Chapter X: Part VI (1)

FROM THE RETIREMENT OF M. DE TALLEYRAND TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1830.

M. de Talleyrand’s retirement from public affairs during
the period which closed with the dethronement of Charles
X.--Appearance in the House of Peers on two occasions, to
protest against the Spanish war and to defend the liberty
of the press.--Reasons for the course he pursued.--Share
in the advent of Louis Philippe.--Accepts the embassy to
London.--Conduct and policy when there.--Retires after
the Quadruple Alliance.--Discourse in the Institute on M.
Reinhard.--Death.--Summary of character.

I.

M. de Talleyrand gave a proof of his sagacity when he foresaw that, with the violent Royalists entering into power under a minister named by the Autocrat of the North, a state of things was preparing that would lead to a war of opinion throughout Europe, and unite the governments that could not support liberal institutions with that party in the French nation which repudiated them. He was equally sagacious in retiring voluntarily from affairs, and doing so on national and not on party grounds. But at the same time he could not long have remained at the head of a parliamentary government, even had he been free from the peculiar difficulty which then surrounded him. To direct affairs with such a government, in critical times, one must have some of the passions of those times. M. de Talleyrand, as I have said at the beginning of this sketch, had no passions.

He represented the power of reason; but that power, which predominates at the end of every crisis, has its voice drowned at the commencement. His administration then was necessarily doomed: but he had at least the credit of having endeavoured, first to prevent and then to moderate those acts of vengeance which a minority that obtains the supremacy always wishes to inflict on an adverse majority: for he furnished passports and even money (the budget of foreign affairs was charged with four hundred and fifty-nine thousand francs for this purpose) to all who felt desirous to quit France--Ney, though he did not profit by the indulgence, might have done so. The list of proscriptions at first contained one hundred persons, M. de Talleyrand reduced that number to fifty-seven.[74] Labédoyère--and this owing entirely to his own imprudence, in obliging the government either to release him publicly or to bring him to trial--was the only victim of an administration which wished to be moderate when every one was violent.

A most memorable epoch in French history now commenced--the constitutional education of the French nation. It went through a variety of vicissitudes. For a time the Royalist reaction, headed by the Comte d’Artois, prevailed. It was then for a moment stopped by the jealousy of Louis XVIII., who felt that France was in reality being governed by his brother, who could ride on horseback. After a short struggle the conflict between the two princes ceased, and M. de Villelle with more or less adroitness governed them both. The elder at last was deprived by death of the sceptre he had ceased to wield independently, and with the ardent desire he had ever felt to be loved by his countrymen, Charles X. legitimately commenced his right of ruling them. But a hesitating policy of conciliation producing after a short effort but a doubtful result, another policy was resolved upon. The King would show that he was king, and he selected a ministry ready to be his soldiers in a battle against popular ideas. The battle was fought: the King was vanquished. So passed the time from 1815 to 1830.

Within this epoch of fifteen years, during which it must be said that France, however agitated and divided, made an immense progress under the institutions that she owed in no small degree to M. de Talleyrand, that statesman was little more than a spectator of passing events. The new patriots, orators, journalists, generals of the day, occupied public attention, and he ceased to be considered except as one of those characters of history that have been too interesting in their day to be consigned quietly to posterity. Moreover, the judgment passed on him from time to time by contemporaneous writers was usually superficial and sometimes supercilious.

As to the deputies whom local influence and the zeal of parties returned to the lower chamber, they were for the most part unknown to him by their antecedents, and not worth knowing for their merits.

In the upper chamber, where men of high rank and intellectual eminence were certainly to be found, his personal influence was not great; the sympathies and recollections of that chamber, whether amongst the old Royalists or most distinguished Bonapartists, were against him. There was no one consequently to press him to take part in its debates, nor were there many subjects of discussion sufficiently important to arouse his indolence, and call forth with dignity the exertions of a statesman who had played so great a part amidst the great events of that marvellous period through which his career had run.

On one memorable occasion, however, he stepped boldly forward to claim--if affairs took the course which many thought most probable--the first place in a new system: this was when war, in 1823, was declared against Spain.

II.

That war was commenced by M. de Châteaubriand, who had always been M. de Talleyrand’s antipathy, not merely as a war against the Spanish people, or in support of the Spanish monarch, but as a war which was to be considered an armed declaration in favour of ultra-monarchical principles, thus justifying all the previsions with which M. de Talleyrand had quitted office. A victory was certain to deliver France into the hands of the ultra-Royalist party; defeat or difficulty was as certain to give power to more moderate men and more moderate opinions. In the one case, M. de Talleyrand had nothing to hope; in the other, it was necessary to fix attention on the fact that he had predicated misfortune. The struggle in Spain, moreover, depended greatly on the state of public opinion; and this alone made it advisable to endeavour to create as strong a belief as possible that men of weight and consideration looked upon it with apprehension and disfavour. It was under these circumstances that M. de Talleyrand expressed the following opinion:[75]

