A diadem, howe’er so bright it be,
     Brings cares that frighten gentle sleep away,
     E’en when from buried ancestors it comes,
     Who bless’d when they bequeath it to their heir;
     For great is the responsibility
     Of those who wear the symbol of a king,
     In regular succession handed down
     From sire to son through long antiquity. 
     But when th’ anointed head that wore it once
     Sleeps not in death—­but exiled, worse than death—­
     And scions legitimate live to claim
     Their birthright, oh! how heavy is that crown
     (Though loose it fits), which well the wearer knows,
     A people’s breath may blow from of his brow,
     Sear’d by the burning weight, it yet would guard,
     E’n though it crush him.

I am told that no day passes in which a crowd does not assemble beneath the windows of Louis-Philippe and loudly vociferate for his presence.  M. Laffitte is not unfrequently seen with the king on these occasions, and when they embrace the crowd applauds.

I cannot imagine a more painful position than that of the Queen of the French.  Devotedly attached to her husband and family, she will have often to tremble for their safety, exposed, as it must be, to the inconstancy and evil passions soi-disant subjects, who may, ere long, be disposed to pull down the throne they have erected for Louis-Philippe as rapidly as they raised the barricades for its elevation.

Had the King of the French succeeded to the throne by the natural demise of those who stood between him and it, how different would be his position; for it is agreed by all who know him, that he has many qualities that eminently fit him to fill it with credit to himself and advantage to the people; but as it is, I foresee nothing but trouble and anxiety for him,—­a melancholy change from the domestic happiness he formerly enjoyed.  Any attempt to check the turbulence of the people will be resented as an act of the utmost ingratitude to those who placed the crown on his head; and if he suffers it with impunity, he will not only lose his empire over them, but incur the contempt of the more elevated of his subjects.

I saw the King of the French walking through the Place Vendome to-day, attended only by one person.  He was recognised, and cheered, and returned the salutation very graciously.  And there stood the column erected to commemorate the victories of one now sleeping in a foreign grave; one whose very name was once the talisman that excited all Parisian hearts into the wildest enthusiasm!

Louis-Philippe passed near the base of the column, which seemed to return a sullen echo to the voices that cheered him; did he, or those around him, remember their vicinity to this striking memorial of the inconstancy of the nation?  The scene awakened more reflections in my mind than I dare say it did in that of those whose voices rent the air; but though it might be only fancy, I thought the King of the French looked very grave.