Chapter II

CONDUCT OF TALLEYRAND AT THE REVOLUTION OF 1830.

It will be readily believed that I needed no arousing on the morrow. In spite of my weary journey, and the late hour of retiring to rest, I was up and _sur pied_ long before my friend had left his chamber. The morning was beautiful, and from my window it was pleasant to watch the departure of the hounds and sportsmen from the court-yard to the green forest. For my part, however, I felt no envy, but rather stood wondering that people endowed with the sense of hearing could endure with patience the eternal twang of the _cor de chasse_, of all sounds, I verily believe, the most fatiguing and abominable.

I went down to await C. upon the green _pelouse_ which lay so invitingly before my window, and I paused to look up with interest at the broad frontage of the château, which lay in the light of the morning sun, whose beams, reflected on the shining domes of the huge Moorish towers, made the whole building bring to mind some rich and sumptuous palace of the Levant. It was the delight of the prince to say that “many were the seigneurs of the country who could put forth the old feudal boast of _pignon sur rue_, and _donjon sur roche_, but that it was reserved for him to display the broad flanking towers of the Turkish seraï or Moorish generalife. It was not long before I was aroused from my gaze of admiration by my friend, who came bounding over the grass to meet me. He smiled as he beheld the reverential look I fixed upon the window which he had pointed out as belonging to the chamber of the prince, where the drawn curtains and closed _jalousies_ announced the profound repose in which its inmate was still buried.

“You are like the rest of the world,” said he, taking my arm. “I know that at this moment you are nursing all kinds of fancies, the one more absurd and ‘_banal_’ than the other, concerning the old diplomate’s sleeping visions, which already I have seen compared in one of your newspapers to the ‘slumbers of the rattlesnake, or the solitary dreamings of the hyæna waiting for his prey, and sure that it cannot escape his cruel jaws.’ Nothing,” continued he, “can be more unjust than the opinions, formed in England of the extreme cunning of the character of Prince Talleyrand, of the far sight of his self-interest, of his habitual deception. They add another example to the many on record of most extraordinary popular delusions. No man was ever perhaps more influenced by the circumstances of the moment, and less resolved upon the course he would pursue until the time arrived for action, than the prince. The conduct which he pursued during the events of the revolution of July has fully proved this, and, when you and I have time and privacy, I think I could win you over to my opinion.”

“And why not at this moment?” said I. “The occasion is among the best. We are alone, and scarcely likely to be interrupted; and, while we wander across the park, I can listen with as much attention as though we were closeted together in the most silent chamber of the château.”

C. took my arm and moved forward.

“I can but give you my own impressions concerning the opinions of Prince Talleyrand during the eventful struggle of the three days,” said he; “but you may rely upon the truth of my statement of the _facts_ which took place upon that occasion. I was present with him during the whole time, an eye-witness to the various emotions by which he was governed, and could judge, as far as my own powers of observation went, of the divers motives by which he was actuated.”

As such, I give my friend’s opinions to the reader, begging him to remember that they are those of one who knew Prince Talleyrand well, who had been admitted to his intimacy for many years before his death, and that they may be of value, as furnishing the interpretation of many things hitherto problematical.

“Many people,” continued my friend, “have been led by the political writers of the day into error, concerning the real causes of the revolution of July; they are eager to represent the courage and patriotism displayed by the liberal party on that occasion of sudden and spontaneous explosion of popular fury, as the effect of a deeply-laid plot, conceived for many months before; and they seek to impress the public with a false idea of the diplomacy of the _chefs de parti_ in the triumphs of the three days. Another idea which has become as general is, that the statesman who had played so conspicuous a part in all our revolutions, from that of 1789 to that of 1830, and had lent with such good grace to each successive government the aid of his splendid talents—whose word, indeed, seemed to decide upon their very existence—was no stranger to the struggles and intrigues which ended in the downfal of Charles X., and the banishment of his dynasty from the soil of France. Without pretending here either to condemn or justify the conduct pursued by Prince Talleyrand under other governments, and which history, freed by time from party spirit and from political passion, will alone be able to judge with equity, let us examine coolly the part he took in the revolution of July. _Facts_ may serve better than _opinions_, to enable the observer to judge with more correctness the character of this great man, so little known in reality, even at the present time.

