Louis Philippe - Makers of History Series
by John S. C. (John Stevens Cabot) Abbott
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Makers of History




With Engravings

New York and London Harper & Brothers Publishers 1904

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by Harper & Brothers, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Copyright, 1899, by Susan Abbott Mead.


It would be difficult to find, in all the range of the past, a man whose career has been so full of wonderful and exciting vicissitude as that of Louis Philippe. His life covers the most eventful period in French history. The storms of 1789 consigned his father to the guillotine, his mother and brothers to imprisonment, and himself and sister to poverty and exile. There are few romances more replete with pensive interest than the wanderings of Louis Philippe to escape the bloodhounds of the Revolution far away amidst the ices of Northern Europe, to the huts of the Laplanders, and again through the almost unbroken wilds of North America, taking refuge in the wigwams of the Indians, and floating with his two brothers in a boat a distance of nearly two thousand miles through the solemn solitudes of the Ohio and the Mississippi from Pittsburg to the Gulf.

Again we see the duke, on the recovery of a large portion of his estates, enjoying the elegant retreat at Twickenham, feted by the nobility of England, and caressed by the aristocracy of Europe.

Again the kaleidoscope of changeful life is turned. The Empire falls. The Bourbons are restored. Louis Philippe returns to the palaces of his fathers. In rank, he takes his stand next to the throne. In wealth, he is the richest subject in Europe. At one moment he is caressed by Royalty, hoping to win his support, and again he is persecuted by Royalty, fearing his influence.

There is another change. The throne of the Bourbons is overthrown. Louis Philippe finds himself, as by magic, King of the French. He exchanges his ducal coronet for a royal crown. He enters the regal mansions of the Tuileries, Versailles, Saint Cloud, and Fontainebleau the acknowledged sovereign of thirty millions of people. All the proud dynasties of Europe recognize him as belonging to the family of kings. Eighteen years pass away, crowded with the splendor, cares, toils, and perils which seem ever to environ royalty. During this period the adventures of the Duchess de Berri to regain the throne for her son, the Count de Chambord, presents an episode of extraordinary interest.

There is another change. The tocsin of insurrection tolls its dismal knell in the towers of Paris. Through scenes surpassing fable, the king and his family escape to the hospitable shores of England. Here, in obscurity and exile, he reaches the end of life's journey, and passes away to the unknown of the spirit-land. Such is the wonderful story which we have endeavored to compress within the limits of these brief pages. Every event here narrated is sustained by documentary evidence beyond the possibility of a doubt.


Fair Haven, Conn.






































Louis and Philippe.—The regent.—Louis de Valois.—Louis le Gros.—Pride of royalty.—Birth of Egalite.—Fortune of the Duke of Orleans.—Democracy of the Duke of Orleans.—Wealth of the Duke of Orleans.—Banishment of the duke.—Popularity of the Duke of Orleans.—Assembling of the States-General.—Commotion in Paris.—Flight of the nobles.—Petition of the Duke of Orleans.—Domestic discord.—Flight of General Dumouriez.—Arrest of the Duke of Orleans.—Execution of Egalite.—Birth of Louis Philippe.—His daily journal.—Educational influences.—Mental and physical training.—Testimony of Madame de Genlis.—Demolition of the Bastile.—The Duke of Chartres joins the Jacobin Club.—His affability.—Noble sentiment.

The origin of the House of Orleans is involved in some obscurity. The city of Orleans, from which the duke takes his title, was the Aurelium of imperial Rome. The first Duke of Orleans with whom history makes us familiar was Philip, the only brother of Louis XIV. Louis XIII., the son and heir of Henry IV., married Anne of Austria. Two children were born to them, Louis and Philippe. The first became the world-renowned monarch, Louis XIV. His brother, known in history as Monsieur, enjoyed the title and the princely revenues of the dukedom of Orleans.

Monsieur married, as his first wife, the beautiful Henrietta Stuart, daughter of the unfortunate Charles I. of England. Her mother was Henrietta of France, the daughter of Henry IV., and sister of Louis XIII. She died in the bloom of youth and beauty, of poison, after the most cruel sufferings, on the 27th of June, 1669.[A] Philippe took as his second wife Elizabeth Charlotte, daughter of the Elector Charles of Bavaria. By this marriage he left a son, Philippe, who not only inherited his father's almost boundless wealth and princely titles, but who attained wide-spread notoriety, not to say renown, as the regent of France, after the death of Louis XIV., and during the minority of Louis XV. The regent was a man of indomitable force of will. During his long regency he swayed the sceptre of a tyrant; and the ear of Europe was poisoned with the story of his debaucheries.

[Footnote A: See Abbott's History of Louis XIV, p. 223.]

He married a legitimated daughter of Louis XIV., Marie Francoise de Blois, a haughty, capricious beauty. His scandalous immoralities alienated his duchess from him, and no happiness was to be found amidst the splendors of their home. Dying suddenly, at the age of fifty-one, his son Louis succeeded him in the vast opulence, the titles, and the power of the dukedom of Orleans. The following list of his titles may give some idea of the grandeur to which these ancient nobles were born. Louis de Valois, De Chartres, De Nemours, and De Montpensier, First Prince of the blood, First Peer of France, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Colonel-general of the French and Foreign Infantry, Governor of Dauphiny, and Grand Master of the Orders of Notre Dame, of Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus of Jerusalem.

Born, as this young man was, in the palace of splendor, and surrounded by every allurement to voluptuous indulgence, two domestic calamities opened his eyes to the vanity of all earthly grandeur, and led him to enter those paths of piety where his soul found true repose. The death of his father, cut down suddenly in the midst of his godless revelry, and the decease of his beloved wife, Auguste Marie Jeanne, a princess of Baden, in her twenty-second year, so impressed him with the uncertainty of all terrestrial good, and left his home and his heart so desolate, that he retired to the Abbey of St. Genevieve, and devoted the remainder of his days to study, to prayer, and to active works of Christian usefulness.

He became a proficient in the fine arts, an accomplished scholar, and a patron of all those literary men whose works tended to benefit society. He founded hospitals and literary institutions; established a college at Versailles; endowed a professorship at the Sorbonne for expounding the Hebrew text of the Scriptures, and translated, from the original Greek and Hebrew, the Epistles of Paul and the Psalms of David. At the early age of forty-eight he died—cheerfully fell asleep in Jesus, rejoicing in the hope of a heavenly inheritance. Few men who have ever lived have crowded their days with more kind, useful, and generous actions.

His son, Louis Philippe, acquired the sobriquet of le Gros, or the Fat, from his excessive corpulence. His unwieldy body probably contributed to that indolence of mind which induced him to withdraw from nearly all participation in political life. Louis XV. was one of the vilest of men, and by a portion of his subjects was thoroughly detested. Exasperated by an act of gross despotism, the deputies from Brittany offered to furnish Louis Philippe with sixty thousand men, completely armed, to overthrow the reigning dynasty, and to establish in its place the House of Orleans. The prince received the deputation courteously, but decidedly declined embarking in the enterprise, avowing that he had not sufficient energy of character to meet its demand, and that he was too much attached to his relative, Louis XV., to engage in a conspiracy against him. He was an amiable, upright man, avoiding notoriety, and devoting himself to literary pursuits. Being of the blood royal, the etiquette of the French court did not allow him to enter into marriage relations with any one in whose veins the blood of royalty did not flow. His first wife, Louise Henriette de Bourbon Conti, was a princess of royal lineage. Upon her death he married Madame de Montesson, a beautiful woman, to whom he was exceedingly attached. But the haughty Court of France refused to recognize the marriage. Notwithstanding his earnest solicitations, he was not permitted to confer upon her the title of Duchess of Orleans.

Even when he died, in the year 1785, court etiquette would not allow his widow to assume any public demonstrations of mourning. "The blood of a Capet," it was said, "is too pure to admit of a recognized alliance below the rank of royalty."

Such, in brief, was the character and career of the first four dukes of this illustrious house. We are thus brought down to the exciting scenes of modern history—to scenes in which the house of Orleans has acted a part so conspicuous as to attract the attention of the civilized world.

The fourth duke of whom we have spoken, and his first wife, Henrietta de Bourbon Conti, had a son born on the 13th of April, 1747, at the Palace of St. Cloud. They gave their child the name of Louis Philippe Joseph d'Orleans. During the life-time of his father he bore the title of the Duke de Chartres. No expense was spared in his education, his parents providing for him teachers of the highest eminence in all the branches of knowledge. Though the young prince developed much energy and activity of mind, he was not fond of study, and did not make any remarkable progress in book-learning.

Surrounded by flatterers, and in the enjoyment of almost boundless wealth, as the appetites and passions of youth grew strong, he plunged into the most extravagant excesses of dissipation. He is described at this time as a young man of handsome features and graceful figure, above the average size. His skin was remarkable for its softness and whiteness, and a very sweet smile generally played upon his lips. Though simple in his ordinary style of living, upon all state occasions he displayed grandeur commensurate with his wealth and rank. Immense as was the fortune to which he was born, it was greatly enhanced by his marriage with the Princess Marie Therese Louise, only daughter of the Duke of Penthievre, the most richly-endowed heiress in Europe. Thus he attained wealth which made him the richest subject in Europe, and which enabled him almost to outvie the splendors of royalty. But, notwithstanding this vast wealth, he plunged so recklessly into extravagance that his pecuniary affairs became much embarrassed.

His father died in the year 1785, just as the storms of the French Revolution were beginning to darken the horizon. The Duke of Chartres then took the title of the Duke of Orleans, and rushed into the tumult of revolution with eagerness and energy, which caused his name to resound through all Europe, and which finally brought his neck beneath the slide of the guillotine.

