The year 1821--The Berlin, Embassy--I arrive in Berlin--M.
Ancillon--The Royal Family--Celebrations for the marriage of the
Grand-duke Nicholas--Berlin society--Count von Humboldt--Herr von
Chamisso--Ministers and ambassadors--The Princess William--The
Opera--A musical meeting--My first dispatches--M. de Bonnay--The
Park--The Duchess of Cumberland--Commencement of a Memorandum on
Germany--Charlottenburg--Interval between the Berlin Embassy and
the London Embassy--Baptism of M. le Duc de Bordeaux--Letter to M.
Pasquier--Letter from M. de Bernstoff--Letter from M. Ancillon--Last
letter from the Duchess of Cumberland--M. de Villèle, Minister of
Finance--I am appointed Ambassador to London.
I left France, leaving my friends in possession of an authority which
I had purchased for them at the cost of my absence: I was a little
Lycurgus[62]. What was good in it was that the first trial which I
had made of my political strength restored me my liberty; I was going
to enjoy abroad that liberty within the power. At the bottom of this
liberty, personally new to me, I saw I know not what confused romances
in the midst of realities: was there nothing in Courts? Were not they
solitudes of another kind? Perhaps they were Elysian fields with their
shades.
I left Paris on the 1st of January 1821: the Seine was frozen, and for
the first time I was racing along the roads with the comforts of money.
I was gradually recovering from my contempt for riches; I was beginning
to feel that it was not unpleasant to roll in a good carriage, to be
well served, not to have to trouble about anything, and to be preceded
by an enormous Warsaw courier, who was always famished and who, in
default of the Tsars, would have devoured Poland unaided. But I soon
got used to my good fortune; I had the presentiment that it would not
last long and that I should soon be made to go on foot again, as was
right and proper. Before I reached my destination, all that remained
to me of the journey was my primitive taste for travel itself, the
taste for independence, the satisfaction of having broken the bonds of
society.
You shall see, when I am returning from Prague in 1833, what I say
of my old memories of the Rhine: I was obliged, because of the ice,
to ascend its banks and to cross it above Mayence. I troubled myself
little with "Moguntia," its archbishop, its three or four sieges, and
the invention of printing, through which however I reigned. Frankfort,
the city of the Jews, delayed me only for one of their transactions: to
change some money.
The road was sad: the highway was snowy and hoar-frost covered the
branches of the pine-trees. I caught sight of Jena in the distance,
with the worms of its double battle[63]. I passed through Erfurt and
Weimar: at Erfurt, the Emperor was wanting; at Weimar dwelt Goethe[64],
whom I had admired so much, and whom I admire much less. The singer of
matter lived, and his old dust still adhered around his genius. I might
have seen Goethe and did not see him; he leaves a gap in the procession
of the celebrated persons who have defiled before my eyes.
Luther's[65] tomb at Wittenberg did not tempt me: Protestantism in
religion is only an illogical heresy, in politics only an abortive
revolution. After eating, while crossing the Elbe, a little black loaf
kneaded in tobacco-smoke, I should have wanted to drink out of Luther's
big glass, which is preserved as a relic. From there, passing through
Potsdam and crossing the Spree, a river of ink along which crawl barges
guarded by a white dog, I arrived in Berlin. There lived, as I have
said, "the mock Julian in his mock Athens." I sought in vain the sun of
Mount Hymettus. I wrote in Berlin the fourth book of these Memoirs. You
have found in it the description of that city, my trip to Potsdam, my
memories of the Great Frederic, of his horse, of his greyhounds and of
Voltaire.
Alighting on the 11th of January at an inn, I next went to live Unter
den Linden, in the house which M. le Marquis de Bonnay had left, and
which belonged to Madame la Duchesse de Dino: I was there received by
Messieurs de Caux, de Flavigny[66] and de Gussy, the secretaries of
legation.
[Sidenote: Ambassador to Prussia.]
On the 17th of January, I had the honour of presenting to the King[67]
M. le Marquis de Bonnay's letter of recall and my own credentials. The
King, lodged in an ordinary house, had two sentries at his door for all
distinction: entered who would; one spoke to him "if he was at home."
This simplicity of the German sovereigns tends to make the name and
prerogatives of the great less felt by the small. Frederic William went
every day, at the same hour, in an open cariole which he drove himself,
in a cap and a grey cloak, to smoke his cigar in the Park. I used often
to meet him and we continued our drive, each in his own direction. When
he entered Berlin again, the sentry at the Brandenburg Gate shouted at
the top of his voice; the guard took up arms and turned out; the King
passed and all was over.
On the same day I paid my court to the Prince Royal[68] and the Princes
his brothers[69], very lively young officers. I saw the Grand-duke
Nicholas[70] and the Grand-duchess[71], newly married, who were being
feasted. I also saw the Duke[72] and Duchess of Cumberland[73], Prince
William[74], the King's brother, Prince Augustus of Prussia[75], for
a long time our prisoner: he had wished to marry Madame Récamier; he
owned the admirable portrait which Gérard[76] painted of her and which
she had exchanged with the Prince for the picture of Corinna.
I hastened to find M. Ancillon[77]. We were mutually acquainted through
our works. I had met him in Paris with the Prince Royal, his pupil; he
was in charge of the Foreign Office in Berlin, ad interim, during the
absence of Count von Bernstorff[78]. His was a very touching life: his
wife had lost her sight; all the doors in his house were left open; the
poor blind woman wandered from room to room, among flowers, and sat
down at hap-hazard, like a caged nightingale: she sang well, and died
early.
M. Ancillon, like many illustrious Prussians, was of French origin:
as a Protestant minister, he had at first held very Liberal opinions;
little by little he cooled. When I met him again in Rome, in 1828, he
had gone back to moderate monarchy, and he retrograded to absolute
monarchy. With an enlightened love of generous sentiments, he combined
a hatred and fear of the revolutionaries; it was this hatred that drove
him towards despotism, in order to ask for shelter there. Will they who
still extol 1793 and admire its crimes never understand to how great an
extent the horror with which one is seized for those crimes acts as an
obstacle to the establishment of liberty?
[Sidenote: A fête at Court.]
There was a fête at Court, and with that commenced for me honours of
which I was very unworthy. Jean Bart[79], to go to Versailles, put
on a coat of cloth-of-gold lined with cloth-of-silver, which made him
very uncomfortable. The Grand-duchess, now Empress of Russia, and the
Duchess of Cumberland chose my arm in a polonaise: my worldly romances
were beginning. The air of the march was a kind of medley, composed of
various pieces, among which, to my great satisfaction, I recognised the
song of King Dagobert[80]: that encouraged me and came to the rescue
of my timidity. These fêtes were repeated; one of them in particular
took place in the King's Great Palace. Not caring to undertake the
description on my own account, I give it as chronicled in the Berlin
_Morgenblatt_ by the Baroness von Hohenhausen[81]:
BERLIN, 22 _March_ 1821 (_Morgenblatt_ No. 70).
