Cora.
A flower of the pale, sad South:
Yet pale nor sad is she;
For she blooms on a wonderful tree
That knows not blight or drouth—
A certain miraculous tree
Our Lady has planted down South.
A rose let me call you, dear girl—
A fadeless and thornless rose;
So richly your modesty shows
Its blushes bejewell'd with pearl—
And a dew-drop of grace every pearl—
That I think of the Mystical Rose.
I have seen, and must needs pass on;
But this I bear with me away:
A fragrance that will not be gone,
But haunts me, and most when I pray.
It comes like the memories of May
From the pure, happy years that are gone.
Then the Lord of the sweet and the fair
(For whom is all beauty alone),
I pray him that floweret so rare
No hand may dare cull but his own;
That no other bosom may wear
This rose of the South than his own.
Charles X. At Holyrood.[93]
By The Comte Achille De Jouffroy
From Paris Ou Le Livre Des Cent-Et-Un.
Several friends of the exiled royal family, having been led by devotion to their cause to visit Scotland, have published detailed accounts of the residence at Holyrood. These narratives have left but little untold concerning the august proscribed personages, their situation, their mode of life, and their habits, the uniformity of which no important circumstance occurred to modify during the two years of their abode in the ancient palace of the Stuarts.
The reader, therefore, must not expect to meet in the following sketch with descriptions which have already been given by others with much minuteness, and which have been repeated in various works. Here will be found merely a small number of observations, impartially collected, which may serve to combat prejudices of a diverse nature that have been called forth, as well by the assertions of an unjust and bitter hatred, as by the injudicious efforts of a flattering servility.
Certainly, any enemy of the royal family, unless he were insane or wicked, had he been admitted into the privacy of Holyrood, must at least have ceased to regard them with dislike. Their most prejudiced adversary, no matter to what distinguished rank of society he might belong, could not have learned to know the domestic virtues displayed by these princes in adversity without wishing himself to have a father, a son, a wife, a sister, or children resembling them. On the other hand, those who, through attachment, duty, or interest (for there are political situations which a well-comprehended interest forces some to retain, even after the occurrence of disasters)—those, I say, who have made themselves the noisy apologists of this family have carried exaggeration so far as to attribute to them qualities and talents which would have been more than sufficient for ruling even in these difficult times; without reflecting that this blindness of zeal in regard to princes who met with so sudden a downfall while surrounded by a faithful army, and in the midst of devoted provinces, must diminish the confidence due to that portion of the eulogium which is really just. As private individuals, the Bourbons of the elder branch have never merited the smallest of the outrages which it has been their fate to endure; as sovereigns, it is well known they have been great chiefly in their fall, and have shown their courage and resolution less in their lives than in their deaths.
The writers of whom I speak, carried away by the feelings of their hearts, have poured them forth in eloquent descriptions. Identifying themselves, so to speak, with the [pg 420] misfortunes of which they have been witnesses, they have given us chiefly the recital of their own emotions. I shall not imitate them; the spectacle of an entire family, precipitated from the most brilliant of thrones into the miseries of exile, is of itself sufficiently touching; it has in it enough of sad sublimity to render it useless to overload the picture with the pretentious ornaments of the elegiac style. To put together sentimental phrases for the purpose of describing a misfortune like this is to place one's self, no matter what talents one may possess or exhibit, very much beneath the level of the subject.
I have considered this preamble needful in order to avoid being taxed with coldness. To speak with a suitable calmness of the Bourbons may perhaps be permitted to one who for fifteen years has defended their cause, and who has followed them into banishment; who has never obtained from them either favors or places, and who also has never betrayed them.
In quitting France, Charles X. had only carried away with him, after so much splendor, a sum barely sufficient for a modest subsistence during a few years. The abode at Lullworth was expensive; its vicinity to France made it accessible to a crowd of travellers, many of whom came only to solicit from the king, in return for services past, or in view of services offered, the assistance which the unfortunate monarch was no longer in a condition to grant without reducing himself to want. In order to escape from these importunities, and to withdraw himself from the painful necessity of refusing, he asked and obtained from the British government the enjoyment of the asylum which he had already for a long time inhabited during the period of his first exile.