The court, under Louis XVI., in consequence of its arbitrary measures, about the year 1789, was brought into collision with the ancient Parliament, which remonstrated, and even refused to register the royal edicts. The Duke of Orleans headed the party opposed to the court. At his magnificent mansion, the Palais Royal, nearly opposite the Tuileries, the leading men in the Opposition, Rochefoucault, Lafayette, and Mirabeau, were accustomed to meet, concerting measures to thwart the crown, and to compel the convocation of the States-General. In that way alone could the people hope to resist the encroachments of the crown, and to claim any recognition of popular rights. The people, accustomed to the almost idolatrous homage of rank and power, were overjoyed in having, as the leading advocate of their claims, a prince of the blood. The court was greatly exasperated. It was determined that the high-born leader of the revolutionary party should feel the heaviest weight of the royal displeasure. This severity, however, did but augment the popularity of the duke among the people.

Louis XVI., through his advisers, ordered the Parliament to register a loan, thus compelling the people to furnish the money it despotically demanded. The Opposition in vain urged that the States-General should be convened, as alone competent to impose taxes. The royal measure was carried, notwithstanding the Opposition. As the keeper of the seals, amidst the most profound emotion of the Parliament, read the decree, the Duke of Orleans rose, and, with much agitation of voice and manner, inquired:

"Is this assemblage a lit de justice, or a free consultation?"

"It is a royal sitting," the king answered, somewhat sternly.

"Then," replied the duke, "I beg that your majesty will permit me to deposit at your feet, and in the bosom of the court, the declaration, that I regard the registration as illegal, and that it will be necessary, for the exculpation of those persons who are held to have deliberated upon it, to add that it is by express command of the king."

This bold act announced to all France that the Duke of Orleans was ready to place himself at the head of the opposition to the court, and that he was endowed with the courage and energy which would be found essential to maintain that post. The wealth of the Duke of Orleans was so great that a former loan of twenty-five million dollars he had taken up himself. Immediately upon the withdrawal of the king from the Parliament, the Duke of Orleans presented and carried a resolve declaring the action which had taken place as illegal.

The king, who was quite under the influence of the stronger mind of his wife, Maria Antoinette, was deeply offended. The duke was banished from Paris to his rural chateau of Villers Cotterets, and his leading friends in the Opposition were exiled to the isles of Hieres. The indignation of Parliament was roused, and very vigorous resolutions of remonstrance were adopted, and presented to the king. In these resolves it was written:

"The first prince of the royal family is exiled. It is asked in vain, What crime has he committed? If the Duke of Orleans is culpable, we are all so. It was worthy of the first prince of your blood to represent to your majesty that you were changing the sitting into a lit de justice. If exile be the reward for fidelity in princes, we may ask ourselves, with terror and with grief, What protection is there for law and liberty?"

In allusion to the universal impression that the king was urged to these severe measures by the influence of Maria Antoinette, the Parliament added, "Such measures, sire, dwell not in your own heart. Such examples do not originate from your majesty. They flow from another source. Your Parliament supplicates your majesty to reject those merciless counsels, and to listen to the dictates of your own heart."

The plea was unavailing. The agitation throughout France was rapidly increasing—the people everywhere struggling against the encroachments of the crown. From all parts of the kingdom the cry arose for the assembling of the States-General. The Duke of Orleans, maddened by his banishment, and exasperated to the highest degree against Maria Antoinette, whom he considered as the author of his exile, was intensely engaged in plotting measures of revenge. During his banishment he won the affections of the peasantry by the kindly interest he seemed to take in their welfare. He chatted freely with the farmers and the day-laborers—entered their cottages and conversed with their families on the most friendly terms—presented dowries to young brides, and stood sponsor for infants.

This course rapidly increased the popularity of the duke among the people, and the Parliament was unceasing in its solicitations for his recall. The court became embarrassed, and at length gladly availed itself of the opportunity of releasing him, in response to a petition from the Duchess of Orleans.

The current of the revolution was now beginning to flow with resistless flood. The hostility between the court and the people was hourly increasing. Famine added its horrors to the general tumult and agitation. A winter of unparalleled severity—the winter of 1789—terribly increased the general suffering. The Duke of Orleans was profuse in his liberality, opening a public kitchen, and supplying the wants of famishing thousands. The duke, having thus embarked, without reserve, in the cause of the people, added to his own popularity and to the exasperation of the court, by publicly renouncing all his feudal rights, and permitting the public to hunt and shoot at pleasure over his vast domains. His popularity now became immense. The journals were filled with his praises. Whenever he appeared in public, multitudes followed him with their acclaim.

On the 4th of May, 1789, the States-General, or National Assembly, met. The duke, followed by about forty others of the nobility, renounced all his aristocratic privileges, and took his place as an equal in the ranks of the tiers etat, or third estate, as the common people were called. The clergy, the nobility, and the people then constituted the three estates of the realm.

The French Revolution was now advancing with rapid strides, accompanied by anarchy, violence, and bloodshed. The court party was increasingly exasperated against the popular duke, and many stories were fabricated against him to undermine his influence. The situation of the king and royal family became daily more irksome and perilous. He endeavored to escape, to join the armies of Austria and Prussia, which were marching to his relief. He was arrested at Varennes, brought back to Paris, and held as a prisoner in the Tuileries. The question was now discussed of deposing the king and establishing a regency under the Duke of Orleans.

The first National Assembly, called the Constituent, which was convened to draw up a constitution for France, having completed its work, was dissolved; and another assembly, denominated the Legislative, was chosen to enact laws under that constitution. The allied armies of foreign dynasties were on the march to rob the French people of their constitution, and to impose upon them the absolute despotism of the old regime. Fearful riots ensued in Paris. The palace of the Tuileries was stormed. The king, with his family, fled to the Legislative Assembly for protection, and was imprisoned in the Temple. On the 20th of January, 1793, he died upon the scaffold.

The National Convention, which speedily succeeded the Legislative Assembly, brought the accusation of treason against the king—tried, condemned, and executed him. The Duke of Orleans, a member of this Convention, voted for the death of the king. The abolition of monarchy and the establishment of a republic immediately followed. The question was with much interest discussed, whether the republic should be federal, like that of the United States, or integral, like the ancient republics of Greece and Rome. The Duke of Orleans advocated the concentration of power and the indivisibility of France. Fanaticism usurped the place of reason; the guillotine was busy; suspicions filled the air; no life was safe. The Duke of Orleans was alarmed. He sent his daughter, under the care of Madame de Genlis, to England. The nobles were flying in all directions. Severe laws were passed against the emigrants. The duke, who had assumed the surname of Egalite, or Equality, excited suspicion by placing his daughter among the emigrants. It was said that he had no confidence in the people or in the new order of things. To lull these suspicions, the duke sent a petition to the Convention on the 21st of November, 1792, containing the following statement:

"Citizens,—You have passed a law against those cowards who have fled their country in the moment of danger. The circumstance I have to lay before you is peculiar. My daughter, fifteen years of age, passed over to England in the month of October, 1791, with her governess and two companions of her studies. Her governess, Madame de Genlis, has early initiated them in liberal views and republican virtues. The English language forms a part of the education which she has given to my daughter. One of the motives of this journey has been to acquire the pronunciation of that tongue. Besides that, the chalybeate waters of England were recommended as restoratives of my daughter's health. It is impossible, under these circumstances, to regard the journey of my daughter as emigration. I feel assured that the law is not applicable in this case. But the slightest doubt is sufficient to distress a father. I beg, therefore, fellow-citizens, that you will relieve me from this uneasiness."

But by this time the Convention began to look upon the Duke of Orleans with suspicion. Rumors were in circulation that many of the people, tired of republicanism—which was crowding the prisons, and causing blood to gush in an incessant flow—wished to reinstate the monarchy, and to place the Duke of Orleans upon the throne. The Duchess of Orleans, the child of one of the highest nobles, was not in sympathy with her husband in his democratic views. His boundless profligacy had also alienated her affections, so that there was no domestic happiness to be found in the gorgeous saloons of the Palais Royal.

Robespierre wished to banish the Duke of Orleans from France, as a dangerous man, around whom the not yet extinct spirit of royalty might rally. He moved in the Convention, "That all the relatives of Bourbon Capet should be obliged, within eight days, to quit the territory of France and the countries then occupied by the Republican armies."

The motion was, for the time, frustrated by the following expostulation by M. Lamarque:

"Would it not be the extreme of injustice to exile all of the Capets, without distinction? I have never spoken but twice to Egalite. I am, therefore, not open to the suspicion of partiality, but I have closely observed his conduct in the Revolution. I have seen him deliver himself up to it entirely, a willing victim for its promotion, not shrinking from the greatest sacrifices; and I can truly assert that but for Egalite we never should have had the States-General—we should never have been free."

Thus public sentiment fluctuated. An event soon occurred which brought matters to a crisis. General Dumouriez, a former minister of Louis XVI., was in command of the army on the northern frontier. Disgusted with the violence of the Convention, which was silencing all opposition with the slide of the guillotine, and apprehensive of personal danger, from the consciousness that he was suspected of not being very friendly to the Government, he resolved to abandon the country which he thought doomed to destruction, and to seek safety in flight. Louis Philippe, the eldest son of the Duke of Orleans, then a lad of about 16, was on his staff. They fled together. This aroused popular indignation in Paris to the highest pitch. This young prince, Louis Philippe, then entitled the Duke of Chartres, and who, as subsequently King of the French, is the subject of this memoir, had written in a letter to his father, which was intercepted, these words: "I see the Convention utterly destroying France." It was believed that Dumouriez had entered into a plot for placing the Duke of Orleans on the throne, and that the duke was cognizant of the plan.

