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left—that sinks into your soul, and enchants you with the hue of by-gone memories—of hopes and happiness no more. There is nothing of this here: whatever is most remarkable in Paris is remarkable for its gaiety. This is why I spoke of the Boulevards: this is why I now speak of the Palais Royal.-It will be long before I forget an evening that I spent there in the beginning of August, 1830. I had come from the quiet corners of the city, more and more struck at every step by the tranquillity into which a revolution could so suddenly subside. It could hardly be said there was a government, and—there seemed nothing to require one: the storm that had raised the barricade and swept over the throne, was lulled completely to rest. The poor population of the distant Faubourgs slept in forgetfulness of the recent triumphs they had won; and the streets through which I had passed were lone and silent, and traversed by no light, save that of the pale réverbère.' It was fresh from this dim and solitary walk, that I burst at once upon the splendour and the crowds of the Palais Royal. Every chair, every stone bench was occupied, and, instead of the dark and deserted street, I found myself lost in an immense throng, and bewildered by a blaze of light, which ostentatiously displayed shawls
and silks, and gold, and silver, and crystal, and precious stones; and amidst this gorgeous and confused glitter, sate in sedate satisfaction the epicurean 'Rentier,' now recounting to his wife the change that was to be made in the new uniform of the Garde Nationale—now pointing out some pupil of the Polytechnic School, or some dark-haired student of the
• Ecole de Droit,' who had been particularly conspicuous at the spot where he himself had performed miracles : and the waiters rushed from side to side, bustling, shouting; and the laugh, and the gay voice in which the Frenchman tells the tale of his exploits, resounded everywhere.
It was impossible not to connect the festivity around me with the events of the three days preceding : it was impossible not to imagine I was present at the jubilee of the new régime:' and in each accent of gaiety I fancied there was to be discerned a peculiar tone, and in each look of joy I fancied there could be read a peculiar expression--and what place more proper to celebrate the triumphs of July ? Installed amidst the commercial opulence around me, was at that time the residence of the Citizen King --the monarch of the middle classes; his palace was supported by shops; his wealth* was con
* The chairs alone give a revenue of 80,000 francs.
nected with the wealth, and his fortune supplied by the fortune of the tailor, the watchmaker, the jeweller, and the restaurateur:' France, in reconstituting her monarchy, had meetly and involuntarily taken-the counter as a substitute for the buckler-chivalric cradle of her military kings! But two months before, and the windows of the palace, which at that moment were dark and gloomy, blazed with light! The Royal Exile of Cherbourg, then in all the pageantry of power, had deigned for the first time to visit the cousin who now sat upon his throne. More than one branch of the Bourbons were assembled on the eve of that catastrophe which was to affect the order of their race. The fête given was in honour of the King of Naples. “C'est une fête toute Napolitaine, Monseigneur,” said Monsieur de Salvandy; “nous dansons sur un volcan.”*
* “ C'est une fête toute Napolitaine, Monseigneur," said M. de Salvandy, nous dansons sur un volcan." And brilliant must have been that fête; extending from the terrace to the trees, from arcade to arcade, the lights of the palace confounded themselves with the lights of the vast amphitheatre around, and mingling the prince with the people, the monarch with the mob, in one confused blaze-you saw the court, the city—the two parties in presence who were soon to dispute the victory. At this fête a conversation took place so
Such are the vicissitudes of history !—The same Richelieu who tore down the pillars of the
singular and so interesting that, having mentioned the fête, I cannot omit the conversation. I give it as M. de Salvandy has himself related it.
“ It took place as the consequence of the bon-mot. • C'est une fête toute Napolitaine, Monseigneur ; nous dansons sur un volcan.' The Prince (Duc d'Orléans,) standing behind the · fauteuils' of the Princesses and the King, seized my arm quickly as I said this; and doing me the honour to draw me towards him, “That there is a volcano,' said his Royal Highness, 'I believe as well as you; and at all events the fault is no fault of mine : I shall not have to reproach myself for allowing the bandage to remain unlifted that covers the King's eyes. But what can one do? nothing is listened to, and God only knows where this will lead us.'
«« «Far! Monseigneur, it will lead us far !-that is my conviction. I feel also in the midst of this fête, so animated and so beautiful, a profound sentiment of sorrow: I ask myself where in six months will be this brilliant society? where will be these crowds so joyous, that Princess so gay, (alluding to Madame la Duchesse de Berri, who was 'galloping' with Count Rodolph d’Appony,) where in fact will be our country? Within six months we shall probably be divided into the proscribed and the proscribing.'
“Certes,' answered his Royal Highness, “I do not know what will happen, I do not know where those you speak of will be in six months; but I know where I shall be, whatever comes. I and my family will remain in this palace; it is enough to have been twice aạ.
ancient monarchy, built the palace from which the new monarchy was to be taken ; * at once exile through the faults of others. Whatever be the dangers, I shall not move from this spot : I shall not separate my lot and the lot of my children from the fate of my country. What I say to you I make no secret of elsewhere; lately, indeed, at Rosny, I said pretty fully what I thing of all this; and there is the King of Naples, who was with us, and who saw clearly our position. That prince, whom you see so broken, and who nevertheless is four years younger than I am, is a man of a good deal of sense ; circumstances oblige him to be an absolute king,’ (Austrian bayonets,) 'but
* The Palais Royal, constructed after the plans of Lemercier, was one of the works of his magnificent reign, and was called, during his lifetime, Palais Cardinal.”
Funeste bâtiment autant que magnifique,