistencies — the impossibilities that might be selected from their volumes. We shall content ourselves with one or two spe- cimens from the very first pages of their several productions. We shall by-and-by have to notice many of M. Lamartine's inaccuracies, but here we must allow his colleague M. Louis Blanc to speak first. He begins his tale with the * Berceau de la Republique ' — tlie veritable berceau he calls it, with a sneer at M. La- martine's veracity: — * I have no right to contradict the narra- tive given by M. Lamartine of what passed on the 24th of February at the Palais Bour- bon ; I was not there ; but that which I have a right to assert is, that in placing the birthplace of the Republic in the Palais Bourbon [the Chamber of Deputies], M. Lams rtine has committed an inconceivable error, '^ — p. 15, And he proves it. A few pages after he says — * M. Lamartine transports us into Lis Ift own world of delusi(yns, and instead of writ- ing history, he unintentionally {sans le vou- loir et le sawir), suppresses it.' — p. 22. And again, more generally — ^ Nothing more inexact then the colour M. Lamartine giv^s to all these events, and 'tis a pity he did not look at the Moniteur to correct his recollections,'^ — p. 24*. , . . And again — - - i ;v * It must be confessed that M. Lamar- tine writes the Journal of his reminiscences under the empire of that inventive imagin- ation which, in perfect sincerity, peoples history with phantoms,'^ — p. 4«6. Such is the general trustworthiness of M, Lamartine, as vouched, in the least offensive terms he could use, by that near and sharp observer, Louis Blanc. Now let us give a specimen of M. Louis Blanc's own style of writing history. We take the first impor- tant one we meet — his rival account of the ' Birth of the Republic' Our readers will see that substantially nothing is added to the general evidence we collected in our article of March, 1848 ; but they will be amused at the naivete with which the author con- fesses so low and illegitimate an origin for his Revolution, and at the vanity and grand- iloquence with which the facts are, when not totally altered, so richly embroidered that they are hardly to be recognized. When more Blanc to the toire ( Travc article dePA in 181 came t that h( an att tutor ii nalist. tors of Afte Refori the Nc dynast the R democ' us that thies b( mornin got the *The else, ha! and a re artstocn of la 1 abridged 13 When we wrote that article, we knew no more of the personal history of M. Louis Blanc than that he was a journalist attached to the Reformer and had published his Hi&- taire de Dix Ans and his Organisation du Travail ; we have since learned from his article by a friendly pen in the Biographic de VAsseynbUe Nationale^ that he was born in 1813 ; that, at the age of seventeen, he came to Paris very poor, to seek bis fortune ; that he became first a clerk {j[)etit-clerc) to an attorney, then usher in a school, then tutor in a private family, and, finally, a jour- nalist. How he became one of the Dicta- tors of France, he himself shall tell. After stating that the National and the Reforme had a strong shade of difference — the National taking part with the gauclie dynastique, that is Odillon Barrot & Co. — the Rejkrme adopting the extreme soc" democ Republic of Louis Blanc — he tells us that these differences had excited antipa- thies between the two journals ; but on the morning of the 24th of February they for- got their differences in presence of the com- * The revolution, which has economised nothing else, has become sparing of syllables. An (U'isto and a reac are what the old Jacobins used to call aristocrate and reactionnaire ; while the partisans of la Republique Dimocratique et Sociale have abridged themselves into demoC'sacs, mon enemy, and, at an early hour, not pre- cisely specified, but stated as ' long prior' to the scenes of the Chamber, Martin ^ de Strasburg,' one of the Nationalists, came to the office of the Reforme to agree, 'pour s^ entendre avec ?ious^ as to preparing a list of a Provisional Government, whose advent both cliques foresaw. The rest of the birth of the Republic, starting armed from the head of these new Jupiter- Scajrins, we give in his own words v — : " Martin engaged that the National should accept the Government that He and We of the Reforme should agree on. Our deleberation was calm and soleiim, but short and decisive. The name of M. Odillon Barrot was suggested by one voice (probably the iVa^'^o/^a/ plenipotentiary Martin), but it was rejected with a mixture of anger and con- tempt. The names accepted were Dupont, Arago,Ledru Roliin,Flocon, Marie, Marrast, Cr6mieux, Garnier-Pages, de Lamartine,and Louis Blanc. This list was settled long be- fore (Men avant) there was any thing of the kind proposed at the Chamber ; and that which was subsequently formed there was the same as ours, minus the nxmies of those whx) were not members of the Chamber, Two copies were made of this list ; one was taken by Martin to the National — I took the other to read to the people, who at that mom< Tuil( to th( Th tion street Plast< 1( name had ably which create vision; clatur of thi think, Blanc "T great crowd zens, displa} rious r eyes \ read tl mation ' Albei ate tra of voi( Albert 1§ moment were returning victorious from the Tuileries, and were crowding from all sides to the office of the ReformeP The office of the lieforme was in a por- tion of what was formerly the Hdtel de Bullion^ in the busy, narrow, and dirty street, originally called Rue Tldtriire^ or Plaster-street, afterwards honoured by the name of Jean Jacqties Rousseau, who once had lodgings there ; but now more memor- ably ennobled by being the august stage on which citizens Martin and Louis Blanc created the Republic and elected the Pro- visional Government. In any fresh nomen- clature of the streets of Paris, the herceau of that Gouvernement pldtre might, we think, recover its old name. M. Louis Blanc proceeds : — " Terrible and imposing spectacle ! The great court of the H6tel de Bullion was crowded with phalanxes of enthusiastic citi- zens, brandishing their victorious muskets, displaying on their belts and blouses the glo- rious marks of blood, and darting from their eyes the lightning flashes of triumph. / read the list. It was accepted with accla- mations ; but one name was wanting : — ^ Albert ! Albert !' exclaimed with passion- ate transport some thousands {des milliers) of voices. Most of us knew nothing of Albert ; as for me, I had never seen him. 16 V. Ill But what title could we have equal to those of this representative of the Faubourgs, whose name, thus suddenly become histori- cal, was in so many mouths, prompted , the feelings of so many hearts 1 The emo- tion that seized me was the strongest th Caussidi^re, with more gratitude and pru- dence than decency surrounded himself with his old friends and confidants, and orga- nized a military force of the most excdtes of the lower classes of the secret societies. One Pornin, a political detenu with a wooden leg, was nominated Governor of the Prefec- ture and Commandant of its motley garrison, which afterwards made so much noise and a3 26 gave so much trouble to the Provisional Government under the name of the Monta- gnarcU. ♦ - ^ » " Pornin (in consequence of a drunken accident accident which had befallen Caussi- di^re) took it into his head to be alarmed for the life of his friend, whom he delighted to call the ^ Sun of the Republic,' and established himself in an anteroom, or ra- ther a large waiting-room opposite to the door of the Prefect's Cabinet. Hither he brought a bed, in which he slept with his daughter and her husband, placing two sen- tinels at his own door and two others at the Prefect's. This apartment became a real den of thieves. Like the Prefect, he kept an open table [at the public expense] ; and as he was charged with the recruiting and or- ganization of the Moiitagnards and the new Republican police, his room was always filled with candidates, with whom, when he had expended all the wine allowed him, he would go down to drink in the neighbouring street, and would even give a fellow the badge of a policeman for a glass of brandy. The favourite theme of his table conversation was the best manner of despatching 300,000 aristrocrats, whom it was necessary to im- molate to the consolidation of the Republic. . . . . Pornin also converted his apart- ments at the Prefecture of Police into a theatre happily his doir by his I ganizec 111,& For one mc spectioi Lazare of a pu] compet persona ' On house ii of wine have b acter], One gh all got the wh the estf j)ersom the Pn prepare this su| to giv( Citoye\ \y in th guests I themse 27 isional lonta- runken I^aussi- larmed lighted ^,' and or ra- to the ;her he dth his ^0 sen- at the a real le kept ; and as and or- he new ^s filled he had 3 would J street, idge of . The ion was 00,000 to im- 'public. \ apart- into a theatre of the foukst debauchery ; and un- happily, the Prefect not only did not oppose liis doing so, but even consented to sanction by his presence the scandalous excesses or- ganized by his subordinate.' — Chenu, p. lll,&c. For instance, this Pornin thought proper one morning to make an unauthorized in- spection of the female penitentiary of St. Lazare, under the guidance of the keeper of a public house, who was, no doubt, very competent to give him an insight into the personal history of the inmates. * On his way home the host of the public house invited the Governor to take a glass of wine in his establishment [which seems to have been of a somewhat equivocal char- acter] , Rue de la Vieille-Tlace-auX' Veaux One glass brought on another, till at last they all got so merry that the Governor invited the whole party — including the ladies of the establishment (les dames co?n2wsant le j)ersonnel de Petablissement) — to supper at the Prefecture. Pornin went forward to prepare properly this little family party — this supper a la Regence — which he wished to give to his friends. His daughter, la Citoyenne Chatouillard, assisted him clever- ly in th' se preparations, aud at nightfall the guests stole into the Prefecture and installed themselves in the apartments of the Citizen- 28 Governor. A severe order was issued to the tveo sentries to allow no one to enter. But such orders are more easily given than exe- cuted. It was Liberty-hall, and the Mon- tagnards thought they had a right to indulge their curiosity to see the very singular guests the Governor had collected^ These visitors were so pertinacious that is was on- ly at a late hour of the evening that the company was free from their interruption, and at liberty to abandon itself to all the excesses of indecency of which such a set of people are capable. But they then gave free scope to them ; and all that the foul imagination of the Marquis de Sade ever fancied of the most hideous depravity was practised by this shameless and disgusting troop. Champagne was in abundance, and the lurid flame that issued from immense bowls of punch disclosed scenes of the most revolting kind — scenes such as even an abandoned pen would scruple to commit to paper. Pornin, mad with wine and debau- chery, was the life and soul of this disgusting hacchanale^ and he declared that such a family party should not terminate without the presence of his friend the illustrious Prefect of Police. Caussidiere soon made his appearance, joined the filthy herd, and participated with enthusiasm in their de- bauchery. The orgie lasted till daylight, and the to see e 116, &< Thou people to fall i gence, \ to have wholly lowed 0] which, h acknowl ror. B have vei We Hodde \ diere. latter hii that one was to gi pionnag Chenu a ed his 0^ all the p kept) ju! to get h( power. employe la Hodd Caussidi been in 29 to the But n exe- Mon- ndulge ngular These ^as on- at the uption, all the V L set of i gave lie foul ie ever ty was rusting e, and imense J most en an mit to debau- rusting such a without strious made d; and iir de- ylight, and the company separated after promising to see each other soon and often.' — lb,, p. 116, &c. Though well aware of the aptitude of people of this class, when suddenly unbridled, to fall into the extremes of sensual indul- gence, we should have supposed these scenes to have been greatly exaggerated or even wholly misrepresented but that there fol- lowed one incident infinitely more incredible, which, however, M. Caussidiere is forced to acknowledge to the whole extent of its hor- ror. But for his confession we could not have ventured to relate it. We have seen that Chenu and De la Hodde were the dearest friends of Caussi- diere. One was his captain of the guard, the latter his secretary-general. We have seen that one of Caussidiere's earliest impulses was to get hold of the registers of political es- pionnage. He soon possessed them all ; and Chenu asserts that he (Caussidiere) remov- ed his own dossier (the portofolio in which all the papers that concern an individual are kept) just as Louis Napoleon endeavoured to get hold of his dossier when he got into power. It is suspected that some of the old employes in the office, jealous at seeing De la Hodde lording it over them, suggested to Caussidiere that he De la Hodde, had long been in the pay of the police, and that in 30 his dossie?' would be found his ample and continuous revelations of all the secrets of the party. So it turned out — the letter in which De la Hodde offered himself for sale, and one hundred and fifty subsequent reports, under the signature of Pierre, of all the the movements of the anti-monarchical con- spiracy, were found. It must be confessed that here was enough to have exasperated a more patient man than Caussidi^re, and one would not have been surprised if he had openly denounced and invoked public justice on such a traitor. Why he did not do so we cannot explain except by recurring to the saying of the old Prefect, that wherever there were three conspirators one at least was in his pay, and we conceive that Caussi- di^re, who confessesses that the archives contained very awkward secrets and that he took pains to prevent scandalous revelations, may have had very sufficient reasons for not giving mucn publicity to the affair ; but the mode which he adopted in dealing with it was adventurous and terrible beyond what an ordinary man would have conceived — he planned the nturder of De la Hodde hy De la Hodde, and the burying in his grave, as of a suicide, all the secrets as well of De la Hodde's own infamy as of any others that might perhaps