“Messieurs,” this impressive discourse commences, “il y a aujourd’hui seize ans qu’appellé par celui qui gouvernait alors le monde à lui dire mon avis sur une lutte à engager avec le peuple espagnol, j’eus le malheur de lui déplaire, en lui dévoilant l’avenir, en révélant tous les dangers qui allaient naître en foule d’une aggression non moins injuste que téméraire. La disgrâce fut le prix de ma sincérité. Etrange destinée, que celle qui me ramène après ce long espace de temps à renouveler auprès du souverain légitime les mêmes efforts, les mêmes conseils. Le discours de la couronne a fait disparaître les dernières espérances de amis de la paix, et, menaçant pour l’Espagne, il est, je dois le dire, alarmant pour la France.… Oui, j’aurai le courage de dire toute la vérité. Ces mêmes sentiments chevaleresques qui, en 1789, entraînaient les cœurs généreux, n’ont pu sauver la monarchie légitime, ils peuvent encore la perdre en 1823.”

The Spanish war, in spite of these alarming prognostications, was successful; and courtiers sneered not unnaturally at the statesman who had denounced it. But if M. de Talleyrand had not shown his usual foresight, he had not acted contrary to his usual prudence. People, in deciding on the conduct they should adopt, can only calculate upon probabilities, and must, after all, as Machiavelli with his worldly experience observes, “leave much to chance.” This sort of prophecy, contained in the speech I have just quoted from, had a good deal in its favour; M. de Châteaubriand himself had, as I once heard from the lips of a person to whom he spoke confidentially, the most serious doubts as to the issue of the approaching campaign; though he considered that its happy termination would firmly establish the Bourbons as sovereigns in France, and himself as their prime minister: in both of which conclusions he was wrong, though it seemed likely he would be right. The contemplated enterprise was, in fact, unpopular; the prince at its head was without capacity, the generals around him were on ill terms with each other, the soldiers themselves of doubtful allegiance. A considerable body of Frenchmen and some French soldiers were in the enemies’ ranks, and were about, in the name of liberty and Napoleon II., to make an appeal, from the opposite shore of the Bidassoa, to their advancing comrades.

The courage of the nation now attacked had on many occasions been remarkable; the discipline of its armies had been lately improved; the policy of England was uncertain; the credit of France was far from good. These were all fair elements out of which it was by no means unreasonable to concoct a disastrous presage, which, like many presages, had a tendency to realise itself. But more especially it should be observed that the predictions of M. de Talleyrand, if unfortunate, would do him no harm, and if fortunate, would replace him on the pinnacle of power.

III.

The ex-minister of Louis XVIII. thus revived the recollections of the ex-minister of Napoleon le Grand; as already the member of the Chamber of Peers had vindicated the principles of the veteran of the National Assembly; for on the 24th of July, 1821, we find him expressing the same sentiments in favour of the liberty of the press after practical experience, which at the commencement of his career he had proclaimed with theoretical anticipations.

As the question at issue is not yet solved in the country he was addressing, it may not be without interest to hear what he says:[76]

“Without the liberty of the press there can be no representative government; it is one of its essential instruments--its chief instrument, in fact: every government has its principles, and we cannot remember too often that frequently those principles which are excellent for one government are detestable for another. It has been abundantly demonstrated by several members of this House, both in this and the preceding session, that without the liberty of the press representative government does not exist. I will not, then, repeat what you have already heard or read, and which is no doubt the frequent subject of your reflections.

“But there are two points of view in which it appears to me the question has not been sufficiently treated, and which I resolve into two propositions:

“1st. The liberty of the press is a necessity of the time.

“2nd. A government exposes itself when it obstinately refuses, and that for a lengthened period, what the time proclaims as necessary.

“The _mind is never completely stationary_. The discovery of yesterday is only a means to arrive at a fresh discovery to-morrow. One is nevertheless justified in affirming that it _appears to act by impulses, because there are moments when it appears particularly desirous of bringing forth--of producing; at others, on the contrary, when, satisfied by its conquests, it appears to rest itself, and is occupied in putting the treasures it has acquired in order, rather than in seeking after new ones_. The seventeenth century was one of these fortunate epochs. The human intellect, dazzled by the immense riches which the art of printing had put at its disposal, paused to gaze in admiration on the wondrous sight. Giving itself up entirely to the enjoyment of letters, science, and art, its glory and happiness became concentrated in the production of masterpieces. All the great men of the time of Louis XIV. vied with each other in embellishing a social order, beyond which they saw nothing, and desired nothing, and which appeared to them made to last as long as the glory of the great king, the object alike of their respect and of their enthusiasm. But when they had exhausted the fertile mine of antiquity, their intelligent activity found itself almost compelled to search elsewhere, and discovered nothing new, except in speculative studies that embrace all the future, and of which the limits are unknown. It was amidst these dispositions that the eighteenth century dawned--a century so little resembling the preceding one. To the poetical lessons of Telemachus succeeded the theories of ‘the _Esprit des Lois_,’ and Port Royal was replaced by the Encyclopædia.

“I pray you to observe, gentlemen, that I neither censure nor approve: I simply relate.