"One of the notable persons present at this entertainment
was the Vicomte de Chateaubriand, the French Minister, and
however great the splendour of the spectacle that unfolded
before their eyes, the fair Berlinese still kept a glance
for the author of _Atala_, that superb and melancholy novel,
in which the most ardent love succumbs in the fight against
religion. The death of Atala and Chactas' hour of happiness,
during a storm in the ancient forests of America, depicted in
Miltonian colours, will remain ever engraved in the memory
of all the readers of the novel. M. de Chateaubriand wrote
_Atala_ in his youth, painfully tried by his exile from
his country: hence the profound melancholy and the burning
passion which breathe throughout the work. At present this
consummate statesman has devoted his pen solely to politics.
His last work, the _Vie et la mort du duc de Berry_, is
written quite in the tone employed by the panegyrists of
Louis XIV.
"M. de Chateaubriand is of a somewhat short, yet slender,
stature. His oval countenance has an expression of reverence
and melancholy. He has black hair and eyes: the latter
glow with the fire of his mind, which is pronounced in his
features."
But I have white hair: so forgive the Baroness von Hohenhausen for
having sketched me in my good days, although already she grants me
years. The portrait, besides, is very handsome; but I owe it to my
sincerity to say that it is not like.
The house Unter den Linden was much too large for me, cold and
dilapidated: I occupied only a small part of it. Among my colleagues,
the ministers and ambassadors, the only one worthy of note was M.
d'Alopeus[82]. I have since met his wife and daughter[83] in Rome with
the Grand-duchess Helen[84]: if the latter had been in Berlin instead
of the Grand-duchess Nicholas, her sister-in-law, I should have been
better pleased.
M. d'Alopeus, my colleague, had a gentle mania for believing himself to
be adored. He was persecuted by the passions which he inspired:
"Upon my word," he used to say, "I don't know what there is about me;
wherever I go the women follow me. Madame d'Alopeus became obstinately
attached to me."
He would have been an excellent Saint-Simonian. Private society has
its own aspect, like public society: in the former, it is always
attachments formed and broken off, family affairs, deaths, births,
private sorrows and pleasures; the whole varied in appearance according
to the centuries. In the other, it is always change of ministers,
battles lost or won, negociations with Courts, kings who disappear, or
kingdoms that fall.
Under Frederic II.[85] Elector of Brandenburg, surnamed "Iron-tooth";
under Joachim II.[86], poisoned by the Jew Lippold[87]; under John
Sigismund[88], who added the Duchy of Prussia to his Electorate; under
George William[89], "the Irresolute," who, losing his fortresses,
allowed Gustavus Adolphus[90] to chat with the ladies of the Court
and said, "What is to be done? They have guns;" under the Great
Elector[91], who found nothing in his States but "heaps of ashes,
which prevented the grass from growing[92]," who gave audience to the
Ambassador of Tartary, "whose interpreter had a wooden nose and slit
ears;" under his son, the first King of Prussia[93], who, startled out
of his sleep by his wife, took the fever with fright and died of it:
under all these reigns, the different Memoirs display only a repetition
of the same adventures in private life.
[Sidenote: The House of Hohenzollern.]
Frederic William I.[94], father of the great Frederic, a stern and
eccentric man, was brought up by Madame de Rocoules, the refugee: he
loved a young woman who was unable to soften him; his drawing-room
was a smoking-room. He nominated the buffoon Gundling[95] President
of the Royal Academy of Berlin; he shut up his son in the Citadel of
Custrin, and Quatt had his head chopped off before the young Prince's
eyes: that was the private life of that time. Frederic the Great,
having ascended the throne, had an intrigue with an Italian dancer,
the Barbarini, the only woman he ever approached: he contented himself
on his wedding-night with playing the flute under the window of the
Princess Elizabeth of Brunswick[96] when he married her. Frederic had
a taste for music and a mania for verses. The intrigues and epigrams
of the two poets, Frederic and Voltaire[97], disturbed Madame de
Pompadour[98], the Abbé de Bernis[99] and Louis XV.[100] The Margravine
of Bayreuth[101] was mixed up in all this with love, such as a poet
might feel. Literary parties at the King's; next, dogs on unclean
arm-chairs; next, concerts before statues of Antinous; next, great
dinner-parties; next, a quantity of philosophy; next, the liberty of
the press and blows with the stick; next, a lobster or an eel-pie,
which put an end to the days of an old great man who wanted to live:
these are the things with which private society occupied itself in that
time of letters and battles. And, notwithstanding, Frederic renovated
Germany, established a counterpoise to Austria, and altered all
Germany's relations and all her political interests.
In the later reigns, we find the Marble Palace, Frau Rietz[102], with
her son, Alexander Count von der Marck, the Baroness von Stoltzenberg,
mistress to the Margrave Schwed, and formerly an actress; Prince
Henry[103] and his suspicious friends, Fräulein Voss, Frau Rietz's
rival; an intrigue at a masked ball between a young Frenchman and the
wife of a Prussian general; lastly Madame de F------, whose adventure
we can read in the _Histoire secrète de la cour de Berlin_[104]: who
knows all those names? Who will remember ours? To-day, in the Prussian
capital, octogenarians scarcely preserve the memory of that past
generation.
[Sidenote: Berlin society.]
The habits of Berlin society suited me: people "went to
evening-parties" between five and six; all was over by nine, and I used
to go to bed just as though I had not been an ambassador. Sleep devours
existence, which is a good thing:
"The hours are short and life is long," says Fénelon.
Herr Wilhelm von Humboldt[105], brother of my illustrious friend
the Baron Alexander, was in Berlin: I had known him as minister in
Rome; suspected by the Government because of his opinions, he led a
retired life; to kill time, he learnt all the languages and even all
the dialects of the world. He reproduced the peoples, the ancient
inhabitants of a soil, by means of the geographical denominations of
the country. One of his daughters talked ancient and modern Greek with
equal ease; if one had happened on a good day, one might have chatted
at table in Sanskrit.
Adelbert von Chamisso[106] lived in the Botanical Gardens, some way
from Berlin. I visited him in that solitude, where the plants froze in
the hot-houses. He was tall, with rather agreeable features. I felt an
attraction towards that exile, a traveller like myself: he had seen the
Polar seas to which I had hoped to penetrate. An Emigrant like myself,
he had been brought up in Berlin as a royal page. Adelberg, travelling
through Switzerland, stopped for a moment at Coppet. He took part in
an excursion on the lake, where he was in danger of being drowned. He
wrote that same day:
"I clearly see that I must seek my safety on the high seas."
Herr von Chamisso had been appointed professor at Napoléonville by M.
de Fontanes; later Greek professor at Strasburg; he rejected the offer
in these noble words:
"The first condition for working at the instruction of youth is
independence; though I admire Bonaparte's genius, it is not to my
taste."
In the same way he refused the advantages offered to him by the
Restoration:
"I have done nothing for the Bourbons," he said, "and I cannot accept
the price of the services and the blood of my fathers. In this age,
every man must provide for his own existence."
In Herr von Chamisso's family this note is preserved, written in the
Temple, in the hand of Louis XVI.:
"I recommend M. de Chamisso, one of my faithful servants, to
my brothers."
