rights to the throne and to your love; he is no longer obliged to
depict his person, to inform you how many members of his family
still exist. You know him, this Bourbon, the first to come, after
our disaster, worthy herald of old France, to cast himself, a
branch of lilies in his hand, between you and Europe. Your eyes
rest with love and pleasure on this Prince, who in the ripeness of
years has preserved the charm and elegance of his youth, and who
now, adorned with the diadem, still is but ONE FRENCHMAN THE MORE
IN THE MIDST OF YOU. You repeat with emotion so many happy mots
dropped by this new monarch, who from the loyalty of his heart
draws the grace of happy speech. What one of us would not confide
to him his life, his fortune, his honor? The man whom we should
all wish as a friend, we have as King. Ah! Let us try to make him
forget the sacrifices of his life! May the crown weigh lightly on
the white head of this Christian Knight! Pious as Saint Louis,
affable, compassionate, and just as Louis XII., courtly as Francis
I., frank as Henry IV., may he be happy with all the happiness he
has missed in his long past! May the throne where so many monarchs
have encountered tempests, be for him a place of repose! Devoted
subjects, let us crowd to the feet of our well-loved sovereign,
let us recognize in him the model of honor, the living principle
of our laws, the soul of our monarchical society; let us bless a
guardian heredity, and may legitimacy without pangs give birth to
a new King! Let our soldiers cover with their flags the father of
the Duke of Angouleme. May watchful Europe, may the factions, if
such there be still, see in the accord of all Frenchmen, in the
union of the people and the army, the pledge of our strength and
of the peace of the world!" The author of the Genie du
Christianisme thus closed his prose dithyramb: "May God grant to
Louis XVIII. the crown immortal of Saint Louis! May God bless the
mortal crown of Saint Louis on the head of Charles X.!"

In this chant in honor of the King and of royalty, M. de
Chateaubriand did not forget the Duke and Duchess of Angouleme,
nor the Duchess of Berry and the Duke of Bordeaux. "Let us
salute," he said, "the Dauphin and Dauphiness, names that bind the
past to the future, calling up touching and noble memories,
indicating the own son and the successor of the monarch, names
under which we find the liberator of Spain and the daughter of
Louis XVI. The Child of Europe, the new Henry, thus makes one step
toward the throne of his ancestor, and his young mother guides him
to the throne that she might have ascended."

Happy in the ease with which the change in the reign had taken
place, and seeing the unanimous manifestations of devotion and
enthusiasm by which the throne was surrounded, the Duchess of
Berry regarded the future with entire confidence. Inclined by
nature to optimism, the young and amiable Princess believed
herself specially protected by Providence, and would have
considered as a sort of impiety anything else than absolute faith
in the duration of the monarchy and in respect for the rights of
her son. Had any one of the court expressed the slightest doubt as
to the future destiny of the CHILD OF MIRACLE, he would have been
looked upon as an alarmist or a coward. The royalists were simple
enough to believe that, thanks to this child, the era of
revolutions was forever closed. They said to themselves that
French royalty, like British royalty, would have its Whigs and its
Tories, but that it was forever rid of Republicans and
Imperialists. At the accession of Charles X. the word Republican,
become a synonym of Jacobin, awoke only memories of the guillotine
and the "Terror." A moderate republic seemed but a chimera; only
that of Robespierre and Marat was thought of. The eagle was no
longer mentioned; and as to the eaglet, he was a prisoner at
Vienna. What chance of reigning had the Duke of Reichstadt, that
child of thirteen, condemned by all the Powers of Europe? By what
means could he mount the throne? Who would be regent in his name?
A Bonaparte? The forgetful Marie Louise? Such hypotheses were
relegated to the domain of pure fantasy. Apart from a few
fanatical old soldiers who persisted in saying that Napoleon was
not dead, no one, in 1824, believed in the resurrection of the
Empire. As for Orleanism, it was as yet a myth. The Duke of
Orleans himself was not an Orleanist. Of all the courtiers of
Charles X., he was the most eager, the most zealous, the most
enthusiastic. In whatever direction she turned her glance, the
Duchess of Berry saw about her only reasons for satisfaction and
security.