“In calling to mind all the calamities poured out upon France during the Revolution, we must not be altogether unjust towards those superior men that brought it about; and we ought not to forget, that if in their writings they have not always been able to avoid falling into error, we owe to them the revelation of some great truths. Above all, let us not forget that we ought not to make them responsible for the precipitation with which France rushed practically into a career which her philosophers merely indicated. Thoughts were turned at once into action, and one might well say, ‘Woe to him who in his foolish pride would go beyond the necessities of his epoch! Some abyss or revolution awaits him.’ But when we simply follow the necessity of an epoch, we are certain not to go astray.

“Now, gentlemen, do you wish to know what were in 1789 the real necessities of that epoch? Turn to the mandates of the different orders represented in the National Assembly. _All that were then the reflected wishes of enlightened men are what I call necessities._ The Constituent Assembly was only their interpreter when it proclaimed liberty of worship, equality before the law, individual liberty, the right of jurisdiction (that no one should be deprived of his natural judges), _the liberty of the press_.

“It was little in accordance with its epoch when it instituted a single chamber, when it destroyed the royal sanction, when it tortured the conscience, &c. &c. And, nevertheless, in spite of its faults, of which I have only cited a small number--faults followed by such great calamities--posterity which has begun for it accords to it the glory of establishing the foundation of our new public rights.

“_Let us hold, then, for certain, that all that is desired, that all that is proclaimed good and useful by all the enlightened men of a country, without variation, during a series of years diversely occupied, is a necessity of the times._ Such, gentlemen, is the liberty of the press. I address myself to all those amongst you who are more particularly my contemporaries--was it not the dear object and wish of all those excellent men whom we so admired in our youth--the Malesherbes, the Trudaines--who surely were well worth the statesmen we have had since? The place which the men I have named occupy in our memories amply proves that the liberty of the press consolidates legitimate renown; and if it destroys usurped reputations, where is the harm?

“Having proved my first proposition, that the liberty of the press is in France the necessary result of the state of its society, it remains for me to establish my second proposition--that a government is in danger when it obstinately refuses what the state or spirit of its society requires.

“The most tranquil societies, and those which ought to be the most happy, always number amongst them a certain class of men who hope to acquire by the means of disorder those riches which they do not possess, and that importance which they ought never to have. Is it prudent to furnish the enemies of social order with pretexts for discontent, without which their individual efforts to promote disturbance would be impotent?

“Society in its progressive march is destined to experience new wants. _I can perfectly understand that governments ought not to be in any hurry to recognise them; but when it has once recognised them_, to take back what it has given, or, what comes to the same thing, to be always suspending its exercise, is a temerity of which I more than any one desire that those who conceived _the convenient_ and _fatal thought_ may not have to repent. The good faith of a government should never be compromised. _Now-a-days, it is not easy to deceive for long. There is some one who has more intelligence than Voltaire; more intelligence than Bonaparte; more intelligence than each of the Directors--than each of the ministers, past, present, and to come. That some one is everybody._ To engage in, or at least to persist in, a struggle against what according to general belief is a public interest, is a political fault,--and at this day all political faults are dangerous.

“When the press is free--when each one knows that his interests are or will be defended--all wait with patience a justice more or less tardy. Hope supports, and with reason, for this hope cannot be deceived for long; but when the press is enslaved, when no voice can be raised, discontent will soon exact, on the part of the government, either too much concession or too much repression.”

On the 26th of February, 1822, M. de Talleyrand spoke on the same subject, commenting on the rights accorded by, and the intentions which had presided over, the charter. Such efforts on such subjects preserved for his name a national character, and connected the most memorable acts of his own career with the most ardent aspirations of his country.

IV.

Still, notwithstanding these occasional appearances on the public stage, it is certain that the easy though momentary triumph of a cause of which he had somewhat solemnly announced the almost certain defeat, disgusted him from further meddling in affairs, and much of his time was afterwards passed out of Paris, at Valençay, the estate which he meant should be ancestral, in Touraine. His fortune, moreover, was much affected by the bankruptcy of a commercial house in which he had engaged himself as what we call a “sleeping partner.” Nevertheless he held, when in the capital, a great existence:--his drawing-room becoming to the Restoration what it had been to the best days of the Empire--a rival court, and a court which gathered to itself all the eminences of the old times, and all the rising young men of the new.

There, from his easy-chair, drawn up to the window which looks upon the Tuileries, and surrounded by those who had acted in the past with him, or who might make a future for him, he read with pleased composure the fall of ministry after ministry on the flushed countenance of the eager deputy rushing to or from the fatal vote; until, at the nomination of M. de Polignac, he repeated calmly to those about him, the phrase he is said to have pronounced after the Russian campaign: “_C’est le commencement de la fin_.” Indeed, ever since the dismissal of the National Guard, and the failure of M. de Martignac’s ministry, which, tried as it was and at the time it was, could not but fail, he spoke without reserve, though always with expressions of regret, to those in his intimacy, of the extreme peril to which the legitimate monarchy was hurrying; and he could do this with the more certainty, from the knowledge he possessed of Charles X.’s character, the good and bad qualities of which he considered equally dangerous.

V.

The following account of the share which M. de Talleyrand took in the new Revolution, that, after many ominous preludes, at last took place, was given me by an actor in the history he relates.