be exposed by a public trial of that citizen. For this purpose Caussi- diere, have h managi though Hodde Albert secret not dc De la Chenu was su which at leai some r danger further to the of his near r themse round pistol-{ found ] in to 1 his ass nothinj melodr the sc( If ( he was ing eTTi v*^ 31 e and ets of :ter in r sale, sports, ill the l1 con- ifessed erated e, and [le had justice do so ing to erever ^ least ^aussi- 'chives hat he ations, for not ut the ?v^ith it I what id— he by De i\e, as Dela •s that ic trial ^aussi- diere, who, with all his violence, seems to have had a certain reserve of caution and management, and who would not or perhaps thought that he could not, alone force De la Hodde to this self-murder, convoked in Albert's apartment at the Luxembourgh a secret tribunal for the trial and (which was not doubtful) condemnation of the unhappy De la Hodde. He, accordingly, as well as Chenu and the rest of Caussidi^re's coterie, was summoned to a meeting, the object of which was not stated, nor, by De la Hodde at least, suspected. Chenu it seems, had some misgvings that ?ie himself was in some danger of arrest — perhaps Kis thought went further — and he had the precaution to come to the meeting with between fifty and sixty of his guards, well armed, commanded by a near relation, and with orders to disperse themselves in the vestibules and corridors round Albert's apartment, and on hearing a pistol-shot — which Chenu was to fire if he found himself in danger — they were to break in to his rescue, and to take vengeance on his assailants. This counter-plot came to nothing ; hut it was very near causing a melodramatic tragedy even more awful than the scene that was really in preparation. If Chenu had been a spy of the police, he was at least a most strenuous and unfail- ing emeutier ; and so far from having been 32 reclaimed by his misfortunes in Belgium and Baden, he was made prisoner fighting on the barricades of June, 1848. Thus captured, he was examined before one of Cavaignac's courts-martial. There he gave evidence of the principal facts, since reproduced in more detail in his Memoirs. We extract from his deposltiwi of the 10th of August, 1848, his account of the trial and attempted immo- lation of De la Hodde It is told in the Memoirs with more detail and effect, but at too great length to be extracted, and the summary of the deposition, with a few words from the Memoirs, will give a sufficient sketch of the scene ; — j " (3ne evening I received notice to attend a meeting at the Luxembourg at 10 that night. I arrived a lew minutes after the time. De la Hodde was sitting in a corner of Albert's drawing-room. There were also present Caussidiere, Mercier, kSobrier, Monnier, Bocquet, Piile [Pilhes ?], Albert himself, and Grandmesnil, who became pre- sident of the meeting ; there were some others whose names I do not recollect. After my arrival Caussidiere took a large portfolio, and accused De la Hodde — who jumped {bondit) at tae mention of his name — of having betrayed them all to the late Government ; producing as he went along the written proofs, and placing in the hands of the that I) them, bitter, told hi diey ai pistol ( on th( sang J the fea Dela geance cried ^ for it ! felt ,thi threat, and 001 to kill massac him. and wa Albert in his for me salon v that he hackne — impl but Ca what I to live 33 of the several persons present the reports that De la Hodde had made against each of them. [There were above twenty, and very bitter, against Chenu himself.] He then told him with great solemnity that he must die, and die by his own hand — either by a pistol or by poison, both of which he placed on the table. Caussidiere showed great mng fraldy and seemed rather prompted by the fear of future revelations on the part of De la Hodde than by a mere spirit of ven- geance, for De la Hodde had incautiously cried " Ah ! it's so, is it ] You shall pay for it !" But de la Hodde soon saw and felt .the imprudence and idleness of such a threat, and fell into the extreme of terror and contrition. The wretched man refused to kill himself. The party were about to massacre him, and already had laid hands on him. Bocquet seized the pistol, cocked it, and was about to blow his brains out, but Albert objected to have a murder committed in his apartment, Monnier and I asked for mercy, and the execution in Albert's salon was given up. It was then proposed that he should be forced to kill himself in a hackney-coach. De la Hodde still resisted — imploring mercy and promising silence ; but Caussidiere said determinedly that after what had passed they could not permit him to live. He was, however, spared for the 34 moment — forced with great violence into a hackney coach, well guarded, and taken back to the Prefecture, whence Caussidiere re- moved him into close confinement in the Conciergerie, and I know not what is become of him." — Enquete, i. 188. This wonderful scene, the cool ferocity of the executioner-judges, and the desperate agony of the victim, are detailed, we have no doubt, with great truth and certainly great effect in the Memoirs ; as is also the singu- » lar contingency, that if De la Hodde had been driven to shoot himself, or if he had been shot, which was very near happening, by the hands of Bocquet, Chenu's guards in ambush would have thought it his signal, an(t would have burst in, and perhaps exter- minated, as Chenu thinks, all but their Cap- tain. ^ It was evidently in consequence of this deposition, in which there were several other matters seriously affecting Caussidiere, that (having fled from justice in France) he pub- lished these Memoirs in London, in which, while he admits the aftair of De la Hodde, of wtJch there were too many witnesses to admit of denial, he attempts a vindication on other points, and especially endeavours to disparage Chenu. Chenu, who had before only given evidence when interrogated by the court-martial, finding himself thus per- sonall) and pi spirati the tu] ary, cc procee of Re) ed the at last were results assassi lution, than tl ties, them 1 journa all Pai — but the idl once 1 themse this pi had su Marc It S( the di reign ( probab having pamphl 35 into a Q back re re- in the ecoine city of perate ; have J great singu- le had le had )ening, ards in signal, exter- r Cap- )f this I other e, that e piib- which, lodde, ises to [cation avours before :ed by s per- sonally assailed, turns round on Caussidi^re, and produces this pamphlet of the " Con- spiratorSy'^ which, besides the revelations of the turpitudes of the Revolution of Febru- ary, contains a very valuable insight into the proceedings of the various secret societies of Republicans and emeutiers which harass- ed the whole reign of Louis Philippe, and at last terminated it at a moment when they were least expecting it. Terrible as the results of these conspiracies have been in assassination, insurrection, and finally revo- lution, nothing can be more contemptible than the number and character of the par- ties. There was nothing higher amongst them than some hangers-on of the seditious journals, and it seems that their numbers in all Paris did not exceed at any time 3000 — but that was a nucleus round which all the idle and " ragged vagabonds" of that at once turbulent and cowardly city grouped themselves. We need add but one trait to this picture — that if the June insurrection had succeeded, the intended Dictator was Marc Caussidiere. It seems that De la Hodde was buried in the dungeons of the Conciergerie till the reign of Caussidiere was over, when he was probably allowed to escape to England : but having now returat J to Paris, and Chenu's pamphlet having made him notorious, he has 36 published his account of the " Birth of the Repuhlicy^ in which he shows by what mere accidents, and chiefly by the atrocious trick, fixed by a recent trial upon Lagrange, of provoking what is called the massacre of the Capucines, the insurrection was revived when all the men of the journals and of the secret societies who raised it had given it up in despair. That De la Hodde should be listened to with great distrust on personal points is obvious : but making allowance for his very natural animosity to those whom he had betrayed and who in return had sub- jected him to such an agony, we really see no reason to doubt that his detail of the events in the midst of which he was, is sub- stantially correct. He does not come lower down than the proclamation of the Repub- lic, to which he was a prominent party in the parlour of the Reforme, and, of course, says nothing of his short apparition as Secretary- General of Police, nor of the scene at the Luxembourg ; but he promises a larger vol- ume, in which, we suppose, these trans?c- tions will be related d sa maniere. He complains, in a letter to the journals, that M. Chenu has represented him as unduly terrified at the prospect of the strange death with which he was menaced. On this point we confess we rather credit M. Chenu's account, who must have been a calmer ob- server- imputat had sho made tc tion nol other d ates Ch graphic what of sidi^re) tude, ar lutionar self-pan Blanc ; tend in need of- the dupe men and It is i his copa cularly and mei help tha and that was as ' thunder- We as! who coll for what extenuat exhibits ST of the t mere 5 trick, ige, of ere of evived of the n it up uld be irsonal iwance whom id sub- lly see of the is sub- 1 lower lepub- in the 3, says etary- at the r vol- ans?c- He J, that iinduly death » point henii's IV ob- server—nor, in truth, can we think it any imputation on De la Hodde to say that he had shown a great horror of the proposition madiB to him, and expressed a fixed resolu- tion not to die after that fashion. On the other detailis he most remarkably corrobor- ates Chenu ; and their memoirs, exposing so graphically, so naturally, and (bating some- what of their persoiial spleen against Caus- sidi^re) so truly, the weakness, folly, turpi^ tude, and, above all, falsehood, of the revo- lutionary party, are the best answer to the self-panegyrics of Lamartine and Louis Blanc ; and will, we trust, increase and ex- tend in France the feeling that she is in most need of — humiliation at having been made the dupe and the victim of such despicable men and such fortuitous circumstances. It is in vain that M. Lamartine defends his copartnership vrith these men, and parti- cularly Caussidi^re, in poetical flourishes and metaphors— as that " it was with his help that he created order out of disorder," and that " if he had conspired with him, it was as the paratotinere conspires with a thunder-cloud to draw off the lightning." We ask him, who created the disorder] who collected the explosive element ? and for what justifiable purpose, and with what extenuating results 1 When the ex-Dictator exhibits with such extravagant self-applause M 38 his struggles at the H6tei de Ville, he obli- ges us to retort that they were mainly in his own defence — if he worked hard to save the boat, it was because he would have sunk in her. And when he echoes the ex-Pre- fect's own boast of how soon and how com- pletely order had been restored and main- tained, how the streets were repaved, how clean they were kept, how well lighted, how gambling-houses were suppressed, and how rare street robberies had become, they for- get that these are things which the summary and omnipotent power of a reckless and irre- sponsible despotism can do, and has every motive for doing- A reign of terror admits of no disorders but its own. The Prefect, whose first and last salutation to the heads of his department was, that if they misbe- haved he would " shoot them in the court- yard^'^ might be pretty sure that he could make people sweep before their doors ; and the Government that enlisted all the most daring and disorderly of the population into the garrison of the Prefecture, and conceiv- ed the sublime idea — as M. Lamartine thinks it, and a lucky one we admit it was — of drawing off 24,000 of the worst thieves and rioters into the Garde Mobile^ might well say that they had diminished the number of prowling malefactors and petty offences. But to do M. Lamartine justice, the pre- cious out no transc exclus Floco has an which, at E/O body- plains, comph Lamai and se of his suspec howev( satisfy nions own. only ci abridg promin acter i prised ear wa his ow hear a every himsel For hi he obli- ainly in to save Lve sunk ex-Pre- iw com- d main- ed, how ;ed, how nd how hey for- ummary ind irre- s every r admits prefect, e heads misbe- cmirt- le could 's ; and le most ioii into onceiv- e thinks vas — of ves and ht well iber of res. he pre- 39 cious ointment of his panegyric is poured out not on his own head only, though that is transcendantly the first object — nor even exclusively on his friends and associates — Flocon, Caussidiere, and tutti qitanti — he has an inexhaustible stock of sugar plums, which, like the promenaders at the Carnival at Rome, he flings into the faces of every- body — except, as Louis Blanc bitterly com- plains, Louis Blanc. The truth as to this complaint seems to be, that, excessive as M. Lamartine's estimate of Louis Blanc's talents and services seems to ^^s, it falls vastly short of his own appreciation, and we strongly suspect that there is no pen in the world, however favourable or flattering, that could satisfy either of these two ^gentlemen's opi- nions of their own merit, except each his own. Panegyric is a draught which they only can sweeten to their own taste. We abridge Louis Blanc's description of this prominent feature in M. Lamartine's char- acter and book : — " M. Lamartine's whole policy was com- prised in two words — Hre ai)'plaudi. His ear was ever on the stretch for the praise of his own name, and in agony least he should hear a discordant sound. He was greedy of every one's praise — he delighted to admire himself in the most opposite looking-glasses. For his own amour j^ropre he would endea- S. .1 40 vour to conciliate Lord Normanby and to tame Sobrier — he offered LaRochejacque- lin an embassy, and had secret conferences with Blanqui. • . Flattery, squandered withont measure or discretion to every body, is the common artifice of men who are very anxious about their own reputation. • • They flatter that they may be flattered in return ; and they gratify the vanity of other people to the profit of their own." — p. 29. M. Lamartine's book is a portrait-gallery of such " faultless monsters as the world ne'er saw" — till presented by him. Never was there such a galaxy of every species of