The Duchess of Berry and the Court of Charles X | Page 9

Who could have foretold then that this child, so
loved, admired, applauded, would, innocent victim, less than six years
later, be condemned to perpetual exile, and by whom?
Charles X. had won a triumph. Napoleon, at the time of his greatest
glories, at the apogee of his prodigious fortunes, had never had a
warmer greeting from the Parisian people. In the course of the review
the King spoke to all the colonels. On his return to the Tuileries he
went at a slow pace, paused often to receive petitions, handed them to
one of his suite, and responded in the most gracious manner to the
homage of which he was the object. An historian not to be accused of
partiality for the Restoration has written: "On entering the Tuileries,
Charles X. might well believe that the favor that greeted his reign
effaced the popularity of all the sovereigns who had gone before.
Happy in being King at last, moved by the acclamations that he met at
every step, the new monarch let his intoxicating joy expand in all his
words. His affability was remarked in his walks through Paris, and the
grace with which he received all petitioners who could approach him."
Everywhere that he appeared, at the Hotel-Dieu, at Sainte-Genvieve, at
the Madeleine, the crowd pressed around him and manifested the
sincerest enthusiasm. M. Villemain, in the opening discourse of his
lectures on eloquence at the Faculty of Letters, was wildly applauded
when he pronounced the following eulogium on the new sovereign: "A

monarch kindly and revered, he has the loyalty of the antique ways and
modern enlightenment. Religion is the seal of his word. He inherits
from Henry IV. those graces of the heart that are irresistible. He has
received from Louis XIV. an intelligent love of the arts, a nobility of
language, and that dignity that imposes respect while it seduces." All
the journals chanted his praises. Seeing that the Constitutionnel itself,
freed from censorship, rendered distinguished homage to legitimacy, he
came to believe that principle invincible. He was called Charles the
Loyal. At the Theatre-Francais, the line of Tartufe--
"Nous vivons sous un prince ennemi de la fraude"--
was greeted with a salvo of applause. The former adversaries of the
King reproached themselves with having misunderstood him. They
sincerely reproached themselves for their past criticisms, and adored
that which they had burned. M. de Vaulabelle himself wrote:--
"Few sovereigns have taken possession of the throne in circumstances
more favorable than those surrounding the accession of Charles X."
It seemed as if the great problem of the conciliation of order and liberty
had been definitely solved. The white flag, rejuvenated by the Spanish
war, had taken on all its former splendor. The best officers, the best
soldiers of the imperial guard, served the King in the royal guard with a
devotion proof against everything. Secret societies had ceased their
subterranean manoeuvres. No more disturbances, no more plots. In the
Chambers, the Opposition, reduced to an insignificant minority, was
discouraged or converted. The ambitious spirits of whom it was
composed turned their thoughts toward the rising sun. Peace had
happily fecundated the prodigious resources of the country. Finances,
commerce, agriculture, industry, the fine arts, everything was
prospering. The public revenues steadily increased. The ease with
which riches came inclined all minds toward optimism. The salons had
resumed the most exquisite traditions of courtesy and elegance. It was
the boast that every good side of the ancien regime had been preserved
and every bad one rejected. France was not only respected, she was a la
mode. All Europe regarded her with sympathetic admiration. No one in
1824 could have predicted 1880. The writers least favorable to the
Restoration had borne witness to the general calm, the prevalence of
good will, the perfect accord between the country and the crown. The
early days of the reign of Charles X. were, so to speak, the honeymoon

of the union of the King and France.

III
THE TOMBS OF SAINT-DENIS
The funeral solemnities of Louis XVIII. seemed to the people a
mortuary triumph of Royalty over the Revolution and the Empire. The
profanations of 1793 were expiated. Napoleon was left with the willow
of Saint Helena; the descendant of Saint Louis and of Louis XIV. had
the basilica of his ancestors as a place of sepulture, and the links of
time's chain were again joined. The obsequies of Louis XVIII.
suggested a multitude of reflections. It was the first time since the death
of Louis XV. in 1774, that such a ceremony had taken place. As was
said by the Moniteur:--
"This solemnity, absolutely novel for the greater number of the present
generation, offered an aspect at once mournful and imposing. A
monarch so justly regretted, a king so truly Christian, coming to