The capital of Scotland, in which is situated the palace of Holyrood, is in the same latitude as Moscow, but its vicinity to the sea renders its temperature much more endurable. Edinburgh is, in many respects, the most agreeable residence which a stranger can select in Great Britain. The liberal arts are there cultivated with a particular devotion. It is a large town, picturesque in the extreme, and sumptuously built. The seat of old Edinburgh is worthy of remark; in seeking for a comparison which may convey an idea of it, the device of the arms of the kingdom naturally occurs to furnish me with one. Imagine, at the entrance of a deep and narrow valley formed by the hills of Salisbury and Calton, an enormous lion, half couched. His head, which is turned towards the rising sun, and overlooks the plain, is a peaked rock, three hundred feet in elevation, and nobly crowned by the old castle. To the right and left, the houses are suspended from his flanks, like the waves of his mane. The ridge of his spine is represented by a long street, which, dividing the two opposite declivities, begins from the esplanade of the castle, and terminates at the Canongate in front of the portal of Holyrood. The new town occupies the plateau of Calton hill. Larger than the old town, it is also better built, and all the streets are laid out in regular squares.
This city, take it altogether, resembles none other with which we are acquainted. It is an assemblage of monuments of every age and in every style, built of beautiful stone, many of them very carefully [pg 421] constructed, and thrown, in the most picturesque manner, upon projections of rugged rocks, in the hollows of precipices, on the slopes of valleys. Magnificent bridges, gigantic causeways, unite the different parts of the city. The ancient and the modern are preserved without alteration of character. Here rise houses of eleven stories, the highest of which is on a level with the great street of which we have spoken. There, beside a Greek peristyle, the luxury of the boudoir is sheltered by embattled towers. At the sight of this singular town, of this variety of edifices, of these steep mountains, of the sea, and of the sky, we can more fully comprehend the genius of Sir Walter Scott. Everything here seems created to clothe with form and substance the conceptions of romance. Here we can walk, if we like, under Athenian porticos or in Gothic cloisters, and can pass from the sombre tints of a feudal habitation to drawing-rooms freshly decorated in the modern style of luxury; we can leave the modest sidewalks of the bourgeois of the XVth century, above which the projecting roofs and gables are still in good preservation, to enter upon railways, those marvels of modern invention. At every step our eyes are met by objects less precious, perhaps, from the value they represent than from the associations they recall: the crown of gold enriched with jewels, the sceptre, and the sword of the ancient kings of Scotland, discovered, fifteen years ago, in a walled-up room of the old castle; the furniture used by Mary Stuart; the embroidery which occupied the last happy leisure hours of this unfortunate queen; the tapestry raised by the assassins of Rizzio when they entered her apartment; the bed of crimson damask on which she used to sleep. Here we tread on the ashes of a long line of kings, of a multitude of celebrated personages; and the last circumstance worthy of note, in this abode so suggestive of mysterious traditions and royal misfortunes, is that the wreck of the court of the Tuileries have taken refuge beneath the ancient hereditary roof of James II.
The palace of Holyrood is nothing but a cold and gloomy cloister, flanked at the two extremities of its anterior front by towers. The apartments of Charles X., situated on the first floor, extend over one of the sides of the cloister, and over the angle opposite the principal entrance. After crossing a vestibule leading to the chapel, an ante-chamber, an unfurnished gallery, a billiard-room, we enter the dining-room—a gloomy apartment with bare walls, containing only an oval table and chairs. From thence we pass into a drawing-room twenty-five feet square, opening upon a small, uncultivated enclosure called a garden, and furnished in the style of the drawing-room of a Parisian bourgeois. It was in this apartment that receptions for strangers were held from eleven to twelve o'clock in the morning; and in the evening, all the royal family met here after dinner. The persons belonging to the household and the invited guests were admitted to these soirées, which lasted until about ten o'clock. The Duc de Bordeaux[94] and mademoiselle played games together; the king had a whist-table; the dauphiness and her ladies worked at a round table. Frequently the conversation became general, and was almost always interesting. The French and English newspapers [pg 422] were read and commented upon. Sometimes the king and the dauphin would repair to the billiard-room, and play a few games together. In these soirées, there was no more etiquette observed than is usual in the house of a gentleman living on his estates.