A decree was immediately passed ordering the arrest of every Bourbon in France. The duke was arrested and conveyed to Marseilles, with several members of his family. Here he was held in durance for some time, and was then brought to Paris to be tried for treason. Though there was no evidence whatever against him, he was declared guilty of being "an accomplice in a conspiracy against the unity and indivisibility of the Republic," and was condemned to death.

The duke, as he heard the sentence, replied: "Since you were predetermined to put me to death, you ought at least to have sought for more plausible pretexts to attain that end; for you will never persuade the world that you deem me guilty of what you now declare me to be convicted. However, since my lot is decided, I demand that you will not let me languish here until to-morrow, but order that I be led to execution instantly." His request was not granted; but he was conducted back to the cells of the Conciergerie, to be executed the next day. The next morning he was placed in the death-cart at the Conciergerie, with four others of the condemned, to be conveyed to the guillotine, which stood in the Place de la Concorde. He was elaborately dressed in a green frock-coat, white waistcoat, doe-skin breeches, and with boots carefully polished. His hair was dressed and powdered with care. As the cart passed slowly along in front of his princely abode, the Palais Royal, and through immense crowds, lining the streets, who formerly had been fed by his liberality, and who now clamored for his death, he looked around upon them with apparently perfect indifference.

At the guillotine the executioner took off his coat, and was about to draw off his boots, when he said, calmly, "It is only loss of time; you will remove them more easily from my lifeless limbs." He examined the keen edge of the knife, and was bound to the plank. The slide fell, and his head dropped into the basket. Thus perished Louis Philippe Egalite in the 46th year of his age. It was the 6th of November, 1793, ten months after Louis XVI. had perished upon the same scaffold. The immoralities of the Duke of Orleans were such that it has often been said of him, "Nothing became his life so much as his manner of leaving it." Louis Philippe Egalite, inheriting from his ancestors vast opulence, had become, by his marriage with the daughter of the immensely wealthy Duke of Penthievre, the possessor of almost royal domains. His wife, the duchess, though aristocratic in all her prepossessions, and sympathizing not at all with her husband in his democratic views, was a woman of unblemished character, of amiable disposition, and of devoted piety.

Having thus given a brief account of the origin of the Orleans family, we must, at the expense of a little repetition, turn back to the birth of Louis Philippe, the oldest son of the Duke of Orleans, and the subject of this memoir.

Louis Philippe was born in the Palais Royal, in Paris, on the 6th of October, 1773. In his early years, he, with the other children of the ducal family, was placed under the care and tuition of the celebrated Madame de Genlis. Until the death of his father, he bore the title of the Duke of Chartres.

"The Duke of Chartres," writes Lamartine, "had no youth. Education suppressed this age in the pupils of Madame de Genlis. Reflection, study, premeditation of every thought and act, replaced nature by study, and instinct by will. At seventeen years of age, the young prince had the maturity of advanced years."

Madame de Genlis was unwearied in her endeavors to confer upon her illustrious pupil the highest intellectual and religious education. The most distinguished professors were appointed to instruct in those branches with which she was not familiar. His conduct was recorded in a minute daily journal, from which every night questions were read subjecting him to the most searching self-examination. The questions were as follows:

1. Have I this day fulfilled all my duties towards God, my Creator, and prayed to Him with fervor and affection?

2. Have I listened with respect and attention to the instructions which have been given me to-day, with regard to my Christian duties, and in reading works of piety?

3. Have I fulfilled all my duties this day towards those I ought to love most in the world—my father and my mother?

4. Have I behaved with mildness and kindness towards my sister and my brothers?

5. Have I been docile, grateful, and attentive to my teachers?

6. Have I been perfectly sincere to-day, disobliging no one, and speaking evil of no one?

7. Have I been as discreet, prudent, charitable, modest, and courageous as may be expected at my age?

8. Have I shown no proof of that weakness or effeminacy which is so contemptible in a man?

9. Have I done all the good I could?

10. Have I shown all the marks of attention I ought to the persons, present or absent, to whom I owe kindness, respect, and affection?

These questions were read to him every night from his journal. To each one he returned a reply in writing. He then kneeled, and in prayer implored the forgiveness of his sins, and Divine guidance for the future. Under such training, notwithstanding the enjoyment of almost boundless wealth, the influence of a dissolute father, and the measureless corruptions of the times, Louis Philippe developed a character embellished by the loftiest principles and the purest integrity.

The Orleans children, consisting of three sons and a daughter, were taught in their earliest years to speak French, English, German, and Italian, so that each of these languages became, as it were, vernacular. At St. Leu, where they resided most of the time, a garden was laid out, which they dug and cultivated with their own hands. A German gardener superintended their work, while a German valet accompanied them in their morning walks. A physician, who was a distinguished chemist, instructed them in botany, pointing out the medicinal virtues of the various plants. They were taught to manufacture numerous articles of domestic utility, and the boys became skillful in turning, weaving, basket-making, and other mechanical employments. The Duke of Chartres became a very skillful cabinet-maker, and, aided by his brother, the Duke of Montpensier, manufactured a bureau for a poor woman at St. Leu which was equal to any which could be found in the market. They were also accustomed to fatigue and hardship, that they might be prepared for any of the vicissitudes of future life. Madame de Genlis, in reference to this training of her pupil, and his subsequent trials and privations, writes:

"How often, since his misfortunes, have I applauded myself for the education I have given him; for having taught him the principal modern languages; for having accustomed him to wait on himself; to despise all kinds of effeminacy; to sleep habitually on a wooden bed, with no covering but a mat; to expose himself to heat, cold, and rain; to accustom himself to fatigue by daily and violent exercise, by walking ten or fifteen miles with leaden soles to his shoes; and, finally, for having given him the taste and habit of travelling. He had lost all that he inherited from birth and fortune; and nothing remained but what he had received from nature and me."

In one of her earlier letters, she wrote: "The Duke of Chartres has greatly improved in disposition during the past year. He was born with good inclinations, and has now become intelligent and virtuous. Possessing none of the frivolities of the age, he disdains the puerilities which occupy the thoughts of so many young men of rank—such as fashions, dress, trinkets, follies of all kinds, and a desire for novelties. He has no passion for money, is disinterested, despises glare, and is, consequently, truly noble. Finally, he has an excellent heart, which is common to his brothers and sister, and which, joined to reflection, is capable of producing all other good qualities."

During the boyhood of Louis Philippe, revolutionary principles were rapidly spreading over France; and, as he approached manhood, they had reached their maturity. The example of his father, and the teachings of Madame de Genlis, inclined him strongly in the direction of popular rights, though his mother did not at all sympathize with these revolutionary principles. When the exasperated people rose and demolished the Bastile—the symbol and the instrument of as great despotic power as ever existed upon earth—Madame de Genlis took her pupils into Paris to witness the sublime drama. In describing the scene, she writes eloquently:

"This redoubtable fortress was covered with men, women, and children, working with unequalled ardor, even on the most lofty parts of the building and on its turrets. The astonishing number of these voluntary laborers, their activity, their enthusiasm, their delight at seeing the fall of that terrible monument of tyranny—these avenging hands, which seemed consecrated by Providence, and which annihilated with such rapidity the work of many centuries—all this spoke at once to the imagination and the heart."

When the Duke of Chartres was informed that the Assembly had annulled all the rights of primogeniture—thus depriving him, as the first-born, of his exclusive right to the title and the estate—he threw his arms around his brother, the Duke of Montpensier, and said, "Now, indeed, we are brothers in every respect." The unconcealed liberal opinions of the young prince increased the exasperation of the court against the whole Orleans family. And when, guided by his radical father, and in opposition to the advice of Madame de Genlis, the young duke became a member of the Jacobin Club—then numbering, as it was estimated, four hundred thousand in France—the indignation of the court reached its highest pitch.

On the 20th of November, 1785, the young Duke of Chartres, then in his thirteenth year, became colonel of the nineteenth regiment of dragoons. He proceeded, not long after, to Vendome, and devoted himself, with all the enthusiasm of youth, to the duties of his profession. His democratic principles led him, in opposition to the example of most of his brother-officers, to associate quite familiarly with the common soldiers.

"Far from imitating the example of these young noblemen, who disdained to mix or converse with the soldiers, the duke was constantly in the midst of them, and the advice and reprimands which they received from his lips had double the force of usual orders. On every occasion he proved himself the soldier's friend. He heard their complaints with kindness, and the generous, noble familiarity with which he replied to their demands in a little time won for him all their hearts. Strengthened by those affections, which he so well knew how to merit, he was enabled, without any exertion, to establish and preserve the strictest discipline. His men obeyed him with pleasure, because his orders were always given with urbanity.

"His exemplary conduct had the happiest influence over the whole garrison of Vendome. The soldiers now forgot his youth; the oldest officers found in him such intelligence and punctuality as sometimes left their experience in arrear. He frequently reached the stables, in the morning, before the lieutenant, whose duty it was to call there; and he exhibited equal energy in every other subject. His lieutenant-colonel, imagining that this too frequent appearance among the men would lessen that respect for the dignity of colonel which he considered essential to the maintenance of discipline, ventured to remonstrate with him upon his conduct. He replied:

"'I do not think that I shall forfeit the respect of my men, or be less entitled to their regard, by giving them an example of punctuality, and by being the first to submit myself to the demands of discipline.'"[B]

[Footnote B: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, King of the French, by Rev. G. N. Wright.]




Plans for the invasion of France.—The campaign of 1792.—The invasion of France.—Proclamation of the Assembly.—Imprisonment of Lafayette.—Measures of defense.—Battle of Valmy.—Gallantry of the Duke of Chartres.—Embarrassment of Egalite.—Continued war against France.—The Battle of Jemappes.—Peril of the Orleans family.—Decision of the Duke of Orleans.—Origin of the Tri-color.—The Decree of Banishment.—Battle of Nerwinde.—Charges against Dumouriez.—The Flight.—Supposed Plan of Dumouriez.—Wanderings on the Rhine.—Arrest of the Orleans family.—Life in Switzerland.—Letter from General Dumouriez.—Hardships of travel.—A college professor.—Political divisions in France.—The wilds of Scandinavia.