For the first two days of the insurrection, viz., the 27th and 28th of July, M. de Talleyrand said little or nothing, remaining quietly at home and refusing himself to all inquirers. On the third day he called to him his private secretary, and with that winning manner he knew so well how to adopt when he had any object to gain, said to him: “M. C----, I have a favour to request of you; go for me to St. Cloud” (the service was one of some danger and difficulty), “see if the royal family are still there, or what they are doing.” The secretary went and found Charles X. just departing for Rambouillet. M. de Talleyrand, who had during his messenger’s absence seen General Sebastiani, General Gerard, and two or three other influential persons of the same party and opinions, on hearing that the King had quitted St. Cloud, retired to his room and remained there alone for about two hours, when he again sent for the same gentleman, and this time his manners were, if possible, more persuasive than before. “I have yet another and greater favour to ask, M. C----. Go for me to Neuilly; get by some means or other to Madame Adelaide;[77] give her this piece of paper, and when she has read it, either see it burnt or bring it back to me.” The piece of paper contained merely these words: “Madame peut avoir toute confiance dans le porteur, qui est mon secrétaire.” “When madame has read this, you will tell her that there is not a moment to lose. The Duc d’Orléans must be here to-morrow; he must take no other title than that of Lieutenant-general of the Kingdom, which has been accorded to him--‘_le reste viendra_.’”

With this confidential message, M. C---- started. With great difficulty--for the gates of Neuilly were closed to every one--he got to the château and to Madame. On saying that he brought a message from M. de Talleyrand, “Ah, ce bon prince, j’étais sûre qu’il ne nous oublierait pas!”[78] The messenger then delivered his credentials and his message. “Tell the prince that I will pledge my word for my brother’s following his advice. He shall be in Paris to-morrow,” was the reply; after which M. C---- had the courage to ask, though with some hesitation, that the piece of paper should be destroyed or returned. It was given back to him, and he restored it to M. de Talleyrand, who did not, by the way, forget to ask for it. It only remains to say that the Duc d’Orléans did come to Paris the following day; did only take the title of Lieutenant-general; and that the rest did, as M. de Talleyrand had predicted, follow. Thus ended the last Revolution with which this singular man was blended.

When the message he sent arrived, the future king of the French was concealed, the conduct he seemed likely to pursue uncertain; and those who know anything of revolutions will be aware of the value of a day and an hour. Moreover, this prince got to the throne by the very door which M. de Talleyrand had warned Louis XVIII. to close, viz., a constitution proceeding _from_ the people.

Nor is this all: the knowledge that M. de Talleyrand had recognised, and even been concerned in establishing, the new dynasty, had no slight influence on the opinion formed of it in other courts, and might be said more especially to have decided our own important and immediate recognition of it. He himself was then offered the post of minister of foreign affairs, but he saw it was more difficult and less important than that of ambassador to St. James’, and while he refused the first position he accepted the last.

VI.

The choice was a fortunate one. No one else could have supplied the place of M. de Talleyrand in England at that juncture; he knew well and personally both the Duke of Wellington and Lord Grey, the chiefs of the opposing parties, and it was perhaps his presence at the British court, more than any other circumstance of the time, which preserved, in a crisis when all the elements of war were struggling to get loose, that universal peace which for so many years remained unbroken.

With a firm conviction, indeed, of the necessity of this peace, he took the best and only course for maintaining it. An ordinary diplomatist is occupied with the thousand small affairs passing through his hands, and the thousand ideas of more or less importance connected with them. M. de Talleyrand’s great talent, as I have more than once said, was in selecting at once in every affair the most _important question_ of the moment, and in sacrificing, without delay or scruple, whatever was necessary to attain his object with respect to that question.

He saw that the peaceful acceptance of the Orleans’ dynasty could be obtained, and could only be obtained, by being on good terms with England. A quarrel with us was an European war; a good understanding with us rendered such a war unlikely, almost impossible. Belgium was the especial question on which all earlier negotiations turned, and on which the amity of our government depended. That country, smarting under many real, and irritated by the thought of many fancied, grievances, had thrown off the Dutch yoke. The Dutch troops, who with a little more vigour might have been victorious, had retreated, beaten, from Brussels; the frontier fortresses were in the hands of the insurgents, and it is no use disguising the fact that there was, is, and ever will be, a considerable party in France in favour of extending the French frontier, and comprising Antwerp within the French dominions. England, however, was not then disposed, and probably will not at any time be disposed, with statesmen caring for the safety of their country, to submit to this. She had, in fact, as I have said at the peace of 1814, provided especially, as she thought, for the safety of the Netherlands, by the amalgamation of the Belgian and Dutch provinces into one kingdom, and by the fortresses which she had built or repaired for protecting that kingdom.

This policy was now overthrown, and could not be reconstructed without exciting the warlike and excited spirit of the French people. On the other hand, we could only make a limited sacrifice to French susceptibility and ambition. Much skill then was necessary on the part of all persons, but more especially on the part of the French negotiator, to avoid any serious wound to the interests of the one nation, or to the feelings of the other. There was a call, in short, for the steadiest discretion without any change of purpose; and all through the various phases of those long negotiations, by which jarring questions were finally composed, M. de Talleyrand warily persevered in his plan of planting the new government of France amongst the established governments of Europe through its alliance with Great Britain.