The Martyr King had hidden the little note in his bosom to have it
handed to his first page, Chamisso[107], Adelbert's uncle[108].
Herr von Chamisso embarked on the ship equipped by Count
Romanzoff[109], and, in company with Captain Kotzebue[110], discovered
the strait to the east of Behring's Straits and gave his name to one of
the islands from which Cook had caught sight of the American coast. In
Kamchatka he picked up a portrait of Madame Récamier on porcelain and
a copy of his little tale, _Peter Schlemihl_, translated into Dutch.
Adelbert's hero, Peter Schlemihl, sold his shadow to the devil: I would
rather have sold him my body.
I remember Chamisso as I do the imperceptible breeze that lightly
swayed the stalks of the heather through which I passed when returning
to Berlin.
Following a rule of Frederic II., the Princes and Princesses of the
Blood in Berlin do not see the diplomatic body; but, thanks to the
carnival, to the marriage of the Duke of Cumberland with the Princess
Frederica of Prussia, sister to the late Queen[111], thanks also to a
certain relaxation of etiquette which they permitted themselves, it was
said, because of my person, I had occasion to be oftener with the Royal
Family than my colleagues. As from time to time I visited the Great
Palace, I there met the Princess William[112]: she liked taking me
over the apartments. I never saw a sadder expression than hers: in the
uninhabited rooms at the back of the palace, on the Spree, she showed
me a chamber haunted on certain days by a white lady, and, pressing
herself against me with a certain terror, she looked like that white
lady herself. On the other hand, the Duchess of Cumberland told me that
she and her sister the Queen of Prussia, when both still very young,
had heard their mother[113], who had recently died, talk to them from
under her closed curtains.
[Sidenote: Frederic William III.]
The King, into whose presence I came as I finished my sight-seeing,
took me to his oratories: he called my attention to the crucifixes
and pictures, and ascribed the honour of those innovations to me,
because, said he, having read in the _Génie du christianisme_ that the
Protestants had stripped their cult too bare, he had thought my remark
just: he had not yet reached the excess of his Lutheran fanaticism.
In the evening, at the Opera, I had a box next to the Royal Box,
situated facing the stage. I talked with the Princesses; the King went
out between the acts; I met him in the corridor: he would look round to
see that no one was near us and that we could not be overheard; then
he would confess to me, in a whisper, his detestation of Rossini[114]
and his love of Gluck[115]. He branched out into lamentations on the
decadence of art, and, above all, on those gargling notes destructive
of dramatic singing: he confided to me that he dared say this only to
me, because of the people who surrounded him. If he saw any one coming,
he hurried back into his box.
I saw a performance of Schiller's[116] Joan of Arc; the Cathedral of
Rheims was perfectly copied. The King, who was seriously religious,
with difficulty endured the representation of Catholic worship on the
stage. Signor Spontini[117], composer of the _Vestal_, was manager of
the Opera. Madame Spontini, daughter of M. Érard[118], was pleasant,
but she seemed to atone for the volubility of the language of women
by her own slowness in speaking: any word divided into syllables died
away on her lips; if she had tried to say to you, "I love you," a
Frenchman's love would have had time to fly between the commencement
and the end of those three words. She was unable to finish my name, and
she did not come to the end without a certain grace.
A public musical assembly took place two or three times in the week.
In the evening, on returning from their work, little work-women, their
baskets on their arms, journeymen artisans, carrying the tools of their
trades, crowded promiscuously into a hall; on entering, they were given
a written sheet of music and they joined in the general chorus with
astonishing precision. It was something surprising to hear those two or
three hundred blended voices. When the piece was finished, each resumed
his homeward road. We are very far from this feeling for harmony, a
powerful means of civilization; it has introduced into the cottage of
the German peasants an education which our rustics lack: wherever there
is a piano, there is no more grossness.
About the 13th of January, I opened the series of my dispatches with
the Minister of Foreign Affairs. My mind easily accommodates itself
to this kind of work: why not? Did not Dante[119], Ariosto[120] and
Milton[121] succeed as well in politics as in poetry? No doubt I am
not Dante, nor Ariosto, nor Milton; nevertheless, Europe and France
have seen by the _Congrès de Vérone_ what I could do.
My predecessor in Berlin treated me, in 1816, as he treated M. de
Lameth[122] in his little verses at the commencement of the Revolution.
When one is so amiable, he should not leave minute-books behind him,
nor have the orderliness of a clerk when he has not the capacity of a
diplomatist. It happens, in the times in which we live, that a gust
of wind sends into your place the man against whom you rose up; and,
as the ambassador's duty is first to make himself acquainted with the
archives of the embassy, behold him coming upon the notes in which he
is dealt with in masterly fashion. What would you have? Those profound
minds, which worked for the success of the good cause, could not think
of everything.
[Sidenote: Minute-book revelations.]
EXTRACTS FROM THE MINUTE-BOOK OF M. DE BONNAY
No. 64. "22 _November_ 1816.
"All Europe has taken cognizance and approved of the words
which the King addressed to the newly-formed bureau of the
Chamber of Peers. I have been asked if it was possible that
men devoted to the King, that persons attached to his person
and holding places in his Household or in those of our
Princes had indeed been able to give their votes to put M. de
Chateaubriand into the secretaryship. My reply was that, as
the balloting was secret, no one could know how individual
votes went.
"'Ah,' exclaimed a leading man, 'if the King could be assured
of it, I hope that the access to the Tuileries would be
forthwith closed to those faithless servants.'
"I thought it my duty to make no answer, and I made no
answer."
"15 _October_ 1815.
. . . . . . . . . .
"It will be the same, monsieur le duc, with the measures
of the 5th and of the 20th of September: both meet with
nothing but approval in Europe. But what is astonishing is
to see that very pure and very worthy Royalists continue
to be smitten with M. de Chateaubriand, notwithstanding the
publication of a book which lays down the principle that the
King of France, by virtue of the Charter, is no longer more
than a moral entity, essentially null, and without a will
of his own. If any other than he had put forward a similar
maxim, the same men, not without apparent reason, would have
qualified him as a Jacobin."
There you have me finely put in my place. For the rest, it is a good
lesson; that brings down our pride, by teaching us what will become of
us when we are gone.
From the dispatches of M. de Bonnay and those of some other ambassadors
belonging to the Old Order, it appears to me that the dispatches
treated less of diplomatic affairs than of anecdotes relating to
persons in society and at Court; they reduced themselves to a journal,
encomiastic like Dangeau's[123], or satirical like Tallemant's[124].
And Louis XVIII. and Charles X. much preferred the amusing letters of
my colleagues to my serious correspondence. I could have laughed and
jested like my predecessors, but the time was past in which scandalous
adventures and petty intrigues were connected with public business.
What good would have resulted for my country from a portrait of M. de
Hardenberg[125], a handsome old man, white as a swan, deaf as a post,
going to Rome without permission, amusing himself with too many things,
believing in all sorts of dreams, given over in the last resort to
magnetism in the hands of Dr. Koreff[126], whom I used to meet on
horseback, trotting in sequestered neighbourhoods between the devil,
medicine and the Muses?
