Chapter XVIII

LETTER ON THE DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES AT THE CATHOLIC SCHOOLS;
CONTINUATION OF JOURNAL; LETTER GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HER VISIT
TO THE FRENCH COURT.

Mrs. Opie’s next entry in her journal contains an account of the distribution of prizes at the Catholic Schools of the _Halles aux draps_, in the _4me arrondissement_. The accompanying letter enters into some particulars of this visit, and gives other details of interest.

Hôtel de Douvres, Rue de la Paix,
11me mo., 30me, 1830.

This _shall_ be a letter-writing day, my dear friend, and I will
at least begin my letter to thee, though it will not go till
sixth day by the ambassador’s bag. I was truly sorry not to see
thee before my departure, and equally so not to be able to write
thee.

Hitherto all has prospered with me, and I trust will continue to
do so; we are more quiet here than you seem to be in my dear
native land; even the ex-ministers seem forgotten, the people
threaten them no longer—audibly at least. It is thought they
will soon be transferred to the Luxembourg, guarded by several
troops of the National Guard; when there, I should not be
surprised if the duty of watching over them became a very
difficult and anxious one; but _nous verrons_; violent
excitements, if not kept alive, soon wear themselves out. I had
such an interesting morning yesterday at _les Halles aux draps_!
It was the distribution of prizes at the boys’ and girls’
schools. I went alone, and had time to contemplate, with great
interest, the young population before me! The boys were dressed
in a dark brown tunic a little _à la Grecque_, and this added to
the illusion, when I fancied that I beheld a race of young
republicans. “_Voyez vous cette jeune population?_” said an old
man near me, “_et en quinze ans ils seront hommes!_” It was only
a truism, but it made me think; and when, after a very good
liberal address from the mayor of the _arrondissement_, in a
tricolor sash and scarf, those young voices burst into songs of
joy and praise, I felt my eyes fill and my heart beat! * * *
Interrupted by Quatrefuges du Fesq, _Commandant de la Garde
Nationale, du département du Gard!_ a protestant gentleman of
large estates. He came to take me to the Chamber of Deputies,
but, as I dine out, and go to Lafayette’s, (if a cold will let
me,) I refused to go, and after a visit of an hour and a half he
has just quitted me; he seems a worthy man, and has lavished on
me a great deal of useless eloquence to persuade me not to go
out at all, and threatening to keep guard always at my door! he
was in his full military dress, and when two plain Friends came
in, to call on me, they looked so surprised to see such a
warlike man by my side! I said, “_que je présente un homme de
paix à un homme de guerre!_”—I was glad to find that he belongs
to a Bible Society _chez lui_; and he is going to present me to
its president. He is delighted at being one of my agents, and I
have met two English clergymen who are equally willing. To go on
with my schools—the Comtesse de St. Aulaire, one of the
committee, introduced herself to me, and hoped I approved what I
saw and heard; I was glad to be able to express my unqualified
approval. When the crowns of flowers and greens, and the books,
were all distributed, a letter from Appert was read, announcing
one prize from the Queen, which was given to the girl who had
already gotten the prize for good conduct, and she came looking
so meek and pretty in her crown of white roses. One child who
got a prize, was, the Comtesse told me, only six years old! When
the Mayor told them, at the close, that their industry should be
rewarded by ten days of holidays, the little girls clapped, and
shouted “_Vive le Roi!_”—“The boys did not do that,” said I to
a gentleman near me. “No, but it was in their hearts to do it,”
he gravely replied.

I then drove to Bowring’s lodgings, where I found the wife of
the Spanish General Mina; she was on her way to him; he has been
very ill. In the evening I saw Napoleon’s Count Bertram; which
completed the pleasurable sights of the day. I had the pleasure
of presenting to the dear General two members of our Society, J.
B. and his young nephew, and H. S.; they were much pleased.

