And yet, even so late in the day, in other countries than our own indeed, generals, and others invested with the chief command of the national troops, have been known to draw their swords and save their sovereigns and their governments almost in spite of their own selves.
They have been known to maintain the tutelary and inviolable principle of a traditional monarchy--a principle which is both ancient and absolute, tracing the line of duty for all men, clear and indisputable, without any possibility of hesitation or compromise--against and in the face of all comers. And this principle is one which calls forth the proudest devotion, seeing it is impersonal, for the king is not the elected leader of conquerors, oppressing the conquered, but a living flag, the national rallying-point for all the defenders of the mother country against her enemies, whether within or without her borders.
This saving process, whether the saved ones would or no, has been seen, as I say, in other countries, which thus were preserved from that discord, disorganisation, and disaster of every kind, which are the inevitable consequence of internal convulsion and revolution.
But the July Monarchy was unhappily very far from representing the traditional hereditary principle. Born of one insurrection, it was overthrown by another. Set up on the electoral principle, it fell, as though in mockery, with a full electoral majority behind it.
Two-and-twenty years later the empire too fell, on the very morrow of a triumphant plebiscite. Partial and universal suffrage alike have proved their impotence to defend a government which has ceased to give satisfaction against the a.s.saults of that army shouting "Get out of that and let me take your place!" the members of which always make themselves up as austere patriots. And I cannot help, in this place, looking sadly back at the fatal consequences which this impotence of the elective, as compared with the monarchical regime, has had for us.
Why did the Emperor refuse to treat with M. de Bismarck in the name of France, when he met him, on the evening of Sedan, and asked him to do so? Why did the unfortunate prince not do the same as two sovereigns in possession of hereditary rights and duties, Victor Emmanuel after Novara, and Francis Joseph after Sadowa, who both of them safeguarded their territory and the honour of their armies? Because he was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d sovereign--and dared not reappear before his electors once he was beaten.
But to return to my story, to which I have but a few lines to add. The revolution might have been foreseen and the days of the government of 1830 might have been prolonged. Once it was overthrown, and the d.y.k.e which stemmed the torrent of democracy carried away, its rule, which was one of chance convenience and not of right, had no further reason for existence.
That being so, what was I to do? The re-establishment of the legitimate family on the throne was out of the question. The disasters of our first revolutionary period had not as yet been renewed in their terrible logical sequence. We had not yet had our second Waterloo at Sedan, and very few people thought at that moment of coming back to the principle the proof of whose t.i.tle lies in the centuries of unity and greatness a.s.sured by it to France--the one and only principle capable of checking her on her descent into the abyss of dismemberment, depopulation, and social destruction, down which she is gliding.
It was clear that another elective regime was about to succeed the one which had just collapsed--one of those modern edifices, all, whatever may be the name with which they are decorated, tainted with the same original weakness--"What the majority has made, the majority has the right to unmake." In fact--as somebody said in a speech--a perpetually provisional arrangement Under these ephemeral forms of rule, our national inferiority in face of other stable and far-sighted governments is flagrantly evident. The sense of duty wears away, devoted service is never given without a mental reservation touching the morrow--that unknown morrow, which checkmates the boldest plans.
Thus const.i.tuted, such regimes are all alike, and it was not for the princes of the House of France to draw their swords to impose one form of national humiliation rather than another on their country.
When once my father"s rule had disappeared, and with it the unvarying line of duty traced by my absolute filial devotion to him, I watched the establishment of a republican form of government without annoyance, for I preferred its clear distinctness to the complicated combinations which pretended to reconcile two opposite principles by putting handcuffs on them both.
Like many others, too, I did not doubt that the shock of revolution would soon bring on a general war. Under such circ.u.mstances, it would have been crime to add the pangs of civil strife to the dangers threatening our country.
Thenceforward, my duty lay clear before me. My country first of all!
That watchword still exists, thank G.o.d, to guide those who yet can love their country whatever may befall them. When once my first fit of indignation was over, then, I did not think of returning from Africa, sword in hand, to set up the throne again. I contented myself with sending a very commonplace despatch to Arago, and then I utilised the last days I was to spend on French soil in studying the defensive works ordered by my brother in view of that war, imminent perhaps, during which, soldiers before all as we were, we expected, in the illusive hopes of our youth, to be allowed to keep our place as fighting men.
The moment came at last when our presence at Algiers became incompatible with the existence of a revolutionary government in Paris, and we had to rejoin our family in their foreign exile. We decided, Aumale and I, to embark for England on board the despatch-boat Solon, Commander Jaures. It was with heavy hearts, though proud ones, that we went down the Rue de la Marine, under the salutes of the forts, and accompanied to the last by the whole body of officers, both naval and military, so many of them our old friends and faithful comrades.
Thirty years of my life had been spent in France. In spite of the gnawing worm of revolution, my family left her intact, prosperous, respected, with magnificent armies, both land and sea, and a no less magnificent colony. I was not to see my country again for two-and-twenty years, and then in all the horror of invasion and dismemberment and the terror of the Commune.
THE END