public and private virtue, and even of per- sonal beauty. Indeed we think that, in the some hundred names he mentions, there are but two which he does not load with elabo- rate compliments more or less gross, and, as our readers will suppose, more or less unde- served. The two persons who have the good fortune to attract the least share of M. Lamartine's promiscuous panegyric are MM. Guizot and Thiers ! M. Thiers very little, M. Guizot not at all. Prefulgebant — eo ipso quod effigies eorum 7um viseban- tur. Louis Blanc sees nothing in this blind profasiop of panegyric beyond the obvious calculation of usurious vanity. " Incense^ like interest, is but a loan Which he lays out for what he can get ;" and L much and G Bui for thi Lama up th( has ha come that ai may r( leries, Marra Caussi Prefec though reache your f] come ; as if tl Brydo whimsi to a st asked might andwc civil t martin but to Silenu Th( 41 and to jacque- Brences Lndered J body, re very • • • 2red in f other p. 29. gallery world Never icies of )f per- in the re are elabo- and, as I unde- ^e the are of ric are 's very yehant seban- s blind bvious get ;» and Lamartine hardly, we suppose j expected much responsive adulation from MM. Thiers and Guizot. But we suspect another auxiliary motive for this almost indiscriminate panegyric. M. Lamartine has not, perhaps, seriously given up the game of revolutionary politics ; he has had a deep plunge, but he may hope to come to the surface again ; he may expect that another turn or two of fortune's wheel may restore the Count of Paris to the Tui- leries, or Louis Blanc to the Luxembourg — Marrast to the Palais Bourbon, and Marc Caussididre with Commander Pornin to the Prefecture. M. Lamartine's statesmanship, though not very profound, has obviously reached the celebrated maxim — '' Live with your friends as if they were one day to be- come your enemies, and with your enemies as if they were to be one day your friends." Brydone, in his " Travels," tells us of a whimsical Englishman who took off his hat to a statue of Jupiter at Rome, and when asked " why ]" answered that his godship might one day be reinstated in his temple, and would perhaps remember those who were civil to him in his adversity. So M. La- martine takes oft' his hat, not only to Jupiter, but to Pasquin and Marforio, and even to Silenus. The natural consequence of all this is, 42 ill that his work is equally worthless for infor- mation or amusement. He just reverses Cicero's historical maxim, ne quid veri audeatf ne quid fold non mideat. Three- fourths of his pages are filled with a compi- lation from the Moniteur of all the admira- ble speeches he uttered and all the states- . manlike papers he issued during his ephemeral reign, accompanied by a running commentary of the most profuse encomiums on his own genius, eloquence, courage, and even of his personal advantages, the Agamemnonian em- inence of that lofty figure, and the Demos- thenic energy of that fine countenance that gave weight to the flowers of rhetoric and grace to the dictates of wisdom. These are not his precise words, which, particularly in his own praise, are too diffuse to be so con- centrated, but they convey his meaning and exemplify his style. In short, the whole is so disfigured by what Louis Blanc calls a puissance d'^illudon prodigieuse (p. 28), that it is equally useless as a history and wearisome as a romance. .- The portion of it that has the most claim to novelty is that devoted to the escape of the royal family, and especially of the King and Queen, from the Tuileries to England. But the account is erroneous in several par- ticulars — neither malevolently nor intention- ally, we believe — for he still takes off his hat to want o narratii as far testing episode torical interes interes racy. told tn fit to g in his taken late ^}^ corre . becais of a K had be similar Our cumstj could from 1 of the tic ep are cc ed the munic ings, ( sible 43 infor- Bverses i veri Three- compi- dmira- states- emeral lentary is own of his an em- )emos- e that ic and ese are larly in so con- ig and hole is calls a '. 28), ry and ; claim ipe of King gland, il par- ntion- 3ff his hat to Jupiter and Jutw — but from that want of accuracy of inquiry and precision of narration which characterise all his details, as far as we have had an opportunity of testing them. Now, whether such personal episodes are introduced as being of any his- torical value, or only to increase the general interest of the narrative, the value or the interest depends essentially on their accu- racy. If worth telling, they ought to be told truly ; and as M Lamartine has thought fit to give this episode so prominent a place in his History of the Revolution, we have taken some pains to enable ourselves to re- late t]ie series of events with circumstantial corre ^tness, and we have done so the rather becaise Captain Chamier, and other writers of a less romantic turn than M. Lamartine, had been led by the rumours of the day into similar . Our readers will be aware that the cir- cumstantial details we are about to give could only have been autentically obtained from those who were actors in or witnesses of these interesting and, we may say, drama- tic episodes. So far as ihe facts themselves are concerned, we have scrupulously follow- ed the notes and reminiscences kindly com- municated to us ; but on their causes, bear- ings, or what may be their probable or pos- sible consequences, the opinions and judg- 44 ments which we may incidentally express are all our own. From the moment that MM. Theirs and Barrot withdrew the command from Mar- shal Bugeaud, and sent orders to the troops not to resist the mob, the monarchy was lost : their factious banquet-agitation had provoked the insurrection ; this pusillanimcus submission made it a revolution. The in- trusion into the King's private apartment— into his very closet indeed — of a motley crowd of people — ' generals, deputies, jour^ nalist, inferior officers and even privates of the National Guard — besieging him with information and opinions interrupted by fresh information and contradictory suggestions' (Lam. p. 73), was already a practical proof — even before the word abdication had been pronounced — that Louis-Philippe was no longer King. In this cohue which too well typified the irresistible tumult that was accumulating out of doors, the King signed his abication as the only chance of preserv- ing even a shred of the monarchy, or, what was at that moment more urgent, of saving the lives of his family and friends — blockaded in two or three rooms of the defenceless — we might, say, already captured — palace. M. Lamartine describes with considerable detail the spirit and energy with which the jgallapt yeterap Marshal Bugeaud eii^dea- voured 1 against scenes is not e ly did never s; morning of an al remons yet nee serts, r ivillini for m\ person fore, n cowari form 1 gate 1 appro^ W( King' versal canno criticj winds were exile' gate^ Judg — as 45 jss are irs and Mar- I troops y was n had inimc'us he in- lent— - motley jour- ites of with 7 fresh Jstions' actical Ication hilippe Ich too at was signed eserv- , what saving kaded less — Lce. erable ih the !»dea- voured to persuade and encourage the King against the abdication ; but all these fine scenes are mere inventions, for which there is not even a colour. The Marshal not on- ly did not oppose the abdication, but he never saw the King after the review in the morning, when nobody so much as thought of an abdication. To one of those imaginary remonstrances against the abdication as not yet necessary, the King, M. Lamartine as- serts, replied : — ^ '^ I knoiv ity Marshal, lut I am un- willing that any more blood should flow for my sdkeP The King was a man of personal courage. This remark was, there- fore, not a pretext to cover his retreat or his ' cowardice. This one expression ought to form the conflation of exile and to miti- gate the verdict of history. What God approves, men should not condemn.' — p. 84«. We have no doubt that such was the King's feeling ; but we repeat no such con- versation could have taken place. We cannot, however, pass unnoticed the hypo- critical verbiage with which M. Lamartine winds up his fable — as if this expression were the only " consolation of the King's exile" — the only one that can even " miti- gate*'^ the verdict which this Rhadamanthine Judge thus records before it is pronounced ! — as if this sentiment had not been already a2 ^■i 4G expressed by many words and acts of mercy and humanity throughout his whole reign ! Does M. Lamartine hope that these senti- mental amendeSy towards the King, will mitigate the verdict, either of the present time or of posterity, on the guilt and folly of which he himself has been the accomplice, if not the main cause 1 It certainly will be no consolation to the King's exile to find himself daubed by the same brush that var- nishes Flocon and Caussidiere. When the King had made up his mind on his abdication, and sat down to write it at his bureau, he was immediately surrounded by a crowd of gazers, the greater part of whom were totally unknown to him, and who followed with eagerness every motion of his pen. Some cried out brutally, " Mais de- pSchez-vous done. Vous lefaites trop long, Vous n^enfinissez pas /" Others exclaim- ed, when they saw that the name of the Duchess of Orleans was not inserted, and that the King made no mention of the Regency, " Ah, mais cela ne pent pas oiler comme cela, II faut que vous de- clariez la Duchesse d^Orleans Regente,'^'^* * M. Cr^mieux, the Se.w lawyer, was undoubted- ly in the royal closet at that moment, as M. La- martine states ; but he is mistaken when he adds that Crdmieux made those interpellations to the King. It appears, on the contrary, that he took no share in them. saire^ moiyj la loi J ai enc pas dc The of abd hands and it come its wa of the of th( adopt with I cy; 1 deed, posse Anto Refc bly,^ cura T the: Orle senc med t 12th ind on 3 it at >unded art of »d who of his 'ds de- long. ilaim- ►f the , and r the pas s de- ibted- . La- adds ) the >k no 47 " .D\wtrcs> I a feront ^ih le credent ?icces- mire^ answered the King, sternly ; '* metis moi^ je ne le ferai pas ; c'est contraire a la loi ; et commey grOce a Dieu, je Tt'en ai encore viole aucune^je ne commencerai pas dans un tel moment? The confusion was so great that the act of abdication was snatched from the King's hands before he could make a copy of it — and it is not certainly known what has be- come of it. It has been said that it found its way into the hands of Lagrange, the hero of the Cupudnes massacre, now a m mber of the National Assemcly : M. Lamartine adopts this version, and has embellished it with some of his usual picturesque inaccura- cy ; but we see good reason to suspect — in- deed, to be pretty confident — that the paper possessed by Lagrange, and given by him to Antony Touret, one of his colleagues in the Reforme^ and now in the National Assem- bly, was but a copy^ and a clumsy and inac- curate one, of the original paper .f The first thought that then occourred to the King was to disentangle the Duchess of Orleans from the inconvenience of his pre- sence near her, and to give her, by his im- mediate departure and eloignement, the best t See r^amartine, 78; La Re forme of the llth> 12th, 17th, and 19th April, 1848. 4S chance of allaying the personal suspicion and animosity which existed against himself, and of giving as nmch strength as possible to the establishment of the Regenc^^ The Queen looked upon this scene with alarm, but dignity ; and when the abdica- tion was^ thus extorted from the King. M. Lamartine says that " she turned to M. Thiers, and exclaimed, " Oh, Sir, you did not deserve so good a kinf> , whose only re- venge is to retire before his enemies." ' (p. 85.) The words, as they struck the ear of our informant, w^ere only " Vous Pavez — vous vous en repentirez^'^ and they seemed to be addressed to those who had pressed the addication, but not to M. Thiers m particular. Captain Chamier, with an inaccuracy not pardonable on so important a point, on which even M. Larmartine might have set him right, states that the Duchess of Orleans vf^^ for gotten or neglected in her apartments in a distant part of the palace, and was only apprised of the King's flight after he was gone, (V. i. p. 63.) This statement, with some others founded on it, is altogether a mistake, and is inconsistent with some other passages of Captain Chamier's work. The Duchess and her children were the whole morning with the rest of the family in the King's closet: when she heard her name 49 thus proposed as regent, and saw that the King was about to depart without her, she threw herself into his arms, exclaiming, ^ Ah, Sir, do not abandon me. I am but a poor weak woman ; what should I do without your advice and protection ?" " My dear- est, dearest child," said the King, embrac- ing her, " you owe yourself to your children and to France, and you must remain*" And forcing himself with some difficulty from her arms, he left her astounded with the unex- pected uurden of power with which the mot- ley crowd seemed for the moment disposed to invest her. The truth, however, is, that the advice of ?ibdication, and the proposal of proclaiming the Duchess Jlegent and hex son King, was no more than a scheme of the revolutionists to accelerate Louis-Philippe's departure. We now know that a Provi- sional C jvernment had been already pre- pai ed in the newspaper offices. At that moment the King and Queen had all their children, grandchildren, sons and daughters in law, then in Paris, in the King's apartment, except the Duke of Nemours, who was at the head of the troops in the court of the palace, endeavouring by a steady attitude and countenance to prevent the irruption of the mob from the Carrousel. The only other of the King's sons at hand was the Duke of Montpensier, whom M^ 50 Lamartine describes as very forward in urging the abdication, and who was, we have no doubt, strongly impressed with the perso- nal dang**r in which the royal family were placed, and thought — as it certainly was — his first duty to attend the King and Queen ; but the Duchess of Montpensier being great with child, it would have been dangerous to expose her to all the risks of the intended walk down the long avenue of the Tuileries. The Duke, therefore, committed her to the care of a trusty friend who happened to be at hand, and who conducted her to his own house in the neighbourhood, whence she pro- ceeded by Eu to Boulogne, and