This contempt for a frivolous correspondence makes me say to M.
Pasquier in my letter of the 13th of February 1821, No. 13:
"I have not spoken to you, monsieur le baron, according to
custom, of the receptions, the balls, the spectacles, etc.; I
have not drawn little portraits nor composed useless satires
for you; I have tried to lift diplomacy out of mere gossip.
The reign of the commonplace will return when the time of the
extraordinary has passed: meanwhile, one should describe only
that which is destined to live and attack only that which
threatens."
[Sidenote: Berlin in Winter.]
Berlin has left me a lasting memory, because the nature of the
recreations which I found there carried me back to the days of my
childhood and my youth; only, very real princesses filled the part
of my Sylphide. Old rooks, my eternal friends, used to come to perch
on the lime-trees before my window; I threw food to them: when they
had caught too large a piece of bread, they threw it up again with
inconceivable dexterity to catch a smaller one, in such a way that they
were able to take another a little larger, and so on up to the chief
piece, which, held at the point of their beak, kept it open, without
permitting any of the increasing layers of bread to fall. His meal
over, the bird would sing after his fashion: _cantus cornicum ut secla
vetusta._ I wandered in the desert spaces of frozen Berlin, but I did
not hear beautiful voices of young girls issue from its walls, as from
the old walls of Rome. Instead of white-bearded Capuchins dragging
their sandals among flowers, I met soldiers making snow-balls.
One day, on turning the corner of the wall of circumvallation,
Hyacinthe[127] and I found ourselves face to face with so cutting an
east wind that we were obliged to run across country to regain town,
half-dead. We passed through enclosed grounds, and all the watch-dogs
flew at our legs, pursuing us. That day, the thermometer went down to
22 degrees below freezing-point. One or two sentries at Potsdam were
frozen to death.
On the further side of the park was an old abandoned pheasantry: the
Prussian princes do not go shooting. I crossed a little wooden bridge
over a canal leading out of the Spree and found myself among the
pine-wood columns which form the portico of the pheasantry. A fox,
which reminded one of those in the mall at Combourg, came out of a hole
contrived in the wall of the preserve, passed the time of day, and
retreated into his coppice.
What is known as the Park, in Berlin, is a wood of oaks, birches,
beeches, limes and alders. It lies outside the Charlottenburg Gate, and
is crossed by the high-road leading to that royal residence. To the
right of the Park is an exercise-ground; to the left are booths.
Inside the Park, which was not at that time intersected with regular
walks, one saw meadows, uncultivated spots, and beech-wood benches, on
which Young Germany not long ago had carved hearts pierced by daggers:
under these stabbed hearts one read the name of "Sand[128]." Flights of
crows, taking up their dwelling in the trees at the approach of spring,
were beginning to chatter. Living nature was reviving before vegetable
nature, and quite black frogs were being gobbled up by ducks in the
ponds which here and there had thawed: those were the nightingales
which "opened the spring-time in the woods" of Berlin. However, the
Park was not without pretty animals: squirrels scrambled along the
branches or darted along the ground, sporting their tails as a flag.
When I came near the merry-making, the actors climbed the trunks of
the oaks, stopped in a fork, and snarled at me as I passed below. Few
strollers frequented the forest, the uneven soil of which was lined and
cut by canals. Sometimes I would meet a gouty old officer who, quite
warm and lively, would say to me, speaking of the pale ray of the sun
under which I was shivering with cold:
"That's scorching!"
From time to time, I came across the Duke of Cumberland, on horseback
and almost blind, pulling up in front of an alder-tree, against
which he had ridden and knocked his nose. Some six-horsed carriages
would pass: in them were the Austrian Ambassadress or the Princess
von Radziwill and her daughter, fifteen years of age, charming as
one of those clouds with maidens' faces that surround Ossian's
moon. The Duchess of Cumberland nearly always took the same walk as
myself: at one time, she was returning from a cottage where she had
been relieving a poor woman of Spandau; at another, she stopped and
graciously told me that she had wanted to meet me: an amiable daughter
of the thrones alighting from her car, like the Goddess of Night, to
roam in the forest! I also saw her in her own house: she would repeat
that she wished to entrust me with her son, that little "George[129],"
since grown into the Prince whom his cousin Victoria[130] would, they
say, have liked to place by her side on the throne of England.
[Sidenote: The Duchess of Cumberland.]
The Princess Frederica has since dragged out her days on the banks
of the Thames, in those gardens at Kew which formerly saw me wander
between my two acolytes, illusion and poverty. After my departure from
Berlin, she honoured me with a correspondence; in it she describes,
from hour to hour, the life of an inhabitant of those heaths where
Voltaire passed, where Frederic died, where that Mirabeau hid himself
who was to commence the Revolution of which I was the victim. One's
attention is captivated on seeing the links by which so many men are
connected who have never seen each other.
Here are some extracts from the correspondence opened with me by H.R.H.
the Duchess of Cumberland:
"19 _April_[131], _Thursday._
"This morning, on waking, I was handed the _last_ evidence of
your remembrance; later, I passed before your house. I saw
the windows open as usual, everything was in the same place,
except yourself! I cannot tell you what this made me feel! I
now no longer know where to find you; each moment carries you
farther away; the only fixed point is the 26th, the day on
which you count on arriving, and the memory which I retain of
you.
"God grant that you may find everything changed for the
better, both for yourself and for the general good!
Accustomed as I am to sacrifices, I shall know also how
to bear that of not seeing you again, if it is for your
happiness and that of France."
"22.
"Since Thursday, I have passed in front of your house every
day on my way to church; I prayed hard for you there. Your
windows are constantly open, that touches me: who pays you
that attention to follow your tastes and instructions, in
spite of your absence? It occurs to me sometimes that you
have not gone away; that business detains you, or that you
want to keep off intruders, so as to finish it at your ease.
Do not believe that that would mean a reproach: it is the
only way; but, if that be so, pray tell me, in confidence."
"23.
"It is so prodigiously warm to-day, even in church, that I
cannot take my walk at the usual time: that is all the same
to me now. The dear little wood has no charm left for me,
everybody bores me there! This sudden change from cold to
heat is common in the North; the inhabitants, with their
moderation of character and sentiments, do not resemble the
climate."
"24.
"Nature has grown much more beautiful; all the leaves have
come out since your departure: I should have liked them to
come two days earlier, so that you might have carried away in
your memory a more smiling picture of your stay here."
"Berlin, 12 May 1821.
"Thank God, here is a letter from you at last! I knew quite
well that you could not write to me earlier; but in spite of
the calculations which my reason made for me, three weeks,
or rather twenty-three days, are very long for friendship in
privation, and to remain without news is like the saddest
exile: still, memory and hope remained to me."
"15 May.
"It is not from my stirrup, like the Grand Turk, but still
from my bed that I write to you; but this retreat has given
me all the time to reflect on the new dietary which you
propose to make Henry V. observe. I like it much; the roast
lion can only do him great good; only I advise you to make
him begin with the heart. You will have to make your other
pupil[132] eat lamb, lest he should play the deuce too much.