“It cannot be denied that, at the period to which I now refer (1830), the opinions of M. de Talleyrand were most unfavourable to the government of Charles X. Like every other man of sense and foresight throughout the kingdom, he beheld with dread the dissolution of the Martignac ministry, and the substitution of the Polignac administration; but such political inconsistencies could not astonish, coming from a man of the stamp of Charles X., whose whole life had been a tissue of inconsistencies, from the famous protest of the Count d’Artois, upon the occasion of the States-General in 1789, to the fatal appointment of the ministry which was to send him forth a second time to emigration, from which he had returned once before, according to Prince Talleyrand’s own expression long previous to the catastrophe, ‘_having learnt little and forgotten nothing_.’ M. de Talleyrand, nevertheless, did ample justice to the many good qualities which distinguished the king in private life, and the more he overwhelmed him with contempt as a _chef de parti_, the more he was pleased to acknowledge in him a feeling and generous nature, and a faithful and grateful friend. In point of real and sterling worth he placed him far above his brother Louis XVIII., whom he accused of ‘having no friends—only favourites,’ and who in his whole life never had the heart to grant a pardon to a single criminal. The one was a better king, the other a far better man.

“Charles X., however, returned tenfold in hatred and suspicion all the pity and contempt which the wily diplomate sought to cast upon his government; and moreover, the devout monarch never could forget that the Bishop of Autun had renounced the Church, and had married, in spite of the threatened excommunication and eternal damnation voted by Rome as the punishment of such a step; for, although Pope Pius VII. had absolved the bishop from his vows of priesthood, it was never without a thrill of horror that the king beheld on court days his grand chamberlain, who seldom failed on occasions of ceremony and etiquette to present himself before his royal master, in spite of the cold reception he met with in the court circles, where his tottering gait and sarcastic speech had earned for him the sobriquet of ‘_Le Diable Boiteux_.’ The king, blinded by prejudice, even forgot, in this instance, the papal authority; for the marriage of the prince had been sanctioned by the Pope, and was therefore legal in the eyes of the most pious Catholics.

“Nevertheless, at the epoch of the Martignac administration, it seemed as if a kind of _rapprochement_ had taken place, if not between M. de Talleyrand and the king, at least between the former and the ministry. The men who composed this ministry[A] all of them possessed a degree of moderation in their political opinions, which M. de Talleyrand could not but admire, and, wishing to prove that until then he had been opposed, not to the king’s government, but to the principles of the ministry who had conducted it, he sought by every means to show publicly his sympathy for the new ministers. He was seen once more to frequent the ministerial salons, and received the ministers at his own hotel with that _haute politesse_ and courtly urbanity for which he was so distinguished, expressing upon every occasion the satisfaction which he felt at seeing the helm of public affairs at last in the grasp of men whose experience rendered them able to comprehend the exigencies of the country, and possessed of resources enabling them to provide the most efficient means of meeting them. This satisfaction was but of short duration. In the month of August following, Charles X., yielding to the instigations of his secret counsellors, who worked upon his unenlightened conscience—taking, himself, undue alarm at the first check sustained by the _ministère_ Martignac in the Chamber of Deputies—replaced the members of his cabinet by the Polignac administration. Throughout the kingdom there arose a cry of indignation at this step.

[A] M. de Martignac Interior.
De la Ferronaye Affaires Etrangères.
Feutrier Cultes.
Portalis Justice.

“M. de Talleyrand, grieved to see the false line of conduct into which the king was falling, but incapacitated from affording help, and moreover, assailed each day by some new vexation, took advantage of a short illness to withdraw for a while from court, in order to restore his health at the château of his niece, the Duchess de Dino, at Rochecotte, in Touraine, where he resolved to pass the ensuing winter.

“Various have been the motives attributed to this retirement at Rochecotte. I am aware that many of the public papers have asserted, and other writers of graver stamp have repeated, that it was during this winter that the plan of attack against Charles X. was conceived and matured, between the _chefs_ of the liberal party and M. de Talleyrand, who, according to general belief, had engaged himself to lend them the aid of his counsel and high influence.

