To avoid the French cruisers the Carlo Alberto kept far out to sea, and did not reach Marseilles until midnight of the 28th. The party was to be landed near the light-house, where a rendezvous had been fixed for the small but determined band who were to meet her there. The moment the steamer cast anchor the signal of two lanterns was raised, one at the foremast head and the other at the mizzen-mast head, which signal was instantly responded to from the shore. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, and the moanings of a rising gale and the dashings of the surge added to the gloom of the hour. The gentlemen who were to accompany Marie Caroline to the shore were dressed in the disguise of fishermen. The sea had become so high that it was with difficulty and peril that the party could embark. At one time the boat was dashed so furiously against one of the paddle-boxes of the steamer that the destruction of all on board seemed inevitable. Through all these trying scenes the fragile, sylph-like duchess manifested intrepidity which excited the wonder and admiration of every beholder. The little skiff which was to convey her to the beach soon disappeared in the darkness of that stormy sea.
The landing at Marseilles.
The landing occurred without accident, and Marie Caroline scaled the rocks, along a path which tried the nerves even of the boldest smugglers, till she reached a temporary hut which had been reared to afford her shelter. The vigilance, however, of the Government police had not been entirely eluded. That very evening the authorities, in some way, received the rumor that the duchess had landed, or was about to land, at Marseilles, to commence the uprising there. Immediate and vigorous preparations were adopted to quell it. The force of every military post was doubled.
The insurrection.
A band of about two thousand of her partisans was the next morning assembled at an appointed rendezvous in the city. They ran up the white banner of the Bourbons upon the spire of St. Laurient, and began shouting vociferously, "Vive Henri Cinq!"—hoping to excite a general insurrection, and that the whole populace of the city would join them. They did create intense agitation, and wonder, and bewilderment. Men, women, and children ran to and fro, and the alarm-bells were violently rung from the steeples. The duchess was still in her hut, waiting for the favorable moment in which to make her appearance. When she saw the Bourbon flag unfurled from St. Laurient, she was deluded by the hope that the success of the enterprise was secured.
But soon the regular troops appeared in solid battalions. The crowd fled before them. A few of the insurgents who attempted to make a stand were dispersed by a bayonet charge, their leaders captured, and the Bourbon flag disappeared! By one o'clock it was all over—the émeute had utterly and hopelessly failed!
Her despairing friends urged her immediately to repair to the steamer, and to take refuge with the Bourbons of Spain. Heroically she replied, "I am in France now, and in France will I remain." We have not space here to enter into the detail of her wonderful adventures, which she seemed to enjoy as if she were merely engaged in a school-girl frolic. Probably she felt assured that if she were taken prisoner, her royal blood, her relationship with the queen, as her niece, and the sympathy of most of the courts of Europe in what they deemed the righteousness of her cause, would save her from any very severe treatment.
Wild adventures.
"Disguised as a peasant-boy, and accompanied by no one but Marshal Bourmont, also in disguise, she set out on foot to walk across France, through fields and by-paths, a distance of four hundred miles, to the department of La Vendée, where the Bourbon party was in its greatest strength. The first night they lost their way in the woods. Utterly overcome by exhaustion, the duchess sank down at the foot of a tree and fell asleep, while her faithful attendant stood sentinel at her side.
"Little Peter."