THE TOMB AND THE BRIDAL.
1799-1809
The antagonistic parties.--Driven from Cuba.--Take refuge in
England.--Courted by the Bourbons.--Reconciliation.--Embarrassments
of the princes.--Aristocratic attentions.--Fashionable life in
London.--Domestic habits.--Death of the Duke of Montpensier.--Sickness
of Count Beaujolais.--Death of Count Beaujolais.--The Princess
Amelia.--Banner of the Empire.--The Duke of Orleans in the Sicilian
Court.--Spanish intrigues.--Wandering of the Duchess of Orleans.--The
brother and sister united.--Their arrival at Malta.--Anarchy in
Spain.--Unfriendly conduct of the Queen of Sicily.--Eulogy upon the
Duchess of Orleans.--The wedding.--Character of the bride.--Her
benevolence.
The position of the French princes was peculiarly embarrassing. Both
of the parties into which all the nations of Europe were then divided
suspected and feared them. The Royalists could not forget that the
father of the princes had taken the title of Egalite, had renounced
all feudal privileges, had voted for the death of the king, and had
placed himself at the head of the democratic movement in France.
The liberal or democratic party could not forget that the young
princes were by birth in the highest ranks of the nobility, that by
blood relationship they were nearly connected with the crown, that
their whole family had been so utterly crushed by democratic rule
that they could not but hate that rule, and that there was a party in
France, sustained by many of the courts in Europe, in favor of
reaction and of re-establishing the throne with the young Duke of
Orleans as king. Thus the Orleans princes were alike suspected and
feared by both parties.
The government in Madrid was in entire sympathy with the aristocratic
party in Europe. Though the Orleans princes had been received in
Cuba, by the Spanish authorities and leading citizens, with much
attention, as the victims of democratic fury, the government of
Madrid, remembering only the democracy of Egalite, and fearing that
the princes, retaining their father's principles, might unfurl the
dreaded tri-color in Havana, sent an order dated May 21, 1799,
ordering the captain-general of the island not to permit any longer
the presence of the dukes of Orleans and of Montpensier, and of their
brother, Count Beaujolais, but to send them immediately to New
Orleans, without any regard to their mode of subsistence.
Under these circumstances the exiles, withdrawing from Cuba,
succeeded in reaching the Bahama Islands, which belonged to England,
and thence sailed for Halifax. The Duke of Kent, son of George III.,
and father of Queen Victoria, was then in Halifax, and received them
with guarded and formal courtesy. Not certain what might be the
feelings of the British Cabinet in reference to them, he did not feel
authorized to grant them a passage to England on board a British
vessel of war. They, therefore, embarked in a small vessel for New
York, and there took passage in a regular packet-ship for England.
In the first week in February, 1800, the ship reached Falmouth.
Immediately the princes forwarded a request to George III. that they
might be permitted to land in England and proceed to London. The
request was promptly granted, and on the sixth of the month they
reached the capital. To convince the court and the nobility of
England that they were entirely weaned from all those democratic
tendencies which had brought such awful ruin upon their house, they
selected Twickenham as their place of residence. It was a beautiful
and salubrious site in the midst of the family seats of the English
aristocracy, and in the vicinity of Windsor Castle, the ancient and
world-renowned palace of the British kings. Here every movement would
be open to the eyes of the British aristocracy, and the mode of life
of the princes, their associates, and their manner of spending their
leisure hours, would all be known. The spotless and amiable
character of these young men rapidly secured for them the confidence
and esteem of all their acquaintances.
The unhappy son of Louis XVI., whom the Legitimists regarded as their
sovereign under the title of Louis XVII., had perished of brutal
treatment in his dungeon, on the 6th of June, 1796.[G] The
Legitimists now recognized the elder brother of Louis XVI., the Count
de Provence, as king, with the title of Louis XVIII. The Count de
Provence, assuming all the etiquette of royalty, and recognized by
nearly all the courts of Europe as the lawful sovereign of France,
held his court at Mittau, in Courland, surrounded by a crowd of
emigrant courtiers. His only brother, Count d'Artois, who
subsequently ascended the throne of France as Charles X., resided in
London, punctiliously maintaining court etiquette.