It is absolutely necessary that this plan of education should
be realized and that George and Henry V. should become good
friends and good allies."
[Illustration: Frederica Queen of Hanover.]
[Sidenote: Letters from the Duchess.]
H.R.H. the Duchess of Cumberland continued to write to me from the
waters at Ems, next from the waters at Schwalbach, and afterwards from
Berlin, where she returned on the 22nd of September in the year 1821.
She wrote to me from Ems:
"The Coronation in England will happen without me; I am
grieved that the King[133] should have fixed on the saddest
day of my life to have himself crowned: the day on which I
lost that adored sister[134]. The death of Bonaparte[135]
has also made me think of the sufferings which he made him
endure."
"BERLIN, 22 _September._
"I have already revisited those long, solitary walks.
How much obliged I shall be to you if you send me, as
you promised, the verses which you have written for
Charlottenburg! I also again took the road leading to the
house in the wood where you were kind enough to help me in
relieving the poor woman of Spandau; how good you are to
remember that name! Everything reminds me of happy times. It
is not new to regret happiness.
"As I was about to send off this letter, I hear that the King
has been detained at sea by the storms and probably driven on
to the Irish coast; he had not arrived in London on the 14th;
but you will know of his return before we do.
"The poor Princess William to-day received the sad news
of the death of her mother, the Dowager Landgravine of
Hesse-Homburg. You see how I am telling you of all that
concerns our family; Heaven grant that you may have better
news to give me!" were having
Does it not seem as if the sister of the beautiful Queen of Prussia is
speaking to me of "our family" even as though she the kindness to talk
to me of my grandmother, my aunt and my humble relations at Plancouët?
Did the Royal Family of France ever honour me with a smile similar to
that of this foreign Royal Family, which nevertheless hardly knew me
and which owed me nothing? I suppress a number of other affectionate
letters: there is about them something suffering and restrained,
resigned and noble, intimate and exalted; they serve as a counterpoise
to what I have said that was perhaps too severe of the Sovereign
Houses. A thousand years earlier, and the Princess Frederica, being a
daughter of Charlemagne, would have carried off Eginhard[136] at night
on her shoulders, lest he should leave traces in the snow.
I have just re-read this book in 1840: I cannot help being struck with
this continual romance of my life. What a series of missed destinies!
Had I returned to England with little George, the possible heir to that
crown, I should have seen the new dream fade away which could have made
me change my country, in the same way as, if I had not been married, I
should have remained, on the first occasion, in the land of Shakespeare
and Milton. The young Duke of Cumberland, who has lost his sight, did
not marry his cousin the Queen of England. The Duchess of Cumberland
has become Queen of Hanover: where is she? Is she happy? Where am I?
Thank God, in a few days I shall no longer have to turn my eyes over my
past life, nor to put these questions to myself. But it is impossible
for me not to pray Heaven to shed its favours over the last years of
the Princess Frederica[137].
I had been sent to Berlin with the olive-branch, and because my
presence brought trouble into the administration; but, knowing the
inconstancy of fortune, and feeling that my political part was not
played out, I watched events: I did not wish to abandon my friends. I
soon perceived that the reconciliation between the Royalist Party and
the Ministerial Party was not sincere; distrust and prejudice remained;
they did not do what they had promised me: they were beginning to
attack me. The entrance into the Council of Messieurs de Villèle
and de Corbière had excited the jealousy of the Extreme Right; it no
longer marched under the banner of the first, and he, whose ambition
was impatient, was beginning to grow weary. We exchanged some letters.
M. de Villèle regretted having entered the Council: he was wrong;
the proof that I had seen right was that, before a year passed,
he had become Minister of Finance and M. de Corbière obtained the
Interior[138].
[Sidenote: Letter to the Baron Pasquier.]
I also had an explanation with M. le Baron Pasquier; I wrote to him, on
the 10th of February 1821:
"I hear from Paris, monsieur le baron, by the post which
arrived this morning, 9 February, that it was found amiss
that I should have written from Mayence to the Prince von
Hardenberg, or even that I should have sent him a messenger.
I have not written to M. de Hardenberg, and still less have
I sent him a messenger. I desire, monsieur le baron, to be
spared chicanery. When my services are no longer agreeable,
let me be told so roundly: I could not be done a greater
pleasure. I neither asked nor wished for the mission with
which I have been charged; it was neither by taste nor choice
that I accepted an honourable exile, but for the sake of
peace. If the Royalists have rallied to the Ministry, the
Ministry is aware that I had the good fortune to contribute
to that union. I should have some right to complain. What
has been done for the Royalists since my departure? I do** not
cease to write on their behalf: am I listened to? Monsieur le
baron, I have, thank God, other things to do in life than to
attend balls. My country claims me, my wife is ill and needs
my care, my friends want their guide again. I am either above
or below an embassy, or even a ministry of State. You cannot
lack men abler than myself to conduct diplomatic business;
so it would be unnecessary to seek pretexts to chicane with
me. I shall understand with half a word; and you will find me
willing to return to my obscurity."
All this was sincere: that facility for cutting everything and
regretting nothing would have given me great strength, if I had had any
ambition.
My diplomatic correspondence with M. Pasquier went on; continuing to
occupy myself with the affair of Naples[139], I said:
No. 15. "20 _February_ 1821.
"Austria is doing a service to the monarchies by destroying
the Jacobin edifice in the Two Sicilies; but she would
ruin those same monarchies if the result of a salutary and
necessary expedition were to be the conquest of a province
or the oppression of a people. Naples must be freed from
demagogic independence, and monarchical liberty established
there; irons must be broken, not chains brought there. But
Austria does not desire a constitution in Naples: what will
she place there? Men? Where are they? It wants only one
Liberal priest and two hundred soldiers for the troubles to
begin all over again.
"It is after the voluntary or forced occupation that you must
intervene to establish in Naples a constitutional government,
under which all social liberties will be respected."
I always preserved a preponderance of opinion in France which obliged
me to look at home affairs. I ventured to submit the following plan to
my minister:
"Frankly adopt constitutional government.
"Bring in a bill for septennial elections, without aiming at
retaining a portion of the present Chamber, which would be
suspicious, or keeping the whole, which would be dangerous.
"Give up the laws of exception, a source of arbitrariness, an
eternal subject of quarrels and calumnies.
"Free the communes from ministerial despotism."
In my despatch of the 3rd of March, No. 18, I reverted to Spain; I said:
"It may be possible that Spain will soon change her monarchy
into a republic: her Constitution must bear its fruit. The
King[140] will either fly or be killed or dethroned; he is
not strong enough to master the revolution. It is possible
again that this same Spain might exist for some time in a
popular state, if she were to form herself into federal
republics, an aggregation for which she is better suited
than any other country by the variety of her kingdoms, her
manners, her laws and even her language."
The Naples affair returns three or four times more. On the 6th of
March, No. 19, I observe:
"That the Legitimacy has not been able to take deep root in
a State which has so often changed masters and whose habits
have been upset by so many revolutions. Affections have not
had time to be born, manners to receive the uniform imprint
of centuries and institutions. In the Neapolitan nation are
many corrupt or wild men who have no mutual connection, and
who are attached to the Crown only by feeble bonds: royalty
is too near the _lazzarone_ and too far removed from the
Calabrian to be respected. The French had too many military
virtues to establish democratic liberty; the Neapolitans will
not have sufficient"
[Sidenote: Official dispatches.]