At the left of the drawing-room, a door led to an intermediate apartment, forming the private study of the king. Into this opened his bed-chamber. With the sleeping-room of the king communicated that of the Duc de Bordeaux, situated on the same floor, and looking into the courtyard. The Baron de Saint Aubin occupied a room at the side; the apartments of mademoiselle were on the upper floor.
The Duc de Blacas, when he was at Holyrood, had the superintendence of the household; when he was absent, the details of these functions were directed by the Baron de Saint Aubin. The suite was composed of about forty persons, lodged in the town in the vicinity of the palace.
The equipages of the king were limited to one carriage, hired by the month. When this was not sufficient, another coach was sent for; and three saddle-horses sufficed for the rides of the king and his family. Charles X., having given up the amusement of hunting, and needing exercise to maintain his health, was in the habit of walking every day three or four miles around Holyrood. The table was supplied abundantly, but without luxury; the king usually invited two or three strangers, but the number of covers seldom exceeded fourteen or fifteen.
Such was the mediocrity to which fate had reduced this family, so lately surrounded by the greatest possible luxury and splendor. No sign of regret, no trace of vexation, could be perceived on the countenance of Charles X. Never did a word of bitterness escape from the lips of these illustrious sufferers. The dauphiness, whom some have dared to represent as a vindictive and fanatical woman, was gentleness itself. In vain would any one have sought, in the expression of her face, so full of goodness and resignation, for even the appearance of a pride which nevertheless her elevated rank would have sufficiently justified. As to the dauphin, so far did he carry his abnegation of all personal resentment that he was more than once heard to recall with commendation the talents and bravery of some officers whom he had overwhelmed with his favors, but who, nevertheless, had been the first to betray him.
Every one admitted to Holyrood could not but recognize and admire the presence of those virtues which form the charm of domestic life. They doubtless do not suffice for those upon whom Heaven has imposed the terrible task of governing men. The most marked trait in the character of Charles X. is indecision; in that of the dauphin, a pretension to acuteness, which has more than once discouraged his friends, without inspiring confidence in his enemies. As for the dauphiness, the intensity of her misfortunes in this world has led her to fix her hopes upon a better one. Pious, although tolerant, she herself feels that her counsels would be of little avail in this age of incredulity. In what she desires for France, she never can separate religion from legitimacy. When, at Holyrood, she heard of the pillage of the archbishopric, these words fell from her lips: “Alas! the [pg 423] French have cast off religion, and at length I begin to comprehend why it is they hate us.”
The Duchesse de Berri was a being apart in the royal family. Young, animated, full of regrets, of desires, and of hopes, she could not pardon those who had prevented her from presenting herself before the Parisians on the 30th of July, 1830, in order to claim from them the crown for her son. Confident in her adventurous courage and in her ability to create for herself another future, her irritation for the past and the projects she still contemplated, little agreed either with the calm resignation of the dauphiness or with the habitual prudence of the king. She could only endure for a few weeks the monotony of the residence at Holyrood. Besides, the rigor of the climate appeared to affect her health, and she repaired to the mineral waters of Bath. Here various speculators came to surround her, in a manner to take possession of her as of a pledge for their future fortunes, and induced her to borrow considerable sums of money on the property still remaining to her, in order to defray the expenses of the projected expedition. The duchess was brought to London, where the final arrangements for this loan were to be made. She was concealed in a small house, and not a single Frenchman, excepting those composing the circle by whom she was surrounded, knew what had become of her until the day of the embarkation.
The announcement of the departure of the duchess was received at Holyrood with a species of consternation. The expedition she was about to undertake was regarded as an act of extreme imprudence. To throw herself into France, in order to create an insurrection, without arms, without money, without the prospect of assistance from any European power; to give herself up to the chances of inconsiderate promises made by a few men without influence and without resources; to calculate chiefly upon the defection of an army, recomposed in part, and still agitated by the preceding defection into which the sudden departure of the king had precipitated it—this was, in the eyes of the exiles of Holyrood, to attempt an enterprise of which the success would scarcely have justified the temerity, and of which the success itself was considered impossible. Other reasons for fear, which we may now be permitted to recall, disturbed the heart of the old monarch. He distrusted the impetuosity of the duchess, her fiery temperament, her ardent and independent character, which, even should it not lead her to disregard conventionalities, might authorize those possessing her confidence and affection to overstep their limits in her affairs. He foresaw more than one disaster; he dreaded all sorts of misfortunes. The unfortunate princess was destined to experience them all. The Duc de Blacas was commissioned to follow her, and to oppose, as far as it might be in his power, the dangerous influence of her advisers; but the resolution of the duchess was too much in unison with her tastes and character. Soon the position of M. de Blacas towards her became no longer tenable, and he returned without having accomplished anything, to the great displeasure of the king.