so, on Mon- day the 28th, to England. Captain Cha- mier is still under the surprise that we were at first at this apparent delaissement of the Duchesse de Montpensier ; but her personal condition and the duty of the prince — the only prince present — to protect the retreat of the King and Queen and the rest of the family — and the suddenness, the momenta- neity of the whole debacle., subsequently explained this apparent neglect. The young Duchess arrived safely at Eu, where the whole family expected to meet ; but on her arrival there. General Thierry, the Duke's aide-de-camp, who attended her, and M. d'Estancelin — a gentleman of that neiofhbourhood and an old schoolfellow and 51 rd in 3 have perso- were was — ueen ; great ous to ended leries. to the to be s own e pro- Mon- Cha- ? were of the rsonal —the e treat )f the lenta- jently it Eu, neet ; lierrv, d her, r that V and particular friend of the Duke's, now a mem- ber of the National Assembly, who had come to wait on her — were so seriously alarmed by an account that the mob were marching to attack the chateau, that they hurried her royal highness away towards Boulogne. They arrived at Abbeville late in the evening ; but the populace, though not knowing exactly who she was, guessed that the party were political fugitives, and stop- ped the carriage in so menacing a manner that the Princess and the General were for- ced to abandon it and escape on foot, in the dark, through the town, and at length out of it by a side door luckily left open for the use of some workmen employed in repairing one of the great gates. Hence they had great difficulty in groping their way through deep and miry back ways to the high road, where, after having been two or three hours exposed to cold and wet, the carriage (which was released by the exertions of M. d'Es- tancelin) overtook her, and conveyed her to Boulogne. The courage and even gaiety of the young Princess throughout this noc- turnal adventure were very remarkable. M. Lamartine more suo embroiders it with some circumstances which we believe to be not more accurate than his final ascertion that the Duchess proceeded to " Belgium and Brussels, where her husband awaited her" 52 {Lamiartinej 314) ; but we may accept his general evidence as to the danger to which the royal family seems to have been every- where exposed, and to the peculiar cowardice and inhumanity with which a leading patriot to whom MM. d'Estancelin and Thierry applied, refused this poor young woman, whose personal condition they urged on his pity, a refuge for the night. Prince Alexander of Wurtemberg and his little boy PhiHppe, the orphan of the accomt»lished Princess Mary^ v/ho were also in the King's closet at the moment of depar- ture, took a different route and reached Germany in safety. M. Lamartine pro- fesses to have felt a great anxiety to facili- tate and protect the retreat of all the royal family, and he especially glorifies himself for having given passports to this German prince, who was in no danger whatsoever, and who obtained, in the usual course, a passport through the minister of his own court ; but we do not find that M. Lamar- tine gave a passport to any human being — royal, gentle, or simple-— that really stood in need of it. Perhaps it may be that he had no opportunity. We know not how that might be, but we know, and shall prove as we proceed, that neither the fugitives themselves, nor the subordinate agents of the new government, had anj reason to be- 53 . '1:v hi$ lieve that M. Lamartine was desirous of favouring their escape. The rest of the royal party now left the palace, not (as was at first reported, and as M. Lamartine and Captain Chamier have erroneously repeated) through a subterranean passage under the river terrace, but through the great vestibule and down the centre avenue of the garden to the Place Louis XV. — the six infant grandchildren being carried in the arms of persons of the suite. At the garden front of the palace they found a strong detachment of cavalry of the Na- tional Guard, which General Dumas, aide- de-camp of the King, had prudently brought up to protect their passage. At the sight of the Royal family on foot amongst them, these troops expressed their loyalty and sympathy by cries of " Vive le Roi .'" — " Vive la Famille Roy ale /" The King had evidently no expectation of being forced to leave France. His re- tirement from Paris and its neighbourhood was all that was contemplated ; a new government it was supposed would have ap- peased the disturbance ; and it was thought indispensable to the success of that govern- ment that his absence should remove any suspicion of the Regent's being a tool in his hands. The ultimate object of his journey was no doubt the old chateau of Eu in Nor» 54 m -M W:W 1 ^- h i mandy, a favourite residence which he had repaired and embellished, and to which he now looked as a retreat for his old age ; but it was evident that it was on the St. Cloud side of Paris that he could make the easiest exit ; and accordingly it appears that as soon as the resolution of abdicating was taken, the royal carriages were ordered to proceed to the grille^ or iron gate, of the Tuileries gardens, opening into the Place Louis XV. — still called, from a draw-bridge that was formerly the passage over a sunk fence, the lPo7it Tournant, M. Lamartine boasts, and has a thousand echoes, that his revolu- tion was made without violence or the shed- ding a drop of blood — an audacious untruth, as we have already shown ; but here we have one instance which, though only of a single murder, might have produced a stu- pendous massacre. As the royal carriages were crossing the Carrousel in order to pro- ceed through the guichet — the archway under the great gallery — and so along the quay to the Po77t Tournant^ they were arrested by the mob in the Carrousel, the outrider that wis directing them was wan- tonly and brutally murdered, the horses were killed, while the other servants fled for their lives, and the carriages themselves were set fire to and burned. This remarkable fact it suits M, Lamartine to conceal entirolv. and 55 e had ch he ; but Cloud asiest s soon taken, oceed ileries i XV. it was :e, the )oasts, evolu- shed- 1 truth, re we i^ of a a stu- riages D pro- jhway g the were 1, the wan- iwere their •e set act it , and to misrepresent some of the events which depended on it. The Duke of Nemours — who was, as we have said, stationed in the front court of the Tuileries, separated from the Carrousel by the high and massive grille, in nominal com- mand of troops forbidden to use their arms, and, in fact, blockaded by the insurgents — could do nothing either to prevent this out- rage, or (as it at first seemed) to avert the disappointment and danger of the royal family from the absence of the carriages. There happened, however, to be standing within the front court and therefore out of the reach of the mob, two of those little one-horse carriages called Broughams and a two-wheeled cabriolet, all belonging to the King's establishment, and ordinarily employ- ed for driving about town, by the aide-de- camps and messengers-in-waiting. With a fortunate presence of mind the Duke saw that, inadequate as these little vehicles were (each of them being constructed for two persons only), they might at least receive some of the royal party, and would be better than none ; and he therefore directed them to hasten by the guichet of the court and the quay, which were as yet free, to the spot where the travelling carriages had been pre- viously ordered. * The royal family, how- ♦ Captain Chandler relates a story of a single car- 56 ever, had an-ived before them, and were of course painfully surprised and disappointed at not seeing the carriages, and at finding themselves enveloped by a crowd, through which they made their way to the Ob^lisque in the centre of the Place — a spot full as we have before stated (vol. Ixxxii. p. 566), of terrible recollections, and now of very alarm- ing appearances. The assertions of all the revolutionary publications, and of some well-intentioned writers who have, for want of better infor- mation, copied them, would lead us to sup- psse that the King's departure and subse- quent flight had more of alarm than was rea- sonable, £.nd that the magnanimous people would not have touched a hair of his head. The truth is, as we shall see, that not the King alone, but everbody else, even the least interested spectators, were convinced of the imminence of the danger ; and all the facts subsequently developed confirm that opinion. Throughout the whole crisis numerous, and some very cowardly, murders had been com- riage being stationed on the Place Louis XIV. at an earlier hour for the same purpose, and argues upon it as proving an anticipation of what happened. That is a total mistake — the fact was exactly as we state it, and is so far important as it corroborates .the suddenness and imprivu of the whole transaction. 57 milted ; and if the little vehicles so oppor- tunely sent by the Duke of Nemours had not arrived to the rescue of the royal fami- ly, it is terrible to think what new disasters might have occurred : at the very Pont Tournant three persons had been massacred* in the morning — one a deputy T. Jollivet. Of this the King and every one about him, were aware — though it was not till some days after that the discovery of the bodies under a heap of rubbish revealed to the pub- lic at large both that atrocity, and the dan- gers that the royal family had run while de- layed and exposed on that very spot by the absence of the proper cariages. We may here add also, though it anticipates by a few moments the chronological order of events, that M. Lamartine fully admits the peril of the moment by a statement that, after the King had got into the little carriages, some " shots were fired at him, and that two troop horses of the escort were killed under his eyes'' {liam, p. 86). This, however, fortunately escaped the notice of the royal party. When, also, a little after, M. Lamartine wishes to exalt his own personal courage in facing his oYTn friendly mob at the other end of the bridge, he says — " The pavement was slippery with mud and Uood ; here and there the dead bodies of men and horses brewed the quays, so as 58 U I even to impede the march of the Provisional Government from the Chamber to the H6tel de Ville."— p. 132. All this blood had been shed, and these peo- ple killed either before or during the escape of the King, w^ho was separated from this bloody scene only by the Pont de la Con- corde and the body of troops that occupied it. Of the aspect of that mob, even after it had been in some degree pacified by the departure of the King and the rejection of the regency, M, I.amartine gives us this amongst several other similar descrip- tions : — , " The march of the members of the Pro- visional Government had to struggle through the convulsive and irritable movement of the crowd, under a canopy of pikes, rusty mus- kets, swords, bayonets fixed on poles, cut- lasses, and daggers, brandished by bare arms, scorched with powder, stained with blood, and still shaking with the fever of three days' fighting. Their costumes were hideous ; their countenances livid and excited to madness ; their lips quivered ivith cold and eoccitement ; their eyes looked like insani- tyP — Lam,, p. 134. Our readers will judge whether, iii "such a state of things, there was not abundant cause of alarm for the safety of the royal family, but above all of the King — so often the in- tended to the tiers— umpha their c any ^r sional solicitc when ^ rewarc first p< his wa medial Provis and thi compli *Itis on his I Be Fl Al M Ch Di Q L€ H iSI^vjii! 59 tended victim of assassins,* and so obnoxious to the thousands of conspirators and emeu- tiers — now in a state of convulsive and tri- umphant insanity that they terrified even their own leader and idol. Nor have we any ^reat reason to suppose that the Provi- sional Government would have been very solicitous to punish an attack on the King , when w^ find the haste that they made to reward former assassins. Bergeron, the first person who had fired on tha King on his way to the Chamber in 1832, was im- mediately appointed Commissaire of the Provisional Government in tsvo departments ; and the widow of Pepin, executed as the ac- complice of Fieschi, was recommended for ♦It is worth while to enumerate the known attempts on his life— several did not become public : — Bergeron, on the Pont Royal, December, 1832. Fieschi, on the Boulevard, July, 1835. Alibaud, in the court of the Tuileries, June, 1836. Meunier, on the Quai des Tuileries, December, 1836. Champion, an abortive Machine Infernale, Quai de la Conference, 1837. Darm^s, near the Pont de la Concorde, Octo- ber, 1840. Quenisset, who shot at the three Princes, S ep tember, 1841. Lecomte, Fontainebleau, August, 1846. Henry, on the balcony of the Tuileries, July, 1847. 