In the month of August, 1791, the Duke of Chartres left Vendome with his regiment, and went to Valenciennes, where he spent the winter. He had been appointed commandant of that place, and, young as he was, discharged the important duties of the position with ability and firmness, which secured for him a very high reputation. The emigrant nobles had assembled on the French frontier, in the electorate of Treves, where they were organizing their forces for the invasion of France. It was understood that Leopold II., then Emperor of Germany, was co-operating with them, and was forwarding large bodies of troops to many points along the German banks of the Rhine for a crusade into France.

The French government demanded of the emperor an explanation of his intentions. He replied: "We do not know of any armaments in the Austrian states which can be magnified into preparations for war." Though Louis XVI. was in cordial sympathy with the emigrants, and, by his secret agents, was urging the Emperor of Austria to lend him troops to aid in crushing the revolution in France, still he was compelled not only to dissemble, but on the 20th of April, 1792, publicly to declare war against the Emperor of Austria, who was brother of his queen, Maria Antoinette.

The Duke of Orleans, Egalite, begged permission of the king to join the armies of revolutionized France in their march against Austria, and to take with him his two oldest sons, the Duke of Chartres (Louis Philippe), and the Duke of Montpensier. In the campaign of 1792, which ensued, both of these young men acquired distinction and promotion. General Biron, in command, wrote to the minister of war:

"Messieurs Chartres and Montpensier have accompanied me as volunteers, and, being exposed for the first time to a brisk fire from the enemy, behaved with the utmost heroism and intrepidity."

The Duke of Chartres, in command of a brigade of dragoons, was soon after transferred to a corps at Metz, under General Kellerman, who subsequently obtained such renown in the wars of the Empire.

When the Duke of Chartres first appeared at head-quarters, General Kellerman, not knowing who he was, and surprised by his youthful appearance, exclaimed:

"Ah, monsieur! I never before have had the pleasure of seeing so young a general officer. How have you contrived to be made a general so soon?"

The duke replied: "By being a son of him who made a colonel of you." They clasped hands cordially, and a warm friendship commenced between them.

In July, 1792, the united armies of Prussia and Austria commenced their march from the German fortresses upon the Rhine into France. The emigrant nobles, and all their partisans, were received into the ranks of these invaders. Their combined strength amounted to 160,000 men. The Duke of Brunswick, in command of the united armies, issued from Coblentz, on the 15th of July, 1792, his famous manifesto, in which he declared, "That he would punish as rebels every Frenchman who should oppose the allied army; and that, should any attack be made upon the royal family in the Tuileries, the whole city should be given up to destruction, and the rebels to instant death."

In view of these terrible menaces, the Legislative Assembly issued a proclamation, in which it was said:

"A numerous army has moved upon our frontiers. All those who are enemies to liberty have armed themselves against our constitution. Citizens! the country is in danger! Let all those who have had the happiness of taking up arms in the cause of liberty remember that they are Frenchmen, and free; that their fellow-citizens enjoy in their homes security of persons and property; that the magistrates are vigilant; that every thing depends on calm resolution; that they should take care to acknowledge the majesty of law, and the country will still be safe."

The plan of the campaign, adopted by the Duke of Brunswick, was to press rapidly forward, with his combined army, from the banks of the Rhine to Paris, cut off its supplies, and by famine to compel it to surrender. He would then destroy the liberal constitution, punish and disperse the friends of popular rights, and restore the king to the absolutism of the old regime. To oppose this formidable army of invasion, France had one corps of 14,000 men near Metz, and another of 33,000 at Sedan, under General Dumouriez. General Lafayette had been in command of the latter force; but, by his opposition to some of the radical measures of the Convention, had excited the hostility of the Paris mob and the Jacobin clubs. They had burned him in effigy at the Palais Royal, accused him of treason before the Assembly, and set a price upon his head. Argument was of no avail against the fury of the populace—in flight only was his safety. While thus pursued by the Jacobins of Paris as an aristocrat, he was arrested by a patrol of the Austrian army as a democrat. With the greatest secrecy, his captors hurried him to Olmutz, where he was thrown into close confinement, and subjected to the most cruel privations. It was two years before his friends could discover the place of his captivity. His wife and daughters then, after much difficulty and delay, succeeded in obtaining permission to share the glooms of his dungeon. It was not until after an imprisonment of five years that he was set at liberty, Napoleon commanding his release in tones which Austria did not dare to disregard.

The proclamation by the Assembly that the country was in danger, caused volunteers in large numbers to set out from every portion of France. From Paris alone, in three days, an army of 32,000 men, completely equipped, were on the advance to the scene of conflict. General Dumouriez, in command at Sedan, drew up his lines of defense before the defiles of Argoun, where he thought he could make the most effectual stand against the invading host. The Duke of Brunswick fell fiercely upon his left wing, and, breaking through, poured his troops like a flood into the plains of Champagne. For a time a terrific panic spread through the French army, and it became needful for Generals Dumouriez and Kellerman to unite their forces. In the mean time, the triumphant Prussians, defiling rapidly by Grandpre and Croix-aux-Bois, were approaching Chalons.

The French troops concentrated at Valmy. There they drew up in line of battle, to arrest the advance of their foes. The second line of the French army was commanded by the Duke of Chartes. The battle which ensued was one of the most memorable and hard-fought in French history. In the early morning a dense mist covered the field of conflict. At eleven o'clock the fog dispersed, and the sun came out brightly, revealing the Prussian columns advancing in beautiful order, with a glittering display of caparisoned horses and polished weapons, deploying with as much precision as if on a field of parade. The eye took in at a glance 100,000 men preparing for the death-struggle. It was, indeed, an imposing spectacle, for such hosts had then been rarely collected on any field of blood.

Neither party seemed disposed to come into close contact with the other, but each brought forward its batteries, and a terrific cannonade commenced, which continued until the close of the day. It was estimated that forty thousand balls were hurled by the opposing armies into each other's ranks. Each army, however, maintained its position. Yet it was considered a French victory, for the Prussians failed in their attempt to break through the lines of the French, and the French succeeded in arresting the march of the Prussians. Indeed, it was admitted by the Prussians that their plan was hopelessly thwarted. The Duke of Brunswick proposed an armistice to the French officers, and this was speedily followed by the evacuation of the French territory by the whole body of Prussian troops. Thus, for the time, the Germanic project of invasion was abandoned.

The Duke of Chartres again, upon this occasion, distinguished himself by bravery and military skill. General Kellerman, in his official report of the battle, said: "I shall only particularize, among those who have shown distinguished courage, M. Chartres and his aid-de-camp, M. Montpensier, whose extreme youth renders his presence of mind, during one of the most tremendous cannonades ever heard, so very remarkable."

It will be observed that General Kellerman speaks of the young dukes as simply M. Chartres and M. Montpensier. At that time all honorary titles were abolished in France, and the highest nobles were addressed, as were the humblest peasants, by the only title of Citizen. Still, the lower classes regarded with great jealousy those higher orders to whom they had been accustomed to pay the homage which slaves render their masters. The laborers, the humble artisans, the toil-worn peasants, could not appear with any thing like equality in the presence of the high-born men and courtly dames who, through their ancestry of many generations, had been accustomed to wealth and rank and power. Thus, to the lower orders, the dress of a gentleman, the polite bearing of the prince, the courtly manner of the noble, excited suspicion, and created hostile feelings.

Even Egalite himself, though he had renounced all his titles, all his feudal rights, and had assumed, as far as possible, the manners of a blunt, plain-spoken man, was still, next to the king, in the enjoyment of the richest revenue in France. He could by no possibility place himself upon a social equality with his boot-black. He manifested no disposition to divide his vast possessions with the mob in Paris, and to send his wife to work with the washer-women, and his daughter to a factory, and to earn himself his daily bread by menial toil. And the washer-women were asking, "Why should we toil at the tub, and Citizeness Orleans ride in her carriage and dress in satins? We are as good as she, and our blood is as red." And at the corners of the streets, the uncombed mob were beginning to inquire, "Why should Citizen Orleans, who, by adopting the title of Egalite, has confessed himself to be only our equal, be in possession of magnificent palaces, and of thousands of acres of the public domain, and of a revenue of millions of francs, while we dwell in hovels, and eat the coarsest food, and, by the most menial toil, obtain a bare subsistence? Citizen Orleans has given up his titles, as he ought to have done; now let him give up his enormous estates, and divide them among us, his brethren; and, if he is unwilling to do this, let us compel him to do so."

Louis Philippe, accustomed to profound reflection, and trained in the school of these tremendous political agitations, clearly foresaw all these menaces. He was well aware that it was no longer safe for him to be in Paris, and that the perils of the battle-field were among the least he had to encounter. Though the Prussian troops had withdrawn from the alliance against France, the Austrians, encouraged by the intrigues and the gold of the British cabinet, still continued the conflict. The Austrian court had an additional motive for perseverance, in the war against revolutionary France, in the anxiety it felt for the safety of the Austrian princess, Maria Antoinette.

On the 5th of November, 1792, the French army, under General Dumouriez, found itself intrenched upon the heights of Jemappes. Directly before it was the camp of the Austrians, containing a veteran force of twenty-two thousand men, commanded by General Clarfait.