Lastly, I said a few words about Portugal and again about Spain.
The rumour was being spread that John VI.[141] had embarked at Rio de
Janeiro for Lisbon. It was a frolic of fortune worthy of our time that
a king of Portugal should fly to an European revolution to seek shelter
against an American revolution, and pass at the foot of the rock on
which was confined the conqueror who had formerly compelled him to take
refuge in the New World.
"All is to be feared from Spain," I said, on the 17th of March, No. 21;
"the revolution in the Peninsula will go through its periods, unless
an arm arises capable of stopping it; but where is that arm? That is
always the question."
That arm I had the good fortune to find in 1823: it was the arm of
France.
I am pleased, in this passage from my dispatch of the 10th of April,
No. 26, to find again my jealous antipathy to the Allies and my
preoccupation for the dignity of France; I said, writing of Piedmont:
"I do not at all dread the prolongation of the troubles in
Piedmont[142] in its immediate results; but it may produce
a distant evil by justifying the military intervention of
Austria and Russia. The Russian Army is still moving, and has
received no counter-order.
"See if, in that case, it would not be for the dignity and
security of France to occupy Savoy with twenty-five thousand
men during the whole time that Russia and Austria would
occupy Piedmont. I am persuaded that that act of vigour and
of high policy, while flattering French _amour-propre_,
would, for that reason alone, be very popular and do infinite
honour to the ministers. Ten thousand men of the Royal Guard
and a selection from the rest of our troops would easily make
you up an army of twenty-five thousand excellent and trusty
soldiers: the white cockade will be secured as soon as it has
faced the enemy.
"I know, monsieur le baron, that we must avoid wounding
French _amour-propre_ and that the domination of the Russians
and Austrians in Italy may revolt our military pride; but we
have an easy means of contenting it, that is, to occupy Savoy
ourselves. The Royalists will be charmed and the Liberals
can only applaud when they see us take up an attitude worthy
of our strength. We should at the same time have the good
fortune to crush a demagogic revolution and the honour of
restoring the preponderance of our arms. It would show a
poor acquaintance with the French spirit to be afraid of
collecting twenty-five thousand men to march into a foreign
country and to cut an equal figure with the Russians and
Austrians as a military power. I would answer for the event
with my head. We have been able to remain neutral in the
Neapolitan affair; can we afford to do so, for our safety and
for our glory, in the Piedmontese troubles?"
Here my whole system lies disclosed: I was a Frenchman; I had
a bold policy long before the Spanish War, and I foresaw the
responsibility which my very successes, if I obtained any,
would cause to weigh upon my head.
[Sidenote: A recollection of Mirabeau.]
All that I am recalling here can doubtless interest nobody;
but that is the drawback of Memoirs: when they have no
historical facts to relate, they tell you only about the
author's person and weary your life out with it. Let us
abandon these forgotten shadows! I prefer to remind you that
Mirabeau, then unknown, was, in 1786, fulfilling in Berlin an
unsuspected mission[143], and that he was obliged to train a
pigeon to announce to the King of France the last breath of
the terrible Frederic.
"I was thrown into some perplexity," says Mirabeau. "That the
city gates would be shut was certain; it was even possible
that the drawbridges of the island of Potsdam would be raised
the moment death should take place, and should this happen
my uncertainty would continue as long as it should please
the new King. On the first supposition, how send off a
courier? There were no means of scaling the ramparts or the
palisadoes, without being exposed to a fray, for there are
sentinels at every forty paces behind the palisadoes, and
at every fifty behind the wall. What was to be done?... Had
I been ambassador, the certain symptoms of mortality would
have determined me to have sent off an express before death.
For what addition was the word death? How was I to act in my
present situation? It certainly was most important to serve,
and not merely to appear to have served....
"I still had great reason to be diffident of the activity of
our embassy. How did I act? I sent a man, on whom I could
depend, with a strong and swift horse to a farm four miles
from Berlin, from the master of which I had some days before
received two pairs of pigeons, an experiment on the flight of
which had been made; so that, unless the bridges of the isle
of Potsdam were raised, I acted with certainty....
"After considering, I did not find we were rich enough to
throw a hundred guineas away; I therefore renounced all my
fine projects, which had cost me some thought, some trouble,
and some louis; and I let fly my pigeons to my man with
the word 'Return.' Have I done well or ill? Of this I am
ignorant; but I had no express orders, and sometimes works of
supererogation gain but little applause."
The ambassadors were charged, during their residence abroad,
to draw up a memorandum on the condition of the peoples and
the governments to which they were accredited. This series of
memoranda might be useful to the historian. To-day the same
injunctions are issued, but scarcely one diplomatic agent
complies with it. I had too little time in my embassies to
finish off long studies; nevertheless, I made drafts for
them; my patience for work was not entirely unfruitful. I
find this commencement of a sketch of my investigations on
Germany:
"After the fall of Napoleon, the introduction of the
representative governments into the Germanic Confederation
reawakened in Germany those first ideas of innovation which
the Revolution had originally called forth there. They
fomented for some time with great violence: the youth of
the country had been called to its defense by a promise of
liberty; this promise had been greedily received by scholars
who found in their masters the inclination which science has
shown, in this century, to second liberal theories. Under
the sky of Germany, this love of liberty becomes a sort of
sombre and mysterious fanaticism, which is propagated by
means of secret societies. Sand came to strike terror into
Europe. That man, for the rest, who revealed the existence
of a powerful sect, was no more than a vulgar enthusiast; he
deceived himself and took a common mind for a transcendental
mind: his crime went to waste itself upon a writer whose
genius could not aspire to empire and had not enough of the
conqueror and the king to merit a dagger-thrust.
[Sidenote: Memorandum on Germany.]
"A sort of tribunal of political inquisition and the
suppression of the liberty of the press have stopped this
movement of men's minds; but it must not be believed that
they have broken its main-spring. Germany, like Italy,
to-day desires political unity, and with this idea, which
will remain dormant for a greater or lesser length of time
according to events and men, one can always be sure, by
arousing it, to stir the Germanic peoples. The princes or
ministers who may appear in the ranks of the Confederation
of the German States will hasten or delay the revolution in
this country, but they will not prevent the human race from
developing: every century has its dynasty. To-day there is
no one left in Germany, nor even in Europe: we have passed
from the giants to the dwarfs and fallen from the immense
into the narrow and limited. Bavaria, by means of the bureaus
formed by M. de Montgelas[144], still pushes on towards
new ideas, although she has receded in the race, while the
Landgraviate of Hesse would not even admit that there was
a revolution in Europe. The Prince[145] who has just died
wanted his soldiers, who had formerly been soldiers of Jerome
Bonaparte[146], to wear powder and pig-tails: he mistook old
fashions for old manners, forgetting that one can copy the
first, but that one can never restore the second."
