Charles X. was always much beloved by the court, but less so by the
city. In vain, in his promenades, he sought the salutations of the
crowd, and exerted himself by his affability to provoke acclamations;
the public remained cold, and the monarch returned to the Tuileries,
saddened by a change in his reception which he charged to the tactics
of the liberal party and the calumnies of the journals. The
anti-religious opposition went on increasing, and tried to persuade the
crowd that the King was aiming at nothing less than placing his kingdom
under the direction of the Jesuits.
The person of the sovereign was still respected, but the men who had
his confidence were the object of the most violent criticisms. A
coalition of the Extremists and the Left fought savagely against the
Villele ministry, which was reproached particularly for its long
duration.
From 1827, Orleansism, which Charles X. did not even suspect, existed
in a latent state, and sagacious observers could perceive the dangers
of the near future. A review of the National Guard of Paris was a
forerunner of them.
Each year the 12th of April, the anniversary of the re-entrance of
Monsieur to Paris in 1814, the National Guard alone was on duty at the
Tuileries. This privilege was looked upon as the reward of the devotion
it had then shown to the Prince, whose sole armed force it was for
several weeks. In 1827, the 12th of April fell on Holy Thursday, a day
given over wholly by the sovereign to his religious duties. In
consequence, he decided that the day of exceptional service reserved to
the National Guard should be postponed to Monday, the 16th. The morning
of that day, detachments from all the legions, including the cavalry,
assembled in the court of the Chateau, and were received by Charles X.
He received a warm welcome, such as he had not been used to for a long
time, and the crowd joined its shouts to the huzzas of the Guard.
Charles X., filled with delight, said to the officers who joined him as
the troops filed by: "I regret that the entire National Guard is not
assembled for the review." Then the officers replied that their
comrades would be only too happy if the King would consent to review
the whole Guard. Marshal Oudinot, Duke of Reggio, who was the
commandant-in-chief, warmly supported this desire, and the sovereign
responded by promising for April 29 the review thus urged.
Charles X. believed he had returned to the pleasant time of his
popularity. He wished to confirm it by withdrawing a law as to the
press, proposed in the Chambers, and vviuch, though called by the
ultras a "law of love and justice," encountered bitter opposition even
in the Chamber of Peers. The law was withdrawn April 17, the very day
that the Moniteur announced the promise given the day before for the
review of the 29th. On learning of the withdrawal of the unpopular law,
the liberals uttered cries of joy and triumph. Columns of working
printers traversed the streets with cries of "Long live the King! Long
live the Chamber of Peers! Long live the liberty of the press!" In the
evening Paris was illuminated. A victory over a foreign foe would not
have been celebrated with greater transports of enthusiasm. The
ministry was disquieted by these wild manifestations of delight, which,
in reality, were directed against it. It tried in vain to induce the
King to countermand the review of the 29th. M. de Chateaubriand wrote
to Charles X. a long letter to beg him to change his ministry. It
contained the following passage:--
"Sire, it is false that there is, as is said, a republican faction at
present, but it is true that there are partisans of an illegitimate
monarchy; now these latter are too adroit not to profit by the
occasion, and mingle their voices on the 29th with that of France, to
impose on the nation. What will the King do? Will he surrender his
ministers to the popular demand? That would be to destroy the power of
the State. Will he keep his ministers? They will cause all the
unpopularity that pursues them to fall on the head of their august
master." Chateaubriand closed as follows:--
"Sire, to dare to write you this letter, I must be strongly persuaded
of the necessity of reaching a decision. An imperative duty must urge
me. The ministers are my enemies. As a Christian I forgive them, as a
man I can never pardon them. In this position I should never have
addressed the King, if the safety of the monarchy were not involved."
All this urging was futile. Charles X. did not change his ministry, and
the review took place on the Champ-de-Mars on the day appointed.
