At the time of the promulgation of the famous ordinances of July the Duke was with his family at Neuilly. For the past four months he had viewed Charles’ obstinate determination to retain his ministers, in defiance of the Chamber, with alarm. Nevertheless, the King’s coup d’état seems to have taken him completely by surprise. His chief endeavour, from the moment that it became apparent that the execution of the ordinances would lead to serious trouble, was to avoid committing himself with either party. Between Monday, July 26, the day on which the decrees were published in the Moniteur, and Friday, July 30, when the success of the revolution was assured, he would not appear to have had any communication with either the Court at Saint-Cloud or the Liberal deputies in Paris. Indeed, on Wednesday, July 28, when the fighting in the streets assumed a very serious character, he secretly withdrew from Neuilly and went into hiding at Le Raincy, another of his residences near Paris. Thiers, in consequence, when he visited Neuilly on Friday morning, was unable to see him, and it was only at last, after repeated messages had been sent him by Laffitte and other supporters, that he ventured to emerge from his retreat and to return secretly, and in the dead of night, to the Palais Royal. It is said that in arriving at this decision he was greatly influenced by his sister, henceforward to be generally known as Madame Adelaïde, to whose opinion in political matters he was accustomed to attach greater weight than to that of his wife, the sweet-natured and dignified Marie Amélie.
After a few hours in Paris any doubts and hesitations with which he may have been beset vanished completely. The old King was in full flight from Saint Cloud, his guards even were demoralized and were deserting him. From country towns came the news that the tricolour had been hoisted, amidst the greatest enthusiasm, and that the revolution was spreading rapidly. When, on that Saturday afternoon, the Duc d’Orléans mounted his horse to meet La Fayette at the Hotel de Ville, he was fully determined to seize the crown, which his unfortunate kinsman had let fall into the gutter.
Legitimist historians and others, professing to write in a more impartial spirit, have commented most adversely upon his conduct in this, the supreme crisis of his eventful life. It must, however, be admitted by everybody who studies the question with an open mind that France was irrevocably resolved to expel the Bourbons. It has, nevertheless, been contended that, had the Duc d’Orléans consented to undertake the regency, no serious objections would have been made to the enthronement of the Duc de Bordeaux,[7] in whose favour Charles and the Dauphin had abdicated on August 2. Unfortunately, however, it was notorious that this young prince was the pupil of the Jesuits, and the prejudice against him, on that account, was unquestionably very strong. Without doubt, had the plan been given a trial, it must have speedily ended in disaster. In addition to the many and great difficulties with which Louis Philippe was confronted, during the whole course of his reign, he must, as Regent, have been perpetually exposed to the suspicion of acting under the inspiration of the young King’s family, and that suspicion would quickly have proved fatal. There were, therefore, but two alternatives, either a republic or an Orleans monarchy. Seeing the dispositions of the continental sovereigns and the condition of France in 1830, the proclamation of a republic, if it had not entailed war, must certainly have produced anarchy and brought untold misery upon the people. On the other hand, the statutory monarchy, at the time when it was set up, had the support of the best elements of the nation, and Louis Philippe, by accepting the crown, can justly claim to have preserved France from the imminent danger of civil and foreign war.
Louis Philippe was a man of more than usual courage. In his early life he had displayed it at a critical moment upon the battlefield. In his middle age, in his famous progress to the Hotel de Ville, he had never hesitated to ride, without a military escort, through an armed and hostile mob. No king has probably been the object of attacks upon his life of so determined a character as Louis Philippe. The ever-present danger of assassination is said to have broken down the nerves of some of the boldest of men. But, throughout his reign, the “citizen king” always confronted this particular peril, to which he was so constantly exposed, with a serene and lofty courage. In the face of political difficulties, however, he was as timid as he was brave when it was a question of meeting physical danger. His attitude towards the Jacobinical spirit, which the “glorious days of July” had so greatly stimulated, is characteristic of his weakness in this respect. It is not improbable that in his heart he was secretly convinced of the ultimate triumph of revolutionary principles. Be that as it may, he appears to have shrunk from attacking Jacobinism openly and boldly. He seems to have looked upon it as a most dangerous monster which it was advisable to coax and to humour, in the hope that, by careful handling, it might be temporarily subjugated.[8]
In the days which intervened between La Fayette’s acceptation of him and his actual enthronement, he lost no opportunity of putting his theory into practice. Youthful Republicans were admitted into his presence, and he submitted to be questioned about his political principles.[9] It is probable that in some of these discussions he was induced to promise far more than he afterwards found it convenient, or even possible, to perform. On many occasions afterwards he was, in consequence, reminded of a more or less mythical Hotel de Ville Programme, with the conditions of which he was accused of having broken faith. But of all the difficulties by which he was confronted in these early days, the demand for a vigorous foreign policy was by far the most serious to deal with. The convinced democrats, who had been so bitterly opposed to his enthronement, were now the most vehement in insisting upon the adoption of a spirited course of action abroad. Without doubt, these men represented only a small minority of the nation, but, when they talked of military glory and of “natural frontiers,”they appealed to sentiments which a “king of the barricades” could not afford to disregard. It was a matter of indifference to the demagogues of the party that the flower of the army was in Algeria, that many of the regiments at home were demoralized by their recent collision with the people, and that France had neither allies nor financial credit. The war for which they clamoured was to be conducted upon strictly revolutionary principles. “Peace with the nations, war with the kings,” the old cry was to be raised once more under cover of which, in former days, France had acquired her coveted boundaries.
Apart from the question as to whether the conditions of France and of Europe, in 1830, were such as to render it probable that a repetition of the methods of 1793 would be attended with success, the fact that the first shot fired on the frontiers would be the signal for the opening of the floodgates of revolutionary propagandism, made it of vital moment to Louis Philippe to avert the outbreak of hostilities. In a war, having for its loudly proclaimed object the destruction of kings, what hope could he have that his throne, resting upon new and untried foundations, would escape the general ruin? But although he was resolved to use every effort to maintain the peace, it was thoroughly in accordance with his habitual practice to cajole and flatter the faction which desired war. Accordingly, in his replies to the numerous patriotic addresses which were presented to him, he would dilate in fulsome language upon the heroic conduct of the citizens in the recent street fighting. All his speeches and his public utterances teemed with references to Valmy and Jemappes. When the band struck up the Marseillaise, he would beat time with his finger, “casting ecstatic glances at the tricolor like one who has found a long-lost mistress.”[10] Yet, whilst he was thus appealing to the revolutionary recollections and flattering the military vanity of the people, all his thoughts were bent upon obtaining his recognition by the great European Courts. No sooner, therefore, was he enthroned, than he sent off emissaries, upon whose discretion he could depend, bearing letters to his brother monarchs announcing his accession. But in these communications, intended only for the eyes of