3d.—­Again, considerable excitement has prevailed in the town, produced by the proclamation, that the dethroned sovereign had determined to take up his position, with the strong military force that still adheres to him, at Rambouillet.  The publicity given to this news was a very injudicious measure, if conciliation, or even forbearance to the deposed family, was desired.

The populace, that many-headed monster, only seen abroad when evil passions dictate violence, again rush through the streets, breathing vengeance against the poor old man, whose grey hairs, more exposed by the absence of the crown his ci-devant subjects have wrested from his head, should have claimed more respect at their hands.  Truly has the poet said,

          “He who has worn crown,
     When less than king is less than other men,—­
     A fallen star, extinguish’d, leaving blank
     Its place in heaven.”

This fickle people, or, at least, the dregs of them, for it would be unjust to confound all in their enormities, will efface the credit they have gained by the forbearance from crime that has as yet characterised this revolution, by some act of brutality towards the royal family.  But even the very dregs of the people have not appeared desirous to adopt any such course, until excited into it by the wicked rumours set afloat, that Charles the Tenth had carried off all the crown jewels—­a rumour peculiarly calculated to excite their ire and meet a ready credence, each individual of the motley train looking on himself as having an interest in these national riches, and judging from self, of the possibility—­nay, more, probability, of so vile an action.  How little can such minds identify themselves with the feelings of those who, sated with the gewgaws and trappings of grandeur, forget them in the deep, the powerful excitement of beholding a throne crumbling into ruin beneath them—­a diadem rudely torn from their brows—­the power they wielded, even that of doing good, wrested violently, with the sceptre, from their hands; and more than all, behold the loved, the trusted—­those on whom they had showered benefits with prodigality, turn from them in their hour of need and join their foes!

     “If thou canst hate, as, oh! that soul must hate
     Which loves the virtuous and reveres the great;
     If thou canst loathe and execrate with me
     That gallic garbage of philosophy,—­
     That nauseous slaver of these frantic times,
     With which false liberty dilutes her crimes;
     If thou hast got within thy free-born breast
     One pulse that beats more proudly than the rest
     With honest scorn for that inglorious soul
     Which creeps and winds beneath a mob’s control. 
     Which courts the rabble’s smile, the rabble’s nod,
     And makes, like Egypt, every beast its God!”

August 4th.—­The King has left Rambouillot, alarmed by the report of the approach of the vast multitude who had left, or were leaving, Paris, with hostile intentions towards the royal family.  The scenes that took place then, previously to his departure, are represented as being most affecting.