[Footnote G: There have been efforts to prove that the dauphin was
removed from prison, and another child was substituted in his place,
who died and was buried. Several claimants have risen, professing to
be the dauphin. But there is no evidence upon this point sufficient
to change the general verdict of history.]
[Illustration: LOUIS XVII. IN PRISON.]
The Count d'Artois, anxious to secure the open and cordial
co-operation of the Duke of Orleans in behalf of the Royalist
cause, sent him an earnest invitation to come to London, assuring him
of an affectionate greeting on his own part and that of his friends.
The duke repaired to London, and was received on the 13th of February
with princely hospitality by the count and other members of the
Bourbon family, at his residence in Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square.
"The king, Louis XVIII.," said the Count d'Artois, "will be delighted
to see you; but it will be proper and necessary that you should first
write to him." The Duke of Orleans did so. In this letter he must
have recognized the sovereignty of Louis XVIII., a sovereignty
founded on legitimacy, for he received a courteous and cordial reply.
Thus there seemed to be a perfect reconciliation, social and
political, between the elder and younger branches of the Bourbon
family.
General Dumouriez had visited the court of the exiled monarch,
pledged to him his homage, mounted the white cockade, and, receiving
a commission in the Russian army, was marching with the Allies
against republican France. All his energies were consecrated to the
restoration of the house of Bourbon-Orleans.
Count d'Artois left no means untried to induce the Duke of Orleans
and his brothers to enlist under the standard of emigration. But an
instinctive reluctance to unite with foreigners in their war against
France, and the entreaties of their anxious mother that they should
not, in those dark and perilous hours, commit themselves to the
apparently hopeless cause of the royal confederacy, led the cautious
duke to adhere to the life of privacy upon which he had entered. But
it is scarcely possible but that, under the circumstances, both he
and his brothers must have longed for the restoration of the
Bourbons, which would have enabled them to return to France and to
enter upon the enjoyment of their exalted rank and their vast
estates.
Still, the princes were subject to many humiliations and annoyances.
The partisan press, on both sides, assailed them with every species
of calumny. "The leading ministerial journals in London declared
openly that they suspected the sincerity of the young Duke of Orleans
in his late repentance; and that his past exemplary conduct should
not be accepted as any security against his future treachery."
But the emigrants in London generally, and the British Court,
assumed to place full reliance in the reconciliation between the
Bourbon and the Orleans branches of the royal family. All the arts of
flattery were employed to cement this union, and to lead the princes
to commit themselves irreparably to the royal cause. England, under
the ministry of William Pitt, was waging relentless warfare against
revolutionary France. On the 20th of February the princes were
invited to meet England's most renowned prime minister, and the most
implacable foe of republican institutions in France, at a
dinner-party, at the town mansion of the Count d'Artois. Lord
Grenville gave a magnificent entertainment in their honor, on the 1st
of March, 1800; and the next Sunday the exiles were presented to his
majesty George III. at a levee held especially for that purpose.[H]
[Footnote H: Life and Times of Louis Philippe, p. 22.]
On the 13th of March the Russian ambassador, Count Woronzo, following
in the train of these marked civilities, invited them to a princely
banquet, which was attended by all the aristocracy of London, at his
mansion in Harley Street; and on the 13th of March his Royal Highness
the Prince of Wales honored them by an invitation to Carlton House
to meet all the foreign ambassadors.
The Orleans princes were now fully introduced to fashionable life in
London. Their presence was deemed essential to the completeness of
any soiree or banquet. The Marchioness of Salisbury, then the
arbitress in London of fashion and elegance, invited the princes to
meet at her house four hundred guests of the highest rank and
distinction, among whom was the Prince of Wales. Then the Lady
Mayoress of the city, Lady Harvey Combe, threw open to them Egyptian
Hall in as magnificent an entertainment as the times could furnish.
Immediately following this brilliant scene, the Duke of Clarence,
subsequently William IV., invited them to a dinner-party, which in
many respects surpassed all which had preceded it in splendor. All
these people who thus feted them were combining their energies to
overthrow revolutionary principles in France, and to reinstate the
Bourbons.
