A letter so full of tender protestations, so humble and obsequious as this, deserved, indeed, a polite reply.

Here is that sent by His Majesty of All the Russias:—

"I have received from the hands of General Athalin the letter of which he was the bearer. Events, ever to be deplored, have placed your Majesty in a position of cruel alternative; and you have adopted a determination which seemed to you the only means left of saving France from the greatest calamities. I will not pronounce judgment upon the considerations that have directed your Majesty; but I will pray to Providence to bless your intentions and the efforts you are about to make for the welfare of the French people. In concert with my Allies I accept with pleasure your Majesty's expressed desire that peace and friendship should be maintained between you and all the European states; so long as these relations are based upon existing treaties, and with a firm resolution to respect the rights and obligations and the conditions of territorial possession which those treaties have ratified, Europe will find in them a guarantee of peace very necessary to the tranquillity of France herself. Called upon in conjunction with my Allies to cultivate these conservative relations with France under her present Government, I, on my part, will give them all the careful consideration they demand, and am pleased to offer your Majesty the assurance of my good disposition, in return for the sentiments you have expressed towards me.

"I beg you at the same time to accept the expression of my kind feelings towards you.

NICHOLAS"

That was all Louis-Philippe got in return for his fraternal outpourings! Nicholas might just tolerate his position if he respected the treaties of 1815, and he offered him his dispositions in exchange for the sentiments he had put forth in his letter. Now here was exactly where his new situation proved embarrassing. We have spoken of the July Revolution as being the last flash of Waterloo; and, indeed, as soon as the Revolution was an accomplished fact, every generous-hearted mind in France turned its thoughts towards Belgium and Italy and Poland. Belgium, in those days, was still, it will be remembered, a part of Holland, as annexed territory. Italy was then, as it is still, groaning under the tyranny of Austria. Poland was divided up between Prussia, Russia and Austria, and had not even the consolation left it of gathering its scattered members together in the same shroud.

Now, kind-hearted people were asking for a remodelling of Europe: they wanted to give to the flocks which are called nations pastors chosen by themselves; they refused to recognise those butchers, with whom the heartless diplomatists, who sat at the green-covered table at the Vienna Congress, had divided a hundred million bodies and souls, almost at haphazard. But this was just what Louis-Philippe did not want. He represented the bourgeoisie, which was made up of lawyers, men of business, bankers, money-brokers and financiers; and the bourgeoisie has its own god all to itself, which has no sympathies in common with the god worshipped by great minds and noble hearts.

The situation was so lofty that the blinking eyes of that bourgeoisie lowered, utterly dazzled, before they could raise themselves to such a height. For, indeed, after the Revolution of 1830 France could fling at kings the defiance of an unbounded ambition; it could not only act on its own individual strength, but also, by allying other peoples with it, it could increase its power and neutralise that of kings. What was necessary for this? It is enough to look at the general condition of the European monarchies; at Russia, with its vulture of the Caucasus and its gangrene in Constantinople; to Austria, with its twofold cancer of Italy and Hungary; to Holland, with its hostile Belgium; to England, with its unsubdued Scotland and its starving Ireland, to see that if we did but raise our voices a little louder we should not merely be masters at home, but could extend our supremacy over the whole of Europe. At one time, it seemed as though France was going to adopt this wide and splendid policy towards Spain. It is true, though, that the motive which moved Louis-Philippe in his action with regard to Spain was an entirely personal feeling. As stupid, almost as despicable as his grandfather, Ferdinand of Naples, who would not recognise the French Republic in his day, Ferdinand of Spain did not wish to recognise the Revolution of July, or, at any rate, he wished to ignore the prince who had just inherited the throne after that Revolution, in almost as mysterious a fashion as he himself had succeeded the last of the Condés. So, on the first impulse of anger, King Louis-Philippe received a deputation of three of the members of the Spanish Committee, MM. Loëve-Weimars, Marchais and Dupont, introduced by M. Odilon Barrot; he treated his brother Ferdinand in scurvy fashion and all but offered a rope with which he hoped to see him hanged.[1] He went even farther, and placed a hundred thousand francs at the disposal of La Fayette to support the enterprises of the Spanish Revolutionists. From this side, at all events, they believed themselves safe from political reaction. M. Girod (of l'Ain), Prefect of Police, openly distributed passports to the Spanish refugees who were on their way to the Pyrenees; the impériales of every public conveyance were reserved for these exiles, who returned to their homes in the face of all the world; and, all along the road, besides these specially privileged travellers, bands of fifty, a hundred and a hundred and fifty men were to be met with, with beating drums and flying banners, marching towards Bidassoa. Finally, M. Guizot (a native of Ghent), in other words a Reactionary, declared quite openly that "when, in 1823, France won back Spain to its Absolutist ideas, she committed a political crime; she therefore owes Spain reparation. Such reparation should be given, signal and complete!" M. Guizot said these words to M. Louis Viardot and asked him to publish them broadcast.

It will be seen that we do not grope in the dark—that we are not making accusations recklessly: we quote not only the words that were said, not only the men who said them, but also the men to whom they were said.

Thereupon all those victims of Ferdinand VII., such as Mendizabal, Isturitz, Calatrava, the Duke of Rivas, Martinez de la Rosa, the Count of Toreno, General Mina, Colonel Moreno, Colonel Valdès, General Torrijos, General Chapalangara, General Lopès Baños and General Butron all raised their hands to Heaven and cried Hosannah!

Arms were sent so publicly by MM. Guizot and de Montalivet, that the Spanish Ambassador, M. d'Ofalia, took note of the fact diplomatically.

Now, we have remarked that Ferdinand VII. of Spain was as stupid and almost as cowardly as his grandfather Ferdinand IV. of Naples; we should really have said that he was more cowardly, for at the mere sound of arms in France, at the mere cries of liberty which were echoed in the South, at the mere roll of drums approaching the frontier, he made the amende honorable and received Louis-Philippe with every expression of regret at having held back so long. And, although the new king had, as we have said, almost offered the rope wherewith to hang him, he really preferred the sinner's repentance to his death. Without saying anything to them, he withdrew the hand he had held out to the Spanish refugees and, left to themselves, or, rather, delivered over to the vengeance of Ferdinand, they were killed, some on the battlefield, and others, sad and painful and shameful as it is to tell, were chased as far as the frontier and taken and shot down on French territory!