The renowned battle of Jemappes ensued, which commenced, after a cannonade of three hours, by an attack upon the whole of the Austrian lines by the entire French army. Again the young Duke of Chartres, who commanded the centre, greatly distinguished himself by his coolness, bravery, and skill. The carnage was serious on both sides, and for some hours the result was doubtful. At length victory declared in favor of the French. The Austrians, driven from all their positions, fled, leaving the battle-field covered with their dead, and abandoning nearly all their cannon to the victors.

The French vigorously pursued the routed Austrians until they again overtook them, and drove them out of the kingdom. On the 8th day after the victory of Jemappes, Dumouriez advanced the French standard to Brussels. As we have mentioned, the sister of the Duke of Chartres, the Princess Eugene Louise Adelaide, with her governess, Madame de Genlis, had been included in the proscriptive laws against emigration. The Duke of Chartres visited them in Switzerland, where they had taken refuge, and conducted them to Tornay.

While there, a new decree was issued by the Assembly, declaring that every member of the Bourbon family then in France, with the exception of the royal household itself, which was held in imprisonment in the Temple awaiting trial under the charge of treason, should leave France, and all the territory occupied by the newly-established Republic, within eight days. The position of the Orleans branch of the Bourbon family now became every hour increasingly perilous. The nation was demanding the life of the king, and the banishment of all who bore his name. St. Just, in urging in the Assembly this decree of banishment, said: "As to the king, we shall keep him; and you know for what?"

The Duke of Chartres, who very fully comprehended the peril in which his father's family was involved, urged him to avail himself of the decree of banishment, which opened an honorable avenue of escape for him, and all his family, from France.

"You will assuredly," said he to his father, "find yourself in an appalling situation. Louis XVI. is about to be accused before an assembly of which you are a member. You must sit before the king as his judge. Reject the ungracious duty; withdraw, with your family, to America, and seek a calm retreat, far from the enemies of France, and there await the return of happier days."

But the Duke of Orleans did not deem it consistent with his honor to desert his post in the hour of danger. Yet the arguments urged by his son were so strong that he desired him to consult an influential member of the Assembly upon the subject. The deputy replied:

"I am incompetent to give your father any advice. Our positions are dissimilar. I myself seek redress for personal injuries. Your father, the Duke of Orleans, ought to obey the dictates of his conscience as a prince, and the dictates of duty as a citizen."

This undecided answer led the Duke of Orleans to the decision that, in the prominent position which he occupied as a citizen of rank and wealth, he could not with honor abandon his country in her hour of peril. The Duke of Chartres desisted from any further solicitation, and, oppressed with much anxiety, returned to the army.

The badge of the Bourbons was a white banner. The insurgents, if we may so call the opponents, of all varieties of opinions, who assailed the ancient despotism, at the siege of the Bastile, wore red cockades. But very many were in favor of monarchy who were also in favor of constitutional liberty. Blue had been, in ancient times, the royal color, and they adopted that. Others, who were in favor of the Bourbons, and advocated reform only, not revolution, adopted white, the livery of the Bourbons. Thus arose the celebrated tri-color flag, which became the emblem of all in France who adopted the principles of political liberalism, whether monarchists or republicans. The white banner of the Bourbons and the tri-color of the revolutionists thus became arrayed against each other.

It was well known that there was a strong party in favor of placing the Duke of Orleans upon the throne. The king was awaiting his trial in the Temple. The monarchy was virtually overthrown, and a republic was established. The Republicans were in great fear of a reaction, which might re-establish the throne in favor of the Orleans family. It was, therefore, proposed in the Assembly that the Duke of Orleans and his sons should be banished from France. But it could not be denied that the Duke of Orleans had been one of the most prominent leaders in the revolution. He had given all his influence, and consecrated his immense wealth, to the cause. He had made great sacrifices, and had alienated himself entirely from the royal family, and from the nobility generally, by his bold advocacy of democratic principles. Under these circumstances, it seemed peculiarly ungrateful to proscribe and persecute him, merely because the blood of the Bourbons flowed in his veins, and because he was born near the throne.

After a violent discussion in the Assembly, the decree of banishment was passed. But the friends of the duke rallied, and succeeded, after a struggle of two days, in obtaining a reversal of the decree. It was known that the Duke of Chartres had urged his father to yield to the decree, and to retire from France. This increased the suspicion that the Duke of Chartres was not friendly to the new state of things in republican, anarchic, France.

"It can not be denied," says a French historian, "that upon this occasion the young prince evinced that high sagacity which, by foreseeing events, succeeds in dispersing their dangers. He looked upon it that the revocation of the decree of banishment against his family was a great misfortune; because the name of Orleans having been once pronounced suspected and dangerous, could never again be useful to their country, and would be infallibly persecuted. 'If we can no longer be useful,' said he, 'and if we only give occasion of offense, can we hesitate in expatriating ourselves?'"

But, as we have said, the duke decided to remain at his post; and his son, returning to the army, anxiously awaited events. The Austrians speedily filled up their depleted ranks with reinforcements, and on the 18th of March, 1793, were again in battle array near the village of Nerwinde. Another terrible battle ensued, in which the Duke of Orleans again won many laurels; but victory decided against the French. The army of Dumouriez was utterly routed. The Duke of Chartres had a horse shot from under him; but he spent the whole night upon the field, struggling to rally the fugitives. It was attributed to his heroism that the army did not, on that occasion, experience an irreparable disaster.

General Dumouriez now found himself in the most painful and perilous position. It was not safe for any leader of the Republican armies to allow himself to be defeated. The loss of a battle was considered equivalent to treason. A committee was sent by the Assembly to spy out his conduct. The Moniteur of the 27th of March, 1793, contains the following report:

"We arrived at Tournay on Tuesday, the 26th. Citizen Proly—who was previously known to General Dumouriez—waited upon him. He found him at the house of Madame Sillery, in company with that lady, the Misses Egalite, and Pamela. He was attended, also, by Generals Valence and Chartres.

"Among other unbecoming observations, which he did not hesitate to make, General Dumouriez said that the Convention was the cause of all the misfortunes of France; that it was composed of 745 tyrants, all regicides; that he was strong enough to bring them to a sense of propriety; and that, if they were to call him Caesar, Cromwell, or Monk, he was still resolved to save his country."

The publication of this report rendered it certain to Dumouriez and his friends that he would immediately be arrested and conveyed to Paris, under circumstances which would render condemnation and execution inevitable. He had not an hour to lose. He was supping with the Duke of Chartres, anxiously conversing upon the peril in which they both were involved, when a courier arrived, summoning him immediately to repair to Paris to explain his conduct to the Convention. The Duke of Chartres said sadly to his general: "This order is your death-warrant." As he said this, the general was opening another document, and replied: "Now it is your turn, my young friend; this letter incloses a similar invitation for you."

They both mounted their horses, and bidding adieu to unhappy France, set out, with a small retinue, for the frontier. A detachment of dragoons was sent in pursuit of them. By the extraordinary sagacity and self-possession of Baudoin, the faithful servant of the prince, they effected their escape. It is altogether probable that Dumouriez was intending, by the aid of the army, to overthrow the Convention, and re-establish the throne in favor of the Duke of Chartres. An anonymous French writer, commenting upon these events, says:

"We do not hesitate to place among the number of the plans of Dumouriez a project which did him honor—that of abolishing the republican system and erecting a constitutional monarchy in favor of the Duke of Chartres. Many persons have imagined that the Duke of Chartres was aware of this design. It is certain that in the army, as well as among the moderates of the interior, the prince would have found a crowd of adherents. But he was too conscientious to usurp a crown which had just fallen in blood—too good a son to authorize proceedings which would have endangered the life of his father; in short, too enlightened, too prudent, notwithstanding his extreme youth, to be instrumental in any ambitious or ill-conceived scheme emanating from such a man as Dumouriez. However, whether the Duke of Chartres was conscious or not of the designs of General Dumouriez, a stern necessity rendered a union of their fortunes indispensable for a time."

The fugitives repaired first to Mons, the head-quarters of the Austrians, to obtain their passports. Prince Charles urged the duke to enter the service of the Empire, and to co-operate with foreign armies and the emigrants in restoring monarchy to France. The duke emphatically declined. Indeed, such an act would probably have brought his father's head, and the head of every member of the family, within reach of the Convention, beneath the slide of the guillotine. Nothing now remained for the prince but exile and poverty.

In the month of April, 1793, the duke, assuming the name of Mr. Corby, and the appearance of an English traveller, accompanied only by a servant and his aid-de-camp, Caesar Ducrest, commenced travelling in Germany. While the Republicans assailed him from suspicion of his secret hostility to Republican principles, the emigrants thoroughly hated both him and his father for the countenance which they had given to the Revolution. The region was full of emigrants who would gladly surrender him to his enemies. It was necessary for him to practise the utmost caution, that he might preserve his incognito. In the cities of Liege, Aix-la-Chapelle, and Cologne, he did not dare to dine at the table d'hote, lest he should be recognized.

The duke had reached Frankfort, when he read the account in the journals of the arrest of his father and brothers. Lafayette, laden with irons, was pining in the dungeons of Olmutz. Such was the reward which these patriots received for their devotion to the cause of popular liberty.

Departing from Frankfort, the duke proceeded to Basle. From an eminence in the environs of the town the tri-color flag was visible, floating in the distance above the battlements of the fortress of Huninguen. With deep emotion the duke saluted the flag of liberty, for which he had suffered so much, and continued his sad journey. At Basle he learned that his sister, accompanied by Madame de Genlis, had taken refuge at Schaffhausen, in Switzerland. His mother and two brothers, as well as his father, had been arrested, and were imprisoned in France. Joining his sister and Madame de Genlis, the little party of exiles proceeded, oppressed with anxiety and grief, to Zurich. Here it became necessary for them to acquaint the magistrates with their real names.