At this time the British Cabinet was preparing an armed force for the
invasion of France by a descent on the southern coast. The report was
circulated that the three Orleans princes were to assume the white
cockade and accompany this military expedition against their native
country. At the same time, the Bourbon princes renewed their
solicitations to the Orleans princes to range themselves, with arms
in their hands, under the standard of emigration. But the great
victory of Marengo just then took place, which threw into the power
of the First Consul all of upper Italy, and compelled the utterly
discomfited Austrians to withdraw from the British alliance. It was a
dark hour for the Royalist cause in France.
The exiled princes, who found but little in the festivities of London
to alleviate their world-weariness, or to cheer them in the peculiar
embarrassments and trials of their position, after several minor
adventures, withdrew to their retreat in Twickenham, where they
endeavored to seclude themselves from observation and from all
participation in public affairs.
The Duke of Orleans devoted himself to the study of English
institutions, visiting the prominent establishments of learning and
of industry. The irreproachable character of this virtuous prince,
his high intellectual culture, dignified bearing, amiable
disposition, and persistent refusal to involve himself in any
intrigues, secured for him general admiration. Months of
tranquillity, almost of happiness, glided away. But sorrow is the
doom of man. The Duke of Orleans had not yet drained the cup which
was prepared for his lips.
The health of the Duke of Montpensier had been for some time rapidly
failing. His constitution and that of his brother, Count Beaujolais,
had been quite undermined by the hardships they had endured during
their imprisonment. All the remedies which the best medical advice
could administer proved unavailing. It soon became manifest that
death was approaching by slow but resistless strides. The young duke,
conscious that his end was approaching, bore all his sufferings with
the most amiable and uncomplaining resignation, until, on the 18th of
May, 1807, he fell asleep.
The grief of the Duke of Orleans and of the Count of Beaujolais, in
the loss of so gentle and tenderly-beloved a brother, was very great.
The funeral ceremonies were attended in London with almost regal
pomp. The Count d'Artois was present as one of the principal
mourners. The gloom of twilight had begun to fall upon the city as
the imposing procession approached Westminster Abbey, to convey the
remains of the long-suffering prince to the darkness of the tomb.
The procession was led by mules bearing plumes of white feathers. A
mourning-carriage, containing the heart of the deceased in an urn,
was drawn by six horses, decorated with the richest funereal
caparisons, and led by postilions in the mourning-livery of the house
of Orleans. The hearse followed, preceded by a herald with a coronet
on a velvet cushion.
The empty private carriage of the deceased was followed by many other
carriages filled with the noblesse of France, each drawn by six
horses. The state equipages of the Prince of Wales and of the Dukes
of Sussex and York, with postilions in state livery, closed the
procession. With such mournful pageants were the mortal remains of
the exile consigned to the ancient mausoleum of the kings of England.
"Sorrows," says the poet, "come in troops." Scarcely were the remains
of the Duke of Montpensier placed in the tomb, ere his brother, Count
Beaujolais, began rapidly to fail. He was urged to seek a milder
climate in Malta or Madeira. To the solicitations of his fond and
anxious brother he replied:
"I feel that my life is soon to terminate as Montpensier's did. What
is the use of going so far to seek a tomb, and thus to lose the
consolation of dying in this retreat where we have at last found
repose. Let us remain in this hospitable land. Here, at least, I
shall be permitted to die in a brother's arms, and share a brother's
tomb."
Still, amiably yielding to the anxiety of his brother, he consented,
against his own judgment, to accompany him to the island of Malta.
The climate not agreeing with him, and his strength rapidly failing,
the Duke of Orleans wrote to Ferdinand IV., king of Naples,
soliciting permission to visit the salubrious clime where he had
established his court. Ferdinand IV., flying from the revolution
beneath which his throne had crumbled, had sought refuge, protected
by the British fleet, in the old Moorish castle, called the _Palazzo
Reale_, near Palermo, on the island of Sicily. To the application of
the duke to repair with his dying brother to those genial skies, a
very cordial consent was returned. But before the reply arrived, the
gentle spirit of Beaujolais had taken its flight to join the spirit
of Montpensier in the eternal world. With tearful eyes and an almost
broken heart, the bereaved Duke of Orleans deposited the wasted
remains of his dearly-beloved brother in the vaults of the church of
St. John, in Valetta.
