“I have been carefully examining the portraits of the present
Duke of Orleans and of his two brothers, the Duc de Montpensier
and the Comte de Beaujolais. There is a striking contrast
between that of the first and those of the two others. In
fact, the Duke of Orleans has, as is well known, a strong
constitution, a robust temperament, and is common-looking,
having coarse features.
“As for the two others, they look poor and weak in constitution
and temperament, and of distinguished appearance, and bear no
resemblance whatever to their brother,” etc.
7th. “The Comte de Joinville wrote from Turin that, ‘having lost the
substituted child, he no longer felt any scruples on his account.’[71]
“Would there be any meaning in such words from the lips of the Duc de
Chartres? Had he lost a single son in his life? Could this assertion
relate to the Duc de Valois, who is still alive?”
Let us recall for an instant the insatiable avidity of the Chiappinis,
and the whole difficulty will vanish. Is it not easy to believe that,
far from satisfied with the considerable sums they had received from
my father, and the annual pension handed over to them by the Countess
Borghi, they must have kept up an incessant demand for more? Tired of
the worry, Pompeo and his mother must themselves have begged the Comte
de Joinville to write them a letter which would thenceforth put a check
on the intolerable pestering of the _sbirro_ and his wife. The style,
the oddness, the curtness of this missive, all proclaim it the result of
an arrangement between the two noble families. As it might always be of
use, it was carefully preserved; the other portions of the correspondence
might have been compromising, and were perhaps destroyed on the very day
they were received.
8th. “According to the Signora Galuppi, the Duke and Duchess of Chartres
had but few of their people with them at Reggio;[72] how, then, did
the priest Brunone see them pass through Alessandria with a numerous
suite?”[73]
To dispose of this contradiction—in itself proof positive that there was
no plot or bribery—there are two ways of fully reconciling the double
evidence.
1st. The Signor Brunone, living in a town far from Court-doings, may well
have thought considerable what to a person living since her birth in a
royal residence seemed insignificant.
2nd. Who knows if the Duke, when he started, did not leave in the Alps
the greater number of the suite, which he took on again afterwards, so as
to destroy any sign of his having anything whatever to do with a man who
had been seen almost by himself on the other side of the mountains?
9th. “If it is easy enough to attack the memory of Louis-Philippe-Joseph,
who does not know with what just and profound veneration that of his
wife is looked upon, and which must, nevertheless, be tarnished by an
accusation of unworthy complicity?”
No one can be more anxious than I to give the homage of my respect to
the memory of the Duchess; and my dearest wish would undoubtedly be to
believe a life made illustrious by its many virtues, without a stain.
Indeed, I had at first tried to persuade myself that, having been once
before the victim of deception, she had again fallen into the snare woven
for her at the time of her first confinement.[74]
A consoling illusion, which the stories of witnesses and many other
indications did but too quickly banish from my mind![75]
It is a well-known fact that the finest characters are not without
defects, and no one who knew her could deny that the Princess was in
truth very ambitious.
Moreover, the fact of her being her parents’ only child and sole object
of their deepest love, was an incentive for this loving daughter to turn
her fondest hopes to the birth of an august scion who should be the glory
of her maternity.[76]
Over this she ponders and frets incessantly, and, in the midst of her
magnificent surroundings, she carefully _conceals the grief she feels at
finding herself deprived of this blessing_.[77]
In consequence, she was naturally inclined to lend a favourable ear to
the temptation offered her by a husband whom, besides, _she would not
for all the world displease_,[78] and for whom her complaisance went so
far as to help in the concealment of his vices,[79] even to the extent
of uncomplainingly sacrificing not only _her tastes and her health_, but
also _her warmest and most legitimate affections_.[80]
The crime once committed, she soon looked upon the wrong as irreparable,
and from that time a false sense of honour, a deadened conscience, made
it appear a duty to abstain from a revelation as degrading as it was
unavailing.