It is Sunday, April 29th, 1827. The weather is magnificent. The
springtime sun gives to the capital a festive air. All the people are
out. The twelve legions and the mounted guards--more than twenty
thousand men--are under arms awaiting the King on the Champ-de-Mars. An
enormous crowd occupies the slope. At one o'clock precisely, Charles
X., mounted on a beautiful horse, which he manages like a skilled
horseman, leaves the Tuileries with a numerous escort, including the
Dauphin, the Duke of Orleans, the young Duke of Chartres, and a number
of generals. The princesses follow in an open caleche. Everything
appears to be going perfectly. The National Guards have pledged
themselves to satisfy the King by their conduct. A note has been read
in the ranks in these words: "Caution to the National Guards, to be
circulated to the very last file. The rumor is spread that the National
Guards intend to cry 'Down with the ministers! Down with the Jesuits!'
Only mischief-makers can wish to see the National Guard abandon its
noble character."
A general movement of curiosity on the Champ-de-Mars is noticed.
Charles X. arrives. He has a serene brow, a smile upon his lips. It
hardly seems possible that before the end of the year he will be a
septuagenarian; he would be taken for a man of fifty, powdered. An
immense cry of "Long live the King," raised by the National Guards, is
repeated by the crowd. The monarch, radiant, salutes with glance and
hand.
He passes along the front of the battalions. Here and there are heard
cries of "Hurrah for the Charter! Hurrah for liberty of the press!" But
they are drowned by those of "Long live the King!" Everything seems to
go as he wishes, and Charles X. feels that the review, which his timid
ministers regarded as dangerous, is an inspiration. So far it is for
him only a triumph. But suddenly, as he appears in front of the Seventh
Legion, he remarks the persistence with which a group of the Guards is
crying, "Hurrah for the Charter!" The monarch perceives a sentiment of
unfriendliness. A National Guardsman ventures to speak:--
"Does Your Majesty think that cheers for the Charter are an
outrage?"--"Gentlemen," responds the King in a severe tone, "I came
here to receive homage, not a lesson." The royal pride of this response
had a good effect. The cries of "Long live the King!" are renewed with
energy. The face of Charles X. again becomes calm and serene. Seated in
his saddle before the Military School, the sovereign sees file by the
twelve legions, with unanimous cheers. The review closed, the King says
to Marshal Oudinot, commandant-in-chief of the National Guard: "It
might have passed off better; there were some mar-plots, but the mass
is good, and on the whole, I am satisfied."
The Marshal asks, if, in the order of the day he may mention the
satisfaction of the King. "Yes," replied Charles X., "but I wish to
know the terms in which this sentiment is expressed."
The sovereign returns on horseback to the Tuileries, while each legion
goes to its own quarter. When he arrives at the Pavilion de l'Horloge,
he is received by his two grandchildren. Mademoiselle throws herself
upon his neck: "Bon-papa, you are content, aren't you?"--"Yes, almost,"
he answers. The Count de Bourbon-Busset, who is in the sovereign's
suite, says to the Duchess of Gontaut, his mother-in-law, that all has
passed off well. The Duchess of Angouleme, who has just alighted from
her carriage, as well as the Duchess of Berry, hears this phrase; she
cries: "You are not hard to please." The two princesses are as agitated
as the King is calm. At the moment of their return they have been
greeted with violent cries of "Down with the ministers! Down with the
Jesuits!" It is even said that there was a cry of "Down with the
Jesuitesses!" The clang of arms rendered these violent clamors more
sinister. The daughter of Louis XVI. and the widow of the Duke of Berry
believed themselves doubly insulted as women and as princesses. The
Duchess of Angouleme, with intrepid countenance, but deeply irritated,
trembled with indignation. It seemed to her that the Revolution was
being revived. The scenes of horror that her uncle Charles X. had not
beheld, but of which she had been the witness and the victim, arose
before her again,--the 5th and the 6th of October, 1789, the 20th of
June, and the 10th of August, 1792.
