May.--Some months have elapsed since I noted down a line in this book.
Indisposition and its usual attendants, languor and lassitude, have
caused me to throw it by. Time that once rolled as pleasantly as
rapidly along, seems now to pace as slowly as sadly; and even the
approach of spring, that joyous season never before unwelcomed, now
awakens only painful recollections. Who can see the trees putting forth
their leaves without a dread that, ere they have yet expanded into
their full growth, some one may be snatched away who with us hailed
their first opening verdure?
When once Death has invaded our hearths and torn from us some dear
object on whose existence our happiness depended, we lose all the
confidence previously fondly and foolishly experienced in the stability
of the blessings we enjoy, and not only deeply mourn those lost, but
tremble for those yet spared to us. I once thought that I could never
behold this genial season without pleasure; alas! it now occasions only
gloom.
Captain William Anson, the brother of Lord Anson, dined here yesterday.
He is a very remarkable young man; highly distinguished in his
profession, being considered one of the best officers in the navy, and
possessing all the accomplishments of a finished gentleman. His reading
has been extensive, and his memory is very retentive. He has been in
most quarters of the globe, and has missed no opportunity of
cultivating his mind and of increasing his stock of knowledge. He is,
indeed, a worthy descendant of his great ancestor, who might well be
proud of such a scion to the ancient stock. Devoted to the arduous
duties of his profession, he studies every amelioration in it _con
amore_; and, if a long life be granted to him, will prove one of its
brightest ornaments.
The Marquis and Marquise de B---- spent last evening here, and several
people dropped in. Among them was the pretty Madame de la H----, as
piquant and lively as ever, as content with herself (and she has reason
to be so, being very good-looking and amusing) and as careless of the
suffrages of others. I like the young and the gay of my own sex, though
I am no longer either.
Prince Paul Lieven and Captain Cadogan[8] dined here yesterday. The
first is as _spirituel_ and clever as formerly, and the second is as
frank, high-spirited, and well-bred--the very _beau idéal_ of a son of
the sea, possessing all the attributes of that generous race, joined to
all those said to be peculiar to the high-born and well-educated.
I like the conversation of such men--men who, nursed in the lap of
luxury, are sent from the noble dwellings of their sires to be
"cabined, cribbed, confined," in (to my thinking) the most unbearable
of all prisons--a ship; pass months and years exposed to hardships,
privations, and dangers, from the endurance of which even the poor and
lowly born often shrink, and bring back to society the high breeding
and urbanity not to be surpassed in those whose lots have been exempt
from such trials; and, what is still more precious, the experience and
reflection acquired in their perilous profession, and in the many hours
of solitude and anxiety that appertain to it.
Sat a considerable time with the Duchesse de Guiche today. How amiable
and kind-hearted she is, and how unspoilt by all the brilliancy of her
position! While I was there the mother and son of a young page, for
whom the Duc and Duchesse have obtained that office at court, came to
thank her. The boy is a very fine youth, and the mother and sister seem
to dote on him. They reminded me of the mother and sister that a
sentimental writer would have created for the occasion, being
exceedingly interesting in their appearance and manner. The boy was
evidently as fond and proud of them as they were of him, and the group
formed a charming picture.
The warmth and gentleness of the manners of the Duchesse de G----, and
the remarkable beauty of her face and figure, never appeared more
captivating in my eyes than when I beheld her to-day, evincing such
good nature to the youthful page and his mother and sister; and I saw
by their eyes, when they took leave of her, that she sent away grateful
hearts.
_July_ 1830.--Indisposition has interrupted my journal for several
weeks, and idleness has prolonged the chasm. The noting down the daily
recurrence of uninteresting events is as dull as the endurance of them.
If reports may be credited, we are on the eve of some popular commotion
in France, and the present ministers are said to be either ignorant of
the danger that menaces, or unprepared to meet it. The conquest of
Algiers has produced much less exultation in the people than might have
naturally been expected; and this indifference to an event calculated
to gratify the _amour-propre_ which forms so peculiar a characteristic
of the nation, is considered a bad sign by those who affect to be
acquainted with the people. I have so often heard rumours of discontent
and revolts that I have grown incredulous, and I think and hope the
French are too wise to try any dangerous experiments.
_26th July_.--This morning General E---- came to breakfast with us, and
announced that the ordonnances were yesterday signed in council at St.-
Cloud. This good man and brave soldier expressed the liveliest regret
at this rash measure, and the utmost alarm at the consequences likely
to result from it. Is Charles the Tenth ignorant of the actual state of
things in Paris, and of the power of public opinion? or does he hope to
vanquish the resistance likely to be offered to this act? I hope his
majesty may not acquire this knowledge when it has become too late to
derive advantage from it.
