It is most instructive to every philosophic mind to review a past period of time, and to recall that once it was looked forward to as a future. It can then be seen how gradually changes came about; landmarks are recognised, and it is realised that there is nothing sudden or inexplicable in the evolution of things; that which in the present we look upon as all-powerful chance, when investigated in the light of the past, is seen to be Providence. Thus, Charles X., the last representative of a dying aristocracy, was destined to fall; thus Louis-Philippe, the representative of the people at its strongest moment, was destined to ascend the throne; and, from 1827 and 1828, everything was being prepared so that people were ready for the great catastrophe of 1830. And yet no one can clearly read the signs of an immediate future.
All the country's hopes seemed centred in the "phenomenal child" (l'enfant du miracle), as they called the Duc de Bordeaux, and, on I January, M. de Barbé-Marbois, first president of the cours des Comptes, addressed to him the following delightful little speech, entirely suited to the young prince's years and intelligence:—
"Monseigneur, you will to-day receive the customary gifts: mine shall be a short story. Once upon a time, the prince whose name you bear, who was then as young as you are, returned to the Court of Navarre after being away. While he was still seated on his horse, he was surrounded by children of the countryside, who, delighted to see him back again, kept repeating, 'Caye nostre Henry!' which means 'Here is our Henri!' just as though the young prince belonged to them. Queen Jeanne, his mother—an excellent princess—who had seen and heard everything from the palace balcony, well pleased by the welcome they gave the young prince, said to him, 'Those children, my son, have just given you a lesson, the sweetest you can ever receive; by calling you "our Henry," they are teaching you that princes belong to their country just as much as to their own family.' The prince remembered the lesson, and that is why for more than two centuries the French have continued to call him 'our Henry' and will always so speak of him."
M. le Duc de Bordeaux listened attentively, then replied—
"I will not forget."
Already the previous year it had been said to him, "And you, monseigneur, who are yet very young and upon whose head rests the future happiness of France, always remember that this fine kingdom also needs a good king—a king who loves truth and wishes it to be spoken to him; a king who despises flattery and who will banish from his presence those who deceive him. You will remember, monseigneur, that this advice has been given you by an aged white-haired man?"
M. le Duc de Bordeaux had replied—
"Yes."
"Your Yes, monseigneur," added the first president, "shall be registered in our annals, where you will find it when you reach your majority,"