The emigrant royalists who had taken refuge there ostentatiously displayed their detestation of the democratic prince. At the same time, the Helvetic magistrates trembled lest they should incur the wrath of Revolutionary France by affording a refuge to the illustrious exiles. The Moniteur, of the 12th of June, 1793, contained the following notice:

"The ci-devant Duke of Chartres and his suite are not in Italy, as had been supposed, but reside in a solitary house on the margin of Lake Zug, in Switzerland. They pass for an Irish family."

It was on the 14th of May that the sorrowful exiles took up their residence upon the banks of this silent lake. In Zurich, where they were recognized, they had been exposed to many insults. One evening, as they were walking out, an emigrant cavalier purposely caught his spur in a portion of the dress of Mademoiselle d'Orleans, rudely tearing it.

Soon they were again discovered by some emigrants who were passing through Zug. A dispatch from Berne reproached the authorities for their imprudence in allowing the noble wanderers an asylum. The magistrates called upon the duke and respectfully, but with much embarrassment, entreated him to depart from their coasts. It was now evident that the party could no longer, with safety, reside together. The duke succeeded, through some influential friends, in obtaining admission for his sister into the convent of Sainte Claire, near Bremgarten.

"As for you," said M. de Montjoie to the Duke of Chartres, "there is no alternative but to wander in the mountains, not sojourning long in any place, but pursuing this life of sorrow until the circumstances of your country shall assume a more favorable aspect. If fortune shall prove propitious, your wanderings will be an Odyssey, the details of which will one day be collected with avidity."

General Dumouriez, who was also wandering in obscurity and exile, at this time wrote to General Montesquieu, who was a friend of the Duke of Chartres, and a gentleman possessed of much influence and power in Switzerland:

"Embrace for me our excellent young friend. What you are doing to serve him is worthy of you. Let him derive instruction and strength from his adversity. This frenzy will pass away, and then he will find his place. Induce him to make a circumstantial diary of his travels. It will be curious to see the diary of a Bourbon treating of other subjects than the chase, women, and the table. I am convinced that this work, which he will one day produce, will serve as a certificate for life, either when he shall have re-entered it, or to make him return to it."

Darker and darker grew the path of the exiled prince. His funds became very low. He was separated from all his friends except his faithful servant, Baudoin, who absolutely refused to leave him. He retained but one horse. His servant chanced to be so sick that he could not walk. The duke left Basle on foot, leading by the hand the horse upon which his humble but faithful companion in exile was mounted.[C]

[Footnote C: Vie Anecdotique de Louis Philippe. Par MM. A. Laugier et Carpentier, p. 108.]

Passing through Neufchatel, Zellen Blatt, and Kussnacht, he reached the ruins of Halsburg. Here, in the midst of silence and solitude, the great-grandson of the brother of Louis XIV. sought a refuge from his countrymen, who were thirsting for his blood.

During one of his adventurous excursions among the Alps, on foot, accompanied only by his servant, he approached the hospitium of Saint Gothard. It was on the 28th of August, 1793. Having rung the bell, a Capuchin friar appeared at the casement and inquired, "What do you want?" "I request," replied the duke, "some nourishment for my companion and myself." "My good young men," said the friar, "we do not admit foot-passengers here, particularly of your description." "But, reverend father," replied the duke, "we will pay whatever you demand." "No, no," added the Capuchin, pointing to a shed where some muleteers were partaking of Alpine cheese, "that little inn there is good enough for you."

At Gordona the duke and his servant met with a similar repulse. Covered with the dust of travel, and with knapsacks on their backs, with night and storm approaching, they found the door of a hostlery closed against them. It was not until after much entreaty that the way-worn travellers were allowed shelter, with a bed of straw, in an outhouse.

While engaged in these wanderings, the duke received a letter from M. de Montesquieu, offering him the situation of professor at the college of Reichenau. This was a chateau near the confluence of the upper and lower Rhine. He was then but twenty years of age. Assuming the name of M. Chabaud, he underwent a very rigid examination, without exciting the slightest suspicion as to his real character. For eight months he discharged the duties of teaching the French and English languages with marked success, and so secured the respect of the inhabitants of Reichenau that they elected him their deputy to the Assembly at Coire.

Here the tidings reached him of the sad fate of his father. Overwhelmed with grief, and restless in view of the peril of other members of the family, he resumed his wanderings. Proceeding to Bremgarten, the residence of his influential friend M. de Montesquieu, he remained with him, as aid-de-camp, until some time in the year 1794.

But it was impossible for a man so widely known to remain long concealed in any place. There was still an energetic and increasingly powerful party in France opposed to the disorders which the Republic had introduced, and anxious to restore monarchical forms. The situation of the sister of the Duke of Orleans, as Louis Philippe now became, on the death of his father, was considered so unsafe in the convent of Bremgarten that she was removed to Hungary.

One day, as the duke was sitting silently, lost in thought, in a parlor adjoining the one occupied by his generous host, he overheard some conversation which led him to fear that the hospitality which he was receiving might endanger the safety of his friend. He immediately resolved to withdraw from Bremgarten and to seek refuge in Hamburg. Here, finding his position very insecure, he resolved to hide himself in the cheerless climate of Northern Europe. Accustomed to the severest privations, he was enabled to recommence his wanderings with the slender funds at his disposal. Assuming the character of a Swiss traveller, he made arrangements to disappear from Southern Europe, and seek refuge in the wilds of Scandinavia. He obtained passports from the King of Denmark, which allowed him to take with him his steadfast friend Count Montjoie, and his faithful servant Baudoin, who had shared all the sufferings of his exile. A letter of credit upon a banker at Copenhagen supplied his immediate pecuniary wants.




Louis Philippe in Sweden.—His incognito.—Journeying northward.—Court ball of King Gustavus.—Despotism of the Directory.—The duke urged to join the emigrants.—Letter from the duchess to her son.—Embarkation for America.—Sufferings of the young princes.—Their destitution.—The attempt to escape.—Strong affection for each other.—The release of the captives.—The contrast.—Blending of joy and anxiety.—The long and stormy voyage.—Visit to Mount Vernon.—The republican landlord.—Driven from the inn.—Journeying in the wilderness.—Indian hospitality.—Letter from the Duke of Montpensier.—Hardships of travel.—Return to Philadelphia.—Crossing the Alleghanies.—Floating down the river.—Welcome in New Orleans.—Arrogance of the British Government.—Action of the French Government.—The "right of search."—Narrow escape.

The peninsula of Scandinavia can be explored at a very slight expense. The exiled prince, with his companions, travelled in the most unostentatious manner. He felt quite secure in his wanderings, as but few of the emigrants had penetrated those distant regions. From Copenhagen he passed to Elsineur, visiting all objects of historic interest. Crossing the Sound at Helsinbourg, he entered the hospitable realms of Sweden. After a brief tarry at Gottenburg, and ascending Lake Wener, he directed his steps towards Norway, remaining for a short period at Friedrichsthal, where, in 1718, the half-mad Charles XII., after perhaps the most stormy life through which a mortal ever passed, breathed his last.

Proceeding to Christiania, he was received, as an intelligent and affable traveller, with much distinction, though no one suspected his rank. Wherever he went the purity of his character impressed itself upon the community. M. Monod—subsequently a distinguished pastor of one of the Protestant churches in Paris—was then at Christiania. He fully appreciated the unusual virtues of his countryman, who, in every word and action, manifested the spirit of true Christianity.

"M. Monod has repeatedly since been heard to declare," write A. Laugier and Carpentier, "that the more the virtuous and instructive life of this traveller was examined, the more exalted and exemplary it appeared. What must have been his surprise when, subsequently, in his own country, he recognized in the young Frenchman of Christiania, so gentle and modest, a prince of the blood standing upon the very steps of the throne of France!"

For some time the duke remained at Christiania, receiving many kind attentions. On one occasion he dined with a numerous party at a banker's in the city. In the evening, at the close of the entertainment, as the guests were departing, the duke was startled and alarmed by hearing the son of the banker, in a loud and somewhat playful tone, call out, "The carriage of the Duke of Orleans." For a moment he was much embarrassed. But perceiving that neither the young man nor any of the company turned their eyes to him, he recovered his self-possession, and calmly inquired of the young man, "Why do you call for the carriage of the Duke of Orleans? What have you to do with him?"

"Nothing at all," he replied, with a smile; "but in a journey which we, not long ago, made to Paris, every evening, as we were coming out of the opera, we heard the people shouting on all sides, and with the greatest eagerness, 'La voiture de Monseigneur le Duc d'Orleans! les gens de son Altesse Royale?' I was almost stunned by the noise. At the moment it occurred to me to imitate them, instead of simply calling for the carriage."[D]

[Footnote D: Vie Anecdotique de Louis Philippe, p. 120.]

Continuing his journey to the north, the prince passed through Drontheim and Hamersfeldt, which latter place was then the most northern town in Europe. Some years after, when Louis Philippe had ascended the throne of France, he sent a clock to the church tower in Hamersfeldt, in graceful recognition of his hospitable reception there as a stranger.

Continuing along the coast of Norway, he reached the Gulf of Salten, and visited the world-renowned Maelstrom. Taking an Icelander, by the name of Holm, as his guide, he entered Lapland. Thus journeying, he, on the 24th of August, 1795, reached North Cape, the extreme northern point of Europe, within eighteen degrees of the North Pole. It is said that no Frenchman had ever before visited those distant and frigid regions. Here the duke remained for several weeks, enjoying the hospitality of the simple-hearted inhabitants—winning their confidence by his affability, and deeply interested in studying their manners and customs.