The establishment of conferences in London was one of the most artful of the measures adopted with this end. Here the ambassador of Louis Philippe was brought at once, and in union with the Cabinet of St. James’, into almost daily and intimate communication with the representatives of the other great powers. A variety of misrepresentations were removed, and a variety of statements made, not merely useful for the questions which were especially under discussion, but for the general position and policy of the State which the veteran diplomatist represented.

The quadruple alliance--an alliance of the western and constitutional governments of Europe--was, in fact, a mere extension of the alliance between France and England, and a great moral exhibition of the trust placed by the parties themselves in that alliance. With this remarkable and popular compact--a compact which embodied the best principles on which an Anglo-French alliance can be formed--the diplomatic career of M. de Talleyrand closed. He felt, as he himself said, that there “is a sort of space between death and life, which should be employed in dying decently.”

The retirement of Lord Grey removed from the scene of public affairs in England that generation which, long accustomed to the reputation of a man who had filled half a century with his name, treated both himself and his opinions with the flattering respect due to old remembrances. To the men of the new government he was, comparatively speaking, a stranger. The busy time of their career he had passed in seclusion from affairs. They considered him, in a certain degree, as antiquated and gone by: a sentiment which he was keen enough to detect, and sensitive enough to feel deeply.

His opinions, indeed, became somewhat embittered by certain affronts or negligences of which, during the latter part of his embassy, he thought he had to complain; and, after his retirement, it is said that he rather counselled his royal master to consider that the advantages sought for in an alliance with England were obtained, and that the future policy of France should be to conciliate other powers.

VII.

At all events M. de Talleyrand, during his mission in England, not only sustained his previous reputation, but added very considerably to it. What struck the vulgar, and many, indeed, above the vulgar, who did not remember that the really crafty man disguises his craft, was the plain, open, and straightforward way in which he spoke of and dealt with all public matters, without any of those mysterious devices which distinguish the simpleton in the diplomacy from the statesman who is a diplomatist. In fact, having made up his mind to consider the English alliance at this time essential to his country, he was well aware that the best and only way of obtaining it was by such frank and fair dealing as would win the confidence of British statesmen.

Lord Palmerston told me that his manner in diplomatic conferences was remarkable for its extreme absence of pretension, without any derogation of authority. He sat, for the most part, quiet, as if approving: sometimes, however, stating his opinion, but never arguing or discussing;--a habit foreign to the natural indolence which accompanied him throughout his active career, and which he also condemned on such occasions, as fruitless and impolitic: “I argue before a public assembly,” he used to say, “not because I hope to convince any one there, but because I wish my opinions to be known to the world. But, in a room beyond which my voice is not to extend, the attempt to enforce my opinion against that which another is engaged to adopt, obliges him to be more formal and positive in expressing his hostility, and often leads him, from a desire to shine in the sense of his instructions, to go beyond them.”

Whatever M. de Talleyrand did, therefore, in the way of argument, he usually did beforehand, and alone, with the parties whom he was afterwards to encounter, and here he tried to avoid controversy. His manner was to bring out the principal point in his own opinion, and present it to the best advantage in every possible position.

Napoleon complained of this, saying, he could not conceive how people found M. de Talleyrand eloquent. “Il tournait toujours sur la même idée.”[79] But this was a system with him, as with Fox, who laid it down as the great principle for an orator who wished to leave an impression.

He was apt, however, to ask to have a particular word or sentence, of which he had generally studied the bearing and calculated the effect, introduced into a paper under discussion, and from the carelessness with which he made the request it was usually complied with. There was something in this silent way of doing business, which disappointed those who expected a more frequent use of the brilliant weapons which it was well known that the great wit of the day had at his command. But in the social circle which he wished to charm, or with the single individual whom he wished to gain, the effect of his peculiar eloquence generally overran the expectation.

M. de Bacourt, who was secretary to his embassy in London, informed me “that M. de Talleyrand rarely wrote a whole despatch,” but that a variety of little notes and phrases were usually to be found in his portfolio. When the question which these notes referred to had to be treated, they were produced, and confided to him (M. de Bacourt), who was told the general sense of the document he was to write, and how such memoranda were to be introduced. Finally, a revisal took place, and the general colouring, which proved that the despatch came from the ambassador, and not from his chancery, was fused over the composition. As a general rule in business, M. de Talleyrand held to the rule, that a chief should never do anything that a subaltern could do for him.

“You should always,” he used to say, “have time to spare, and rather put off till to-morrow what you cannot do well and easily to-day, than get into that hurry and flurry which is the necessary consequence of feeling one has too much to do.”

I have painted the subject of this sketch personally in his early life. Towards the close of his existence, the likenesses of him that are common are sufficiently resembling. His head, with a superfluity of hair, looked large, and was sunk deep into an expanded chest. His countenance was pale and grave, with a mouth, the under-lip rather protruding, which formed itself instantly and almost instinctively into a smile that was sarcastic without being ill-natured. He talked little in general society, merely expressing at intervals some opinion that had the air of an epigram, and which produced its effect as much from the manner with which it was brought out, as from its intrinsic merit. He was, in fact, an actor, but an actor with such ease and nonchalance that he never seemed more natural than when he was acting.