In Berlin and in the North, the monuments are fortresses; the
sight of them alone oppresses the heart. If you see these
places in populous and fertile countries, they give rise to
the idea of a legitimate defense; the women and children,
sitting and playing at some distance from the sentries, form
a rather agreeable contrast; but a fortress on heaths, in
a desert, only recalls human anger: against whom are those
ramparts raised, if not against poverty and independence? You
have to be myself to find a pleasure in prowling at the foot
of those bastions, in hearing the wind whistle through those
trenches, in seeing those breastworks raised in prevision
of enemies who perhaps will never appear. Those military
labyrinths, those guns mute in face of one another on salient
and gazoned angles, those stone watch-towers, where you see
nobody and whence no eye observes you, are of an incredible
grimness. If, in the dual solitude of nature and war, you
come across a daisy sheltered under the redan of a glacis,
that floral amenity relieves you. When, in the castles in
Italy, I saw goats suspended to the ruins and the goat-girl
sitting under a parasol pine; when, on the mediæval walls
with which Jerusalem is surrounded, my eyes plunged into the
Valley of Cedron upon some Arab women climbing up steeps
among pebble-stones, the sight was a sad one doubtless, but
history was there, and the silence of the present allowed the
sounds of the past to be heard all the more clearly.
I had asked for leave of absence on the occasion of the
baptism of the Duc de Bordeaux. Being granted this leave,
I prepared to start: Voltaire, in a letter to his niece,
says that he sees the Spree flow, that the Spree empties
itself into the Elbe, the Elbe into the sea, and that
the sea receives the Seine; he thus came down to Paris.
Before leaving Berlin, I went to pay a last visit to
Charlottenburg; it was not Windsor, nor Aranjuez, nor
Caserta, nor Fontainebleau[147]: the villa, supported by a
hamlet, is surrounded by an English park, of small extent,
from which waste land can be seen outside. The Queen of
Prussia here enjoys a peace which Bonaparte's memory will
no longer be able to disturb. What an uproar the conqueror
made, in the old days, in this refuge of silence, when he
arrived there with his flourishing trumpets and his legions
blooded at Jena! It was from Berlin, after wiping the kingdom
of Frederic the Great from the map, that he announced the
continental blockade and prepared the Moscow campaign in his
mind; his words had already carried death to the heart of an
accomplished sovereign: she now sleeps at Charlottenburg,
in a monumental vault; a statue, a fine portrait in marble,
represents her. I wrote some verses on the tomb for which the
Duchess of Cumberland asked me[148].
I arrived in Paris[149] at the time of the celebration for
the baptism of M. le Duc de Bordeaux. The cradle of the
descendant of Louis XIV., of which I had had the honour to
pay the carriage[150], has disappeared like that of the King
of Rome. In a time different from the present, Louvel's
outrage would have ensured the sceptre to Henry V.; but crime
no longer constitutes a right, except for the man who commits
it.
[Sidenote: Baptism of the Duc de Bordeaux.]
After the baptism of M. le Duc de Bordeaux[151], I was at
last reinstated in my ministry of State: M. de Richelieu had
taken it from me, M. de Richelieu restored it to me; the
reparation gave me no more pleasure than the wrong had given
me offense.
While I was looking forward to returning to see my crows, the
cards were being shuffled: M. de Villèle resigned[152]. Loyal
to my friendship and my political principles, I thought it
my duty to retire into private life with him. I wrote to M.
Pasquier:
"PARIS, 30 _July_ 1821.
"MONSIEUR LE BARON,
"When you were good enough to invite me to call on you, on
the 14th of this month, it was to tell me that my presence
was necessary in Berlin. I had the honour to reply that,
as Messieurs de Corbière and de Villèle appeared to be
retiring from office, it was my duty to follow them. In the
practice of representative government, it is the usage that
men of the same opinion should share the same fortune. What
usage demands, monsieur le baron, honour commands of me,
since it is a question, not of a favour, but of a disgrace.
In consequence, I now repeat to you in writing the offer
which I made to you verbally of my resignation as Minister
Plenipotentiary to the Court of Berlin. I hope, monsieur le
baron, that you will kindly lay it at the King's feet. I
entreat His Majesty to accept its motives and to believe in
my profound and respectful gratitude for the kindness with
which he has deigned to honour me.
"I have the honour to be, etc.,
"CHATEAUBRIAND."
I announced to M. le Comte de Bernstorff the event which was breaking
off our diplomatic relations; he wrote in reply:
"MONSIEUR LE VICOMTE,
"Although I ought long to have expected the intelligence
which you have been good enough to send me, I am none the
less painfully affected by it. I know and respect the motives
which, in this delicate circumstance, have determined your
resolutions; but, while adding new claims to those which have
in this country won for you an universal esteem, they also
add to the regrets which are here felt at the certainty of a
loss long dreaded and for ever irreparable. These sentiments
are keenly shared by the King and the Royal Family, and I
am only awaiting the moment of your recall to tell you so
officially.
"Bear me kindly in your remembrance, I pray you, and accept
the renewed expression of my inviolable devotion and of the
high regard with which I have the honour to be, etc., etc.
"BERNSTORFF."
"BERLIN, 25 _August_ 1821.
I had hastened to express my friendship and my regrets to M. Ancillon:
his very beautiful reply (leaving my praises on one side) deserves to
be recorded here:
"BERLIN, 22 _September_ 1821.
"And so, monsieur and illustrious friend, you are irrevocably
lost to us? I foresaw this misfortune, and yet it has
affected me as though it had been unexpected. We deserved
to keep you and to possess you, because at least we had the
feeble merit of feeling, recognizing, admiring all your
superiority. To tell you that the King, the Princes, the
Court and the Town regret you is to sound their praises
rather than yours; to tell you that I rejoice in these
regrets, that I am proud of them for the sake of my country
and that I acutely share them would be to fall far short of
the truth and to give you a very imperfect idea of what I
feel. Permit me to believe that you know me well enough to
read my heart. If that heart accuses you, my mind not only
absolves you, but more, does homage to your noble proceeding
and to the principles which dictated it. You owed France a
great lesson and a fine example; you have given her both by
refusing to serve a ministry which is unable to judge its
situation and which has not the mental courage necessary to
extricate itself from it. In a representative monarchy, the
ministers and those whom they employ in the first places
must form an homogeneous whole, all the parts of which are
jointly and severally responsible one to the other. There,
less than anywhere else, should a man separate himself from
his friends; he maintains himself and rises with them, he
descends and falls in the same way. You have proved the
truth of this maxim to France by resigning with Messieurs
de Villèle and Corbière. You have taught her at the same
time that fortune does not enter into consideration where
principles are concerned; and certainly, if yours had not had
reason, conscience and the experience of all the centuries
on their side, the sacrifice which they dictate to a man
like yourself would be sufficient to establish a powerful
presumption in their favour in the eyes of all who know
anything of dignity.
"I impatiently await the result of the coming elections to
draw the horoscope of France. They will decide her future.
"Farewell, my illustrious friend; sometimes, from the heights
on which you dwell, shed a few drops of dew on a heart which
will cease to admire and love you only when it ceases to beat.