“What gave some little colouring to these reports was the fact, that M. de Talleyrand reckoned among his most intimate friends some of the most violent members of the opposition, who, at the moment of the revolution of 1830, by the force of circumstances, found themselves at the head of the new code of things which they had so long and so ardently desired, and which, after all, was established without their direct influence, as will be proved by a bare recital of facts. Thus, M. de Talleyrand received into his daily intimacy General Sébastiani, the Duc de Broglie, M. Villemain, M. Bertin de Vaux, and M. Molé; all of whom, however, remained passive spectators of the struggle, until the moment when the chance turned in favour of the popular party. There was one man, however, who took an active part in the revolutionary movement, who had prepared and ordered its march by his attacks in the journal of which he was principal editor, and whom M. de Talleyrand encouraged and distinguished by most particular favour. It was, indeed, at Rochecotte, during the month of May, which Thiers spent there with M. de Talleyrand, that he conceived the plan of those terrific articles in the _National_, which every morning, like the battering ram of ancient warfare, laid in ruins the wretched bulwarks behind which the tottering monarchy thought itself secure.

“Thiers, in fact, did conspire against the government of Charles X.; but it was conspiracy not with this leader or with that; not with such and such a party; but with the immense majority of the nation, to whom he spoke the language they had seldom heard, and which they all could understand; the language of their old affections and of their craving need. But thence to argue that M. Thiers came to Rochecotte to concert with M. de Talleyrand the plan of the _National_, and the overthrow of the government, would be to make M. de Talleyrand play a part much beneath him. It must also be remembered that Thiers was at that time a sub-editor of the _Constitutionnel_, and that nothing foretold in him the future President of Louis Philippe’s council. His History of the Revolution, full as it was of false ideas and monstrous principles, thanks to some few narratives of interest, and to the great name of Napoleon, which is retraced in grand and noble characters, had established for its author a certain reputation in the literary world. But of a surety, M. de Talleyrand, notwithstanding the high opinion he entertained of the talents of Thiers as a man of business, would have been much astonished if, at that period, in his salon at Rochecotte, some modern Cassandra had predicted that the author of the “Revolution Française” would one day become Prime Minister and Chief of the French Cabinet! M. de Talleyrand, with all his boasted perspicacity, his foresight, and his _justesse d’esprit_, would have considered it as a _mauvaise plaisanterie_ that a man _sans position sociale_, an _homme de rien_, should ever be considered eligible as a leader of public affairs in a country like France.

“M. Thiers was, in the eyes of M. de Talleyrand, nothing more than a young writer, full of vigour and talent, whom the old seigneur loved to protect, and to initiate into the manners and customs of good society, without a knowledge of which (he would often say) there can be no good taste in literature. But he was the last person in the world who, at that time, could have looked upon Thiers as a conspirator, of whom he was making himself, by such protection, the vile associate.

“The men of July, whether to curry favour with the new dynasty, or to assume the part of profound politicians, have pretended that they had prepared the fall of Charles X., and they boast that their machinations had aroused the tempest which, in three short days, swallowed up a whole generation of kings. These men have either sought to deceive public opinion, or else have been themselves grossly deceived. Nothing was ever more unlike a conspiracy than the Revolution of 1830; or if conspiracy _did_ exist, it was public, general, and unanimous; one in which the whole country bore a part, saving only that small portion of the community bound by ties of honour and gratitude to the elder branch of the House of Bourbon. In fact, there was not a single human being endowed with sense, from one end of France to the other, who, even long before the issuing of the fatal ‘Ordonnances’ of July, could not have foretold whither the multifarious blunders of Charles X.’s government were hurling the monarchy; but not a soul had the slightest presentiment that the day of reckoning was so nigh; and, as proof of this, it may be remembered that those men of talent most opposed to the Restoration, such as MM. Pasquier, Molé, Royer Collard, Sébastiani, De Barante, Guizot, De Broglie, and many others, were struck as by a thunderbolt at the first news of those accursed ‘Ordonnances.’

“Among these men stood first and foremost M. de Talleyrand, who could scarcely credit the _Moniteur Officiel_ which contained them. To assert then that M. de Talleyrand _conspired_ against the Bourbons—that by his _liaisons_ with the opposition, and above all, with the Duke of Orleans, he brought on the fall of the elder branch, and the rise of the younger (which it may be allowed he had long foretold)—proves a total ignorance of the circumstances in which M. de Talleyrand was placed, and adds one more to the numerous calumnies which it has been the pleasure of so many writers to heap upon the head of this celebrated statesman. But, if the prince did not absolutely rush to meet the events of July, it cannot be denied that, with his accustomed tact, he knew how to profit by the _faits accomplis_, and that, being once certain of the flight of Charles X., he pointed out, with the rare sagacity with which he was gifted, and which age had rather increased than diminished, to his old friend the Duke of Orleans, the line of conduct to be pursued in order to avoid, amid the stormy tides by which he was beset, seeking to steer his course against the will of the people.