His recorded _bon mots_, of which I have given some, have become hackneyed, especially the best. But I will venture to mention a few that occur to me, as I am writing, and which are remarkable as expressing an opinion concerning an individual or a situation.

When the Comte d’Artois wished to be present at the councils of Louis XVIII., M. de Talleyrand opposed the project. The Comte d’Artois was offended, and reproached the minister. “Un jour,” said M. de Talleyrand, “Votre Majesté me remerciera pour ce qui déplaît a Votre Altesse Royale.”

M. de Châteaubriand was no favourite with M. de Talleyrand. He condemned him as an affected writer, and an impossible politician. When the “Martyrs” first appeared, and was run after by the public with an appetite that the booksellers could not satisfy, M. de Fontanes, after speaking of it with an exaggerated eulogium, finished his explanation of the narrative by saying that Eudore and Cymodocée were thrown into the circus and devoured “par les bêtes.” “Comme l’ouvrage,” said M. de Talleyrand.

Some person saying that Fouché had a great contempt for mankind, “C’est vrai,” said M. de Talleyrand, “cet homme s’est beaucoup étudié.”

There is a certain instinct which most persons have as to their successor; and when some one asked M. de Talleyrand a little before the Duc de Richelieu, governor of Odessa, was appointed prime minister in his own country, whether he, M. de Talleyrand, really thought that the Duc was fit to govern France, he replied, to the surprise of the questioner, “Most assuredly;” adding, after a slight pause, “No one knows the Crimea better.”

A lady, using the privilege of her sex, was speaking with violence of the defection of the Duc de Raguse. “Mon Dieu, madame,” said M. de Talleyrand, “tout cela ne prouve qu’une chose. C’est que sa montre avançait et tout le monde était à l’heure.”

A strong supporter of the chamber of peers, when there was much question as to its merits, said, “At least you there find consciences.” “Ah, oui,” said M. de Talleyrand, “beaucoup, beaucoup de consciences. Semonville, par exemple, en a au moins deux.”

Louis XVIII., speaking of M. de Blacas before M. de Talleyrand had expressed any opinion concerning him, said, “Ce pauvre Blacas, il aime la France, il m’aime, mais on dit qu’il est suffisant.” “Ah oui, Sire, suffisant et insuffisant.”

As Madame de Staël was praising the British Constitution, M. de Talleyrand, turning round, said in a low, explanatory tone, “_Elle admire surtout l’habeas corpus_.”

One evening at Holland House the company had got into groups, talking over some question of the moment in the House of Commons; and thus M. de Talleyrand, left alone, got up to go away, when Lord Holland, with his usual urbanity, following him to the door, asked where he was going so early. “Je vais aux _Travellers_, pour entendre ce que vous dites ici.”

We could prolong almost indefinitely this record of sayings from which M. de Talleyrand, notwithstanding his many services and great abilities, derives his popular and traditional reputation: but, in reality, they belong as much to the conversational epoch at which he entered the world, as to himself.

VIII.

On quitting England, he quitted not only diplomacy, as I have said, but public life, and passed the remainder of his days in the enjoyment of the highest situation, and the most agreeable and cultivated society, that his country could afford.

His fortune and ability might now, according to the Grecian sage, be estimated; for his career was closed; and, as the old sought his saloon as the hearth on which their brighter recollections could be revived, so the young were glad to test their opinions by the experience of “the politic man,” who had passed through so many vicissitudes, and walked with a careless and haughty ease over the ruins of so many governments, at the fall of which he had assisted. He himself, with that cool presence of mind for which he was so remarkable, aware that he had but a few years between the grave and himself, employed them in one of his great and constant objects, that of prepossessing the age about to succeed him in his favour, and explaining to those whom he thought likely to influence the coming generation, the darker passages of his brilliant career. To one distinguished person, M. Montalivet, who related to me the fact, he once said: “You have a prejudice against me, because your father was an Imperialist, and you think I deserted the Emperor. I have never kept fealty to any one longer than he has himself been obedient to common sense. But, if you judge all my actions by this rule, you will find that I have been eminently consistent; and where is there so degraded a human being, or so bad a citizen, as to submit his intelligence, or sacrifice his country, to any individual, however born, or however endowed?”

This, indeed, in a few words, was M. de Talleyrand’s theory; a theory which has formed the school, that without strictly adhering to the principle that common sense should be the test of obedience, bows to every authority with a smile and shrug of the shoulders, and the well-known phrase of “_La France avant tout_.”

Shortly previous to his last illness he appeared (evidently with the intention of bidding the world a sort of dignified adieu) in the tribune of the Institute. The subject which he chose for his essay was M. Reinhard, who had long served under him, and was just dead, and between whom and himself, even in the circumstance of their both having received an ecclesiastical education, there was some sort of resemblance. The discourse is interesting on this ground, and also as a review of the different branches of the diplomatic service, and the duties attached to each--forming a kind of legacy to that profession of which the speaker had so long been the ornament.

IX.

“GENTLEMEN,--[80]

“I was in America when I was named a member of the Institute, and placed in the department of moral and political sciences, to which I have had the honour of being attached ever since it was first established.