I have dined at de Bardelin’s twice, and yesterday I met him at
Mrs. D.’s. One of the dishes was a _canard aux olives_; very
peculiar, but very good. I live _quite to my mind_; I have my
dinner from the _restaurateur_ belonging to the hotel, which is
the cheapest way, as firing is very dear, and I should have a
dinner’s worth expended in the kitchen; but I have a kitchen to
myself, and the whole floor, that is, the _entresol_ to me
exclusively; a great comfort. The parties on a seventh day eve,
at the Jardin des Plantes, (Baron Cuvier’s,) are pleasanter than
ever; ambassadeurs, savans, sages, deputés, historiens, &c., &c.
The Paris intellectual world runs just now after a new sect, (a
new religion, as they call it,) the Saint Simoniennes; the
founder is a St. Simon, of the Duc de St. Simon’s family. His
disciples preach up equality of property. The thing is, I
suspect, more political than anything else, in its object; but
on a first day there is religious preaching, and the room
overflows; so it does on a week-day evening, when there are only
lectures. The room is very near me, but I am in vain urged to
go. “What a triumph it would be to them,” (said a Frenchman to
me at Cuvier’s,) “to get off that little cap, and see it
exchanged for their large black hat and feathers!” (the costume,
with a blue gown, of the women.) But I, at present, hold out;
because I have, in the first place, as I tell them, a scruple
against going to any place of worship from curiosity merely; and
also because I have vainly tried to read their book of
doctrine—I could not get on with it; but as they agree with
Friends on two points, I am sometimes tempted to go one
evening;—_nous verrons_. * * *

(12th mo., 1st, 1830.) I passed a most pleasant day at Major
M.’s; the only guest beside myself was a General Ferguson, well
known for his sufferings in the cause of liberal opinions, as he
was imprisoned through the jealousy and suspicion of the
Austrian government some years ago, and liberated with great
difficulty, by Canning. I do not remember his story, but it was
before the House. My friends here have persuaded me to be at
home on one particular day; so on the seventh day morning I
receive from one to five, and I have _beaucoup de monde_.
Farewell, till to-morrow.

My friend E. M. is arrived. How good are her objects, how bright
her zeal! She is a Christian indeed, and she says much good is
doing; even that the St. Simoniennes are overruled for good. She
wishes me to go one evening. She says one or two pious preachers
mean to go and answer them, (for they put questions on a
week-day, and _wish_ for discussion.)

With love to all, I am, thy very affectionate,
A. OPIE.

The Journal continues:—

I went in the evening, at eight o’clock, to Lafayette’s, and had
a kind reception from the dear and venerated host; the rooms
were very full, and some Americans were introduced to me. The
officers of artillery and cannoneers, bearing their plumed caps
all the evening, have an odd effect.

(24th of the mo.) Received some visitors unexpectedly this
morning; one of them, in conversation, mentioned a remark by
Prudhomme, the editor of a Jacobin journal, in former days,
which struck me; “_Les grands sont hauts, parceque nous sommes à
genoux! levons nous!_” what an axiom! My evening solitary, but
pleasant; occupation is not only happiness itself, but it makes
one forget unhappiness.

(26th.) Went to St. Cloud. It is a splendid place, but I
thought not of its last owner, but of Napoleon; and while I
gazed on its magnificence, and thought of that and other
palaces, and of supreme and imperial dominion being so suddenly,
as it were, obtained by a soldier of fortune,—it seemed as if I
was contemplating not a reality, but a dream; and yet it
happened in _my_ time. If then I, who know it _did_ happen, and
who even saw some of the splendours of the Consulate, have
difficulty in believing that such things were, I must think the
next generation will suppose the accurate historian, even,
writes with the pen of exaggeration. And then to leave it all as
suddenly! Were he not exhibited here in public, in pictures in
the morning, and on the stage at night, even his memory perhaps
would pass away like a tale that is told! The column on the
Place Vendôme is, however, his most enduring monument.

Returning to Paris, we drove to the Palais Royal, and dined at
Richard’s in the grand _salon_. The charge there is two francs
per head, wine included; but if you drink no wine, you are
allowed another dish: we drank no wine, therefore were allowed a
third dish for our two francs; but we finished with a bottle of
champagne, price five francs, (4s. 2d. English.) Still, our
dinner did not cost us much, and it was varied and excellent. To
bed delighted with my day. How I wish, where it is not the
custom to introduce, that every one was ticketed.

