The cavalry offered a spectacle still more varied by the picturesque mixture of sabretaches, needles, aiguillettes, hairstyles of all kinds. We saw the carabinieri with their cuirass adorned with a golden sun, the lancers with the strange schapska, which recalled the Polish regiments of the First Empire, the dragoons in the green coat and the white breastplate, then this famous regiment of the guides which, with its dizzying fantasies, its profusions, its refinements, embodied in itself all the frivolous splendours, all the disorderly pursuits, all the prodigality of the Second Empire.
At four o'clock, the review was over.
The Emperor and his august guests had joined the cars. In one of them the Empress went first, and so did the King of Prussia. In another uncovered carriage took place the Emperor, the Tsar and the Grand Dukes. The avenue de Longchamp, the avenue de la Grande-Cascade were so crowded that you could hardly move forward.
Napoleon gave the order to incline to the right and take another course. At one of the crossroads, that is to say at the point of intersection of the route de la Vierge and the route des Reservoirs, a man was seen, who was in one of the front rows of the crowd, clearing a path, stretching out an arm, pointing a weapon; at the same moment we heard the detonation of a pistol shot fired at the imperial carriage. However, one of the squires who were at the door, M. Raimbeaux, had surprised the movement of the stranger. Instinctively, and without realizing the attack, he pushed his horse forward. This one received the discharge through the nostrils and, with its blood, spattered one of the eagle-owls.
The sight of blood at first led one to believe that one of the princes was wounded, and for a moment the anxiety was terrible. With a gesture, Napoleon reassured those around him. Then, addressing the Tsar:
Sire, he said to him, we saw the fire together; here we are, brothers in arms.
Our days are in the hands of Providence, coldly replied Alexander.
Amid cheers, the sovereigns continued on their way to Paris. Already the assistants had seized the assassin and the police had great difficulty in snatching him from them. He was a young Pole named Berezowski. He had wished, he said, to reach the Emperor of Russia and avenge on him the misfortunes of his country. France was too overjoyed for the cloud not to slip quickly. The rejoicings continued with renewed brilliance. On June 8 there was dancing at the Hôtel de Ville, on June 10 at the Tuileries. At these receptions the representative of only one power was absent, that of Austria. The dynasty of François-Joseph was then bent under family misfortunes. An archduchess was mad; an archduke awaited in prison the pleasure of the enemies.
Behold, another archduchess, the archduchess Mathilde, just as she was getting ready for the ball, had let a spark fall on her dress:the light toilette had caught fire and the young princess had just succumbed.
The Princess of Metternich gave dancing yesterday, wrote one of the contemporaries on May 29. Really, I admire her and she has the courage of a lion. However, in the face of so many misfortunes, this "lion's courage" had finally had to yield and, for a time, the embassy was closed.