Then, turning directly south, accompanied by several of the natives, he reached Tornev, on the extreme northern shore of the Gulf of Bothnia. Thence he traversed the eastern shores of the gulf for many weary leagues, to Abo, in Finland, where he embarked for the Aland Islands, and reached Stockholm the latter part of October. Here, notwithstanding all his endeavors to preserve his incognito, his curiosity to witness a grand court ball, given in honor of the birth-day of King Gustavus II., led to his recognition by the French envoy at that court, though he had adopted the precaution of entering the highest gallery in the ball-room.

The king, being informed of his presence, immediately dispatched a messenger to say that his majesty would be happy to see the duke. The kindest attentions were lavished upon him. From such attentions he deemed it prudent to escape, and speedily resumed his wanderings—searching out and carefully examining all objects of historical interest. Recrossing the Sound, he returned to Hamburg, by the way of Copenhagen and Lubeck. The Revolution was still running riot in France. The duke, having exhausted the resources at his disposal, found himself in truly an embarrassing situation.

The Directory was at that time ruling France with despotic sway. Ever trembling in fear of a reaction, the Directors would gladly place beneath the slide of the guillotine any one in whose veins there ran a drop of royal blood. Fearful of the great influence of the house of Orleans, even when its property was sequestered, and its members were in prison or in exile, the greatest efforts had been made, by means of secret agents, to find out the retreat of Louis Philippe. At length, by some means, they discovered him in the small town of Frederichstadt, in Holstein. His two brothers were then in prison in Marseilles, in hourly danger of being dragged to the guillotine, upon which their father had perished.

The Directory proposed to the Duchess of Orleans, who was imprisoned in Paris, and to Louis Philippe, now the head of the family, that if the duke and his brothers would embark for America, leaving Europe, the two imprisoned princes should be restored to liberty, and the sequestrated property of the family should be refunded.

Louis XVIII., also an emigrant, in the bosom of the armies of Austria, and surrounded by the armed nobility of France, had previously, through an envoy, urged Louis Philippe to join the emigrants, in their attempt, by the aid of the sword of foreigners, to re-establish the throne of France. But the prince was not willing to bear arms against his native land.

The agents of the Directory, who now approached the prince, presented him a letter from his mother. Her husband had suffered a cruel death from the executioner. Her two sons were in hourly peril of the same fate. Her eldest son and her daughter were in exile, wandering in poverty, she knew not where. She herself was a captive, cruelly separated from all her family, exposed to many insults, and liable, at any hour, to suffer upon the scaffold the same fate which her queen, Maria Antoinette, and many others of the noblest ladies of France had already endured.

The affectionate heart of this amiable woman was lacerated with anguish. She wrote a letter to her son, which was intrusted to the agents in search of him, imploring him, in the most affecting terms, to rescue the family, by a voluntary exile to America, from its dreadful woes and perils. In the letter she wrote:

"May the prospect of relieving the misfortunes of your distressed mother, of mitigating the sorrows of your family, and of contributing to restore peace to your unhappy country, reward your generosity."

The duke, upon the reception of this letter, decided at once to embark for America. To his mother he wrote: "When my beloved mother shall have received this letter, her commands will have been executed, and I shall have sailed for America. I shall embark in the first vessel destined for the United States. I no longer think that happiness is lost to me while I have it in my power to alleviate the sorrows of a cherished mother, whose situation and sufferings have for a long time rent my heart."[E]

[Footnote E: A. Laugier et Carpentier, p. 132.]

On the 24th of September, 1796, the Duke of Orleans embarked at Hamburg in an American vessel, "The America," then a regular packet plying between that port and Philadelphia. Still retaining his incognito, he represented himself as a Dane, and obtained Danish passports. He paid thirty-five guineas for his passage, and took with him his ever-faithful servant Baudoin, for whom he paid seventeen and a half guineas. A favorable passage of twenty-seven days landed them at Philadelphia, on the 21st of October, 1796.

We have not space here to describe the cruel sufferings of the two younger brothers of Louis Philippe during their captivity. The elder of the two, the Duke of Montpensier, was but seventeen years of age; the younger, Count Beaujolais, was but thirteen. The brothers were confined separately, in dark, fetid dungeons, and were not allowed any communication with each other. The health of Beaujolais soon began to suffer, and it was evident that he must die unless he could have fresh air. The Duke of Montpensier writes, in his touching autobiography:

"My brother Beaujolais was consequently permitted to spend two or three hours each day in the open air, and was then remanded to his dungeon. His cell being above mine, he was obliged to pass my door on his way out, and he never failed to call out, 'Good-day, Montpensier; how are you?' It is impossible to describe the effect his gentle voice had upon me, or the distress I felt when a day passed without my hearing it; for he was sometimes actually forbidden to utter these words, and was always hurried by so quickly that he had scarce time to hear my answer. Once, however, that he was permitted to remain until my dinner was brought, he kept so close to the heels of the basket-bearer that, in spite of the administrators, who tried to hold him back, he darted into my cell and embraced me. It was six weeks since I had seen him—six wretched weeks. The moment was precious, but how short! He was torn from me forthwith, with threats of being no more allowed to go out should the same scene be repeated. I myself was not afterwards permitted, when my cell door was opened, to go near enough to catch the breeze which passed up the narrow staircase."

The princes were not allowed to see the public journals, or to receive from their friends any letters which had not been previously examined by their jailers. They were left in entire ignorance of their father's execution until some time after his head had fallen. When the awful tidings were conveyed to them, both of the young princes, weakened by imprisonment and misery, fainted away. The hatred with which they were pursued is evinced by the epithet of wolves' cubs, which was ever applied to them in the clubs of the Jacobins. Eight francs a day were allowed for their support. Their mother had sent to them, for their immediate necessities, twelve thousand francs ($2400); but the magistrates had seized the whole sum. As the weary months rolled on, there were variations in the treatment of the illustrious prisoners—it sometimes being more and sometimes less brutal, but ever marked with almost savage ferocity. After the fall of Robespierre, a decree was passed—

"That the imprisoned members of the Orleans family should have the outer walls of the fort as the limits of their captivity, the privilege of ranging about within those bounds, and in future they were not to be locked up in their cells."

The mother of the princes, the Duchess of Orleans, who had been in close surveillance in the palace of the Luxembourg, in Paris, also experienced very considerable alleviation in the severity of her treatment. From various quarters the captives at length obtained funds, so that their pecuniary wants were supplied. On the 18th of November, 1795, the princes made a desperate but unavailing effort to escape. The breaking of a rope by which Montpensier was endeavoring to let himself down, outside of the walls, precipitated him from a great height to the ground, very seriously breaking one of his legs. He was recaptured, and suffered terribly from mental and bodily anguish. His brother, Beaujolais, having effected his escape, learning of the misfortune which had befallen his brother, returned, with true brotherly love, to voluntary captivity, that he might do something to cheer the sufferer.

Upon the return of Beaujolais, the commandant of the prison said, exultingly, to the Duke of Montpensier, who was writhing upon a bed of bodily suffering and of mental anguish:

"Your young brother is again my prisoner in the fortress, and burns with anxiety to see you. You are henceforth to be confined separately, and will no longer have an opportunity to communicate with each other."

The two brothers were allowed one short interview. "Ah, brother," said Beaujolais, "I fear we shall derive no benefit from what I have done, for we are to be confined separately. But without you it was impossible for me to enjoy liberty."

For forty days Montpensier was confined to his bed. It was a year and a half before he entirely recovered the use of his broken limb. Thus three years of almost unmitigated wretchedness passed away. There were many massacres in the prison; and often it seemed that miraculous interposition alone had saved them from a bloody death. Gradually the horrors of the Reign of Terror seemed to subside. The captive princes were allowed to occupy a room together, and that a comfortably furnished apartment in the fort, overlooking the sea. It was under these circumstances that the mother consented to their banishment to America, as the condition of their liberation. The Directory, however, would not open their prison doors until it had received official intelligence of the embarkation of Louis Philippe.

Immediately upon being satisfied that the Duke of Orleans had sailed from Hamburg, the authorities prepared to release the princes from their captivity, and to send them also to the New World. When all things were ready, General Willot, a humane man, who had arrived at Marseilles with extensive powers, informed them that the hour for their release had come.

"The prisoners at first could scarcely credit their senses. They looked steadfastly at each other; then, throwing themselves into each other's arms, they began to cry, laugh, leap about the room, and for several minutes continued to manifest a temporary derangement."

It would still be a few days before the vessel would sail. Jacobinical fury was such in Marseilles that it was not safe for the princes to appear in public, lest they should be torn in pieces by the mob. They were therefore removed to the house of the American consul, Mr. Cathalan, who had manifested almost a brotherly interest in their welfare.

"It is impossible to describe," writes the Duke Montpensier, in his autobiography, "the sensations I experienced in crossing the draw-bridge, and contrasting the present moment with the frightful occasions on which I had passed it before; the first time, on my entrance into that dismal fortress, where I had been immured for nearly three years of my life; and the second, on my unfortunate attempt to escape from it and recover my liberty. The gratifying reflection that I now trod on it for the last time could with difficulty impress itself upon my mind; and I could not avoid fancying that the whole was a sleeping vision, the illusion of which I was every moment apprehensive of seeing dissipated. On our exit from the fort, we were received by a strong detachment of grenadiers, who conducted us to the sloop."

Being thus placed under the protection of the stars and stripes, the soldiers of the Directory left them, and they repaired immediately from the vessel to the house of the American consul, where several friends had assembled to greet them.

"Here," continues M. Montpensier in his journal, "we passed very agreeably the few days that remained before the departure of the vessel for America. We were, indeed, true birds of the night—only venturing out after dusk; but our days passed happily enough. Still, we were too near that abode of misery, the fort, which we never ceased to think of without anguish. And so apprehensive were we of a sudden change in the sentiments of the existing Government, or an actual revolution in the Government itself, that our anxiety to depart was almost insupportable. At last we were informed that the vessel would sail the following day. The effect of this joyous news was the total loss of our rest during the night. Seven o'clock in the morning of the 5th of November, 1796, found us awake and in transports of delight at being permitted to take wings and fly to some land of toleration and liberty, since our own had ceased to be such.