“On my return to France, I made it my principal object to attend its meetings, and to express to my new colleagues, many of whom we now so justly regret, the pleasure it gave me to find myself one of their number. At the first sitting I attended, the _bureau_ was being renewed, and I had the honour of being named secretary. During six months, I drew up, to the best of my ability, the minutes of the proceedings, but my labours betrayed perhaps a little too plainly my diffidence, for I had to report on a work, the subject of which was new to me. That work, which had cost one of our most learned colleagues many researches, many sleepless nights, was ‘A Dissertation on the Riparian Laws.’ It was about the same period that I read at our public meetings several papers, which were received with such indulgence as to be thought worthy of being inserted in the memoirs of the Institute. But forty years have now elapsed, during which I have been a stranger to this tribune; first, in consequence of frequent absence; then from duties, to which I felt bound to devote my whole time and attention; I must also add, from that discretion, which, in times of difficulty, is required of a man employed in public affairs; and finally, at a later period, from the infirmities, usually brought on, or at least aggravated, by age.

“At the present moment, I feel myself called upon to perform a duty, and to make a last appearance before this Assembly, in order that the memory of a man, known to the whole of Europe;--of a man whom I loved, and who, from the very foundation of the Institute, has been our colleague, should receive here a public testimony of our esteem and regret. His position with respect to my own furnishes me with the means of speaking with authority of several of his merits. His principal, but I do not say his only, claim to distinction, consists of a correspondence of forty years, necessarily unknown to the public, and likely to remain so for ever. I asked myself, ‘Who will mention this fact within these walls? who, especially, will consider himself under the obligation of directing your attention to it, if the task be not undertaken by me, to whom the greater part of this correspondence was addressed, to whom it always gave so much pleasure, and often so much assistance in those ministerial duties, which I had to perform during three reigns … so very different in character?’

“The first time I saw M. Reinhard, he was thirty, and I thirty-seven, years of age. He entered public life with the advantage of a large stock of acquired knowledge. He knew thoroughly five or six languages, and was familiar with their literature. He could have made himself remarkable as an historian, as a poet, or as a geographer; and it was in this last capacity that he became a member of the Institute, from the day it was founded.

“Already at this time he was a member of the Academy of Sciences of Göttingen. Born and educated in Germany, he had published in his youth several pieces of poetry, which had brought him under the notice of Gesner, Wieland, and Schiller. He was obliged at a later period to take the waters of Carlsbad, where he was so fortunate as to find himself frequently in the society of the celebrated Goethe, who appreciated his taste and acquirements sufficiently to request to be informed by him of everything that was creating a sensation in the French literary world. M. Reinhard promised to do so; engagements of this kind between men of a superior order are always reciprocal, and soon become ties of friendship; those formed between M. Reinhard and Goethe gave rise to a correspondence, which is now published in Germany.

“We learn from these letters that when he had arrived at that time of life, when it is necessary to select definitively the profession for which one feels most aptitude, M. Reinhard, before making his final decision, reflected seriously upon his natural disposition, his tastes, his own circumstances and those of his family; and then made a choice singular at that time, for instead of choosing a career that promised independence, he gave the preference to one in which it is impossible to secure it. The diplomatic career was selected by him, nor is it possible to blame him; qualified for all the duties of this profession, he has successively fulfilled them all, and each with distinction.

“And I would here venture to assert that he had been successfully prepared for the course he adopted by his early studies. He had been remarked as a proficient in theology at the Seminary of Denkendorf, and at that of the Protestant faculty of Tübingen, and it was to this science especially that he owed the power, and at the same time the subtlety, of reasoning, that abounds in all his writings. And to divest myself of the fear of yielding to an idea which might appear paradoxical, I feel obliged to bring before you the names of several of our greatest diplomatists, who were at once theologians and celebrated in history for having conducted the most important political negotiations of their day. There was the chancellor, Cardinal Duprat, equally skilled in canon and civil law, who established with Leo X. the basis of the Concordat, of which several articles are still retained. Cardinal d’Ossat, who, in spite of the efforts made by several great powers, succeeded in effecting a reconciliation between Henry IV. and the Court of Rome. The study of his letters is still recommended at the present day to young men who are destined for political life. Cardinal de Polignac, a theologian, poet and diplomatist, who, after so many disastrous campaigns, was able to preserve, by the treaty of Utrecht, the conquests of Louis XIV. for France.

“The names I have just mentioned appear to me sufficient to justify my opinion that M. Reinhard’s habits of thought were considerably influenced by the early studies to which his education had been directed by his father.

“On account of his solid, and, at the same time, various acquirements, he was called to Bordeaux, in order to discharge the honourable but modest duties of a tutor in a Protestant family of that city. There he naturally became acquainted with several of those men whose talents, errors, and death have given so much celebrity to our first legislative assembly. M. Reinhard was easily persuaded by them to devote himself to the service of France.

