Alibaud yielded to the exhortations of the Abbé Grivel. He confessed, and therefore has repented. On the scaffold he kissed the crucifix before the people, but when one of the servants took away his black veil he flew into a rage and turned suddenly round to the multitude, red in the face, crying, "I die for my country and for liberty," and then he submitted.
M. Decazes also told us that every day brought him anonymous letters, denunciations, and revelations, and that it was impossible to get a moment's peace. He left me in profound sadness.
Valençay, July 16, 1836.—The Prince de Laval, who is still here, admiring everything and evidently well pleased in spite of our political differences, has a certain form of wit which consists in saying smart and clever remarks now and then, but these are wanting in taste and balance. His class snobbishness recalls that of M. Saint-Simon, his caste prejudice is carried to a ridiculous point, his curiosity and gossip are unexampled, and his selfishness and absorption in his own importance and amusement are inconceivable; he advances every claim on his own behalf, and is therefore unbearable when taken seriously. Taken the other way, there is something to be got out of him, the more so as, though he is a tease, he is not ill-tempered, and the very extravagance of his poses forces him to live up to them.
The Duc de Noailles, whom we also expect here to-day, is very different; he is reasonable, self-possessed, cold, polite, and reserved, asking no questions, never chattering nor wearying anybody; but though he is unpretentious his claims to consideration are none the less real, and he is absorbed, first of all by his position as a great lord, and then as a politician. His position as a man of fashion and fortune, of which Adrien de Laval boasts his past possession, as they are now gone, has no attraction for him. I might even say that if M. de Laval is a quondam young man, the Duc de Noailles is an old man before his time. He is only thirty-four or thirty-five, but his face, his manners, and his life in general make him appear fifty.
Paris, July 27, 1836.—I think more and more of the Duc de Noailles. He is a man of good judgment, sound taste, with a sense of honour and excellent manners. He is also dignified and possessed of common sense, while his goodwill is valuable, and his high position may be useful in the world in which he is a figure. But my high opinion of his good qualities and the value which I set upon his goodwill and friendship do not prevent me from seeing his pretentiousness. His chief ambition is political, and is not, perhaps, sufficiently supported by the ease of temperament which is quite indispensable at the present time. The whole family has remained what it was two hundred years ago. The Noailles are rather illustrious than ancient, rather courtiers than servants, but servants rather than favourites, intriguers rather than ambitious, society people rather than lords, snobs rather than aristocrats, and above all and before all, Noailles. I know the whole of the family existing at the present time; the best and most capable of them is undoubtedly the Duc, whom I judge perhaps somewhat severely, but for whom I have always a real esteem.
I left Valençay the day before yesterday at six o'clock in the morning; my dear Pauline was very sad at being left behind; I slept at Jeurs with the Mollien family, reaching their house at eight o'clock in the evening, and arrived here in pretty good time. I found M. de Talleyrand in fairly good health, but much disturbed by the state of affairs. The King will not be present at to-morrow's review, and has given it up because of a discovery that fifty-six young people have sworn to kill him. As it was impossible to arrest these fifty-six, it has been thought more advisable to abandon the review. In what times we live!
The death of Carrel[ [38] has also thrown a gloom over us. He made many mistakes, but his mind was distinguished and his talent remarkable. Even M. de Chateaubriand, the author of the "Génie du Christianisme," wept as he walked in the funeral procession of the man who refused to see a priest and forbade the holding of any Church ceremony at his funeral. The desire to produce an effect usually ends in some loss of taste and propriety in the most essential details.
Affairs in Spain are going very badly. The supporters of intervention are growing active, and many of them are influential and leading spirits, but the supreme will is in active opposition to them.
During my journey yesterday I was in very good company, with Cardinal de Retz, whose memoirs I have taken up again; I had not read them for many years, and then at an age when one is more attracted by the facts and the anecdotes than by the style or reflections. The style is lively, original, strong, and graceful, while the reflections are thoughtful, judicious, elevating, striking, and abundant. What a delightful book, and what insight, and often more than insight, in judgment, if not in action! He was a political La Bruyère.
Paris, July 28, 1836.—Yesterday the Duc d'Orléans came to see me. He is in very bad health and somewhat melancholy; he too is obliged to take an infinite number of precautions which sadden his life. The King had resolved to go to the review, but was at the same time so convinced that he would be killed that he made his will, and gave full orders and directions to his son concerning his accession to the throne.