Charles X. never approved of the projects for civil war. When these were proposed to him, he did not manifest that aversion which has been attributed to him by his [pg 424] flatterers; he simply replied that, in the times in which we live, civil war is a thing difficult to undertake and impossible to sustain. He had been a king; he was acquainted with the secrets of the government; he knew that all the forces of the kingdom being at the present day centralized, the provinces cannot withdraw themselves from the power of the telegraph and of the budget; and that nothing but a signal disaffection on the part of the army would be likely to produce a second 20th of March. The riots which took place in the capital at first excited his attention; but after the days of the 5th and 6th of June, he appeared to have ceased to fear, or rather to hope, for their success.
As for foreign war, Charles X. never could endure the idea of it. Never did it enter his thoughts to implore the armed intervention of other sovereigns. He believed that a third invasion of France, were it to take place, would lead to incalculable disasters; to the partition of the territory. Perhaps, also, he felt that he could not claim the assistance of his allies, in virtue of the treaties of 1815; since, during his reign, the government had always been inclined to throw off the yoke of those treaties. The late ministry, in its endeavors to restore France to her natural limits, had excited distrust in the cabinets of London, the Hague, Berlin, Vienna, and Turin. It was not, therefore, probable that these powers would assist in restoring a government which had placed itself in a hostile position to them all, without demanding, in return, ruinous sacrifices and humiliating guarantees.
It is needful to look at things from this point of view, in order to appreciate the policy which was followed at Holyrood. With foreign governments few or no relations were maintained; with the interior, various correspondences, the authors of which differed in plans, in principles, and in views. All were received, all were replied to, in accordance with their various ideas and modes of thinking. The object was to offend no one, to discourage no opinion, in the uncertainty as to which opinion would be the most useful.
Many excellent royalists, with the most praiseworthy disinterestedness, wrote to place at the disposal of the king their hearts, their fortunes, and their lives. If any means were sought for to utilize these generous offers, it was frequently discovered that these worthy people possessed neither money nor influence, and that many of them were advanced in years.
Others sent plans of conspiracies which included three-fourths of France, but with lists of names for the most part unknown. They undertook, they said, to cause Henry V. to be proclaimed all over the kingdom, provided Charles X. would send them in advance sufficient sums of money.
Some personages, who still figure on the theatre of politics, took measures to remit, with great precaution, their offers of service. It is worthy of remark that such notes arrived each time there was any rumor of revolt or any prospect of war in foreign countries. These offers were not expressed in as precise terms as the preceding ones; they were always accompanied by conditions, of which the principal ones were that the direction of the movement in question should be confided to no one excepting the authors; that a provision should be made of entire approval of the [pg 425] measures upon which they might decide; and, above all, that the portfolios of the ministry of the restoration should be ensured to them. They alone, they asserted, understood the needs of France and the way to rule her. In a few missives of another kind, some old servants set forth the faults which, in their opinion, the king had committed during his reign, and ended by offering him advice in case he should regain the throne. Some of these, irritated by what they considered the oblivion of their former services, permitted themselves to utter bitter reproaches, without pity for misfortunes the sight of which should have been sufficient to disarm even a just resentment. These letters were received with perfect indifference. There were, however, demands which, by dint of their audacity, obtained greater success.
A person wrote from Paris to one of the servants of the king: “I am about to publish a work which will contain the account of various acts of the government of Charles X. You know that the offices I held afforded me opportunities of knowing many things; the revolution of July has deprived me of my situation and my pension; the public loves scandal; the publishers will pay a high price for it; and I will furnish it to them unless I receive thirty thousand francs, which I cannot do without.”
