At Odilon Barrot’s ball on January 28 M. Thiers went up to M. Leon
Faucher and said: “Make So-and-So a prefect.” M. Leon Faucher made
a grimace, which is an easy thing for him to do, and said: “Monsieur
Thiers, there are objections.” “That’s funny!” retorted Thiers, “it is
precisely the answer the President of the Republic gave to me the day I
said: ‘Make M. Faucher a Minister!’”
At this ball it was remarked that Louis Bonaparte sought Berryer’s
company, attached himself to him and led him into quiet corners. The
Prince looked as though he were following Berryer, and Berryer as though
he were trying to avoid the Prince.
At 11 o’clock the President said to Berryer: “Come with me to the
Opera.”
Berryer excused himself. “Prince,” said he, “it would give rise to
gossip. People would believe I am engaged in a love affair!”
“Pish!” replied Louis Bonaparte laughingly, “Representatives are
inviolable!”
The Prince went away alone, and the following quatrain was circulated:
_En vain l’empire met du fard,
On baisse ses yeux et sa robe.
Et Berryer-Joseph so derobe
A Napoléon-Putiphar_.
February, 1849.
Although he is animated with the best intentions in the world and has
a very visible quantity of intelligence and aptitude, I fear that Louis
Bonaparte will find his task too much for him. To him, France, the
century, the new spirit, the instincts peculiar to the soil and the
period are so many closed books. He looks without understanding them at
minds that are working, Paris, events, men, things and ideas. He belongs
to that class of ignorant persons who are called princes and to that
category of foreigners who are called _êmigrês_. To those who examine
him closely he has the air of a patient rather than of a governing man.
There is nothing of the Bonapartes about him, either in his face or
manner. He probably is not a Bonaparte. The free and easy ways of Queen
Hortense are remembered. “He is a memento of Holland!” said Alexis de
Saint Priest to me yesterday. Louis Bonaparte certainly possesses the
cold manner of the Dutch.
Louis Bonaparte knows so little about Paris that the first time I saw
him he said to me:
“I have been hunting for you. I went to your former residence. What is
this Place des Vosges?”
“It is the Place Royale,” I said.
“Ah!” he continued, “is it an old place?”
He wanted to see Beranger. He went to Passy twice without being able to
find him at home. His cousin Napoleon timed his visit more happily and
found Béranger by his fireside. He asked him:
“What do you advise my cousin to do?”
“To observe the Constitution.”
“And what ought he to avoid?”
“Violating the Constitution.”
Béranger could not be induced to say anything else.
Yesterday, December 5, 1850, I was at the Français. Rachel played
“Adrienne Lecouvreur.” Jerome Bonaparte occupied a box next to mine.
During an entr’acte I paid him a visit. We chatted. He said to me:
“Louis is mad. He is suspicious of his friends and delivers himself
into the hands of his enemies. He is suspicious of his family and allows
himself to be bound hand and foot by the old Royalist parties. On
my return to France I was better received by Louis Philippe at the
Tuileries than I am at the Elysee by my nephew. I said to him the other
day before one of his ministers (Fould): ‘Just remember a little! When
you were a candidate for the presidency, Monsieur here (I pointed to
Fould) called upon me in the Rue d’Alger, where I lived, and begged me
in the name of MM. Thiers, Mole, Duvergier de Hauranne, Berryer, and
Bugeaud to enter the lists for the presidency. He told me that never
would you get the “Constitutionnel;” that in Mole’s opinion you were
an idiot, and that Thiers looked upon you as a blockhead; that I alone
could rally everybody to me and win against Cavaignac. I refused. I told
them that you represented youth and the future, that you had a quarter
of a century before you, whereas I could hardly count upon eight or ten
years; that I was an invalid and wanted to be let alone. That is what
these people were doing and that is what I did. And you forget all this!
And you make these gentlemen the masters! And you show the door to your
cousin, my son, who defended you in the Assembly and devoted himself to
furthering your candidacy! And you are strangling universal suffrage,
which made you what you are! I’ faith I shall say like Mole that you are
an idiot, and like Thiers that you are a blockhead!’”
The King of Westphalia paused for a moment, then continued:
“And do you know, Monsieur Victor Hugo, what he replied to me? ‘You will
see!’ No one knows what is at the bottom of that man!”