“It has been to this day a matter of speculation whether the Duke of Orleans had anticipated being called to the throne, or whether it was the force of circumstances which had brought him to it. These are the facts:—although the Duke of Orleans had for a long time looked upon the event of a change in the dynasty as _possible_, and was most certainly _prepared_ to place the crown upon his own head in case of such an event, yet even so late as the 30th of July, he hesitated to grasp it, and resisted the arguments and persuasions of Thiers. It is a known fact that the duke was concealed in the environs of Neuilly, in fear of a popular outbreak, when a secret message from M. de Talleyrand, which he received on the evening of that day, caused him to decide at length upon re-entering Paris, and proclaiming himself Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom—the Head of the new Power. The new king soon forgot, however, this proof of attachment on the part of his old friend; and M. de Talleyrand, who knew that kings, even when chosen by the will of the people, are, for the most part, compelled to be _illustres ingrats_, never, during the years which followed these events, alluded to the circumstances which brought about the _avénement_ of Louis Philippe.”

Nevertheless, as it is entirely to this secret influence of Prince Talleyrand, which swayed the decision of the Duke of Orleans, that France is indebted for the new dynasty, it may be interesting to the reader to give, from the authority of one who was with the prince during the memorable days, and the truth of whose statements may be relied on, some account of what took place on that occasion.

“M. de Talleyrand,” continued C., “was, at the time, in his hotel in the Rue St. Florentin, and, on the first day, before any one could foretel the issue of the terrible drama which had just begun, far from displaying any degree of sympathy for the resistance which was beginning to be organized in every quarter of Paris, he looked on with a feeling of terror at the unchaining of the populace; for he had often said, that “neither experience nor prophecy could ever calculate the chances of a dawning revolution. Would the people, when once let loose in the revolutionary arena, renew the bloody scenes of ’93, or would they pause before the memory of that dread, terrific epoch? Could any one, at that hour, have dared to hope that Paris would have given to the world the sole example in history of a roused and angry multitude, staying its tide of fury even in the midst of intoxicating triumph?

“M. de Talleyrand _did not_ foresee this possibility. The souvenirs of youth came back upon his age, and showed him the people conquering, using and abusing the right that conquest gives; pillaging the hotels of the _noblesse_, and, in bloody triumph, sparing no superiority, either of station, rank, or fortune; and, it might be also, if the truth were known, trembling himself to be the first victim of popular rage; for he knew that the people loved him not: he had been the instrument of the restoration of the Bourbons. Such were the thoughts which occupied the mind of M. de Talleyrand during the first of these days, and, with those who can bear witness to the uneasiness which he betrayed during those hours of doubt and terror, he is perfectly exonerated from the suspicion of having _prepared_ the change which was taking place before his eyes.

“On the second day, the 28th, when the people were combating against the king’s troops for the possession of the Hôtel de Ville, while the air was filled with the old and dreaded sounds, the cannon’s roar, the tocsin’s boom, his confidence in the success of the king’s power of defence forsook him at once, and he then pronounced the memorable sentence which has since become familiar to the readers of French literature: ‘The cannon which is fired against the people cannot but shake the sovereign’s throne.’ At the moment when the tocsin announced the triumph of the people at the Hôtel de Ville, he looked at the clock upon the mantelpiece. It was then just upon the stroke of five. ‘A few minutes more,’ exclaimed he, ‘and Charles X. is no longer King of France.’

“One good instance of his presence of mind occurred at this very moment, for he turned to his valet-de-chambre, and made him immediately collect together the men-servants of the hotel, and take down the words ‘HOTEL TALLEYRAND,’ which flaunted in large golden characters over the gateway, the feudal pride of other times.

“I still maintain the perfect conviction that, even up to the very hour of which I speak, he was undecided as to the course he would adopt; he was evidently waiting for the issue of the struggle. Public rumour has lent him a _bon mot_, which is certainly in his style, although I was with him the whole day, and did not hear him pronounce it.

“‘Hark! the tocsin ceases—we triumph!’

“‘_We!_ who, mon prince?’

“‘Chut, not a word! I will tell you that to-morrow.’

