On the Boulevards the iron railings had been tom up, and most of the trees had been cut down.  They were replanted, however, not long after, to the singing of the “Marseillaise” and the firing of cannon.  For more than a week there was a strange quiet in Paris:  no vehicles were in the streets, for the paving-stones had been torn up for barricades; no shops were open; on the closed shutters of most of them appeared the words “Armes donnees,” Everywhere a paintbrush had been passed over the royal arms.  Even the words “roi,” “reine,” “royal,” were effaced.  The patriots were very zealous in exacting these removals.  Two gamins with swords hacked patiently for two hours at a cast-iron double-headed Austrian eagle.

Change (small money, I mean) was hardly to be had in Paris.  For a month it was necessary, in order to obtain it, to apply at the Mairie of the Arrondissement, and to stand for hours in a queue.  Other money could be had only from the bankers in thousand-franc notes.  Shopping was of course at an end, and half Paris was thrown out of employment.  Gold and silver were hidden away.

Louis Philippe and his family drove in their two cabriolets to Versailles.  There they found great difficulty in getting post-horses.  Indeed, they would have procured none, had there not been some cavalry horses in the place, which were harnessed to one of the royal carriages.  About midnight of their second day’s journey they reached Dreux.  There Louis Philippe found himself without money, and had to borrow from one of his tenants.  He had left behind him in his haste three hundred and fifty thousand francs on a table in the Tuileries.

The Provisional Government, which was kept well informed as to his movements, forwarded to him a supply of money.  At Dreux the king’s party was joined by the Duke of Montpensier with news that the king’s attempt to save the monarchy by abdication had failed.

The old man seemed stupefied by his sudden fall.  Over and over again he was heard to repeat:  “Comme Charles X.!  Comme Charles X.!” The next day, travelling under feigned names, the royal party pushed on to Evreux, where they were hospitably received by a farmer in the forest, who harnessed his work-horses to their carriage.  Thence they went on to their own Chateau d’Eu.  The danger to which during this journey they were exposed arose, not from the new Government at Paris, but from the excited state of the peasantry.

After many perils and adventures, sometimes indeed travelling on foot to avoid dangerous places, they reached Harfleur on March 3.  An English steamer, the “Express,” lay at the wharf, on which the king and queen embarked as Mr. and Mrs. William Smith.  The following morning they were off the English coast, at Newbern.  They landed, and proceeded at once to Claremont, the palace given to their son-in-law, Leopold of Belgium, for his lifetime by the English Parliament.

The government set up in Paris was a provisional one.  The members of the Provisional Government were many of them well known to the public, and of approved character.  No men ever had a more difficult task before them, and none ever tried with more self-sacrifice to do their duty.