31st.—Lafayette is now said to be the oracle of the provisional government, and the idol of the populace. Advanced far in the vale of life, his energies and vigour are gone, and his name serves the party more than his counsel can; for with the republicans, at least, it is a guarantee for honest motives. What a strange destiny has his been—called on to perform so conspicuous a part in two revolutions!
—— has just been here, and announced that the Duc d'Orléans is named Lieutenant-general of France. It is asserted, that this appointment has been effected by the influence of General Lafayette over the provisional government; but how little in accordance is this measure with the well-known Utopian scheme of a republic, which has for years been the favourite dream of this venerable visionary?
August 1st. —— now has brought the intelligence that Charles the Tenth has nominated the Duc d'Orléans Lieutenant-general, so that his Royal Highness has been chosen by both sides—a flattering proof of the confidence reposed in him by each. Were he ambitious, here is an opportunity of indulging this "infirmity of noble minds," though at the expense of the elder branch of his family; but he will not, I am sure, betray the trust they have confided to him. Order seems now to be in a great measure restored; the people appear in good-humour; but there is a consciousness of power evident in their hilarity that too forcibly reminds one of their victory.
The Duc of Orléans has been to the Hôtel-de-Ville, where he presented himself to the people from the balcony; embraced General Lafayette, who stood by his side; and was applauded with enthusiasm by the immense multitude who witnessed the accolade.
2nd.—The news of the day is, that Charles the Tenth has abdicated the crown in favour of the Duc de Bordeaux, who is now styled Henri V. This act might, four or five days ago, have produced some salutary effect; but it now comes too late—at least, so think those who profess to know more on the subject than I do. The position of the Lieutenant-general, in this case, reminds me of that of a confidante in a quarrel between lovers, in which the interest of the absent is too often sacrificed, owing to the dangerous opportunity furnished for forwarding that of the supposed friend.
3d.—Again, considerable excitement has prevailed in the town, produced by the proclamation, that the dethroned sovereign had determined to take up his position, with the strong military force that still adheres to him, at Rambouillet. The publicity given to this news was a very injudicious measure, if conciliation, or even forbearance to the deposed family, was desired.
The populace, that many-headed monster, only seen abroad when evil passions dictate violence, again rush through the streets, breathing vengeance against the poor old man, whose grey hairs, more exposed by the absence of the crown his ci-devant subjects have wrested from his head, should have claimed more respect at their hands. Truly has the poet said,
"He who has worn crown,
When less than king is less than other men,—
A fallen star, extinguish'd, leaving blank
Its place in heaven."
This fickle people, or, at least, the dregs of them, for it would be unjust to confound all in their enormities, will efface the credit they have gained by the forbearance from crime that has as yet characterised this revolution, by some act of brutality towards the royal family. But even the very dregs of the people have not appeared desirous to adopt any such course, until excited into it by the wicked rumours set afloat, that Charles the Tenth had carried off all the crown jewels—a rumour peculiarly calculated to excite their ire and meet a ready credence, each individual of the motley train looking on himself as having an interest in these national riches, and judging from self, of the possibility—nay, more, probability, of so vile an action. How little can such minds identify themselves with the feelings of those who, sated with the gewgaws and trappings of grandeur, forget them in the deep, the powerful excitement of beholding a throne crumbling into ruin beneath them—a diadem rudely torn from their brows—the power they wielded, even that of doing good, wrested violently, with the sceptre, from their hands; and more than all, behold the loved, the trusted—those on whom they had showered benefits with prodigality, turn from them in their hour of need and join their foes!
"If thou canst hate, as, oh! that soul must hate
Which loves the virtuous and reveres the great;
If thou canst loathe and execrate with me
That gallic garbage of philosophy,—
That nauseous slaver of these frantic times,
With which false liberty dilutes her crimes;
If thou hast got within thy free-born breast
One pulse that beats more proudly than the rest
With honest scorn for that inglorious soul
Which creeps and winds beneath a mob's control.
Which courts the rabble's smile, the rabble's nod,
And makes, like Egypt, every beast its God!"