While the Dauphiness gives herself up to the gloomiest reflections, the
Third Legion of the National Guard is passing under the windows of the
Minister of Finance in the Rue de Rivoli. The minister, M. de Villele,
has passed the day at the ministry, receiving from hour to hour news of
the review. The blinds of his windows are closed. At the moment when
the Third Legion files through the street, the band ceases to play, the
drums stop beating. Cries of fury break from the ranks: "Down with the
ministers! Down with the Jesuits! Down with Villele!" The guards
brandish their arms; the officers themselves make menacing gestures;
the tumult is at its height. M. de Villele, on the inside, follows from
window to window the march of the legion, and so traverses the salons
to the apartments occupied by his old mother and her family, whom he
wishes to reassure by his own calm. Opposite the ministry, a great
crowd fills the Terrasse des Feuillants, without taking part in the
manifestation. But the clamors of the National Guards increase. They
continue their march, enter the Rue Castiglione, reach the Place
Vendome, where the Ministry of Justice is situated, and recommence
their cries: "Down with the ministers! Down with the Jesuits! Down with
Peyronnet!"
Invited to dine by Count Opponyi, ambassador of Austria, with all the
ministers, M. de Villele waits to the last moment before going to the
Embassy, still believing that he will be summoned by the King. As his
waiting is in vain, he goes to the house of Count Opponyi and takes
part in the dinner. At dessert, a messenger of Charles X. glides behind
his chair, and says to him in a low voice: "The King charges me to tell
you to come to him immediately." M. de Villele takes leave of the
ambassadress, and sets out for the Tuileries. He finds Charles X.
there, very calm, quite reassured, and having called him only to give
expression to his confidence and sympathy. The minister exerts himself
to make the sovereign see the situation in a very different light. He
represents the incident of the Minister of Finance as secondary, but
insists on the facts occurring at the Champ-de-Mars, notably the shouts
around the carriage of the princesses. "It is a fact," replies the
King. "I did hear them complain. Well, what do you advise me to do?"
The minister responds: "This very evening, before the bureaux are
closed, dissolve the National Guard of Paris; order the marshal on duty
near your person, to have the posts held by the National Guard occupied
at four o'clock in the morning by the troops of the line; to resort to
this measure of force and justice to forestall the consequences of the
most audacious attempt at revolution since the commencement of your
reign. To-morrow, there are to arrive at Paris fifteen thousand men to
replace the fifteen thousand of the actual garrison. It suffices to
retain these latter, and thirty thousand men will be enough to hold the
factions in check if they have the least intention of rising."--"Very
well," resumes Charles X.; "go and consult your colleagues, and return
after the soiree that I shall attend with the Duchess of Berry."
This soiree is a concert given by the Duchess at the Tuileries. The
music is but little heard. The incidents of the review are the subject
of all conversation. The courtiers wonder whether, to please the King,
they should take a dark or a rose-colored view of things. The optimists
and pessimists exchange impressions. Charles X. seems to lean to the
former. "Apparently," he says, with his habitual bonhomie, "my bad ear
has done me a friendly service, and I am glad of it, for I protest I
heard no insults." Plainly it costs the sovereign pain to dismiss the
National Guard. It gave him so brilliant a welcome in 1814. He was its
generalissimo under the reign of Louis XVIII. He has liked to wear its
uniform, the blue coat with broad fringes of silver that becomes him so
well. But the ministers, except the Duke of Doudeauville and M. de
Chabrol, pronounce strongly in favor of disbandment. Their idea
prevails. After the concert Charles X. signs the decree, which appears
in the Moniteur on the morrow, and is enforced without resistance. "The
King can do anything!" cries the Duke de Riviere, with enthusiasm; and
May 6th M. de Villele addresses to the Prince de Polignac, then
ambassador at London, a letter in which he says: "The dissolution of
the National Guard has been a complete success; the bad have been
confounded by it, the good encouraged. Paris has never been more calm
than since this act of severity, justice, and vigor." The monarchy
thinks itself saved; it is lost.