If these are not the precise terms of the letter, at least I am sure that I have not altered the sense. The author of this letter had been employed under the Restoration; he had received many favors from both the last two monarchs; a compromise was made with him. I do not know what was the sum sent, but I do know that the person employed to mediate in this affair was successful; the threatened work was never published. Among the offers of services which reached Holyrood, some deserve particular mention for their singularity.
A hero of July, famous during the fatal days, and furious at not having been able to obtain some office, proposed to rally all the republicans among his friends to the cause of Henry V., and concluded his epistle by announcing that he would repair in person to the sea-coast, and with his own hands place the plank of debarkation beneath the feet of the legitimate heir to the crown.
A personage who has for a long time figured under the Empire had despatched to England a very active agent, who offered, at the same time, his services to the princes of Holyrood, to the Duchesse de Berri, and to the heirs of Napoleon; meanwhile, the personage in question was negotiating at Paris with the republicans. The result of this quadruple piece of diplomacy was that he obtained employment from the government of Louis Philippe.
Already, during the period of their former exile, had the august occupants of Holyrood had but too many opportunities to estimate the real value of the offers, the schemes, the demands, the pretext for which was furnished by a projected restoration, of a crowd of ambitious and intriguing men. Wearied, as it were, by the variety of sentiments expressed towards them, the obliging interest they manifested was merely the effect of an exquisite politeness. Unhappily, in this indifference they lost sight of real devotion to their cause; they did not appear to have made any very great progress in the art of estimating men—an [pg 426] art the ignorance of which had been the cause of their second downfall.
And, besides, in order to receive these propositions with profit, to give them a useful direction, it would, first of all, have been necessary that the most important political point—that of legitimacy—should be settled and proclaimed.
Those who have asserted that there existed on this subject a perfect unanimity of opinion among the royal family and among their advisers as to the right to the crown in the present situation of affairs, either have not known all the truth, or else have concealed a portion of it, in conformity with their own political views. During his residence at Holyrood, Charles X. addressed to the principal courts of Europe a confirmation of his abdication at Rambouillet; but, besides that this confirmation, being declared free, indicates that the abdication was always considered as forced, and therefore null, Charles X., in this second instrument, expressly reserves to himself the regency of the kingdom.
The dauphin, on the other hand, positively refused to give a similar declaration. “I sign nothing,” said he; “not that I desire to dispute with my nephew a crown of which I am far from envying him the possession, but, on the contrary, in order to preserve it for him, in case the follies which are being committed in his name should render my reappearance necessary.”
Lastly, in regard to the Duchesse de Berri, no law, no historical precedent, could have been found to authorize her to consider herself regent of the kingdom during the minority of her son. Had not the abdication of Charles X. been conditional, and, besides, where could there have been found a states-general legally convoked to recognize madame in this capacity?
The uncertainty on this point became a source of discussion for the various members of the suite. The servants of the king, those of the dauphin, and those of the Duc de Bordeaux held many grave arguments over their respective pretensions to the title of the royal household; but we must add that these all ended in discussion. The royal family, who lived together in a sincere and patriarchal union, appeared to take but little interest in these various opinions; whether it were that these unfortunate princes believed it impossible for them at this time to recover the crown, or whether they regarded the possession of it as something little desirable, they frequently conversed upon this subject as if it had been a question of historic right foreign to themselves. One opinion, one feeling, however, united them all, and this was that all rights to the crown must one day centre upon the head of Henry V., and that it was necessary to educate him in such a manner as to prepare him worthily to sustain this high destiny in case Providence should call him to it.
Here we must speak of the education which is being given to the young prince under the direction of the Baron de Damas. Much good, and also some evil, has been said of him. In the first place, however, it appears to me that too great importance has been attached to his functions. In order that the character of the governor should have any decisive influence over that of his pupil, it would be necessary for the two to live in comparative isolation. Perhaps, surrounded by all the pomp of the Tuileries, [pg 427] the fetters of etiquette might have tended to produce such isolation; but in the greater freedom consequent upon exile, interruptions of all kinds prevent this species of influence. At all hours of the day the Duc de Bordeaux is receiving new and varied impressions. He receives them from his teachers, from his professors, from his servants, from the strangers who approach him, from the paternal solicitude of his grandfather, from the gentle piety of his aunt, from the companionship of his young and charming sister; he receives them from his studies, from his exercises, from his travels, from his recollections—in short, from his misfortunes; for he is of an age and of an intelligence to understand and to feel them. We must take into account the combined influence of all these diverse impressions, in order to draw probable deductions as to the profit he is one day to receive from his present education.