II

THE ENTRY INTO PARIS


The Duchess of Berry took part in the solemn entry into Paris made
by Charles X., Monday, 27th September, 1824. She was in the same
carriage as the Dauphiness and the Duchess and Mademoiselle of
Orleans. The King left the Chateau of Saint Cloud at half-past
eleven in the morning, passed through the Bois de Boulogne, and
mounted his horse at the Barriere de l'Etoile. There he was
saluted by a salvo of one hundred and one guns, and the Count de
Chambral, Prefect of the Seine, surrounded by the members of the
Municipal Council, presented to him the keys of the city. Charles
X. replied to the address of the Prefect: "I deposit these keys
with you, because I cannot place them in more faithful hands.
Guard them, gentlemen. It is with a profound feeling of pain and
joy that I enter within these walls, in the midst of my good
people,--of joy because I well know that I shall employ and
consecrate all my days to the very last, to assure and consolidate
their happiness." Accompanied by the princes and princesses of his
family and by a magnificent staff, the sovereign descended the
Champs-Elysees to the Avenue of Marigny, followed that avenue,
and entered the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, before the Palace
of the Elysee. At this moment, the weather, which had been cold
and sombre, brightened, and the rain, which had been falling for a
long time, ceased. The King heard two child-voices crying
joyously, "Bon-papa." It was the little Duke of Bordeaux and his
sister at a window of an entresol of the Elysee which looked out
upon the street. On perceiving his two grandchildren, Charles X.
could not resist the impulse to approach them. He left the ranks
of the cortege, to the despair of the grand-master of ceremonies.
The horse reared. A sergeant-de-ville seized him by the bit.
Listen to Madame de Gontaut: "I was frightened, and cried out. The
King scolded me for it afterward. I confessed my weakness; to fall
at the first step in Paris would have seemed an ill omen. The King
subdued his fretful horse, said a few tender words to the
children, raised his hat gracefully to the ladies surrounding us.
A thousand voices shouted: Vive le Roi! The grand-master was
reassured, the horse was quieted, and the King resumed his place.
The carriage of the princes and princesses passing at that moment,
the little princes saw them--it was an added joy."

The cortege followed this route: the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore,
the boulevards to the Rue Saint-Denis, the Rue Saint-Denis, the
Place du Chatelet, the Pont au Change, the Rue de la Bailer,
the Marche-Neuf, the Rue Neuve-Notre-Dame, the Parvis. At every
moment the King reined in his superb Arab horse to regard more at
ease the delighted crowd. He smiled and saluted with an air of
kindness and a grace that produced the best impression. Charles X.
was an excellent horseman; he presented the figure and air of a
young man. The contrast naturally fixed in all minds, between his
vigorous attitude and that of his predecessor, an infirm and
feeble old man, added to the general satisfaction. The houses were
decorated with white flags spangled with fleurs-de-lis. Triumphal
arches were erected along the route of the sovereign. The streets
and boulevards were strewn with flowers. At the sight of the
monarch the happy people redoubled their acclamations. Benjamin
Constant shouted: "Vive le roi!"--"Ah, I have captured you at
last," smilingly remarked Charles X.

Reaching the Parvis de Notre-Dame, the sovereign, before entering
the Cathedral, paused before the threshold of the Hotel-Dieu.
Fifty nuns presented themselves before him, "Sire," said the
Prioress, "you pause before the house so justly termed the Hotel-
Dieu, which has always been honored with the protection of our
kings. We shall never forget, Sire, that the sick have seen at
their bedside the Prince who is today their King. They know that
at this moment your march is arrested by charity. We shall tell
them that the King is concerned for their ills, and it will be a
solace to them. Sire, we offer you our homage, our vows, and the
assurance that we shall always fulfil with zeal our duties to the
sick." Charles X. replied: "I know with what zeal you and these
gentlemen serve the poor. Continue, Mesdames, and you can count on
my benevolence and on my constant protection."

The King was received at the Metropolitan Church by the Archbishop
of Paris at the head of his clergy. The Domine salvum, fac regem,
was intoned and repeated by the deputations of all the authorities
and by the crowd filling the nave, the side-aisles, and the
tribunes of the vast basilica. Then a numerous body of singers
sang the Te Deum. On leaving the church, the King remounted his
horse and returned to the Tuileries, along the quais, to the sound
of salvos of artillery and the acclamations of the crowd. The
Duchess of Berry, who had followed the King through all the
ceremonies, entered the Chateau with him, and immediately
addressed to the Governess of the Children of France this note:
"From Saint Cloud to Notre-Dame, from Notre-Dame to the Tuileries,
the King has been accompanied by acclamations, signs of approval
and of love."

Charles X., on Thursday, the 30th September, had to attend a
review on the Champ-de-Mars. The morning of this day, the readers
of all the journals found in them a decree abolishing the
censorship and restoring liberty of the press. The enthusiasm was

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