60f a pension by the Commission of National Recompences. But even if the appearances of the revolu^ tionary mob had been less ferocious, one can- not contemplate without a retrospective feel- ing of terror the position of a man of 75 and a dozen women and infants hustled in a crowd where the slightest accident might have been followed by the most deplorable catastrophe ; and such a catastrophe must in all human probebility have happened in the Palace if the King had remained there, or on the Place Louis XV., but for the escort of cavalry so opportunely brought up by General Dumas, and a still larger body of troops, which, happening to be stationed on the quay and bridge, was now providentially at hand to protect the unexpected retreat of the King. It was under their protection that the three little carriages were brought through the crowd to where the royal fugi- tives were waiting in a state in which noth- ing as certain but their personal danger. Into these carriages — constructed, we re- peat, to carry six persons in the whole — fifteen were now crowded — we can hardly imagine how. In one were the King and Queen and the two young Princes of Co- burg, sons of the Princess Clementine, and the little Duke d'Alen9on (son of the Duke of Nemours), who was thrown like a bundle Sv into th were p peculia tine Ci large s and he Clemei TheD and on cabriol other drivers py to I immedi and, m escape by the they r( Thij crowd( enougl the wis seems self-po tain C ried se riage ; grandc from t came calm, 61 itionaf le can- ^e feel- 75 and in a might lorable 2 must ned in there, •or the ght up r body med on entiall}' reat of tection irought il fugi- 1 noth- ger. we re- hole — hardly ig and ofCo- e, and ! Duke bundle into the carriage after them. In the second were packed the Duchess of Nemours (the peculiar * grace and beauty,' ar» M, Lamar- tine calls her, of that family which has so large a share of both), with her eldest son and her daughter, the daughter of Princess Clementine, and three female attendants. The Duke of Montpensier, General Dumas, and one of ^he Queen's women occupied the cabriolet ; and besides all these, two or three other attendants hung on or sat with the drivers. The Princes Clementine, too hap- py to have seen her children removed from immediate danger, took her husband's arm, and, mingling themselves in the crowd, they escaped t6 the house of a friend, and thence by the Versailles railroad to Trianon, where they rejoined the King. This rapid accumulation of events — all crowded into fifteen or twenty minutes, was enough to unnerve the bravest and confound the wisest, but no one of that whole family seems to have lost for a moment his or her self-possession. The Queen did not, as Cap- tain Chamier relates, faint, nor was she car- ried senseless in the King's arms to the car- riage 5 on the contrary, she herself lifted her grandchildren into it, taking indiscriminately from the knot of little ones those that first came to her hand. The King preserved his mg fraid throughout, yet vigilant b3 62 Riid by his few short words addressed to each of those from whom he was forced to separate, contributed to the good fortune that, per varios casus, per tot discriminia rerum, eventually reunited the whole family in a place of safety. . General Berthois, the King's aid-de-camp in waiting, obtained a troop horse, and en- deavoured to accompany the carriages, but he was seized, unhorsed, and maltreated by the mob, and he was only saved by the ex- ertions of some energetic a^^d well-disposed individuals in the crowd. General Rumig- ny, another of the King's aide-de-camps, and Captain de Pauligne, officier d^ordon- nance — more fortunate than M. de Berthois — were enabled to reach St. Cloud — M. de Rumigny in a diligence, and M. de Pauligne on a trooper's horse mixed up with the escort. Captain Chamier^s account of this depar- ture is the least satisfactory part of his work. He seems to have trusted too impli- citly to the gossip of some Parisian acquaint- ance, inclined, right or wrong, to depreciate and denigi'er the House of Orleans. We ourselves, we need hardly say, are what are calkd Legitimists ; but that makes us the more anxious to do justice to the personal qualities of the Orleans family, not only as justice — of itself an all-sufficient motive — but b ditarj can event all, \^ whene truth. was r notori< and ab he is e doing j E umig cally 8 supposi fallen hand, were uj to escj Weai controj niankii prince^| proposj experi( their ii lar oc< neithei ♦Car died in still livi^ 63 ssed to rced to fortune ^iminia e family de-camp and en- ges, but Bated by the ex- disposed Rumig- e-camps, (Tordon- Berthois ~M- de Pauligne with the lis depar- t of his too impli- acquaint- lepreciate ns. We what are tes us the B personal ot only as motive — but because also the great principle of here- ditary right, the only one as we think that can tranquillize France, seems destined eventually to belong to them ; and above all, we think it our duty to re-establish whenever we can the integrity of historical truth. We have seen that Captain Chamier was misinformed on so important and so notorious a point as the supposed neglect and abandonment of the Duchess of Orleans ; he is equally so on several others. While doing justice to the active fidelity of Messrs. Eumigny* and Pauligne, he hints sarcasti- cally at some other persons who were, he supposes, found wanting in gratitude to their fallen benefactors ; and then, on the other hand, he intimates that some faithful servants were unkindly forgotten in the master's hurry to escape. All this is mistake and injustice. We are far from being such optimists as to controvert the advice of the Psalmist that mankind should not " put their trust in princes," or still less the converse of that proposition so strongly inculcated by modern experience, that " princes should not put their trust in mankind ;" but on this particu- lar occasion there was, we are confident, neither ingratitude nor neglect of the kind * Captain Chamier slotes that General Rumigny died in li^ngland — another mistake — the General is still living. ^ 64 <4 imputed. Let us take as an instance the only case that Captain Chamier specifies, though he hints at many. He complains that " Madame de Dolomieu, the old t^ied friend and companion of the Queen, was left to make her own way from the scene of disor- der ; she was found crying bitterly as she walked to St. Cloud by a gentleman who offered her shelter, but she only knew that the Queen was gone to St. Cloud, and thither she was resolved to go also ; a washer-wo- man's cart happened to pass, she was placed in that, and reached her destination !" — p. 40. We believe that the facts are true, but the impressions which they seem to have made on Captain Chamier are certainly wrong. Madame de Dolomieu quitted the palace precipitately, and on foot — so did everybody ; she had no carriage — nobody had ; she was in tears — no doubt, — tears, not of personal vexation, but of surprise and anxiety about her royal friends. Nor was she absolutely alone — she was accompanied by Madame Angelet, another of the Queen's ladies ; and we can confidently say that it is not true that " no one thought or inquired about her ; but who in that niilee could guess where she, or many other ladies, had been scattered, or how they were to be retrie dame from (cleve Homit the sii in ani carry lessly sense that tl hasty < himP who V ruffians sional were person *vould they c if he anywl have either I in the Berths martii tion t( remaii with Captij 65 ace the pedfieSj )mplains i friend left to f disor- as she [lan who new that id thither sher-wo- as placed m !"— p. true, but to have certainly litted the ; — so did —nobody t, — tears, rprise and Nor was ompanied e Queen's ' that it is • inquired ^ee could idies, had 3re to be retrieved ? If it had happened that Ma- ' dame de Dolomieu had not been separated from tiie Queen, would Captain Chamier (clever as gentlemen of his profession are at Hoimng people away) have placed her as the sixth passenger in one, or as the eighth in another, of the little vehicles made to carry two? Captain Chamier, more heed- lessly than is consistent with his usual good sense and knowledge of mankind, repeats that the King's flight need not have been so hasty " when no one was thinking about him^'^ Certainly, the drunken brigands who were plundering his palaces, or the ruffians that were terrifying even the Provi- sional Government on the Place de Grave, were not just tJien thinking of the King's person, happily out of their reach : but virould it not have been very different if they could have laid hold of him — or indeed if he had fallen into the hands of any mob anywhere ? Captain Chamier seems not to have known, at least he does not mention, either the murders at the Pont Tmirnant in the morning, nor the attack on General Berthois, nor the umbrage which M. La- martine confesses the leaders of the revolu- tion took at the mere possibility of the King's remaining even at St. Cloud, We dwell with some earnestness on this point, because Captian Chamier's book is in general the 66 turn most accurate and judicious, as well as amusing history of the Revolution which we have yet seen, and that with the exception of this (as we suppose) Faubourg' St. 'Ger^- vtiain impression against Louis-Philippe per- sonally, we cordially concur in all his views and appreciation of both events and men. If, as we have little doubt, he shall be called on for another edition, we earnestly recom- mend the points we have touched upon to his impartial reconsideration. The three little carriages with their won- derful and illustrious cargoes were soon got away. General Regnauit, who was at the head of a brigade of cavalry which happen- ed to be concentrated in this spot, took the command of the King's escort, which con- sisted of the 2nd regiment of cuirassiers, commanded by Colonel Reibel, and a de- tachment of the cavalry of the National Guard. This strong escort completely en- veloped and concealed the carriages, and had proceeded but a few hundred yards • We should also venture to suggest a minor im*' provement — the substitution in his narrative of I for We — his personal identity of the plural form ; which, though proper in reviews and newspapers, which re- present a certain community of opinion, is awkward in the mouth of a single witness giving his own in- dividual testimony. It throws a kind of doubt and obscurity over some passages of the work. 67 well as hich we :ceptioii It.'Ger- )pe per- is views id men. e called recom- upon to .**■'!■ i' > Bir won- >oon got . at the happen- took the ich con- irassiers, id a de- National jtely en- ges, and id yards minor \m- ve of I for \n ; which, which re- j awkward is own in- doubt and when the necessity of this display of force for the King's safety became apparent. Opposite the Pont des Invalides they found a great mob that were sacking and burning the guard-house, and who seemed for a mo- ment disposed to stop the carriages, but the impulse and aspect of so formidable a body of cavalry intimidated and repulsed them without a shot being fired. The guard at the barrier of Passy, a very motley group, presented arms in silence. The escort pro- ceeded no farther than St. Cloud ; and when the King, before leaving that palace, went down into the courtyard to take leave of the troops, they exhibited an enthusiasm of loy- alty very different from the feeling shown by the National Guard at the review at the Tuileries in the morning. The same consideration, which from a far different cause had suggested itself to M. Lamartine — that at St. Cloud he would be too near Paris — had also occurred to the King. Lamartine thought it might threaten the Republic — the King had not yet heard the word Republic, but he thought that it might embarrass the Eegency, and that it would be better in every point of view that he should proceed at once to his ultimate destination — the Chateau d'Eu. But how to reach it — without equipages — without money? For, as we stated in our form<^r 68 h iiil article, the departure had been so precipi- tate that that which in lower life would have been the first care was never thought of at all ; and there was amongst the whole party no money but the trifling sum usually carried in one's pocket. The Queen's purse, habi- tually prepared for occasional charities, was the heaviest, and contained a few pounds. But, besides these material difficulties, there were others still more serious. All posting was deranged • the railroads were interrupt- ed ; nor indeed would it have been possible to have reached either of the lines, Rouen or Abbeville, that ran towards Eu, without passing through places all under the influ- ence of the hostile spirit of Paris. The King in this difficulty, and seeing that he could hardly remain at St. Cloud undisturbed by the Parisian mobs, might have thrown himself into the new fortress of Mont Val6- rien, close by, the strongest of the celebrated detached forts, where he would be safe as long as he might choose to remain there. But this plan, if it crossed his mind at all, would naturally be rejected as having too hostile and provocative an aspect. It was therefore resolved to proceed to Trianon — a retired and beautiful dependency on the gigantic magnificence of Versailles — a step farther from offence to, or danger from, the volcanic metropolis. Thither the party 69 recipi- d have of at party carried , babi- es, was ounds. , tbere posting ;errupt- 30ssible Rouen witbout lie influ- i. The that he isturbed thrown It Val6- lebrated safe as 1 there, d at all, ing too It was anon — on the ~a step om, the e party proceeded in two omnibuses hired by Gene- ral Dumas in the town of St. Cloud, to go as far as Trianon. But Trianon was still too near Paris, and it was almost in Versailles, where there were no troops — the whole garrison having been removed to Paris ; and it afforded no facili- ties for effecting the transit to Eu. General Dumas was therefore dispatched to Versail- les, where he hired two berlines for their farther use. He also borrowed from a pri- vate friend 1200 francs ^ fifty "pounds !) These resources, poor as they seem, were most acceptable at the moment, though they did little towards the immediate object of reaching Eu. It was clear that, if the whole party were to proceed together, they not only could not preserve their incognito, but would be stopped on the cross-roads for wont of hor- ses. It became, therefore, absolutely neces- sary to separate the party and divide the risks, and it was hoped that there could be no personal danger for any one but the King — that ladies and infants at least would, even if intercepted, be still safe. One of t\f^ berlins was therefore assigned to the Princess Clementine and her husband. Prince Augustus of Coburg, with their three chil- dren, and the Duke de Nemours' little daughter Marguerite, accompanied by Doc- 'M 70 tor Pigache and Madame Angelet. M. Aubernon, Prefect of Versailles, undertook the charge of this detachment, and managed so well that they got without difficulty to Eu,and thence to Boulogne, where, on board the packet, they met the 'I'', of Nemours just arrived direct from l^^t' ., and they landed at Folkestone on Sunda} ^he 27th of February. The rest of the party proceeded in the remaining berlin and one of the omnibuses to Dreux, where the King possesses a very ancient dungeon-tower, older, some antiqua- rians pretend, than the Roman invasion of Gaul, and the remains of the old chateau of the Comtes de Dreux, which he had partly repaired and arranged as an occasional, in- deed we may say devotional residence close to the chapel which he has built within the precincts of those ruins, to replace the one destroyed in the revolution, which was the burial-place of his maternal ancestors, and latterly of his own family. There he had recently laid his sister, the early companion and constant friend of his adventurous life — there his beloved son, the heir and hope — and there his accomplished daughter, flie atistic illustration of his house ; and to that half-furnished, desolate, and at best melan- choly residence, he now came in a hired carriage in a dark winter's night — * menani^ I. M. ertook anaged ulty to 1 board emours d they e 27th in the nibuses a very lintiqua- Ision of iteau of I partly mal, in- ze close hin the the one Yas the >rs, and he had npanion ous life id hope ter, file to that melan- a hired enani^ as Mirabeau said on his death bed — * le deuil de la monarchies Do the annals of the world afford any parallel to the vicissi- tudes of that day — from the royal breakfast in the gay Tuileries to the humble supper in the funeral mansion of Dreux™ from the caparisoned charger at the review on the Carrousel to the omnibus of St. Cloud — from being thought the richest sovereign in Europe to borrowing fifty 'pounds — to fly for his life from the palace of his ancestors to the grave of his children?