At all events, if the Baron de Damas does not possess very enlarged ideas, his character is firm and upright. For many things he deserves commendation: he endeavors to prevent all flatterers from approaching his pupil; from those by whom he is surrounded he exacts nothing but sincerity and cheerfulness. And then, he is careful to admit to the presence of the young prince, in unrestrained confidence, all strangers, and especially all Frenchmen, who desire access to him, unless their request should be prompted merely by the wish to gratify an impertinent curiosity.
The office of M. de Damas has been envied, and even sought after, by some of those persons who style themselves the courtiers of misfortune, but who are perhaps merely the courtiers of greatness expected, or at least hoped for. But it may reasonably be doubted whether this governor could be replaced in a manner advantageous to the young prince. Among the notabilities of the present epoch who might be designated for this important position, is there one who combines the necessary qualifications? Would we seek among the number of those who, by their interested counsels or by their calculated disaffection, contributed to the overthrow of the throne of Charles X., for men to teach his grandson the art of restoring and of preserving the throne? Can we confide in these system-mongers at a period like this, when all systems have made shipwreck? No; all that can be done is to make of the young prince a man of learning without pedantry, of sincerity without indiscretion, of courage without temerity. In the present age, in which everything indicates the necessity of a power strong enough to restrain the elements of anarchy introduced by sophists into society, in which the overthrow of ancient institutions leaves to power only the force it can obtain from armies, what is chiefly to be desired in the king of a nation like ours is military qualities combined with liberality, enlightenment, religion, prudence, and justice. Now, none of these conditions are wanting in the education which is now being given to the Duc de Bordeaux—neither proper methods on the part of the preceptors, nor the disposition to receive on the part of the pupil.
M. Barande, one of the most learned men of our time, instructs the young prince, with admirable precision, in the facts of history, combined with chronology and geography. The Abbé de Meligny [pg 428] explains to him with simplicity the doctrines of religion. M. d'Hardivilliers inspires him with a taste for, and a knowledge of, the fine arts. The first elements of the science of war form the subjects of his games and of his recreations. Young Henri rides on horseback, practises fencing, shoots with the pistol, speaks and writes several languages. His memory is unusually excellent; his discernment is beyond his age. The regular distribution of his time gives him habits of order and of diligence. His health, watched over by Dr. Bougon, is robust; his frame, fortified by exercise, is strong and agile. In a word, he is an intelligent, sprightly, vivacious child, and yet, withal, a reasonable one. There is no mother who would not be proud of him; no father whose every wish would not be gratified by the possession of such a son. Having thus sketched his portrait, I do not intend to imitate the enthusiasm of those who have gathered up and published his most unimportant remarks, and have even, in their exaggerated admiration, attributed to him, possibly, speeches of their own.
At the sight of this royal child, proclaimed, at the hour of his birth, future monarch of a great empire, and now entering upon his adolescence in exile, this reflection naturally presents itself: How if he had never been born?
Had he not been born, probably France would not have been disturbed. The partisans of the younger branch, certain of one day attaining to power, would have had patience; the republicans of July would not have been able to enter by the breach opened by the Orléanists and the disaffected royalists. His grandfather and his uncle might have died upon the throne.
Had he not been born, and had the double abdication still become indispensable, Louis Philippe would to-day be more firmly seated on his throne than any monarch in Europe; for in him would be found resolved the great problem of the union of fact and of right, of legitimacy and of force.
Had he not bean born, ... but he has been born, he is growing to manhood, and in him are being developed all the characteristic signs of the rejuvenescence of his race. In this age of tribulations and of wonders, who may venture to sound the abyss of the future?
This was what was said at Holyrood, and it was added: “Did not M. Odillon Barrot, when, in the drawing-room at Rambouillet, he executed the task assigned to him of announcing to Charles X. the hard decree of exile, pronounce the memorable words: ‘Sire, watch well over this royal child; one day he will be of importance to the destinies of France?’ ”