The unpopularity of the present ministry, and above all of its leader,
the Prince Polignac, is surprising, when one considers how estimable
his private character is, and that theirs are irreproachable. They are
rendered responsible for the will of the sovereign, who, if report
speak truth, is very pertinacious in exacting a rigid fulfilment of it
whenever it is exercised.
The present are not times to try experiments how far the will of a
monarch can be pushed; and it is not in France, as in England, where
our law supposes that a king can do no wrong, for the French are prone
to pay no more respect to sovereigns than to their supposed advisers,
and both may suffer a heavy penalty for incurring the dislike of the
people.
The prosperity of France, which is acknowledged by all, has failed to
silence the murmurs of discontent which, loud and deep, are heard every
where save in the palace,--too frequently the last place where public
opinion gets an impartial hearing. The success of the Algerine
expedition has buoyed up the confidence of the ministry in their own
strength; but, if I may credit what I hear, it has by no means really
added to it.
Concessions too long delayed come with a bad grace when at length
extorted, and the change of ministry factiously demanded, even if
complied with, would have placed the sovereign in any thing but a
dignified position. The dissolution of the Chambers in March, after a
session of only ten days, might be considered as a demonstration of
discontent on the part of the monarch, as well as a want of power of
quelling the spirit that evoked it.
A circumstance, trivial in itself, added to this unpopularity, which
was, that several of the deputies were on their route to Paris when the
unexpected intelligence of the dissolution reached them, and they could
not pardon the expense to which they had been put by this unnecessary
_frais de route_, their places in the diligence being paid for. How
frequently do trifles exercise a powerful influence over grave affairs!
The portion of the public press that advocates the defence of the
government is even more injudicious than that which assails it; and the
monarchy has decidedly suffered in general opinion by the angry
excitement produced by the recrimination of both parties. The
prosecutions entered into against the editors of the liberal papers are
considered by the party to which they belong to be persecutions; and
the sentiments avowed by the _Gazette de France_ are received as those
of not only the government but of the sovereign. The discussions
occasioned by these prosecutions, as well as by the principles of
monarchical absolutism maintained by the adverse party, have greatly
extended the ranks of the liberals, who, looking on the editors who
expound or promulgate their opinions as martyrs, become more
exasperated against their opponents, and more reckless in the modes
likely to be adopted for marking their disapprobation.
_27th_.--On returning from a late drive last night we passed near the
hôtel of the Minister _des Finances_, around which some fifty or sixty
persons, chiefly youths, were assembled, crying out "_Vive la charte!_"
"_A bas les ministres!_" A patrol passed close to these persons, but
made no attempt to disperse them, which I think was rather unwise, for,
encouraged by this impunity, their numbers, I am told, increased
rapidly.
I have just heard that the post of _gendarmes_ was tripled this
morning, and that a crowd of persons have assembled around the hôtel of
the Prince Polignac, where a cabinet council was held. It is said that
the ministers were insulted as they entered. This looks ill;
nevertheless, I trust that it is nothing more than a demonstration of
the spirit that is rife in the people, and that no more violent ones
will be resorted to. The visitors I have seen to-day seem much alarmed.
The Duc de Guiche set off for St.-Cloud yesterday morning, the moment
he had read the ordonnances. Had his counsel been listened to, they
would never have been promulgated; for he is one of the few who, with a
freedom from prejudice that enables him to judge dispassionately of the
actual state of public opinion, has the moral courage to declare the
truth to his sovereign, however unpalatable that truth might be, or
however prejudicial to his own interests.
I have this moment returned from a drive through the streets, and,
though far from being an alarmist, I begin to think that affairs wear a
more serious aspect than I dreaded. Already has a collision taken place
between the populace and the soldiers, who attempted to disperse them
near the Palais-Royal; and it required the assistance of a charge of
cavalry to secure the dangerous victory to themselves.
Crowds were hurrying through the streets, many of the shops were
closed, and not above three or four carriages were to be seen. Never
did so great a change take place in the aspect of a city in so few
hours! Yesterday the business of life flowed on in its usual current.
The bees and the drones of this vast hive were buzzing about, and the
butterflies of fashion were expanding their gay wings in the sunshine.
To-day the industrious and orderly seem frightened from their usual
occupations, and scarcely a person of those termed fashionable is to be
seen. Where are all the household of Charles the Tenth, that vast and
well-paid crowd who were wont to fill the anterooms of the Tuileries on
gala days, obsequiously watching to catch a nod from the monarch, whose
slightest wish was to them as the laws of the Modes and Persians? Can
it be that they have disappeared at the first cloud that has darkened
the horizon of their sovereign, and increased the danger that menaces
him by shewing that they have not courage to meet it? Heaven send, for
the honour of France, that the _noblesse_ of the court of Charles the
Tenth may not follow the disgraceful example furnished by that of his
unfortunate brother, Louis the Sixteenth! In England how different
would it be if danger menaced the sovereign!