"The citizens of Marseilles, being informed of our intended departure, assembled in crowds to see us embark. The ramparts of the fort were lined, the windows filled. Almost all congratulated us upon the recovery of our liberty. Some envied us our lot; while a few, undoubtedly, wished that the sea might ingulf us where its depth was greatest, and rid France of two members of the proscribed and hated race. The anchor was raised, and the sails were set. A favorable breeze springing up, we soon lost sight of that country in which we had been victims of a persecution so relentless, but for whose prosperity and happiness we never ceased to offer up our prayers to heaven."

The voyage was long and stormy. It was not until after the expiration of ninety-two days that the vessel, the "Jupiter," reached Philadelphia, in February, 1797. Here, with inexpressible emotions of joy, they found their brother awaiting their arrival. They took up their residence in a humble house in Walnut Street, between Fourth and Fifth streets, adjoining the church; from which they soon removed to a house which they rented from the Spanish consul, in Sixth Street.

Philadelphia was then the seat of the Federal Government. The incognito of the princes was removed, and they were received with marked respect and attentions. They were present when Washington delivered his Farewell Address to Congress, and also witnessed the inauguration of President Adams. The funds of the princes, though not large, enabled them to meet their frugal expenses. In the early summer the three princes—accompanied by the faithful servant Baudoin, who had accompanied Louis Philippe in all his wanderings—set out on horseback to visit Baltimore and other Southern cities. The present City of Washington did not then exist. They, however, visited Georgetown, where they were hospitably entertained by Mr. Law.

Passing through Alexandria, they took the road to Mount Vernon, where they had been invited to pass a few days with perhaps the most illustrious man of modern ages. Washington, with whom they had become acquainted in Philadelphia, and who had invited them to his house, received them with the greatest kindness. The modest, gentlemanly, heroic character of these remarkable young men deeply impressed him. He furnished them with letters of introduction, and drew up an itinerary of their journey, south and west, directing their attention to especial objects of interest.

In those early days, and through that wild, almost uncultivated country, travelling was attended with not a little difficulty and with some danger. Mounted on horseback, with all their baggage in saddle-bags, the princes took leave of their honored host, and rode, by the way of Leesburg and Harper's Ferry, to Winchester, where they were entertained in the celebrated inn of Mr. Bush. An American has in the following terms described the character and appearance of this celebrated landlord:

"I have him in my mind's eye as he was then, portly, ruddy, though advanced in life, with a large, broad-brimmed hat, and with his full clothes of the olden time, looking the very patriarch of his establishment. He had two houses—one for his family, and the other for his guests; and there was no resting-place in all that rich valley more frequented by travellers than his. It was a model of neatness and comfort, and the excellent man who built it up, and who continued it more from the desire of employment than from the love of gain, seemed to consider the relations subsisting between the traveller and himself as a favor to the former rather than to the latter."

Mr. Bush had been in Manheim, which Louis Philippe had recently visited, and he could speak German. This created quite an intimacy between guest and host, and led to a long conversation. The journey had been rough, the exposure great, and the youngest brother, unaccustomed to such fatigue, was greatly exhausted. The Duke of Orleans, who watched over his brother with parental tenderness, out of regard to his prostration, asked the privilege, so common in Europe, of having their dinner served to them in their own room. The pride of the republican inn-keeper was touched.

"Such a request," writes G. N. Wright, "had never been heard in the fair and fertile vale of Shenandoah, or, at all events, within the limits of Bush's Winchester Hotel. It infringed his rules; it wounded his professional pride; it assailed his very honor. The recollection of Manheim, and the pleasant days he had passed there—the agreeable opportunity of living over those hours again in the conversation of the Duke of Orleans—the gentle conduct of the three young strangers—were all, in a moment of extravagant folly, passion, and intractableness, forgotten, flung to the winds, when, with a scornful air, he addressed Louis Philippe:

"'Since you are too good to eat at the same table with my guests, you are too good to eat in my house. I desire, therefore, that you leave it instantly.'"[F]

[Footnote F: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, by Rev. G. N. Wright, p. 21.]

In vain did the Duke of Orleans endeavor to explain and convince his irate host that he intended no disrespect. The weary travellers were compelled immediately to leave, and to seek hospitality elsewhere. Continuing their journey through a variety of adventures, some amusing and some painful, they passed through Staunton, Abington, and Knoxville, and reached Nashville, in Tennessee. After a short tarry here, they continued their ride through Louisville, Lexington, Maysville, Chilicothe, Lancaster, Zanesville, Wheeling, to Pittsburg, in Pennsylvania. Their accommodations in these vast wilds were often of the humblest kind. The three brothers often slept on the floor, wrapped in their cloaks, in some wretched hut, with their feet towards the blazing fire, while their landlord and his wife occupied the only bed in the only room.

At Pittsburg the travellers rested for several days. From that place the princes directed their steps to Buffalo, skirting, for some distance, the shores of Lake Erie. At Cattaraugus they were the guests, for one night, of the Seneca Indians. They felt some anxiety in reference to their baggage, the loss of which, in those distant regions, would have been a serious calamity. The chief, perceiving their solicitude, said that he would be personally responsible for every article which might be committed to his care, but for nothing else. After a little reflection, the duke placed in his hands saddles, bridles, blankets, clothes, and money—every thing, except a beautiful dog, which he did not think of including in the inventory. All were restored in the morning, excepting that the dog was missing. "If the dog," said the chief, "had been intrusted to my care, it would have been waiting your departure." With some difficulty the favorite animal was reclaimed.

At Buffalo the travellers crossed the head of the Niagara River, and, passing down the Canadian shore, visited the world-renowned falls. On their way, they passed a night in the huts of the Chippewa Indians. The following extracts, written by the Duke of Montpensier to his sister, throw much light upon the character of these excellent young men. It was dated August 14, 1797:

"I hope you have received the letters which we wrote to you from Pittsburg about two months ago. We were then in the midst of a long journey, which we have terminated only fifteen days since. It occupied us four months. We journeyed during all that time a thousand leagues, and always upon the same horses, except the last hundred leagues, which we performed partly by water, partly on foot, partly on hired horses, and partly by stage, or the public conveyance.

"We have seen many Indians, and we remained even many days in their country. They are, in general, the best people in the world, except when they are intoxicated or inflamed by passion. They received us with great kindness; and our being Frenchmen contributed not a little to this reception, for they are very fond of our nation. The most interesting object we visited, after the Indian villages, was certainly the Cataract of Niagara, which I wrote you word from Pittsburg that we were going to see. It is the most astonishing and majestic spectacle I have ever witnessed. I have made a sketch of it, from which I intend to make a water-color drawing, which our dear little sister shall certainly see at our beloved mother's home.

"To give you an idea of the agreeable manner in which they travel in this country, I must tell you, dear sister, that we passed fourteen nights in the woods, devoured by all kinds of insects, often wet to the bone, without being able to dry ourselves, and our only food being pork, a little salt beef, and maize bread. Independently of this adventure, we were forty or fifty nights in miserable huts, where we were obliged to lie upon a floor made of rough timber, and to endure all the taunts and murmuring of the inhabitants, who often turned us out of doors, often refused us admission, and whose hospitality was always defective. I should never recommend a similar journey to any friend of mine; yet we are far from repenting what we have done, since we have all three brought back excellent health and more experience.

"Adieu, beloved and cherished sister—so tenderly loved. Receive the embraces of three brothers, whose thoughts are constantly with you."

As the travellers were proceeding from Buffalo to Canandaigua, over a country so rude that they suffered more than on any other part of their journey, they met Mr. Alexander Baring, afterwards Lord Ashburton, whose acquaintance they had made in Philadelphia. Mr. Baring was on a tour to Niagara, from which the princes were returning. His patience was quite exhausted by the hardships he was enduring on the way; and he expressed the doubt whether the sight of Niagara could repay one for such excessive toil and privation. His experience must, indeed, have been different from that of the modern tourist, who glides smoothly along in the palace-cars. Arriving at Geneva, they took a boat and sailed up Seneca Lake to its head; whence they crossed over to Tioga Point, on the Susquehanna. The last twenty-five miles of this trip they accomplished on foot, each one carrying his baggage. Passing through the country, in almost a direct line, by the way of Wilkesbarre, they returned to Philadelphia.

Soon after their return the yellow-fever broke out in Philadelphia with great malignity, in July, 1797. The princes had expended on their long journey all their funds, and were impatiently awaiting remittances from Europe. They were thus unable to withdraw from the pestilence, from which all who had the means precipitately fled. It was not until September that their mother succeeded in transmitting to them a remittance.

With these fresh resources they commenced a journey to the Eastern States, passing through the States of New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts, to Boston; and it is said that they extended their travels to Hallowell, in the District of Maine, to call upon the Vaughans, an illustrious family from England, then residing there.

Louisiana at that time belonged to Spain. The exiles decided to cross the country to the Ohio, descend the river to New Orleans, and thence to proceed to Havana, on the island of Cuba, by some Spanish vessel. Returning to Philadelphia, they set out, on the 10th of December, 1797, to cross the Alleghanies. Upon those heights and gorges winter had already set in, and the cold was very severe. Just before leaving, they learned that the Directory had passed a decree banishing every member of the Bourbon family from France, including their mother, who was a Bourbon only by marriage, and that their mother had taken refuge in Spain. At that time Spain was in alliance with France, and the British Government was consequently at war against it.

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