idity,
which is displeasing to the people, who have the 14th of July in their
civil and Austerlitz in their military tradition.

Moreover, if we deduct the public duties which require to be fulfilled
first of all, that deep tenderness of Louis Philippe towards his
family was deserved by the family. That domestic group was worthy of
admiration. Virtues there dwelt side by side with talents. One of Louis
Philippe's daughters, Marie d'Orleans, placed the name of her race among
artists, as Charles d'Orleans had placed it among poets. She made of
her soul a marble which she named Jeanne d'Arc. Two of Louis Philippe's
daughters elicited from Metternich this eulogium: "They are young people
such as are rarely seen, and princes such as are never seen."

This, without any dissimulation, and also without any exaggeration, is
the truth about Louis Philippe.

To be Prince Equality, to bear in his own person the contradiction of
the Restoration and the Revolution, to have that disquieting side of the
revolutionary which becomes reassuring in governing power, therein lay
the fortune of Louis Philippe in 1830; never was there a more complete
adaptation of a man to an event; the one entered into the other, and the
incarnation took place. Louis Philippe is 1830 made man. Moreover, he
had in his favor that great recommendation to the throne, exile. He had
been proscribed, a wanderer, poor. He had lived by his own labor. In
Switzerland, this heir to the richest princely domains in France had
sold an old horse in order to obtain bread. At Reichenau, he gave
lessons in mathematics, while his sister Adelaide did wool work and
sewed. These souvenirs connected with a king rendered the bourgeoisie
enthusiastic. He had, with his own hands, demolished the iron cage of
Mont-Saint-Michel, built by Louis XI, and used by Louis XV. He was the
companion of Dumouriez, he was the friend of Lafayette; he had belonged
to the Jacobins' club; Mirabeau had slapped him on the shoulder; Danton
had said to him: "Young man!" At the age of four and twenty, in '93,
being then M. de Chartres, he had witnessed, from the depth of a box,
the trial of Louis XVI., so well named that poor tyrant. The blind
clairvoyance of the Revolution, breaking royalty in the King and the
King with royalty, did so almost without noticing the man in the fierce
crushing of the idea, the vast storm of the Assembly-Tribunal, the
public wrath interrogating, Capet not knowing what to reply,