Having performed these last sad rites, and feeling almost alone and
desolate, in a world where he had experienced so many sorrows and so
few joys, influenced by the friendly invitation of the Sicilian
Court, he embarked for the island of Sicily, and reached Messina in
safety. Proceeding to Palermo, he was welcomed with great cordiality
to the ancient and massive palace. The commanding figure of the
prince, his finely chiselled features, his dignified bearing, united
with a frank, cordial, unaffected address, his intelligence and
accomplishments, all combined with that nameless charm of a pensive
spirit, created by the greatest sufferings patiently endured, secured
for him the admiration and the warmest sympathy of the Sicilian
family.
The second daughter of the king, the Princess Amelia, was a young
lady whom all unite in describing as possessed of unusual attractions
of person and character. A strong attachment almost immediately
sprang up between them. But the Duke of Orleans was a wanderer, an
exile, deprived of his patrimonial estates, and living upon the
hospitality of others or upon those fragments which by chance had
been saved from the utter wreck of the possessions which had
descended to him from his ancestors. Should he recover his rank and
possessions, it would be a suitable match. Should he fail, he would
prove but a needy adventurer. The proud queen was perplexed whether
to frown upon or to encourage his suit.
In France the anarchy of the Conventions and of the Directory had
given place to the Consulate and the Empire. Under the sagacious and
energetic rule of Napoleon, France had risen to dignity and power
unequalled by that of any other nation in Europe. Napoleon had seized
upon the fundamental principle of the Revolution, _Equal Rights for
all Men_, and, inscribing that upon his banners, had reorganized
France with such skill as to enable her to bid defiance to despotic
Europe in arms against that principle. All France seemed united in
this government of _republican principles under monarchical forms_,
and, notwithstanding the implacable hostility and persistent
coalition of foreign dynasties, all hopes of the restoration of the
Bourbons seemed to have vanished. Ferdinand of Naples and his queen,
who was an Austrian princess, and sister of Maria Antoinette, had,
with great determination, espoused the cause of the Allies against
France. A revolution in their own kingdom, aided by French arms, had
driven them from the continent of Italy to the island of Sicily,
where they were protected by an English army of twenty thousand men,
and by the invincible fleet of Great Britain, which had entire
command of the seas.
The position of the Duke of Orleans in the Sicilian Court must have
been very embarrassing. Ferdinand, a weak man, and his wife, an
intriguing, reckless woman, did every thing they could to entangle
their illustrious visitor, and the suitor of their daughter, in the
meshes of the intrigues in which they were ever involved. Napoleon
had shown a very decided disposition to conciliate the Orleans
family, and to restore to them their possessions if he could have any
assurance that the vast influence which they would thus possess would
not be used in the attempt to overthrow the republican empire which
France had so cordially accepted. The cautious duke felt that it
would be the height of folly to hurl himself against a power which
seemed irresistible.
The Spanish Court had treacherously, while professing friendship for
France, entered into a conspiracy with the Allies to strike her in
the back in the anticipated hour of disaster. The Spanish war ensued,
into the merits of which we have no space here to enter. The king and
queen of Sicily hoped to place upon the throne of Spain their son
Leopold; and they urged the Duke of Orleans to go to Spain, and,
under the patronage of England, to take command of an army for the
invasion of France.
Influenced by these importunities, the duke repaired with evident
reluctance to Gibraltar; but seeing no chance for Leopold, he passed
over to England to confer with the British Cabinet.[I] The duke was a
Frenchman, and, instead of being cordially received in Spain, found
himself in danger of being mobbed by the ignorant and fanatic
populace. Lord Collingwood wrote to the British Government, in
reference to this movement, in behalf of Prince Leopold, through the
agency of the Duke of Orleans:
"Several of the nobles who attend his royal highness are
French, and there is no government here which can give
protection to any Frenchman from the populace."
