I have seen the King, who gave me his account of July 28. It is a very curious thing that on the evening before he had told his Ministers that they would shoot at him from a window, that being the surest method of assassination. M. Thiers and General Athalin feared an attack at close quarters, and wished the King to take precautions against this, but he absolutely refused to do so as being useless. The King's advisers partly adopted his Majesty's view, but said they thought the attempt, if made at all, would be made in a narrow street. The King, on the other hand, maintained that they were wrong, and that the attempt would be made on the Boulevard because of the trees, which would afford better cover for the assassin. The King's predictions all came true. He told me that the most cruel moment in his life—which has certainly not been without incident—was when the order of the review brought him back after half an hour to the scene of the crime, and he was forced to pass through pools of blood and among the dead and wounded, amid the cries and lamentations of the people who had been torn to pieces because of him. When he rejoined his family he burst into tears, and his first words were, "Poor Marshal Mortier is dead." No one could have been more self-forgetful, more simply courageous, and yet more moved by the misfortunes of others. His conduct was really admirable, as is unanimously admitted.
The Emperor of Russia did not write personally, but contented himself with sending condolences by a chargé d'affaires. This is all the worse, as he wrote a letter with his own hand to the widow of the Duc de Trévise, who had been Ambassador at St. Petersburg. Several small Sovereigns were also silent. The letters from Austria were cordial, those from Prussia excellent, Saxony was tender, England correct, Holland kind but otherwise without interest.
The King, who very justly fears any shock, wishes to keep the present Ministry as long as possible, but he thinks he already sees some new germs of division which he fears will develop during the sick leave for which M. Thiers has applied and which will be accorded. The composition of a new Cabinet would be very difficult, chiefly owing to the question of the Presidency, which touches everybody's vanity. The King would like to abolish the Presidency altogether, and with this in view he would like to entrust it for a short time to some exceptional person with whom no one would compete and who could have no successor. It is thus that he comes to think of M. de Talleyrand. His Majesty is at least as antagonistic as ever to the doctrinaire party in the Cabinet, and fears above all that if there were a partial dissolution it would be this factor which would be strengthened.
I am always surprised when people lie without any particular object. It is quite natural that newspapers should amuse themselves by deceiving the public, but when Ministers of State amuse themselves by telling falsehoods the effect is curious. Thus M. Guizot told me the day before yesterday that it was he who broke the news of the catastrophe of July 28 to the Queen at the Hôtel de la Chancellerie. Well, it appears that the Princesses were told of the danger to which the King had just been exposed while they were still at the Tuileries and on the point of leaving for the Chancellerie, by two aides-de-camp sent by the King for that purpose! Vanity leads people into very contemptible things. Could anything be more childish than to invent a lying story about a fact of this kind?
Paris, September 10, 1835.—M. le Duc d'Orléans regrets that the Würtemberg project of marriage has not come off. He says he wishes to settle the matter as regards Princess Sophia, and to visit Stuttgart when he next goes to Germany. He says that if he married some one else without having seen her, he would be convinced that he had missed his true fate.
M. le Duc d'Orléans is very bitter about the Ministry in general; the royal family is disposed to blame the negligence and obstinacy (if it is no worse) of the police for what has happened. He is sure that for some time back the police have been wanting in ability, but as for the escape of Pépin, he is convinced it is due to the negligence of M. Pasquier, who sits languidly in an arm-chair and gives incomplete orders, and also to some extent to M. Martin du Nord, who transmits these orders, with even less detail, to inferior agents, who carry them out in the slackest way. M. Legonidec, in exculpating himself, makes very grave charges against his superiors, and some go so far as to say that M. Pasquier is negligent because he fears to find some Carlist at the bottom of the Fieschi affair. This is what Madame Adélaïde wants, and what the Queen fears above all things. The King thinks that the attempt has a Republican origin. The essential thing is to get at the truth if possible, and the determination of Ministers to see nothing in the whole affair but a conspiracy conceived in a cabaret is not one which is likely to lead to new discoveries.
Prince Leopold of Naples is accused of practising such duplicity in the matter of his marriage that any other than Princess Marie might have been disgusted with the affair. She is, however, anxious to be settled; no other match offers, and, as the King says, "You know, of course, that Neapolitan princesses simply must be married." His daughter is half a Neapolitan.
The eldest of our Princesses, the Queen of the Belgians, had so little inclination for the King, her husband, that she refuses ever to return to Compiègne, where her marriage was solemnised; and it is chiefly for this reason that the Court is arranging to go to Fontainebleau. However, this disinclination on the part of Queen Louise has been transformed into a conjugal affection so intense that she lives almost shut up with the King in a tête-à-tête which is hardly interrupted even by her ladies or the Master of the Household who receive all their orders in writing. The King and the Queen occupy adjoining rooms, the doors of which are left open. The King, who is timid and domestic in his habits, likes this sort of life very well, and it is much to his wife's taste, for she is only loved by her husband, while he is adored by her. I have these details from her brother, the Duc d'Orléans.
Paris, September 11, 1835.—My son Alexander, who is just returned from Italy, says that the country is covered with monks flying from Spain and taking with them the treasures of their convents. The precious stones which come from this source are being sold cheap.
The Queen of the French, though in delicate health, goes to bed late, and never retires without having herself read all the petitions addressed to her. She does this chiefly because she fears she might miss some information which might be given in this form and might concern the King's safety.