“If his secret wishes were really in favour of a new order of things, with his habitual prudence, he made it a duty to conceal them; and he spent the whole of the second day fixed at the windows of the drawing-room of the hotel, which looks into the Place Louis Quinze, sending every now and then his emissaries into the divers quarters of Paris, to bring back accounts of the progress of the revolution. MM. de Broglie, Bertin de Vaux, and Sébastiani were with him, and all, excepting the prince, were of opinion that the king would attempt, before the morning, to re-enter Paris at the head of his troops. _He_ knew the character of the man too well either to hope or to fear this decision.

“On the 29th, however, when M. de Talleyrand began to be convinced that the cause of the revolution was triumphant, that the liberal deputies, Casimir Périer, Laffitte, Lafayette, all, not only pronounced themselves in its favour, but sought to direct the insurrection, and to place themselves at its head, he felt at once the immense advantage that such a demonstration would give to the Chamber of Deputies over the Chamber of Peers; and his only thought during the whole day was to collect together at his own house the few men of intelligence among the peers of the opposition, in order to balance, in the public opinion, by some patriotic declaration, the influence already gained by the deputies, from the position in which they had placed themselves—that of ‘Defenders of the Charter.’ But all the efforts of the prince were unavailing. The great number of his friends, such as Pasquier and Molé, hesitating to declare their opinions thus openly, in dread of the return of Charles X., declined taking a part in the protest of the deputies. M. de Talleyrand was pained to the quick by this want of decision, and foretold, with an accuracy which has since become manifest, all the bad consequences which would fall upon the Chamber of Peers, from having remained passive during this eventful crisis.

“By early dawn on the 30th, the people were, however, masters of Paris—of all the military posts—of all the barricades of the Tuileries—of the Louvre, and of the hotels of the ministers. The royalist troops had withdrawn, and were encamped round St. Cloud, where still lingered, in faint hope, in inert expectation, Charles X. and his court.

“Suddenly a report arose, and spread like wild-fire through Paris! The old king, alarmed at the consequences of a civil war, had decided on immediate flight! M. de Talleyrand, at first, would give no credence to the rumours. He could not believe it possible that the king, being still surrounded by 12,000 devoted troops, would so soon abandon the chances of the game, and, before he declared himself, he sent to St. Cloud to ascertain the truth of the statement. The return of the messenger staggered us all. He brought word that Charles had fled from St. Cloud, and was proceeding with all expedition to Rambouillet. At that moment, M. de Talleyrand’s doubts were at an end; he decided at once upon the course he would pursue; and, in this circumstance, as in so many others wherein he has been accused of changing his politics to suit the hour, he might have answered as he had once done before, ‘It is not I who desert the king—it is the king who deserts us.’

“Now came the time when the high intelligence and marvellous sagacity of the prince were brought into action, and, I hesitate not to repeat, saved the country. M. de Talleyrand dispatched to Neuilly, with all possible speed, a little billet written with his own hand. The bearer was a person of high courage and great integrity, and was charged, should he fall into danger, or be arrested at the barrier, to destroy the billet. He could not in honour read its contents, but saw that there were but few words traced upon the paper. They were addressed to the king’s sister, Madame Adelaide. This messenger was commissioned to place the billet himself in the hands of the princess, and to tell her that the Prince de Talleyrand conjured her to warn the Duke of Orleans that not a moment was to be lost—that the Duke might reckon upon his aid, and that he must appear immediately—that he must come at once to Paris, to place himself at the head of the movement, or all would be lost without recall. Above all, he was only to take the title of Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, which Charles had conferred upon him before leaving St. Cloud:—he implored him not to manifest any other intention. In this advice the old diplomatist was reserving for himself a back door to creep out at in case Charles should march on Paris.

“Madame Adelaide received the message with ill-dissembled joy. With woman’s _astuce_, however, she declined giving an answer in writing, as there were no writing implements in the room, and she dared not ask the servants for them; being aware that the whole house was filled with spies, she knew not whom to trust at such a moment. She even took the precaution of returning the paper received from the prince, fearing either to retain or destroy it, lest its traces might be discovered. The messenger then took back this verbal message: ‘That her brother would be most grateful for the assistance which Prince Talleyrand thus offered—that he was for the moment _absent from Neuilly_—but that she would immediately have the prince’s message conveyed to him, and would herself use her most earnest endeavour to persuade him to go at once to Paris.’ The Duke of Orleans was, before night, established in the Palais Royal, and, in a few hours after his arrival, the walls of the capital were covered with placards and proclamations, signed LOUIS PHILIPPE, LIEUTENANT-GENERAL OF THE KINGDOM.

