The Orleans family in England are literally in poverty; they are
twenty-two at table and drink water. There is not the slightest
exaggeration in this. Absolutely all they have to live upon is an income
of about 40,000 francs made up as follows: 24,000 francs a year from
Naples, which came from Queen Marie Amélie, and the interest on a sum
of 340,000 francs which Louis Philippe had forgotten under the following
circumstances: During his last triumphal voyage made in October, 1844,
with the Prince de Joinville, he had a credit of 500,000 francs opened
for him with a London banker. Of this sum he spent only 160,000 francs.
He was greatly amazed and very agreeably surprised on arriving in London
to find that the balance of the 500,000 francs remained at his disposal.
M. Vatout is with the Royal Family. For the whole of them there are but
three servants, of whom one, and one only, accompanied them from the
Tuileries. In this state of destitution they demanded of Paris the
restitution of what belongs to them in France; their property is under
seizure, and has remained so notwithstanding their reclamations. For
different reasons. One of the motives put forward by the Provisional
Government is the debt of the civil list, which amounts to thirty
millions. Queer ideas about Louis Philippe were entertained. He may
have been covetous, but he certainly was not miserly; he was the most
prodigal, the most extravagant and least careful of men: he had
debts, accounts and arrears everywhere. He owed 700,000 francs to
a cabinet-maker; to his market gardener he owed 70,000 francs *for
butter*.
Consequently none of the seals placed on the property could be broken
and everything is held to secure the creditors--everything, even to
the personal property of the Prince and Princess de Joinville, rentes,
diamonds, etc., even to a sum of 198,000 francs which belongs in her own
right to the Duchess d’Orleans.
All that the Royal Family was able to obtain was their clothing and
personal effects, or rather what could be found of these. Three long
tables were placed in the theatre of the Tuileries, and on these were
laid out all that the revolutionists of February had turned over to
the governor of the Tuileries, M. Durand Saint-Amand. It formed a queer
medley--court costumes stained and torn, grand cordons of the Legion of
Honour that had been trailed through the mud, stars of foreign orders,
swords, diamond crowns, pearl necklaces, a collar of the Golden Fleece,
etc. Each legal representative of the princes, an aide-de-camp or
secretary, took what he recognised. It appears that on the whole little
was recovered. The Duke de Nemours merely asked for some linen and in
particular his heavy-soled shoes.
The Prince de Joinville, meeting the Duke de Montpensier, greeted him
thus: “Ah! here you are, Monsieur; you were not killed, you have not had
good luck!”
Gudin, the marine painter, who went to England, saw Louis Philippe. The
King is greatly depressed. He said to Gudin: “I don’t understand it.
What happened in Paris? What did the Parisians get into their heads? I
haven’t any idea. One of these days they will recognise that I did not
do one thing wrong.” He did not, indeed, do one thing wrong; he did all
things wrong!
He had in fact reached an incredible degree of optimism; he believed
himself to be more of a king than Louis XIV. and more of an emperor
than Napoleon. On Tuesday the 22nd he was exuberantly gay, and was
still occupied solely with his own affairs, and these of the pettiest
character. At 2 o’clock when the first shots were being fired, he was
conferring with his lawyers and business agents, MM. de Gérante, Scribe
and Denormandie, as to what could best be done about Madame Adelaide’s
will. On Wednesday, at 1 o’clock, when the National Guard was declaring
against the government, which meant revolution, the King sent for M.
Hersent to order of him a picture of some kind.
Charles X. was a lynx.
Louis Philippe in England, however, bears his misfortune worthily. The
English aristocracy acted nobly; eight or ten of the wealthiest peers
wrote to Louis Philippe to offer him their châteaux and their purses.
The King replied: “I accept and keep only your letters.”
The Duchess d’Orleans is also in straitened circumstances. She is on
bad terms with the d’Orleans family and the Mecklenburg family is on
bad terms with her. On the one hand she will accept nothing, and on the
other she can expect nothing.
At this time of writing (May, 1848) the Tuileries have already been
repaired, and M. Empis remarked to me this morning: “They are going to
clean up and nothing of the damage done will be apparent.” Neuilly and
the Palais-Royal, however, have been devastated. The picture gallery
of the Palais-Royal, a pretty poor one by the by, has practically been
destroyed. Only a single picture remains perfectly intact, and that is
the Portrait of Philippe Egalité. Was it purposely respected by the riot
or is its preservation an irony of chance? The National Guards amused,
and still amuse, themselves by cutting out of the canvases that were not
entirely destroyed by fire faces to which they take a fancy.