I wonder whether he will receive this evening! Perhaps the ladies will receive, whether he be there or not, that the rooms may appear lighted up, as if there was not much to fear. General de B. came just now, in kindness, to advise me not to go out to-day. I want to go to the lecture, but I could not get him to say positively whether he thought it probable, or possible, for Cuvier to lecture to-day, as that quarter of the town is the disturbed one; if the cordon be there, that was there yesterday, no fiàcre can pass, but whether or not, he advises my staying at home. I cannot yet determine what to do. The people and their leaders in this mouvement (that is the word in use) do not consider the chamber of peers as a legal body according to existing circumstances; they consider it as a child of the Restoration, and think it should have followed its parent, and disappeared. Nor has the conduct of the peers, on this trial, done aught but considerably increase their unpopularity. The people have their spies in the chamber; and, in reply to my observation—“they are anticipating the judgment of acquittal, was it not time enough to act when it was given?”—he said, they knew from their friends how things were going; they felt themselves betrayed, and therefore could forbear no longer, and nothing but their dissolution, as a chamber, can satisfy them. If now they dissolve themselves, they may yet be saved! I think I shall venture out at two; and towards the rue St. Jacques. * * H. L. came at two, to say that he dared not take me thither, the streets around, and that where the Baron lectures, being filled with men and soldiers, and that it might be difficult to get back. We went however to the État Major, to ask whether the General received that evening.—Not allowed to enter the gates, and found that the État Major was no longer there; that seemed answer sufficient. To bed, “anxious for to-morrow’s dawn.”
(4th day, 22nd.) At eight o’clock Manuel knocked at my door, and told me that judgment had been pronounced the preceding evening, and that Polignac and Peyronet were condemned to death, and the others to exile! It was a terrible moment! and I dressed myself hastily, and in no small emotion; but my mind was relieved when I saw the Journal des Débats, and saw that P.’s death was only mort civile. While reading the deeply interesting narrative of their being carried to Vincennes, I heard the drums beating in an unusual manner, and found it was the Générale calling all the soldiers to arm and assemble in haste. At eleven I sallied forth to call on the Coopers, and spent a most agreeable hour with him and his wife. I left them, to go to the Duchess de Broglie’s; and he was going to see what was passing at the Palais Royal, for the continued beating of the Générale was alarming. When I reached the Rue de Rivoli, I saw General Fergusson, who advised me, on second thoughts, as he said, not to go to the Rue de l’Université, but to defer my calls till next week; and, as the Duchess might be fearing for her husband’s life, I thought my call, long deferred, might be deferred a little longer. I then went to the Place du Carousel, and saw an awful scene to me: national guards, bivouacking before the Tuilleries palace, and the people looking at them through the grille, in silence but not in love; disappointment and deep resentment seemed lowering on their brows—I never saw such expression before! Tears filled my eyes as I gazed on them! In the place itself there was a considerable number of soldiers also, and the people were outnumbered. I had satisfied my curiosity, and I retired, and next traversed the whole garden of the Tuilleries alone! Near the terrace, to the west, I saw the Garde Nationale stretching in a line before the Garde Meuble, and others exercising, as I believed. Soon after, I saw a very long line of guards coming along the quai. I was pursuing my walk; and, by the time I got to the gates and the streets, this body of men passed me; and, as I was crossing to go to the Hôtel Breetuil, I was stopt, and a little alarmed by seeing a long line of men approaching, en habit bourgeois, and on their meeting the guards I heard violent shouting, but I knew not what it was! I stood by while they passed—they walked, the tricolor in the midst, and in great order, and on their hats was a card or paper, and they were all young. I was told they were the different schools, but whither they were going, and why, none knew; still I thought they looked too happy to be insurgents and “jeunes insensés,” as I heard them called. Being told the Place Vendôme was full of soldiers, I resolved to get home as fast as possible, and it was near four o’clock. I found the guard bivouacking in the Rue Castiglione, and their fires along the street; but in the Place Vendôme there was no crowd, only soldiers preparing to bivouac. I learned that the young men were the scholars, who, having been falsely accused of conspiring and insubordination, had come forward, begging to have arms and uniforms, to give the lie to their accusers. This was quite a relief to my mind, and I found the dear young men did not look so happy for nothing. After dinner C. M. came to take me out, and shew me Paris. I said “it is now too late”—“not if you will venture;” it was nine o’clock, and the weather rather rainy; but I am a curious and sentimental traveller, and I went.