“Still, there remained an immense distance to overleap before the crown could be grasped by the lieutenant-general. On the one hand, the republican party were howling with rage, to find the republic vanishing still further from their embrace—that dear-beloved republic, for whose sake they had rushed so blindly on the chances of a revolution. On the other side, the great mass of the citizens remained calm, and indifferent to the rise of another Bourbon. As to the party calling itself Carlist at the present day, it must have been very small indeed, for, in the hour of danger, it was invisible! The Orleans party, meanwhile, comprised all the leading members of the Opposition in both Chambers. At the head of this party was M. de Talleyrand, who, without exactly declaring himself in favour of the new dynasty, already directed all its movements, by the advice which he found means to transmit through a person in his confidence; for the barricades, by which the streets were still rendered impassable, prevented him from going in person to the Palais Royal.

“Nevertheless, M. de Talleyrand beheld with uneasiness the republicans beginning to profit by the kind of interregnum which followed the flight of Charles X. This party, with the perseverance which still characterises it, were every hour gaining ground. Already the populace, which, during the three days had shown itself so magnanimous, so disinterested and generous, was beginning almost to murmur at its victory, and to lend a greedy ear to the furious declamations of the jacobins of 1830. A little longer hesitation, and the re-establishment of royalty would have become a thing impossible without another direful struggle, in which it is not quite clear that the Orleans party would have been victorious. Already were the piazzas and the gardens of the Palais Royal echoing with inflammatory appeals to the sovereign people, to stand forth while yet it was time, and to take into its own hands the government of what were virtually and morally its own interests. The approaches to the Chamber of Deputies, where the famous declaration of the 7th of August was concocting, were crowded with fierce and savage-looking men, calling with bloodthirsty cries for the establishment of the Republic, and vociferating horrible menaces against those deputies who would dare to set up another throne; above all, to seat upon it another Bourbon. A crisis was imminent. The government which was sitting at the Palais Royal had the utmost difficulty in restraining the people, by dint of intoxicating its self-love and vanity with the praises bestowed with liberal hand each morning in the journals. The people were beginning to discover, meanwhile, that the victory which they had gained, and for which they were so lauded, gave them neither bread for their starving families, nor work whereby to earn it; and they who, after having broken the sceptre of royalty, thought to be freed from all control, could not support, without shuddering, the restraint which a government, unsanctioned by the popular voice, sought to impose upon them.

“Dreadful rumours of revolt and massacre were circulated on all sides, and the family of the Duke of Orleans were not without alarm for the very life of its chief. The moment, then, was come at last—the moment to decide. Charles X. was taking, without resistance, the road to a new exile. From that quarter, then, all danger ceased. The deputies, now gathered together in sufficient number to deliberate, had come to offer the crown to the lieutenant-general of the kingdom. M. de Talleyrand was consulted at this crisis, and he it was who caused the faint resistance of Louis Philippe to cease, and induced him to place upon his brow the crown offered by the people, and he it was whose opinion decided the king to go at once to the Hôtel de Ville, there to receive publicly the sceptre of France, and to swear allegiance to the Charter. This truth may be relied on; and, moreover, M. de Talleyrand, in order to give to the new power the sanction of his old experience, appeared at the public reception of the Palais Royal for the first time since the revolution.

“Such was the part played by M. de Talleyrand in the revolution of 1830. Immense it was, if judged by its results, but neither studied beforehand nor rehearsed, as it has been so often unjustly asserted since that day. This part, indeed, was so entirely _impromptu_, that many persons of the intimate circle of the prince know that, more than once, M. de Talleyrand has let fall a regret that Charles, in his blind folly, should have destroyed in three days the whole fabric of the Restoration, which had been looked upon by all Europe as the masterpiece of Talleyrand’s diplomatic works. The weakness of seigneurial pride, too, the only one which I think he ever possessed, will sometimes cause him to sigh over the wreck of that principle of legitimacy which he had been at so much pains to re-establish in favour of the Bourbons, a principle which he still considers necessary to the repose of the country, perhaps compromised for many generations by the events of the three glorious days. The lesson which such regrets imply, conveys, to the thinking mind, its own moral.”