* n ,. " Sunt lacrymae rerum et mentem niortalia - tangunt !" and all thir owing — even then notoriously, now indisputably — to nothing but the King's reluctance, as M. Lamartine says, that any more hlood should be shed on his account ; and his being too humane and too constitu- tional for the factious and unscrupulous poli- ticians with whom he had to deal, and the turbulent, perverted, and above all ungrate- ♦ The officers who attended the King suggested the expediency of pushing fonvard towards Eu directly, without going to Dreux, but they met with a reluctance to adopt that course which they did not exactly understand j they aiterwards saw reason to conjecture that it was because the Queen had a pious desire to kneel that night on the graves of tfie children she had lost, and to pray for the safety of those that remained. V 72 ful and giddy people which he had to govern. Our readers need hardly be reminded how much we lamented — and chiefly for his own sake — that he had been induced to accept the crown in July, 1830. That step, it was thought at the moment, afforded the only chance of preserving even the semblance of the monarchy in the House of Bourbon — but as we always said and everybody now sees, it only postponed and in fact aggravated the evil. It gave a sanction to one revolu- tion which inevitably led to another. Some incidents also in his admirastration were, as we thought, very liable to question ; but on some of the most questionable measures of his policy, the revolutionary plunder of his cabinet and the publication of his secret papers have even in our judgment vindicated his character. His whole political and pri- vate life, and that of his family, have been as it were eviscerated by the rude hand of the revolution, and thrown down as garbage to public criticism, and the result has been to prove Louis-Philippe to have been, to a degree that even his friends and servants hardly ventured to assert, a good husband, a good father, a good king — a man of very great abilities combined with an unusual de- gree of good nature and good temper. His fall, more sudden than that of Napoleon, was also more honourable, more undeserved, kiid it and n sacrifi adopte madmi has si but ha age tc repair sufferii Ear ruary, his me rived failed- —that and thi away i| knew Am high a^ duty, ofNei doned parentl a noblf the He hi timelyl Orleai He wi n oveni. ed how lis own accept , it was le only ance of irbon — dy now ravated revolu- Some vere, as but on sures of T of his s secret ndicated and pri- ,ve been hand of garbage las been en, to a servants husband, I of very usual de- )er. His Japoleon, deserved, iirid in every point of view more humiliating and more calamitous to France who thu» sacrificed the King of her own choice^ and adopted the despotism of a few dozen of madmen and ruffians-~on most of whom she has since inflicted disgraceful punishment, but has neither the moral nor physical cour- age to retrace her steps and endeavour to repair the disgrace and misery which she is suffering. . . ' Early in the morning of the 25th of Feb^ ruary, before the King was yet risen from his melancholy bed at Dreux, accounts ar-- rived from Paris that the Regency had failed — that the Republic was proclaimed ^— that the young King, his little brother, and the two Regents, had been all swept away in the popular tumult, and that no one knew what had become of any of them. And here we are glad to do justice to the high and magnanimous discharge of a public duty, which for a time subjected the Duke of Nemours to the reproach of having aban- doned not only his wife and children, but his parents. The truth is, no man ever made a nobler sacrifice of all personal feeling than the Duke of Nemours on this occasion. He had been, by a law passed on the un- timely death of his brother the Duke of Orleans, nominated as prospective Regent. He was also at the crisis of the abdicationr ■\ u charged with the command of the troops, whose countenance was, as we before said, the only protection of the palace from storm. That post he maintained with equal temper and resolution till the King and his party had left the palace, and till the Duchess of Orleans, with the new king and her new ministers, were about to proceed to the Chamber to obtain the recognition of these extemporized authorities — then the Duke of Nemours saw that his duties as a soldier ceased, and those with which the law still invested him as Regent of the kingdom and guardian of his nephew, began. Anxious, as was evident, to be relieved by the legis- lative authority from his irksome and ano- malous position, he was resolved, as a man of honour and a high public functionary, to do that duty while it was imposed on him, and to give to the young King and his mother whatever protection and support he might be able to afford. r'lv >..h Of the trying scenes to which the Duchess of Orleans and the Duke of Nemours were exposed in the Chamber we already had abundant descriptions. M. Lamartine re- produces them in his usual tedious and tur- gid, but for once, we dare say, not exag- gerated style. To one or two points of his narrative recent circumstances have given a revived interest. On the late anniversary of th — M tiona] consi; age, J nees^^ haviuj bold hones for tw real s( public bably, the im provo] tine, vindic of^^ to his area confel 75 <«. troops, *e said, storm. temper is party jhess of er new to the of these Duke of I soldier law still dom and Anxious, he legis- and ano- as a man onary, to i on him, lis mother he might 5 Duchess Durs were eady had irtine re- and tur- lot exag- ints of his ^e given a iniversary of those days — the 23rd of February, 1850 — M. Thiers, from the tribune of the Na- tional Assembly, with rather questionable consistency, but with great eloquence, cour- age, and truth, pronounced on those " Jour- nee^'^ of February, 1848, the fietrissure of having been " terribles et fune^tesP These bold and honest words — the first bold and honest words that had been uttered in France for two years — express, we are satisfied, the real sentiment of all that is valuable in the public opinion of France, and they will, pro- bably, have important results. They had the immediate and not insignificant one of provoking the re-appearance of M. Lamar- tine, after an eclipse of twenty months, to vindicate for those days their ci-devant title of " glorima?'^ If he had said, in reference to his own share in them, that they had been vam-gl(n'i(M8, it would have been true ; but that they were not only " terribles et fa- nestes^^ but disgraceful, it becomes worth while to remind our readers by a few short extracts from M. Lamartine's own account of the birth of the Repubuc — of which, under his characteristic delusion, he fancies himself the father, when in fact he was only the man-midwife. The Chamber has been invaded, and its area is occupied by what M. Lamartine confesses to be " a rabble of ragged and 76 grotesquely armed vagahonds.'^^ The Duchess of Orleans, her children, and the Duke of Nemours occupy a back seat oppo- site the President. Lamartine is in the tri- bune rejecting the regency iivhich he had fm^merly and just as factiously advocated)^ and proposing a provisional government in an incendiary s[)eech, hotly applauded by the " ragged vagabonds" about him : — " Yes, yes ! cried the combatants, waving their flags, brandishing their arms, and exhi- biting the marks of blood and gunpowder on their hands." — p. 120. Second — if second — to Lamartine him- self amongst the conscript fathers of this strangely metamorphosed senate was " a butcher's boy, with his tray and his clothes stained with blood, and brandishing a long knife." This fellow, who had placed himself just under the tribune — looking like the " jSezVZe" of Lamartine, though we acquit the oi^tor of all intentional connexion with the butcher — made more than one rush with his knife at the Duchess of Orleans, ^' pour en finer j"^ as he growled through his hard- set tep+h. These attempts were repelled by a body of deputies that gathered round the royal party. M/ Lamartine, with the most astonishing fo)ly and vanity, goes on to assert that, if he had said only one word— if he had pointed with 1 and a revolii M. L power ensuei head, must i exceei He m the dii confla even t this I have \ —the open was the bi ged VI guard Tuilei all fli and der an the J just undt open€ ets gates in hi The nd the t oppo- the tri- lie had icated)y nent in J by the waving id exhi- wder on ne him- s of this was u and his mdishing id placed king like «re acquit cion with rush with s, ^' pour his hard- pelled by "ound the itonishing that, if he d pointed 77 with his authoritative finger to the Duchess, and apostrophized her as Regent^ all the revolution would have bowed before her. If M. Lamartine thought that he had any such power, then all the guilt and misery that ensued is, by his own confession, on his own head. We therefore, on his own showing, must admit his guilty responsibility, but we exceedingly doubt the piBtended power. He might, indeed, have saved himself from the disgrace of having helped to spread the conflagration, but it was too late to stop or even turn it 5 for while he was yet spouting this harangue — which he imagines might have turned as he pleased the fate of France — the doors of the Assembly were burst open by a new invasion. This, he says, was the real army of insurgents, of which the butcher's boy and the rest of the " rag- ged vagabonds" had been only the advanced guard. These latter ' had issued from the Tuileries after the sacking of the palace, all flushed with the three days' fighting, and some drunk with the fumes of pow- der and the excitement of the march [and the plunder of the cellars l\ They had just crossed the Palace de la Concorde under the eyes of the generals, who had opened them a passage through the bayon- ets of the troops. Arrived at the outward gates of the Chamber, their comrades with- in had admitted them on a signal given 78 / by M. Marrast, [Marrast, since so notori- ous, was then nothing but a factious journa- list and an obscure insurgent.] Their torn clothes, their shirts open, their arms bare, their clenched fists, looking like muscular bludgeons, their hair wildly dishevelled and singed with cartridges, their eyes swollen, their countenances maddened with the deli- rium of the revolution, all showed them to be desperadoes coming to make the last as- sault on the last refuge of royalty. They climbed over the benches, they pressed against and beat down {ec7'asaie7it) the offi- cers of the Chamber, they brandished their arms, pikes, bayonets, sabres, crowbars, with cries of " Down with the Regency !" " The Republic for ever !" The very roof shook with their cries.' — pp. 121, 122. And ycc the man who writes this descrip- tion has the vanity to suppose that a few words of his sentimental bavardage, declaim- ed to the deputies a quarter of an hour be- fore, could have arrested the Revolution and established the Regency. He would, we have no doubt, have had the assembly with him, because the assembly were, almost to a man, with him already ; but his fine phrases would not have reversed the triumphs of the mob, nor satisfied the insurrectionary journa- lists, who, some hours before, had proclaim- ed the Republic, and named their provisional government. Ai of be their into taker their most Whe In cess. pointi sat su puties and h( an im a frig hardl) of the tive, stood ing 01 that 79 notori- journa- ir torn IS bare, uscular led and woUen, he deli- tbem to last as- They pressed the offi- led their ars, with " "The ►of shook , descrip- lat a few de claim- hour be- ution and ould, we nbly with most to a e phrases ►hs of the y journa- proclaim- rovisional And now all was anarchy and on the verge of being a massacre. New insurgents break their way into the body of the house * as if into the breach of a city that had been taken by storm. Their arms, their gestures, their passionate cries indicate the last and most guilt'if purpose — " Where is she 1 Where is she ?" '—p. 122. In short, they meant to murder the Prin- cess. Such cries and the gestures of some pointing to the place where the royal party sat surrounded and concealed by a few de- puties still alive to the feelings of humanity and honour, left no doubt that nothing but an immediate retreat could save them from a frightful calamity. Yet the retreat was hardly less perilous. We collect here some of the chief points of M. Lamartine's narra- tive, who, during the tumult, seems to have stood in the centre of the tribuna, as if mak- ing only a pause in his harangue, with all that calm dignity with which men of less nerve than Lamartine can contemplate the danger of other people, and especially when it happens to be a contrivance and a triumph of their own : — * The Duchess, with her feeble suite and children, fell into the midst of another invad- ing mob ; with dilBculty she escaped Siuffo- cation and deaths thanks to her sex — to her veil J which prevented her being recognized 80 >--[thar h^ if she had been known she would have beep massacred in spite of her sex]— - and to the exertions of a few courageous deputies, amongst whom M. de Mornay, Marshal feoult's son-in-law, was conspicuous. She was soon separated, however, by the undulations of the crowd from her children and the Duke de Nemours, Surrounded and overwhelmed by fresh torrents of the populace, she was tossed about like a wre^.k in a storm ; and at last dashed, half-stifled and almost swooning, against a glass-door, which broke with the shock. On recover- ing her consciousness she misses her child- ren ; she calls them ; her attendants promise to find them, and hasten to look