(28th.) Went to Meeting; we had a comfortable sitting. Dined
at the Champs Elysées; read aloud two letters from a pious book;
after tea we fell into silence unexpectedly, and sat near an
hour; a great comfort—pleased with my day.

(4th day, 1st of 12th mo.) Ill, and at home all day alone; had
a most welcome and unexpected visit from E. M. Her account of
the state of the religious world here was cheering; I am so
glad! May her hopes for this great, but, on some points, _blind_
country, be realized; and may the prayers of her Christian heart
be fulfilled! There are many labourers in the field, oh! may it
really be white for the harvest. Wrote letters, and to bed
unwell, and rather depressed.

C., the Italian, called to thank me; poor man! he is welcome to
my money, but not my time; besides, I hate to be thanked.

(7th day.) Rose refreshed, and comparatively well. I had
several callers; F. remained after the rest, and gave me a
curious account of the causes of the difference which I observe
in the American accent, or dialect. He himself has no accent, (a
Philadelphian,) nor had F. Cooper, (a New York man,) and the
inhabitants of New York are said to speak better English than
those of other cities. Enjoyed my quiet evening alone.

(1st day, 5th.) To Meeting: a quiet refreshing sitting. Went
afterwards, with my friends, to call on l’Abbé Gregoire;[32]
found him looking so well and bright! He was eighty the day
before, and said he had not slept much in the night for thinking
of his father and mother, and of the hope to be reunited to them
soon, in another world. He said he did not go out, except to
visit the sick, or he would call on me; he also goes to walk in
the cemetery of Mont Parnasse, where he shall himself lie. We
left him, much pleased with our visit; and then drove to my
hotel, and dined together. I read to them a MS. of mine. Before
we parted, we fell into silence, and sat an hour; and then I
read two psalms. The day a very satisfactory one.

(2nd day, 6th.) Went to St. Sulpice, to hear a charity sermon,
preached by l’Abbé Faisan, for the benefit of the schools of St.
Nicholas. The beginning of the discourse was excellent, the end
extraordinary. He said if he had his choice of the power and
will, to give alms or to work miracles, he should prefer the
former, because the latter would not do him good; but the former
would win the favour of God, and procure him heaven! Almsgiving
alone was the means of salvation—not the blood of Christ! poor
man! M. Guizot and V. de L. held the bag at the door; we gave
our mite, and afterwards went to the cemetery of Vaugirard. It
was a touching spectacle! how many tricolor flags were waving,
like so many butterflies, over the graves of those killed, in
their country’s cause, on the memorable three days! Suddenly the
sun burst forth from a cloud, and darted its golden rays on some
of the white tombs and columns; the effect of the catching
lights was indescribable! The abode of death was suddenly
illuminated, emblematic, as it were, of those hopes of
immortality which illumine the bed of death of the pious: and,
as the flags waved in the breeze triumphantly, (as fancy
thought,) they seemed indicative of that victory which has
robbed death of its sting. And close by us stood a father and
mother, weeping over the grave of their son, a boy of fourteen,
and weeding his flowery turf! and he had been dead nine months!
I thought they would be relieved by talking of him, so I spoke
to them; and I found he was such a wonder of learning, for he
could read and write so well, and he was so good! I wished that
He who could alone comfort them might be near them; they said I
was ‘_très honnête_’.

(Third day, 7th.) Went to the Musée Grec. What changes had
taken place in thirteen months! Many beautiful things had been
removed, because the glass of the frames which held them had
been broken by the bullets, and others for fear they should be
so. There was a meaning smile (which I returned) on the faces of
the attendants, while I asked reasons for such and such a
change. We went to see where the people had entered, and the
damage done. It was very little, considering; and as we were
looking out of the window, we found we were over the graves
which I had visited the day after my arrival; and there, as
usual, stood men uncovered, and women and children. They were
now surrounding a tricolor flag, newly raised to one of the
victims; the groups were picturesque, and the feeling that had
assembled them was honourable! but what a shuddering sensation,
what painful thoughts of _civil war_; what _horrors_ did the
sight occasion.

