Unaccustomed to such homage for so long a time, he refused it, and repaired to Carlscrona as a stranger. The Governor to whom he addressed himself, informed him that strangers could on no account be admitted. Accustomed to similar disappointments the Prince was about to retire, when a courier, sent expressly by the Regent, came to countermand the rigorous order. All the gates were opened to the French exile, whom the Governor eagerly accompanied, in order to give all the necessary explanations. The Governor put a great many questions to the Prince, with the hope that he might betray his incognito, but without success; for notwithstanding his desire to discover who the traveller was, to whom the Court had shown such distinguished favor, he knew not whom he had the honor to receive and accompany. The Prince repassed the Sound, and returned by the way of Copenhagen and Lubeck to Hamburg in 1796. Unfortunately this sojourn in the northern kingdoms of Europe had not bettered his condition, either politically or in a pecuniary point of view, and he found himself without

resources.

The fate of his brothers, however, was his greatest source of unhappiness, for he feared that they would be condemned. to an ignominious death. Indeed, Montpensier's last letter had contained a ruffianly speech made in his hearing by one of the sovereign people: "Ah! we have cut down the tree, the old trunk, but that is only doing half the work. We must cut up the roots, or the tree may be seen sprouting at some future time."

In the same letter the imprisoned Prince related that one morning their aunt, the Duchess of Bourbon, entered their chamber, saying, "I hope," said she to them, "you are prepared for the terrible misfortune that religion alone can aid you to support in a proper manner. Read this letter which your mother has written."

The letter contained these few words in large characters and much disfigured: "Live, unhappy children, for your

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unhappy mother!" My aunt," said the Duke de Mont"what means this heart-rending intelligence? What has become of my father?" "You have no longer a

pensier, "what

father," was the reply.

The two brothers, after the death of their father, thought often of the means of making their escape. Finally they concluded a bargain with a captain of an Italian ship bound to Leghorn. On the day fixed for their departure, the 18th of November, 1795, about six o'clock in the evening, the Count de Beaujolais left his chamber first, after agreeing to wait for his brother in the harbor, and to send a boat for him at the foot of the tower in case he should not see him arrive. Five minutes after, the Duke de Montpensier followed him, passed four sentinels without being stopped, gained the bridge, and already believed himself at liberty. All at once he met the commandant of the fort who was coming home, and who thus accosted him: "Where are you going? You are the elder Orleans; if you do not instantly return, I shall call the guard and cause you to be seized." "I am going to the play," replied the Prince, as I have many times done, without your knowledge; but since I have been so unfortunate as to meet you, I shall this evening be deprived of that pleasure." So saying, he sadly mounted the stairs followed by a corporal and a fusileer.

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After entering his chamber, which faced the sea, he tied a cord to the window and let himself down. When about half way down, about thirty feet above the sea, the rope broke, and he fell senseless. On recovering his senses, the moon was shining clear, and he found himself waist deep in the sea. After waiting some time for the boat which the Count de Beaujolais was to send, he determined to cross the harbor by swimming. He then perceived that his foot was injured, and that he lacked strength. Scarcely had he made five or six strokes, when he reached the chain which extended across the harbor, and rested there. For two hours he remained resting upon the chain: seven boats

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passed by; he supplicated each one, and made them liberal offers. "It is too late,” said one, "We have no time," said another, and they continued on. They all had made similar answers to the Count de Beaujolais, in spite of all his offers. Finally a boatman, more compassionate than the rest, came to him, and took him half dead into his boat, and rowed to the harbor. At the instant they reached the bank, a bystander exclaimed,—“Ah, it is one of the Orleans family! He was making his escape." Immediately the guard were called. Why did you attempt to escape?" demanded they after many other questions. "To free myself," replied the Duke,"from the atrocious tyranny, under which I have groaned for three years, and to recover my liberty, of which they have no right to deprive me." "What has become of your brother?" "I know not, I hope that, more fortunate than me, he has escaped from your hands, and you will see him no more." The Count de Beaujolais had in fact deceived all his guards, but learning the misfortune of the Duke de Montpensier, he came voluntarily back to his chains to share his brother's misfortunes.

Added to the uncertain fate of his brothers, Louis Philippe could not but think that his loved mother and sister were exiles from their home, that General Biron and other devoted friends had been beheaded, and that he, the often scouted son of a regicide, was branded as a traitor, accused of having by his plots thus brought ruin upon his family, and was almost a destitute wanderer on the face of the earth.

CHAPTER X.

THE Directory who ruled France, dreading the presence of Louis Philippe in Europe, had in vain endeavored to trace his steps, and the mystery in which he had enveloped himself but increased their suspicion of his designs. At last they resorted to the expedient of offering to his mother to liberate her two sons from their captivity at Marseilles, provided Louis Philippe would embark with them for the United States, and upon their arrival there to annul the act of sequestration against her property. The Duchess at once assented to this proposition, and gave to an agent of the Directory a letter to Louis Philippe, which, after recommending a compliance with the terms proposed, concluded by saying: "May the prospects of relieving the sufferings of your poor mother, of rendering the situation of your brothers less painful, and of contributing to give quiet to your country, recompense your generosity!"

For two months the bearer of this letter sought in vain for Louis Philippe, assisted by the French Minister at the Hanseatic cities, and he was just on the point of returning to Paris, when he learned that Mr. Westford, a merchant at Hamburg, could give him the desired information. Unwilling to betray his secret, this faithful friend received with proper incredulity the declaration of the French agent, that his object in opening a communication with Louis Philippe was to convey to him a letter from his mother, on the part of the Directory, and disclaimed all knowledge of his actual residence. He, however, immediately communicated to Louis Philippe a statement of what had taken place, and the latter determined to risk the exposure, in the hope of receiving a letter directly from his mother. He was at that time at Frederickstadt, in the neighborhood

of Hamburg, though in the Danish States, where he had changed his residence from time to time, as a due regard to secrecy required. An interview was arranged by Mr. Westford at his own house, between Louis Philippe and the French agent, where they met in the evening, and where, after the receipt of his mother's letter, he signified at once his acceptance of the terms proposed, and his determination to embark for the United States without delay, that his brothers might be liberated. Besides, he was well aware, that a refusal on his part would first be followed by more arbitrary measures against his mother and brethren — then by an active system of espionage exercised against himself - and, finally, by applications from the then French government to foreign powers to surrender him into their hands, under threats of vengeance and war in the event of refusal.

The negotiations were regularly concluded, and Louis Philippe thus answered his mother: "When my dear mother receives this letter, her orders will be obeyed, and I shall have set out for America. I shall embark in the first vessel which sails for the United States. And what would I not do after perusing the letter I have just received? I will no longer believe I am without hope, since I have yet the means of soothing the sorrows of a mother so dear to me, whose situation and whose sufferings have for so long a time caused me deep anguish. It seems to me like a dream when I think I shall in a short time embrace my dear brothers, and again be united to them, for I could scarcely believe what has hitherto appeared to me impossible. I would not now lament my fate; and I know full well that it might have been yet more wretched, nor will I deem it miserable if, after again joining my brothers, I may know that my beloved mother is as well as it is possible under such circumstances for her to be, and if I can once more serve my country by contributing to her tranquillity. Whatever I have done for my country, I consider no