---- has just been here, and, in answer to my question of where are the
men on whose fidelity the king could count, and in whose military
experience he might confide in such a crisis as the present, he told me
that for the purposes of election interests all the general officers
who could be trusted had unfortunately been sent from the court.
The sound of firing has announced that order, far from being restored,
seems less likely than ever to be so. People are rushing wildly through
the streets proclaiming that several persons have been killed by the
military. All is confusion and alarm, and every one appears to dread
what the coming night may produce.
Intelligence has just reached us that the mob are demolishing the
lanterns, and that they have broken into the shops of the gunsmiths,
and seized all the arms they could find. The Duc de Raguse commands the
troops, and already several charges have taken place. This selection,
under present circumstances, is not considered to be a good one.
The people are forming barricades in various parts of the town, and
some of our servants, who have been out to collect intelligence, assert
that no hinderance seems to be opposed to this mischievous measure.
Where are the civil authorities during all this commotion? is the
natural question that suggests itself to one who knows how in London,
under any disturbance, they would oppose themselves to check such
proceedings. And why, if the civil authorities are too weak to resist
the torrent, is there not a sufficient military force to stem it? is
the next question that presents itself. No one seems to know where the
blame lies, but every one foretells a dangerous result from this
unaccountable state of things.
The promulgation of the ordonnances which had led to this tumult, ought
to have been accompanied by a display of force sufficient to maintain
their enactment. If a government _will_ try the hazardous measure of a
_coup d'état_, it ought to be well prepared to meet the probable
consequences.
I feel so little disposed to sleep that, instead of seeking my pillow,
I occupy myself by noting down my impressions, occasionally looking out
of my window to catch the sounds that break the stillness of the night.
The heat is intense, but the sky is as pure and cloudless as if it
canopied a calm and slumbering multitude instead of a waking and
turbulent one, filled with the most angry emotions.
Comtes d'Orsay and Valeski have just returned, and state that they have
been as far as the Place de la Bourse, where they saw a scene of the
utmost confusion. The populace had assembled there in great force,
armed with every kind of weapon they could obtain, their arms bared up
to the shoulders, and the whole of them presenting the most wild and
motley appearance imaginable. They had set fire to the Corps-de-Garde,
the flames of which spread a light around as bright as day. Strange to
say, the populace evinced a perfect good-humour, and more resembled a
mob met to celebrate a saturnalia than to subvert a monarchy.
Comtes d'O---- and V---- were recognised by some of the people, who
seemed pleased at seeing them. On returning, they passed through the
Rue de Richelieu, which they found in total darkness, all the lanterns
having been broken. Comte d'O---- luckily found his cabriolet in the
Rue de Ménars, where he had left it, not being able to take it farther,
owing to a portion of the pavement being broken up, and had only time
to reach the club-house in the Rue de Gramont, in the court of which he
placed his cab, before the populace rushed by, destroying every thing
they met, among which was the carriage of the Prince Tufiakin. A
considerable number of the members of the club were assembled, a few of
whom witnessed, from the balcony on the Boulevart, the burning of the
chairs placed there, the breaking of the lamps, and other depredations.
Some gentlemen went to the battalion of the guards stationed in front
of the Prince Polignac's, and suggested to the officer in command the
propriety of sending a few men to arrest the progress of the
insurgents, a thing then easily to be accomplished; but the officer,
having no orders, declined to take any step, and the populace continued
their depredations within three hundred yards of so imposing a force as
a battalion of the guards!
What may not to-morrow's sun witness, ere it goes down? But conjecture
is vain in a crisis in which every thing appears to go on in a mode so
wholly unaccountable. The exhibition of a powerful force might and
would, I am persuaded, have precluded the collision that has occurred
between the populace and the military. Blood has been shed on both
sides, and this has rendered the breach between people and sovereign
too wide to be repaired except by something almost miraculous, and
alas! the time of miracles is past.
I cannot help wondering at the calmness I feel on this occasion. I
experience no personal alarm; but I am apprehensive for my friends,
some of whom are deeply interested in this struggle. How may their
destinies, lately so brilliant, be overclouded by the change that
menaces to take place!
Well may Monsieur Salvandy have observed at the ball so recently given
by the Duc of Orléans to the royal families of France and Naples, "This
may be termed a Neapolitan _fête_, for they are dancing over a
volcano."