for them undei: the very feet of the crowd. Mean- while a few friends succeeded in forming a circle round her ; they got her into the ^re-^ fiident's gacden, and thence into his re^- ce, there to abide her fate and await the recov- ery of her children. ^ The Count de Paris, separated from his mother by the crowd, and pointed out to the mob IS the future King, had been brutally sei7v';d by the throat by a man of colossal stdtur^^. The huge and bony hand of this madman had nervly strangled the poor child in a jocose pretence, A soldier of the National fip./d witnessed this detestable ^outrage, ana vtiih one vigorous bjow of his SJf ) would sex]—" rageous ^lornay, )icuous. by the children rounded of the a wrc^.k If-stifled iss-door, recover- er child- 3 promise for them Mean- orming a the ^^re-^ ■ei'-^dp^'-'Ce, iie recov* I from his mt to the brutally colossal nd of this )Oor child r of the letestable )w of his fist beat down the arm of this unfeeling wretch.' — pp. 123, 124. -This passage affords a characteristic irt- stance of the style in which throughout his work, M. lamartine endeavours to recon- cile his own fme sentiments with the brutal excesses of his auxiliaries. Here, after displaying his generous feeling by reprobat- ing " a detestable outrage," — in intention a murder — he q- ite gratuitously and inconsis- tently chooses to suppose that it was only " a jocose pretence." The other little boy, the Duke of Char- tres, hiid fallen in the corridor of the Cham- ber, and was imi lediately lost under the feet of the crowd. Those that attended the Duchess thought that an attempt to stop to recover him would have only endangered the lives of herself and the elder boy, and they forced the agonized motlijer forward (p. 309) ; indeed the torrent overpowered all resistance. The child escaped miracu- lously with a few cuts and bruises ; he was picked up by one of the messengers of the Chamber, who carried him home, and, after disguising hJm like a child of the lower class, conveyed him through two or three hands to M. and Madame de Mornay, who placed him for concealment in the house of a poor hood ': not ventur- woman [ghb( ing, it seems, to keep the poor little fellow c2 A^y. 82 m their own house. There the child re- mained two days, his mother not knowing what had become of him. M. de Mornay had no means of acquainting her that he was safe, for slie too was in concealment , Though the Duchess and the Comte de Paris had fortunately reached the President's house in safety, it was thought dangerous that she should remain there even long enough to seek for the missing boy, and she was hurried away to the apartments of the Governor of the Hotel des Invalides. Here, one would have supposed that a widow, only known, as M. Lamartine often repeats, for her rank, her beauty, her misfortunes, and her virtues, and an iniiocent orphan might have found refuge for a night. But alas ! no. The following is M. Lamartine's ac- count of this incident, vfhi^.h seems to us in- tentionally vague and mysterious : — '' Marshal Molitor received the Princess, her son, and the Duke de Nemours, and lodged them in bi^ apartment. But the veteran Marshal *^bo ^las suffering from illness, began to be alarmed at the respon- sibility he was incurrifipv Some doubts which he expressed, respecting the disposi- tion of the InvaKdes thtiiselves and also re- lative to the sicurUy of the Hdtel itself as a place of refuge, very much shook the con- fidence of the Princess ^nd her friends. a cape advid the quioi guesl H days Dukl at \i gui^ arrii saysl throl son 83 a While the Marshal was ordering dinner for his guests, the Princess, in whose mind the recollection of the captivity of the Tem- ple was ever present, and who imagined she should see her son consigned to the care of another Simon, resolved not to remain an hour longer in the Invalides." There is, we are satisfied, no ground whatsoever for supposing, as M. Lamartine says, that the gallant old Marshal was alarmed or gave his guest any hint to retire. The Duchess's sudden retreat was occasion- ed by the urgent advice of M. Odillon Bar- rot, who came at six o'clock in the evening to say that the increasing irritation of the populace and a knowledge that she was in the Invalides rendered her immediate es- cape indispensable. In consequence of this advice, " she departed with her son, under the safeguard of M. Anatole de Montes- quieu, for the chateau of Ligny, some lea gues from Paris." (p. 125.) Here she remained concealed for some days, audhere, after two days of agony, the Duke of Chartres was restored to her ; but at length she " left that chateau in dis- guise^ and, taking the rail-road at Amiens, arrived at Lille. At Lille M. Lamartine says that the Duchess had a passing idea of throwing herself into the arms of the garri- son and proclaiming her son ; and he ap- 84 piauds her for having renounced tliat idea rather than incur the " crime of civil war.'' ^— M. Lamartine conveniently forgetting that he himself had incurred all " the crime of civil war," which was imminent at the moment, and actually broke out under his own admini^t ation four months later. We believe the Duchess cf Orleans never for a moment entertained any such projects. She hastened to place herself and her two inter- esting boys beyond the tender mercies of M. Lamartine, the real and immediate au- th...T of ail the personal insult and danger which she and they had undergone. Even after the story he has been telling, M. Lamartine does not hesitate to add, that " men of all parties associated the name of the Duchess oi Orleans with sentiments of admiration, affection, and respect" (p. 311), No doubt every rational and honest man will concur in the expression thus ex- torted from M. Lamartine ; but we have seen how his disciples in the Chamber treat- ed this illustrious lady, he (Lamartine) be- ing in the tribune and affecting to - > Ride in the ivliirlwind and direct the storm, A.nd he neglects to tell us that next morn- ing, while the Duchess was supposed to be still at the Invcdides^di warrant for her ar- rest was issued by Caussidi^re, counter- ! i idea war. jetting crime at the ier bis We V for a She iater- rcies of ate au- daDger [ telling, to add, he name ntiments ect" (p. d honest thus ex- we have er treat- tine) be- irect the ixt morn- sed to be ir her ar- counter- 85 . signed bij De la Ilodde. The Duchess trembled, adds iVI , Lamartine, lest " her children might be doomed to share the iiite of the cliildren of Marie- Antoinette ; hut France was no longer devoid of justice and humanity. It had ceased to be the France of prisons and scatfolds." What ! Had ceased to be the France of pri- sons, when a warrant for her arrest had been actually issued — when within four montlis there were twelve thousand prisoners in Paris alone, some thousands of whom were subsequently transported without trial — and where there are to this hour hundreds of victims of M. Lamartine'*s revolution still languishing in irons ; and if the terrors of the scaffold were abolished, it was only by those who grew humane at the consciousness of having deserved it. We are lost between wonder and disgust at such an extravagant complication of inconsistency and impudence. The Duchess, however, crossed the French frontier in safety, and resided for a few weeks with her two sons at Ems, a watering- place on the right bank of the llhine. She afterwards repaired to the chateau of Eise- nach, which her maternal uncle, the Grand Duke of Saxe-Wiemar, had placed at her disposal. In the course of last summer the Duchess came over to England and brought her children to visit their grandfather and 86 grandmother at Claremont. We learn with satisfaction that this visit will soon be re- peated, and, we hope, prolonged — the hopes of a family — whatever be its rank or des- tiny, should not, if possible, be separated from its head. It is not without a slight degree of nausea that we quote M. Lamartine's praise of any one for whom we have any respect or regard, but we cannot complete this part of our story without quoting his account of the de- parture of the Duke de Nemours : — " The Duke de Nemours quitted France without any impediment, as soon as he had discharged his duty to his father, sister-in- law, and nephew. This prince proved him- self more worthy of his popularity [a few pages before he had said that he had none at all] in adversity than in prosperity. He had evinced at once courage and disinterest- edness for the sake of preserving the crown to his brother's son. He had neither bar- gained to save his own life [it was in danger then ]] nor set up his claim to the regency. History will render him the justice which contemporary opinion has denied him." — p. 311. With this arrogant style of pronouncing on the merit of a man in every respect — except poetry and what M. Lamartine and Lord Clarendon consider as a statesmanlike hij sir J US( nil 11 87 •11 with be le- hopes )T des- )arated nausea of any regard, of our the de- France he had ister-in- red him- [a few ad none ty. He interest- le crown her bar- [1 danger regency, ^e which m." — p. nouncing espect — tine and smanlike quality, prestige^ — his superior, M. Lamar- tine has mixed a strong flavour of his habi- tual inaccuracy. He says M. de Nemours quitted France tvithout impediment : true in appearance, quite false in substance. M. de Nemours accompanied the Duchess of Orleans to the Invalides, and left that esta- blishment, when she did, to conceal himself in the house of a private friend, whence, under an Englisb passport, he escaped in a disguise so complete that his relatives, who met him at Boulogne, did not recognize him ; and so far was he from being " free from impediment," that at the barrier, the employe, in the uniform of a National Guard, who examined the passports rather suspiciously, would not at first permit the carriage to pass, but seeing a person so un- like the description of the Duke, permitted him to proceed, saying, " I beg your pardon, sir, but I am looking out for the Duke de Nemours." The Duke smiled at the blun- dering zeal of the employe ; and, pursuing his journey, joined the railroad at a station near Abbeville, anu reached England on the 27th of February. * See mitCy p. 490.— We could hardly give a stronger instance of a vitiated taste than the modern use of prestige as a statesmanlike quality. We find in our latest French Dictionary : Prestige — illusion — apparence trompeuse — pensee chimerique — songes—fantomes. And in the English : Pres- T 1 o E — delusion — imposture— deceit* %. ^ >. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) i^j^ ^ 1.0 I.I X&WIA 12.5 ■50 "^ WKM ■ 2.2 U i-25 1111.4 ■ 2.0 I 1.6 % Vl 7 4W ,^- /^ V '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WfST MAIN STMIT WHSTER.N.Y. USM (716) •72-4S03 ^.V '^ /> ^\% n.^^ % 88 I' The foregoing details we have given uot merely as in themselves interesting, but to answer, by the evidence of M. Lamartine himself, the criticisms before mentioned on " the needless precipitancy" of the King's flight. If the widow, if the orphan, were obliged, under the advice of such men as MM. de Montesquiou and De Mornay, to conceal and disguise themselves — if it was thought by M. Odillon Barrot that Marshal Molitor could not protect for a few hours in the Invalides those innocent and interesting victims — if General Thierry and M. d'Es- tancelin could not find a night's shelter for a young pregnant woman in the city of Ab- beville — if they all suffered personal inju- ries, and almost miraculously escaped with their lives — what might have been the fate of the King, who had been for eighteen years the mark of a hundred assassins, and whom the ferocious populace had been taught to look upon as a public enemy ] We left him passing the night of the 24th in the mortuary mansion of Dreux. It was, as we have said, on the morning of the 25th that Louis-Philippe learned the abortion of the regency, the dissolution of the Chamber, and the overthrow of the monarchy ; that the courage of the Duchess of Orleans and the devotion of the Duke de Nemours had been in vain, and that it was or 89 was not even known what had become of them or the children — in short, that anarchy reigned in Paris, and doubt and terror every- where. This unexpected turn of events overset all previous arrangements. It was now plain that the idea of attaining and still more of residing at Eu must be abandoned, and that nothing remained but to reach some point of the coast of Normandy, and Embark for England. General Dumas's daughter had married the son of M. de Perthuis, one of the King's former officiers dordonnance ; and the General knew that M. de Perthuis had a small villa — in fact, a garden-house of two rooms*— on the hill over Honfleur, within half a mile of the coast, in which a little furniture was kept for an occasional summer excursion. Thither it was proposed that the King and the Queen, who would not be separated from him, should endeavour to make their way ; to this plan there was no other objection than that it necessitated an- other separation and dispersion of what re- mained of the family. The King, who had estates in the neighbourhood, and a steward at Dreux, receive diately offered whatever services he could supply. M. Dorvilliers was sent for to Evreux, the St. Andr^ post-horses were discharged, and M. Mar^chal, who was now beyond his own bounds, and could be of no more use, took his leave ; the farmer, a man of courage and intelligence, undertaking for the rest of the journey. M. Dorvilliers arrived, and the King again received a small advance from his own revenues — about 40/. we believe. The unusual sight of a berlin in the farm- yard had attracted some notice in the neigh- bourhood. Four young men in particular, well dressed, but whom the farmer knew to be of opinions exalties, made a minute in- spection of it, and proceeded back to Evreux, with an intention, the travellers feared, of 94 ., VM gratifying their curiosity as to the occupiers of the carriage more fully when it should reach the town. It was clear that either from St. Andre or from Pacy the news of the King's journey had reached Evreux. The intelligent and active Renard, however, defeated any schemes of interruption that might have been made. He obtained a cabriolet, in which he undertook to drive the King and his valet all the way, twenty- four leagues, to Honfleur ; while his farm- servant was to take the berlin, with two stout farm-horses, to La Commanderie, the next posting stage on the high road to Hon- fleur beyond Evreux ; both parties thus avoiding the necessity of taking post-horses at Evreux, through which town they passed by hack-streets and by-ways. After the King had departed, the Secretary of the Prefect of Evreux, apprised by M. Mar6- chal, came to Melleville to offer his services, and was useful in piloting the farm-servant, who was not quite familiar with the back viray through the town of Evreux. This gentleman left the Queen when clear of the town. The farmer's horses took the cabriolet the whole twenty-four leagues (not less than sixty miles) with no other stoppage or re- freshment than a few feeds of oats or beans at some way-side cabarets. The King must as 95 have suffered considerably during this long journey, for, besides the inconvenience of three not slender persons in a common ca- briolet convenient only for tviro, the weather had grown very bad — a strong, cold wind had set in — the commencement of a heavy gale which lasted several days, and added, as we shall see, to the difficulties of the escape. When the berlin with the Queen reached the posthouse of La Commanderie and ordered horses for Pont Audemer, the post- master approached M. de E-umigny and whispered — " A berlin arriving with farm- horses and taking post-horses ! 