(5th day, the 23rd.) Now to relate my adventures of last night—went first to look at the bivouacs on the Place Vendôme; was forcibly reminded of Salvator Rosa’s pictures of banditti, as the fire-lights glanced on the helmets and fire-arms, and the faces of men were seen in shadow—passed on—(no one was suffered to linger there) and went to the Place du Carousel. Along the Tuilleries were fires and soldiers; and, while we were warming ourselves at one of them, a horse patrouille passed us, some of whom cried, “Vive le Roi!” but, (as I observed,) “j’ai entendu mieux crier.” The people, chiefly boys, with us, at one of the deserted fires, did not join the cry—poor things! they seemed to enjoy the warmth. We then went to the Palais Royal, our steps constantly impeded by companies of soldiers: as we approached this focus of émeute, we saw the surrounding houses were, in a measure, illuminated. When we got to the outside grille, we saw women and men clinging to it, while inside and outside were continued and loud cries of “Vive le Roi!” and we found he was shewing himself in the balcony. Soon after, it was said he was coming out, and to-day I find he did come down amongst them. Once the gates opened, and we found it was the Duke de Nemours, going out with the cavalry guards to patrouiller the city. Redoubled shouts now greeted a coming body of men, and they proved to be the schools I had seen in the morning. At length we went through a shop into the galleries (as they are called) of the Palais Royal; they were lighted up as usual; but in the square of the fountain were various fires for the bivouac, and round them were soldiers of the line and National Guards intermixed, dancing à la mode, and singing the songs of liberty! The people outside were looking on delighted. We soon entered the lighted and vaulted passage which leads out of the Palais Royal; and at length, through new and beautiful passages, (where we saw many gens d’armes and National Guards, quietly reading the papers and taking refreshments,) we reached the Boulevard through the passage Panorama; quite convinced that order for that night was re-established. On the Boulevard we met one of the aides de camp of Lafayette. My companion stopt and introduced him to me, as the very man who conducted the transfer of the prisoners to Vincennes; what a pleasing opportunity for me! I asked him how they looked? He said they looked “défaits, pâles, abattus, et comme des hommes qui s’attendaient à chaque instant d’être mis en morceaux;” and so, added he, they would have been, if we had set off half an hour later. He described the awful moment thus:—“A la petite porte du guichet, au petit Luxembourg, there was no one; there the Garde Nationale formed ‘une haie;’ it was three in the afternoon, the judgment not given. There the calèche with two horses drove up, the prisoners were waiting at the guichet, and we put them in the calèche.’” “En silence?” “Oui, Madame, tout c’est passé dans le silence le plus profond. At a certain distance the calèche, and the fifty guards who accompanied it, set off ‘au grand galop.’ In the villages we were recognised, and terrible cries of vengeance were heard; but we went too quick to be stopt, else all would have been over with them. So sure indeed were they, that they should not reach Vincennes alive, nor quit Paris alive, that they made some arrangements before they set off; and the happiest moment of their lives was that of their arrival at their prison, ‘pour n’en plus sortir!’” It is curious that this gentleman was one of those whom Polignac had set down in the list, to be arrested, and probably condemned. He is the editor of a journal, and wrote against the Ordinances. He said he had not had his boots off for days and nights, and was then going back to mount guard. “But all is quiet now, all is over, all danger?” “All is reprimé maintenant,” was his answer, but his countenance was triste, and the word reprimé did not satisfy me.
When we came again in sight of La Place Vendôme, which we left full of soldiers, we went to ascertain the fact of their being there no longer, and so it was; only two or three soldiers remained to see that the fires were put out. One woman was collecting some of the fire into an iron pot: “it would be lost, you know, (she said) if I did not take it,” and an officer (as I believe he was,) came up and said, “elle fait bien.” In reply to our inquiries, he said:—“All is far from being terminé. Ah Madame! demain à trois heures, je vous conseille de rester chez vous, et de ne plus sortir de toute la journeé: bon soir! voilà un petit avis que je vous donné!” I went home almost sorry to have received this rabat joie.—However, though (from reading the journal of to-day) I am almost sure the man only wished to alarm me, or perhaps to reprove my venturous walk of last night, I have given up my intention of going to walk in the gardens, where yesterday I saw ladies and gentlemen as usual.
(Christmas day.) Had many visitors—several Americans—dined with my friends on turkey and plum pudding. Went at half-past nine to the Cuviers’; how I repented going! I had seen in the Journal des Débats the discussion, relative to the Commandant Generalship, and felt it an intended blow to General Lafayette—the discussion being such that it would lead him to resign; and lo! M. de M. came, and said a most important event had taken place, which might have de grand résultats; M. de Lafayette had sent in his démission! This was accompanied with remarks and a manner which gave me a feeling not only of sorrow but of speechless indignation! Came home uneasy, angry, and anxious. What a Christmas evening! however, I had a pleasant dinner with kind friends.
(3rd day, 28th.) Found Lafayette had positively refused to continue, and was to receive at the rue d’Anjou. There are different opinions on the subject, as usual; I think him quite right. His speech in the tribune on the subject, was admirable, and its truth undoubted. Went to the rue d’Anjou; the room crowded to excess, the street also; 1000 persons at least, first and last—he en habit bourgeois—calm, dignified, kind, as usual. I felt pleased to see the General so clung to.
(4th day.) Q. came and persuaded me to go with him to the Hôtel de Ville, to see, and be introduced to, that admirable man, Odillon Barrot. I went, and was much pleased with him, and promised to go to a soirée next fifth day.
(5th day.) Rose anticipating much enjoyment, but heard almost the most overwhelming news I could receive, from England. My eldest and almost my dearest friend, Joseph Gurney, dead in a moment, and in his wife’s presence! but to him what a merciful dispensation! On her sorrow I cannot dwell.[[33]]
(6th day, 31st.) I did not go out the whole day. Had some callers at night. Went with Manuel to see the shops, and buy some presents on new year’s eve. At five o’clock, while I was dining, C. M. came in to tell me poor Madame de Genlis was that morning found dead in her bed!! How I regretted not going to see her last first day!
(New Year’s day.) Had many cards, and sent many also. Some callers; several Americans; I gave some my autograph, and lines to Lafayette. * * * What a longing though I fear vain desire do I feel, to do good to those over whom I have any influence. J. J. G.’s “Letter”[[34]] was my new year’s gift both to men and women.