[Footnote I: "I have another great puzzle come to me. The Queen of
Sicily has sent her son, Prince Leopold, to Gibraltar to propose
himself to be regent of Spain. It appears to me to be extreme want of
knowledge of the state of Spain. The Duke of Orleans came down with
him, and on the 13th of August I discussed the subject fully with his
highness, much to his satisfaction, and he went off to England with a
light heart."--_Collingwood's Correspondence._]
England did not favor the idea of placing a Sicilian prince on the
throne of Spain by the aid of a French duke. Thus the enterprise was
finally abandoned. In the then disturbed state of Europe, nearly all
the countries being more or less ravaged by the sweep of hostile
armies, and there being no regular postal communication, and no free
passage from one country to another, it was often impossible for the
Duke of Orleans to learn, for long periods of time, what was the fate
of his mother and his sister, or even where they were. Upon the
decree by the Directory of the expulsion of all the Bourbons from
France, the Duchess of Orleans had retired to Figueras, in Spain.
In June, 1808, one of the tempests of war reached that town, and in a
terrific bombardment of a few hours it was laid in ashes. The Duchess
of Orleans fled from her home at midnight, only a few hours before it
was blown into the air by a shower of bombs. Escaping from these
scenes of ruin and woe, the widowed, almost childless, and friendless
duchess, but still maintaining wonderful fortitude of character,
found refuge, after many painful adventures, in Port Mahon, on the
island of Minorca.
The Duke of Orleans, thwarted in his plans, regarded with jealousy by
the British Cabinet, and assailed with bitterest contumely in both
aristocratic and democratic journals, applied to the English
Secretary of State for permission to pass to Port Mahon to join his
mother. But the British authorities would not consent to his landing
anywhere on the Spanish territories. They, however, at length yielded
to his importunities so far as to allow him to embark in an English
frigate for the island of Malta, the captain of the frigate receiving
strict injunctions not even to approach the Spanish coast.
Proceeding to Portsmouth, where he was to embark, he there, to his
inexpressible joy, met his only and dearly beloved sister, from whom
he had so long been separated. This virtuous, amiable, but unhappy
princess, had long been striving to join her wandering brothers and
share their fate. Thus far she had been baffled in every endeavor,
and two of them had sadly gone down into the grave, unsustained by
those consolations which a sister's love and attentions might have
afforded them. The princess had finally succeeded in tracing her only
surviving brother from Sicily to Gibraltar, and from Gibraltar to
England. She had thus providentially met him just as he was embarking
for Malta.
The brother and sister sailed together, and landed at the port of
Valetta, in Malta, in February, 1809. Thence the duke dispatched a
private messenger, the Chevalier de Brovul, to seek an interview with
his mother, to explain to her the impossibility of their going to
Minorca, and to entreat her to join them, if possible, in Malta.
"The duke's agent," writes the English historian, Rev. G. N. Wright,
"was faithful, intelligent, and active. But the impediments which
were placed in his path rendered his progress in negotiation slow,
and at length completely obstructed them."
The Spaniards did not love the English, and the English made no
efforts to disguise their contempt of the Spaniards. There was no
cordial co-operation of action. There was a strong party in Spain in
favor of the regeneration of their country by the enlightened and
liberal views which Joseph Bonaparte was introducing. There was
another powerful party opposed to France, and equally opposed to
British domination.
"The greatest anarchy," says Mr. Wright, "prevailed in every part of
the Peninsula. The Spaniards were divided in their allegiance, and a
Bonapartist party was formed in the heart of the country. The
national resources were exhausted; and their co-operation with the
English wanted that cordiality to which her noble efforts had
entitled her, and which Spanish policy ought to have extended to
them.
"Brovul, who had been dispatched to convey a mere affectionate
expression of regard and love from her children to the venerable
duchess, became, on his route, transformed into a political envoy. It
was now distinctly and emphatically proposed, by several of the most
distinguished men of the Spanish national party, that the Duke of
Orleans should be invited over into Spain, and that he should place
himself at their head, and lead an army of invasion into France.
"A secret agent was sent into the southern provinces of France to
ascertain the public sentiment there. He reported that the people
looked to the Duke of Orleans as the only member of the Bourbon
family who enjoyed a military reputation; as a prince whose sword had
been sharpened by the wrongs of his race, and that they declared, in
the most enthusiastic manner, their readiness to follow him to
victory or death."
