General Dumouriez, who was also wandering in obscurity and exile, at this time wrote to General Montesquieu, who was a friend of the Duke of Chartres, and a gentleman possessed of much influence and power in Switzerland:
Letter from General Dumouriez.
"Embrace for me our excellent young friend. What you are doing to serve him is worthy of you. Let him derive instruction and strength from his adversity. This frenzy will pass away, and then he will find his place. Induce him to make a circumstantial diary of his travels. It will be curious to see the diary of a Bourbon treating of other subjects than the chase, women, and the table. I am convinced that this work, which he will one day produce, will serve as a certificate for life, either when he shall have re-entered it, or to make him return to it."
Hardships of travel.
Darker and darker grew the path of the exiled prince. His funds became very low. He was separated from all his friends except his faithful servant, Baudoin, who absolutely refused to leave him. He retained but one horse. His servant chanced to be so sick that he could not walk. The duke left Basle on foot, leading by the hand the horse upon which his humble but faithful companion in exile was mounted.3
Passing through Neufchâtel, Zellen Blatt, and Kussnacht, he reached the ruins of Halsburg. Here, in the midst of silence and solitude, the great-grandson of the brother of Louis XIV. sought a refuge from his countrymen, who were thirsting for his blood.
During one of his adventurous excursions among the Alps, on foot, accompanied only by his servant, he approached the hospitium of Saint Gothard. It was on the 28th of August, 1793. Having rung the bell, a Capuchin friar appeared at the casement and inquired, "What do you want?" "I request," replied the duke, "some nourishment for my companion and myself." "My good young men," said the friar, "we do not admit foot-passengers here, particularly of your description." "But, reverend father," replied the duke, "we will pay whatever you demand." "No, no," added the Capuchin, pointing to a shed where some muleteers were partaking of Alpine cheese, "that little inn there is good enough for you."
At Gordona the duke and his servant met with a similar repulse. Covered with the dust of travel, and with knapsacks on their backs, with night and storm approaching, they found the door of a hostlery closed against them. It was not until after much entreaty that the way-worn travellers were allowed shelter, with a bed of straw, in an outhouse.
A college professor.
While engaged in these wanderings, the duke received a letter from M. de Montesquieu, offering him the situation of professor at the college of Reichenau. This was a chateau near the confluence of the upper and lower Rhine. He was then but twenty years of age. Assuming the name of M. Chabaud, he underwent a very rigid examination, without exciting the slightest suspicion as to his real character. For eight months he discharged the duties of teaching the French and English languages with marked success, and so secured the respect of the inhabitants of Reichenau that they elected him their deputy to the Assembly at Coire.
Here the tidings reached him of the sad fate of his father. Overwhelmed with grief, and restless in view of the peril of other members of the family, he resumed his wanderings. Proceeding to Bremgarten, the residence of his influential friend M. de Montesquieu, he remained with him, as aid-de-camp, until some time in the year 1794.
Political divisions in France.
But it was impossible for a man so widely known to remain long concealed in any place. There was still an energetic and increasingly powerful party in France opposed to the disorders which the Republic had introduced, and anxious to restore monarchical forms. The situation of the sister of the Duke of Orleans, as Louis Philippe now became, on the death of his father, was considered so unsafe in the convent of Bremgarten that she was removed to Hungary.
The wilds of Scandinavia.
One day, as the duke was sitting silently, lost in thought, in a parlor adjoining the one occupied by his generous host, he overheard some conversation which led him to fear that the hospitality which he was receiving might endanger the safety of his friend. He immediately resolved to withdraw from Bremgarten and to seek refuge in Hamburg. Here, finding his position very insecure, he resolved to hide himself in the cheerless climate of Northern Europe. Accustomed to the severest privations, he was enabled to recommence his wanderings with the slender funds at his disposal. Assuming the character of a Swiss traveller, he made arrangements to disappear from Southern Europe, and seek refuge in the wilds of Scandinavia. He obtained passports from the King of Denmark, which allowed him to take with him his steadfast friend Count Montjoie, and his faithful servant Baudoin, who had shared all the sufferings of his exile. A letter of credit upon a banker at Copenhagen supplied his immediate pecuniary wants.
Chapter III
Wanderings in the Old Worldand the New
Louis Philippe in Sweden.
The peninsula of Scandinavia can be explored at a very slight expense. The exiled prince, with his companions, travelled in the most unostentatious manner. He felt quite secure in his wanderings, as but few of the emigrants had penetrated those distant regions. From Copenhagen he passed to Elsineur, visiting all objects of historic interest. Crossing the Sound at Helsinbourg, he entered the hospitable realms of Sweden. After a brief tarry at Gottenburg, and ascending Lake Wener, he directed his steps towards Norway, remaining for a short period at Friedrichsthal, where, in 1718, the half-mad Charles XII., after perhaps the most stormy life through which a mortal ever passed, breathed his last.
Proceeding to Christiania, he was received, as an intelligent and affable traveller, with much distinction, though no one suspected his rank. Wherever he went the purity of his character impressed itself upon the community. M. Monod – subsequently a distinguished pastor of one of the Protestant churches in Paris – was then at Christiania. He fully appreciated the unusual virtues of his countryman, who, in every word and action, manifested the spirit of true Christianity.
"M. Monod has repeatedly since been heard to declare," write A. Laugier and Carpentier, "that the more the virtuous and instructive life of this traveller was examined, the more exalted and exemplary it appeared. What must have been his surprise when, subsequently, in his own country, he recognized in the young Frenchman of Christiania, so gentle and modest, a prince of the blood standing upon the very steps of the throne of France!"
His incognito.
For some time the duke remained at Christiania, receiving many kind attentions. On one occasion he dined with a numerous party at a banker's in the city. In the evening, at the close of the entertainment, as the guests were departing, the duke was startled and alarmed by hearing the son of the banker, in a loud and somewhat playful tone, call out, "The carriage of the Duke of Orleans." For a moment he was much embarrassed. But perceiving that neither the young man nor any of the company turned their eyes to him, he recovered his self-possession, and calmly inquired of the young man, "Why do you call for the carriage of the Duke of Orleans? What have you to do with him?"
"Nothing at all," he replied, with a smile; "but in a journey which we, not long ago, made to Paris, every evening, as we were coming out of the opera, we heard the people shouting on all sides, and with the greatest eagerness, 'La voiture de Monseigneur le Duc d'Orleans! les gens de son Altesse Royale?' I was almost stunned by the noise. At the moment it occurred to me to imitate them, instead of simply calling for the carriage."4
Journeying northward.
Continuing his journey to the north, the prince passed through Drontheim and Hamersfeldt, which latter place was then the most northern town in Europe. Some years after, when Louis Philippe had ascended the throne of France, he sent a clock to the church tower in Hamersfeldt, in graceful recognition of his hospitable reception there as a stranger.
Continuing along the coast of Norway, he reached the Gulf of Salten, and visited the world-renowned Maelstrom. Taking an Icelander, by the name of Holm, as his guide, he entered Lapland. Thus journeying, he, on the 24th of August,