“It is not necessary to follow him step by step through all the vicissitudes of his long career. In the succession of offices confided to him, now of a higher, now of a lower order, there seems to be a sort of inconsistency and absence of regularity, which, at the present day, we should have some difficulty in conceiving. But, at that time, people were as free from prejudice with respect to places as to persons. At other periods, favour, and sometimes discernment, used to confer situations of importance. But, in the days of which I speak, every place had to be won. Such a state of things very quickly leads to confusion.

“Thus, we find M. Reinhard first secretary of legation at London; occupying the same post at Naples; minister plenipotentiary to the Hanseatic towns of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck; chief clerk of the third division in the department of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary at Florence; minister of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary to the Helvetian Republic; consul-general at Milan; minister plenipotentiary to the Circle of Lower Saxony; president in the Turkish provinces beyond the Danube, and commissary-general of commercial relations in Moldavia; minister plenipotentiary to the King of Westphalia; director of the _Chancellerie_ in the department of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary to the Germanic Diet and the free city of Frankfort; and, finally, minister plenipotentiary at Dresden.

“What a number of places, of charges, and of interests, all confided to one man, and this at a time when it seemed likely that his civil talents would be less justly appreciated, inasmuch as that war appeared to decide every question.

“You do not expect me, gentlemen, to give here a detailed account of all M. Reinhard’s labours in the various employments, which I have just enumerated. This would require a volume.

“I have only to call your attention to the manner in which he regarded the duties he had to perform, whether as chief clerk, minister, or consul.

“Although M. Reinhard did not possess at that time the advantage which he might have had a few years later of being able to study excellent examples, he was already perfectly aware of the numerous and various qualities that ought to distinguish a chief clerk in the foreign office. A delicate tact had made him feel that the habits of a chief clerk ought to be simple, regular, and retired; that, a stranger to the bustle of the world, he ought to live solely for his duty, and devote to it an impenetrable secrecy; that, always prepared to give an answer respecting facts or men, he must have every treaty fresh in his memory, know its historical date, appreciate its strong and weak points, its antecedents and consequences, and finally be acquainted with the names of its principal negotiators, and even with their family connections; that, in making use of this knowledge, he ought, at the same time, to be cautious not to offend a minister’s self-esteem, always so sensitive, and, even when he should have influenced the opinion of his chief, to leave his success in the shade; for he knew that he was to shine only by a reflected light. Still, he was aware that much consideration would be the reward of so pure and modest a life.

“M. Reinhard’s power of observation did not stop here; it had taught him to understand how rare is the union of qualities necessary to make a minister of foreign affairs. Indeed, a minister of foreign affairs ought to be gifted with a sort of instinct, which should be always prompting him, and thus guarding him, when entering into any discussion, from the danger of committing himself. It is requisite that he should possess the faculty of appearing open, while remaining impenetrable; of masking reserve with the manner of frankness; of showing talent even in the choice of his amusements. His conversation should be simple, varied, unexpected, always natural, and at times _naïve_; in a word, he should never cease for an instant during the twenty-four hours to be a minister of foreign affairs.

“Yet all these qualities, however rare, might not suffice, if they did not find in sincerity a guarantee which they almost always require. I must not omit to notice here this fact, in order to destroy a prejudice, into which people are very apt to fall. No! diplomacy is not a science of craft and duplicity. If sincerity be anywhere requisite, it is especially so in political transactions; for it is that which makes them solid and durable. It has pleased people to confound reserve with cunning. Sincerity never authorizes cunning, but it admits of reserve; and reserve has this peculiarity, that it increases confidence.

“If he be governed by the honour and interests of his country, by the honour and interests of his sovereign, by the love of a liberty based upon order and the rights of all men, a minister of foreign affairs, who knows how to fill his post, finds himself thus in the noblest position to which a superior mind can aspire.

“After having been a distinguished minister, how many things more must be known to make a good consul! For there is no end to the variety of a consul’s attributions; and they are perfectly distinct from those of the other persons employed in foreign affairs. They demand a vast amount of practical knowledge which can only be acquired by a peculiar education. Consuls are called upon to discharge, for the advantage of their countrymen, and over the extent of their jurisdiction, the functions of judges, arbitrators, and promoters of reconciliation; it frequently happens that they are employed in other civil capacities; they perform the duties of notaries, sometimes those of naval administrators; they examine and pronounce upon sanitary questions; it is they who are enabled, by their numerous professional connections, to give correct and perfect notions respecting the state of commerce or navigation, or of the manufactures peculiar to the country where they reside. Accordingly, as M. Reinhard never neglected anything which might confirm the accuracy of the information required by his government, or the justice of the decisions which he had to pronounce as a political agent, as a consular agent, or as a naval administrator, he made a profound study of international and maritime law. It was owing to this study, that he became persuaded that the day would come when, by skilful political combinations, a universal system of commerce and navigation would be inaugurated, which would respect the interests of all nations, and be established on such foundations that war itself would be powerless to assail its principles, even were it able to suspend some of its effects.

“He had also learned to resolve, with accuracy and promptitude, every question connected with exchange, arbitration, valuation of money, weights and measures; and all this without a single dispute ever having arisen from the information he had supplied, or the judgments he had pronounced. But it is also true that the personal consideration, which accompanied him during his whole career, gave a weight to his interference, in every question that required his assistance, and in all arbitrations where he had to give a decision.