In the evening I accompanied Madame M. to Lafayette’s. I cannot
reconcile myself to the _cannon_ at the door; but they were made
for the general, and presented to him by the people of Paris,
since the Revolution of this year, as the engraving on them
states.

We could scarcely enter the second room, it was so full! and the
military caps and plumes in the midst of it were like a forest!
Count de L. came up to us, “Observe the Prince de Salms,” said
he, “in a splendid scarlet and silver uniform: he is come to pay
his court to the General; he wants to be king of Belgium!” I
_did_ see him, a lively-looking, short young man, dazzling in
silver embroidery. How different the costume of a Polish
Palatine, who soon after entered! dignified in his carriage, but
looking like a priest, rather than a soldier; his tunic was
black; the tops of the sleeves were full; round his waist was a
girdle of gold lace, full four inches deep; and I think his
gold-handled sword and dagger were fastened with something of
gold fringe. His hair, of a reddish brown, was cut square on the
forehead, and hung _squared_ also, below the nape of his neck;
he was young and remarkable looking, and the tone of his voice
deep, rich, and sweet. I should have liked to have talked to
him, and tell him I knew Kosciusko; I saw _my_ dress excited his
curiosity as much as _his_ did mine. The evening was
interesting. I talked with Americans who were named to me, and
with Frenchmen, who neither knew me nor I them; but we were
jumbled together in the crowd, and politics and the _great days_
are themes which naturally occur. I saw also, with interest, the
Prince of Moskowa, the eldest son of Maréchal Ney. We did not
get home till twelve.

(4th day, 8th.) Went in search of lodgings; called at poor B.
Constant’s house, to inquire for him, as I heard at the
General’s he was in danger. I heard he was worse; what a loss to
France! * * * *

B. Constant is no more! I hope to have the melancholy
satisfaction of attending his funeral.

(1st day, 12th.) Breakfasted at De B.’s to see the funeral
procession pass; I gave up going to Père la Chaise, as I could
not be easy to give up Meeting, and said I should be at the
Champs Elysées by half-past twelve; it was _impossible_. The
convoi, which set off at ten, from the Rue d’Anjou, did not pass
our windows till one; there were at least 80,000 men in it! Had
it not been first day, I should have taken a coach, and followed
it to the Temple, and to Père la Chaise.

(14th.) In the morning Cuvier’s lecture; in the evening with
some Friends to Lafayette’s. The General received us in his
usual kind manner; they were pleased, and so surprised at his
youth and beauty! It was a gratifying evening to me. A number of
Americans were introduced to me, who had read my works, and
admired them, particularly the book on _Lying_; and a young lady
said, “our youth bless your name, you have done us so much
good!” I was affected, and, as usual felt but half gratified,
because my dear father could not know it also.

(1st day, 19th.) After Meeting went to call on la Comtesse de
Genlis; enjoyed my interview, and met a French lady who had read
my works in English; was flattered, as usual. The trial of the
Ministers is going on, and disturbances are feared.

(20th.) Fenimore Cooper called on me; a most interesting
interview! I read him a manuscript. He is a charming man; he
said things looked gloomily at the Luxembourg. * * * *