'Tis odd ! But, sir, in these times one neither asks questions, nor looks into carriages." Then, raising his voice, he called aloud to the pos- tillions to make the best of their way to Pont Audemer. Here again it was evident that the travellers were recognized and res- pected — at least as political fugitives. A curious incident of the King's journey hereabouts may be noticed. One of the cabarets at which the horses were fed is called the Malbrouck, It is near the limits of the Department, in a central position, where, about fifteen years before, the King had been received under a triumphal arch by the magistrates and National Guards of the neighbouring districts, and had made an w f IIP ■ I answer to their address in which there was a phrase that made some noise at the time — " That in our days flattery had changed sides, and that the flatterers of the people were now become quite as dangerous to society and good government as the flatterers of kinffs used to be." We wonder whether the King, shivering with cold in the corner of that wretched cabriolet, remembered, as he now passed by the Malbrauck, that great and loyal assemblage, that triumphal arch, and that prophetic warning against popular delusions. The cabriolet passed through Pont Aude- mer, a large town, at half-past three in the morning of the 26th. A little beyond this, while feeding the horses at the door of a cabarety the Berlin arrived — the royal couple exchanged a few words, and pursued and soon after completed this portion of their journey — the berlin arriving about day-light at M. de Perthuis' villa, and the cabriolet soon after. Every one who has sailed in front of Honfleur must have remarked a little chapel situated on the top of the wooded hill that overhangs the town. It was dedicated by the piety of the sailors of ancient days to Notre Dame de Grace^ as was a similar one on the opposite shore, and both probably bad originally some relation to the name of ^7 the estuary called Havre de Chace and of the great town which has grown up on the north shore of the river. From it M. Perthius' house is commonly called La Chace, and we can easily imagine the satis- faction of the royal guests at finding them- selves under the shelter of a friendly roof with a name of such good omen. We cannot part from Renard — another Pendrell— without adding that he resolutely declined the proposition which was pressed upon him of some remuneration for his time, trouble, and expenses. " Don't talk to me of that," he said to General Rumigny ; " these affairs of the heart are not to be paid for by money." The pavillion of La Grace consists, as we have said, of two small rooms with two lofts in the roof. It is separated from a high road but by a path and a hedge. M. La- martine says that so great was the mystery maintained, that the shutters were never opened nor a fire lighted, lest the smoke should betray that the pavillion was inhabit- ed. This was not so. The Queen had amved, publicly with post-horses, as the aunt of M. de Perthuis, and some of the neighbours had even called to pay their res- pects to her in that character. Some of those visits seemed to have more of curiosity than kindness, and were civilly declined by c3 98 M. de Rumigny in the name of the sick lady, who had but one room, and that her bedroom. These visits, however meant, had at least one good effect — they prevented any suspicion of the presence of the King, and M. de Perthius' aunt w:s suffered to occupy her paviUion for five days without disturbance from strangers. The difficulties the King and Queen would have found in getting along by the railway, even if they should not have been recog- nized, may be conjectured by those that Messrs. Dumas and Pauligne found in reach- ing Honfleur. They had parted, as we have said, with the King at Dreux, and had reached Rouen by the railroad ; but at the station there they found so great a tumult and confusion, arising from political agitation and the burning of the railroad bridges, that they were forcibly separated, and never met again till they reached La Grace, M. de Pauligne was forced to cross the Seine at Rouen, and got ^o Honfleur by the left bank of the river on Saturday evening, the 26th. General Dumas succeeded in getting to Havre, but found the storm so violent that even the steamboat to Honfleur could not ply, and though within sight of La Grace^ found it impossible to reach it. It happened that a young officer, M. Edmond de Per- thuis, a son cf the owner o\ the pavillion and 99 ^ • f the sick i that her er meant, ' prevented the King, suffered to jrs without ueen would he railway, een recog- those that id in reach- as we have , and had but at the t a tumult al agitation :idges, that never met ^e, M. de Seine at le left bank :, the 26th. getting to iolenf that • could not La GracCy t happened id de Per- sivillion and brother of the General's son-in-law, was at that moment in command of Le R6deur, a small vessel of war, lying in the harbour. To him M. Dumas applied for advice and assistance, not only as to crossing the water, but as to subsequent measures for the escape of the King. On this latter point they were unable to make any arrangement ; and as to getting across to Honfleur M. de Perthuis advised the General to return about half way to Rouen, and to cross where the river be- gins to narrow, between Tancarville and Quilleboeuf, offering to accompany him. Even there the boatmen refused to attempt the passage, til!, observing the anxiety of M. de Perthuis — an officer in the navy, and who had served in the Belle Poule with the Prince de Joinville — to get his friend across, fancied that General Dumas was the Prince, and under that idea made an effort that, as they told M. Dumas after they had landed him, they would not otherwise have done. We mention these circumstances to mark the natural difficulties which increased the personal embarrassments of the King's posi- tion. MM. Dumas and de Perthuis arrived at La Grace on the morning of Sunday, the 27th. They had, at Havre, entrusted a M. Besson, an ex-officer of the navy and a friend of M. de Perthuis, with the object of 100 their mission ; and though he zealously un- dertook to follow it up, he had so little hope of success, that the King was obliged to adopt some immediate measures on his own side of the river. The gardener of La Grace, by name Racine — not, as M. Lamar- tine says,* previously entrusted with the sec- ret, but having recognised the King from a lithograph print which hung in his kitchen- was not only loyal, but active and intelligent, and obtained the King's consent to consult an intimate friend of his own, a sailor of the town, of the name of Hallot, who had served with the Prince de Joinville in the Belle Poule as coxswain of his gig, and on whom it had happened that the King had conferred the cross of the Legion of Honour. This man Hallot, whom Captain Chamier miscalls Halley, and misrepresents as hav- ing afterwards betrayed the King, was, on the contrary, devoted heart and soul to the royal family, and set himself zealously to contrive their escape. He thought that • M. Lamartine and Captain Chamier have got the names, and some of the circumstances, of this portion of the story, but very inaccurately. This is not surprising in Captain Chamier; but it seems strange that the head of the Government of the day, who professes to give a minute and accurate detail of a transaction into which it is to be presumed he had made official inquiry, should have so completely misstated almost every circumstance. 101 they could not embark unobserved from Honfleur, but that if the King would con- sent to venture in a fishing boat, one might be had at Trouville, a little town on the main sea, about fifteen miles west of Hon- fleur. M. de Perthuis concurring in this advice, there was no other objection than the separation of the royal couple. It was im- possible that the Queen should attempt the passage in such a boat in such weather, and it was equally certain that the idea of a se- paration would be alike repugnant to both her and the King. The Queen, however, after what evidently was a severe struggle with her feelings, decided with her usual good sense that the first and most pressing object was to put the King in safety, and she join- ed her influence to that of de Perthuis and Hallot to overcome his Majesty's, reluc- tance. The result was that Hallot was dispatched on the evening of the 27th to hire a boat at Trouville. In the course of that day the storm had so far abated as to allow the usual steam-packet to ply between Havre and Honfleur, and it brought M. Besson, who reported that he had not been able to find a vessel at Havre, and that, though he knew the passage in a fishing- boat to be very dangerous, he had nothing better to propose, except that he thought that the .Exj)rcss, an English packet steamer; 102 It ;t' then about to sail for Southampton, might run to meet the fishing-boat off Trouville and take the King on board. The King authorized him to make a guarded and conr fidential proposition to the English Captain to this effect, which M. Besson hastened to do ; but the Captain at once declined such a deviation from his orders. M. Lamar- tine, besides many other more important mistakes, makes here a minor one, which we wish to set right. He says that the Captain, Paul, who rejected M. Besson's overture, was an officer of the Royal Navy, He was in fact, we believe, a Master in the Navy on half-pay, but he was now only in the command of one of the Southampton passage-boats, and may have been more dubious as to the approbation of his owners and underwriters than the commander of one of the Queen's ships would have been of that of the Government. He may have also thought, as we do, that the proposed plan was an imprudent one. On his arrival at Southampton next day, Mr. Paul, we un- derstand, apprised the Admiralty of the semi-confidence he received from M. Bes- son ; but our Government had previously, we believe as early as Sunday the 27thj dispatched several steam-vessels to various parts of the French coast to look out for all jthe royal fugitives; Lord Palmerston ha4 103 •n, might rrouville 'he King and conr Captain stened to ined such Lamar- mportant e, which that the Besson's il Navy. ter in the v^ only in thampton en more owners ander of 5 been of lave also sed plan r rival at , we un- \ of the M. Bes- eviously, le 27thj various lit for all iton ha4 ^Iso sent orders to our consuls at the various ports of the Channel to afford them all pos- sible attention and assistance. The Express was hastened back to be at the King's dis- posal, and it was on board her that the King eventually escaped. At first sight the refusal of the English Captain might appear somewhat churlish, but it was in fact justifiable, and probably fortunate : it seems very unlikely that the proposed scheme should have succeeded 5 there was not sufficient time to combine the corresponding movements from Havre and Trouville— ^the same difficulty that eventu- ally prevented the embarkation at Trouville would have occurred — the unusual proceed- ings of the packet would have excited sus- picion, and there would have been, after all, the disagreeable risks of the meeting of the vessels and the transhipment of the passen- gers in a heavy sea* However that might have been, there seemed now no other resource than the at- tempt to cross the Channel in the fishing- boat which Hallot might be able to hire at Trouville. The King's position was very painful — he was in entire ignorance of what Lad happened to the various members of his family, his children and grand-children, since he had parted from them. The last he had Jieard of the Duchess of Orleans and her [' : .'J -■^i 104. boys was that they were enveloped in the perilous tumult of the Chamber. He was equally ignorant of the state of affairs at Paris, and the riots at Rouen were alarming indications of a general commotion ; but the greatest of his anxieties seemed to be the separation from the Queen. There appear- ed, however, no alternative. Hallot returned from Trouville before M. Besson had gone back to Havre, and brought an account of his having procured a boat for England for 3000 francs (120/.), which was to be ready lO sail next night, Monday the 28th. All the King's advisers, three distinguished military and two experienced naval officers, concurring in recommending this course, it was so arranged ; and on the Monday morning MM. Rumigny and De Perthuis on foot, under the guidance of Hallot, took a short cut across the country to Trouville. M. de Pauligne went in a diligence, and the King and his valet were driven by Racine in a rickety cabriolet, with a single horse, so starved and restive that his Majesty would have reached Trou- ville probably quicker, and certainly more comfortably, if he had, as M. Lamartine says be did, gone on foot. The Queen re- mained with her maid and General Dumas, with the intention of passing — as it was ex- pected she would do unobserved — by the 10b id in the He was affairs at alarming ; but the be the e appear- )efore M. d brought d a boat f.)j which , Monday irs, three perienced nmending id on the ' and De dance of e country vent in a alet were cabriolet, id restive led Trou- inly more L