Misled by this report, which proved to be a gross exaggeration, the
Spanish Junta appointed the Duke of Orleans to a command destined to
act on the frontiers of Catalonia. But the local juntas were opposed
to the movement. There was no harmony--no combined action. All was
confusion, and the duke made no attempt to enter upon his command.[J]
The Sicilian queen, Maria Caroline, irritated by the utter failure of
the movement in behalf of her son, and disappointed that the Duke of
Orleans had so little influence over the British Cabinet, became
quite alienated from her prospective son-in-law, wrote very cold
letters to him, and the failure of the marriage treaty was openly
spoken of in the court and in the journals.
[Footnote J: "Besides, possibly England did not think, and the exiled
Bourbons of the elder branch would naturally have concurred in the
sentiment, that it would be prudent or politic to send a gallant
prince of Orleans to lead the Spaniards to victory, a prince who was
the great-grandson of that Philippe of Orleans who, by the lustre of
his talents and the many attractions of his character, became the
idol of the army and the nation."--_Life and Times of Louis
Philippe_, by Rev. G. N. Wright.]
The duke--whose attachment to the Princess Amelia was very
strong--alarmed by these procedures, repaired immediately to Palermo
to confront his enemies and to plead his cause. He was successful.
The confidence and love of Amelia had never abated. The presence of
the illustrious young man--so handsome, so intelligent, so spotless
in character, so fascinating and princely in his bearing--soon
dispelled all clouds. The queen could no longer withhold her consent
to the nuptials. With happiness thus beginning to dawn upon him, the
duke wrote as follows to his mother:
"Their majesties urged some objections to the marriage of a
princess of their house to a wandering exile like myself.
Upon which I stated that I should apply to you and induce you
to advocate my cause, and become security for my principles
and fidelity to those to whom I promised allegiance. 'Ah,'
replied the queen, 'if you can obtain the advocacy of that
angel, it will, indeed, be impossible to refuse you any
thing.' I should like, dear mother, to give you a faithful
portrait of the princess, who was destined to be my bride,
even before her birth. But I feel that I could make but an
indifferent and very unworthy sketch. She possesses many
amiable and elevated qualities, which I shall take the
liberty of summing up in one brief sentence, by assuring you
that she seems to be a perfect model of my mother."
Soon after this the duchess embarked in an English frigate for
Palermo, and reached there in safety on the 15th of October, 1809.
Thus, after long, long years of separation, the survivors of the
exiled family, though still in exile, were reunited. On the 25th of
November the nuptial benediction was pronounced in the beautiful old
Norman chapel of the Palazzo Reale.
"The most remarkable and curious fact connected with the origin and
structure of the Capella Reale is, that to the completion of this
most perfect illustration of the art of ecclesiastic building three
nations have contributed--the Greeks, Saracens, and Normans. And by
this fortuitous association the chaste style of the ancients, the
cold manner of the Northerns, and the luxurious fashion of the East
are all here blended in perfect harmony."[K]
[Footnote K: Wright's Shores and Islands of the Mediterranean.]
General Cass, the American minister to France, who, thirty years
after these events, wrote from the palace of the Tuileries, where
Louis Philippe and his amiable queen were then enthroned, says:
"The queen was the daughter of that King of Naples who was
driven from his Continental dominions by the French, and took
refuge, with his family and court, in Sicily. Here the king,
Louis Philippe, then poor and in exile, married her; and the
match is understood to have been one of affection on both
sides. The thirtieth anniversary of their union has just
expired, and they are at the summit of human power, with a
most interesting family of seven children, and, as is known
to every body, with the warmest attachment to each other. In
the bitterness of French political discussions no whisper of
calumny has ever been heard against the queen. And one who
could pass through this ordeal has nothing more to dread from
human investigation. A kinder, more anxious mother is nowhere
to be found. She is a sincere believer in the Christian
religion, and devout in the performance of its duties. Her
charity is known throughout the country, and appeals for the
distressed are never made to her in vain. In the performance
of her regal duties, while her bearing is what the nature of
her position requires, there is a kind of affability which
seems continually seeking to put all around her as much at
their ease as possible."[L]
[Footnote L: France in 1840. By an American--[General Cass].]