(12th mo., 21st.) Rose at half-past seven. I went to the T.s
to dinner, and heard, from undoubted authority, (that of Le
Dieu, editor of the “Revolution,”—a journal so called,) that
there were serious disturbances expected at the Luxembourg; and
that, not only the prisoners, but the peers were in danger;
however Le D. had promised to come in the evening, if he could,
and tell us what was passing in that quarter. Anxiously did we
look towards the door, whenever it opened; however, when we had
dined, and were talking over the cheerful fire, ceasing to watch
for his entrance, he was announced, and we crowded round him.
His news was indeed alarming! He was just come from the
Luxembourg; the people had assembled in thousands, had made
three attacks on the gates; had at last “_enfoncé la Garde
Nationale_” and forced the gates. They could not, however, make
their way to the prisoners or the peers, because the National
Guards had, instead of forming in lines, fallen back in a mass
before the doors, holding their arms as when exercising; the
people then attempted to seize their arms, but they said, “take
care! we will not fire, but, if you do not desist, we will use
the bayonet.” Soon after, some one (probably to produce a change
of place and object) said, “while you are stopping here, the
Peers will escape the other way;” this produced a diversion, and
they dispersed. Le D. then went on to say, that the people
continued to increase, till, he believed, there were 60,000, and
30,000 _Gardes nationaux_; that the guards had formed cordons
round certain streets and _quais_ to keep off the people, and
that he had advised some one to propose sending off the
prisoners to Vincennes in the night. He said he had had
conversation with the chiefs of the people, who were
deliberating together in some Café; and that their demand is,
that the Chamber of Peers should be _dissolved_, as well as the
prisoners condemned. He added he had advised the people to
assemble in the Champs de Mars, and decide to petition the King
for justice and redress; that at last they were angry with him,
and accused him of being the friend and defender of the
criminals; that he eagerly repelled the charge, and that
promising his friends to return at eleven o’clock, he came to
us! I staid listening to his various anecdotes, some grave, some
gay, till near eleven o’clock, and returned home to my new
apartments, anxious for the results of to-night and the
prospects of the morrow.

(21st.) Could not sleep. The _Journal des Débats_, which I had
at half-past eight, was at once alarming and tranquillizing; it
confirms the dangers and disquietudes of yesterday, but, at the
same time, it assures us that very strong means are taken to
resist the revolutionary spirit. It says that Lafayette went to
the Luxembourg, and put himself at the head of the _Garde
Nationale_, and was well received. Le D. represented him as
become very unpopular, and his excellent “_ordre du jour_,”
(which is on the walls,) as having been torn down and trodden
underfoot.

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.

(1st day, 2nd.) Went to Meeting, afterward to see poor Madame
de Genlis in her coffin! Happily arrived too late! was
introduced to some dear friends of the deceased, who for her
sake received me _à bras ouverts_, because she loved me! I
promised to go to her interment.

(3rd day, 4th.) Went to meet the mourners assembled for poor
Madame de Genlis’ funeral; General Gérard was presented to me.
At night went to Lafayette’s as usual, and was introduced to
many persons.

(5th day, 13th.) Went to see the diorama of the three days;
got there just as Lafayette left it!—In the evening to Mark
Wilks’s; a delightful evening! met the Duchess de Broglie.

(28th.) Had a brilliant party of distinguished persons. It was
rich in characters; Baron Cuvier, Gérard and his wife, Firman
Rogier, the Belgic deputy; General Pépé, the famous Neapolitan
chief, who brought with him Count de Almeyda, a Portuguese
minister to Donna Maria; Cooper, Koseff, the witty physician of
Talleyrand; H. Chuter, a man of letters, Colonel de Kay, a young
and gallant _chef d’escadre_, who distinguished himself for his
skill and bravery in Buenos Ayres. There were persons of ten
nations present. It was a choice party and pleasant evening; I
hope I was not improperly elated, and was certainly thankful for
this, amongst other favours.

(6th day, 4th.) In the evening Firman Rogier called; it was
near ten. “What news from Belgium?” “None to-day, I expect
dispatches to-morrow.” “Who will be king?” “No doubt the Duke de
Nemours.”—He staid till half-past ten, then said he was going
to make another visit.

(7th day, 5th.) The first thing I saw in the papers to-day
was, that at _six_ the preceding evening, the telegraph had
announced that the Duke de Nemours was elected king! and the
Belgic Envoyé knew it _not_, but was making calls! how strange!
he must explain this to me when we meet. Had nearly twenty
callers. Unwell.

* * * * * *

We shall not pursue the Journal further, but conclude this chapter with a letter, in which Mrs. Opie relates her visit to the French court.

Hôtel de la Paix, 3rd mo., 7th, 1831.

* * * At least I will begin a letter to thee, my dear friend,
to-day, _reste à savoir_ whether I shall be able to finish it. I
am amused (yet that is not the word) at seeing the formidable
appearance which the little disturbances here make in the
papers. I, living in the Rue and Hôtel de la Paix, know nothing
of them, therefore they are certainly local, and nothing of
consequence. We are most anxiously expecting the news from
Poland. One of my most agreeable associates here, Count de
Platen, left Paris, as he said, for London; but he is fighting
at Warsaw! having been obliged to enter Poland in disguise. I am
glad now I was not at home when he called to take leave. * * But
to a less painful theme.—I had the pleasure of spending the
evening of last first day week, seated _en famille_ by the side
of Marie Amèlie, Reine des François, in other words, I have been
to court; and, as the phrase is, most graciously received. La
Marquise de D., _dame d’honneur de la Reine_, came to my morning
reception the day before, and told me the Queen desired to see
me the next evening. I said I went nowhere on first day, but
this should be an exception to a general rule. She replied, that
if I had a scruple, she would ask the Queen for another day; I
told her I had _no_ scruple, for I felt sure there would be less
company than usual. “No one scarcely, but the family.” This was
just what I hoped and wished, and we parted.

I wanted to go at half-past eight, but my man was so sure they
could not be risen from dinner, that he persuaded me not to set
off till twenty minutes before nine, by which delay I failed to
see the King, who, tired out with business, was gone to bed
before I arrived. I was _alone_, and I really thought the long
suite of rooms would have no end. At last I was shewn into a
long room, at the end of which I saw some ladies sitting round a
table; as I entered, an English lady, coming out, caught my
hand, and said, “I must speak to you.” I returned the pressure,
saying, “I remember thee;” and then saw la Marquise de D. coming
to meet me. “_Je viens à vôtre secours_” said she, and we
approached the table, on which the Queen, and la Princesse
d’Orléans, rose, and said, “_bon jour, Madame Opie_,” the Queen
adding, “Sit down by me, I am glad to see you, I have read your
works,”—and so forth. My friend, the Marquise, sat on the other
side; round the table, sat two of the princesses, and some
_dames d’honneur_, and the Dukes of Orléans and Nemours were
standing near it. I cannot tell thee all the conversation that
ensued, nor all the interesting questions which I had to answer;
but I found the Queen a very pious-minded woman, and thou wilt
think so, when I tell thee one of her _most favourite works_,
and one she has given to her daughters, is the life of Mary
Fletcher, the methodist, lately translated into French. The
Queen, at length, resumed her work, (making a sort of silk
_charpie_ or lint, to stuff _chauffe pieds_ with.) “As it is
Sunday (said she) I cannot do any other work; but I do not like
to sit idle, and when one works it is pleasant to know one is
working for the poor—this is for a lottery for the poor.” I
asked the Marquise the name of the lady I had met going out.
“Walker.” “Then I was right,” I cried. “_Oui Madame Opie_,” said
the Queen, “I knew her well.” “And she was one of my most
intimate friends,” said Mademoiselle d’Orléans. “And she was
very good to me,” said I, instantly recollecting (what I did not
choose to mention, namely,) that being in the habit of singing
Italian duos formerly, with that very lady, and going one night,
by invitation, to a musical party at her house, when I entered,
she came up to me, saying, “Oh! my dear, I am so sorry: I
invited you this evening in order to present you to the Count
d’Artois, (Charles Dix,) I wanted him to hear you sing, but he
is ill, and can’t come!” I do not know how _many_ years
afterwards, and after a long separation, I met my singing
friend, her daughter, in the palace of Louis Philippe! * * * *

I am thine, with love to distribute,
A. OPIE.

-----

[32] The Abbé Gregoire, who, with Lafayette, and thirty-eight more, is the only survivor of the twelve hundred (I think) who formed the first National Assembly. I knew him twenty-seven years ago, here.—A. O.

[33] One of the “Lays for the Dead” (page 63) commemorates this event.

[34] Mr. J. J. Gurney’s “Letter to a friend on the Authority, Purposes, and Effects, of Christianity.” This Tractate Mrs. Opie had translated into French during her stay in Paris.