"ANCILLON."
[Sidenote: I resign the Berlin embassy.]
Mindful of France's welfare, without occupying myself further with
myself or my friends, I at that period submitted the following note to
Monsieur:
"If the King did me the honour to consult me, this is what I
should propose for the good of his service and the repose of
France.
"The Left Centre of the Elective Chamber is gratified at the
nomination of M. Royer-Collard[153]: still, I should think
peace more assured, if they brought into the Council a man of
merit taken from that side and chosen from among the members
of the Chamber of Peers or the Chamber of Deputies.
"To place in addition in the Council a deputy from the side
of the Independent Right.
"To complete the distribution of offices in that spirit.
"As to things:
"To bring forward at a suitable time a complete law on the
liberty of the press, said law to abolish constructional
prosecutions and the optional censorship; to prepare a
communal law; to complete the Septennial Act, carrying the
eligible age to thirty years; in one word, to proceed,
Charter in hand, courageously to defend religion against
impiety, but at the same time to protect it against
fanaticism and the indiscretions of a zeal that do it great
harm.
"As to foreign affairs, three things must guide the King's
ministers: the honour, the independence and the interest of
France.
"New France is wholly Royalist; she may become wholly
Revolutionary: let them follow the institutions, and I would
answer with my head for a future of many centuries; let them
violate or molest those institutions, and I would not answer
for a future of a few months.
"I and my friends are ready to support with all our strength
an administration formed on the bases as suggested above.
"CHATEAUBRIAND."
A voice in which the woman prevailed over the princess came to give
consolation to what was only the affliction of a life incessantly
varying. The handwriting of H.R.H. the Duchess of Cumberland was so
greatly altered that I had some difficulty in recognising it. The
letter bore the date of the 28th of September 1821: it is the last
which I received from that royal hand[154]. Alas, the other noble
friends who at that time supported me in Paris have quitted this earth!
Shall I, then, remain with such stubbornness here below that none of
the persons to whom I have attached myself can survive me? Happy they
on whom age has the effect of wine and who lose their memory when they
have had their fill of days!
The resignations of Messieurs de Villèle and de Corbière were not long
in bringing about the dissolution of the Cabinet and the return of my
friends to the Council, as I had foreseen: M. le Vicomte de Montmorency
was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs, M. de Villèle Minister of
Finance, M. de Corbière Minister of the Interior[155]. I had played too
great a part in recent political movements and exercised too great an
influence on public opinion to be left on one side. It was resolved
that I should replace M. le Duc Decazes at the London Embassy. Louis
XVIII. always consented to send me away. I went to thank him; he spoke
to me of his favourite with a constancy of attachment rare in kings; he
"begged" me to remove from the mind of George IV. the prejudice which
that sovereign had conceived against M. Decazes, and myself to forget
the differences which had existed between me and the former Minister of
Police. That monarch, from whom so many misfortunes had been unable to
draw a tear, was moved by a few sufferings which may have afflicted the
man whom he had honoured with his friendship.
[Sidenote: And am sent to London.]
My nomination reawoke my memories: Charlotte returned to my thoughts;
my youth, my emigration appeared before me, with their sorrows and
their joys. Human weakness also made it a pleasure to me to reappear,
well-known and powerful, there where I had been unknown and powerless.
Madame de Chateaubriand, fearing the sea, dared not cross the Channel,
and I set out alone. The secretaries of the Embassy had gone before me.
[Footnote 61: This book was written in 1839 and revised in December
1846.--T.]
[Footnote 62: Lycurgus (_circa_ 880 B.C.), the Spartan legislator,
after making his fellow-citizens swear to make no changes in his laws
during his absence, set out on a long journey, but never returned.--T.]
[Footnote 63: The Battle of Jena, won by Napoleon, and of Auerstädt, a
few miles distant, won by Davout on the same day, 14 October 1806.--T.]
[Footnote 64: Johann Wolfgang Goethe (1749-1832) lived eleven years
longer, dying at Weimar at the age of 83.--T.]
[Footnote 65: Martin Luther (1483-1546). His monument at Wittenberg was
erected in this year, 1821, of which Chateaubriand speaks. Until then,
his tomb was shown in the church of the University.--T.]
[Footnote 66: Maurice Adolphe Charles Vicomte de Flavigny (1799-1873).
He became secretary to the Prince de Polignac, accepted the Monarchy of
July, and was raised to the peerage on the 25th of December 1841. After
the _coup d'État_, he rallied to the government of Louis Napoleon, and
sat as a member of the Legislative Body from 1852 to 1863, after which
date he was not re-elected, owing to his support of the Temporal Power
of the Pope.--B.]
[Footnote 67: Frederic William III. King of Prussia (1770-1840).--T.]
[Footnote 68: Prince Frederic William, later Frederic William IV. King
of Prussia (1795-1861) succeeded his father in 1840.--T.]
[Footnote 69: Prince William, later William I. King of Prussia and
German Emperor (1797-1888), Prince Charles (1801-1883) and Prince
Albert (1809-1872) of Prussia.--T.]
[Footnote 70: Grand-duke Nicholas, later Nicholas I. Tsar of Russia
(1796-1855), had married the Princess Charlotte of Prussia in July
1817, so that the wedding was not exactly recent. Nicholas was the
third son of the Tsar Paul I., and succeeded Alexander I. in 1825.--T.]
[Footnote 71: Princess Charlotte of Prussia, later Tsarina Alexandra
Feodorowna of Russia (1798-1860), daughter of Frederic William III.--T.]
[Footnote 72: Ernest Augustus Duke of Cumberland and Teviotdale, later
Ernest I. King of Hanover (1771-1851), fifth son of George III. King of
Great Britain, Ireland, and Hanover, succeeded on the death of William
IV. in 1837.--T.]
[Footnote 73: Frederica Caroline Sophia Alexandrina Duchess of
Cumberland, later Queen of Hanover (1778-1841), daughter of Charles II.
Grand-duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, was married first (1793) to Prince
Louis of Prussia, who died in 1796, secondly (1799) to Prince Frederic
William of Solmo-Braunfels, who divorced her and who died in 1814, and
thirdly (1815) to the Duke of Cumberland.--T.]
[Footnote 74: Prince Frederic William Charles of Prussia
(1783-1851).--T.]
[Footnote 75: Prince Augustus of Prussia (1779-1843), son of Prince
Ferdinand and nephew of Frederic the Great, was taken prisoner at the
Battle of Saalfeld, at which his brother, Prince Louis Ferdinand, was
killed.--B.]
[Footnote 76: François Pascal Simon Baron Gerard (1770-1837). His
portrait of Madame Récamier is Gérard's master-piece. His _Corinne
improvisant au cap Misène_, referred to above, is also one of his
best-known paintings.--T.]
[Footnote 77: Jean Pierre Frédéric Ancillon (1766-1837), a famous
statesman and historian, of Huguenot descent, was, in 1791, appointed
Professor of History at the Military Academy in Berlin. Soon after,
he became pastor of the French Reformed Church in that city. In 1803,
he published his _Tableau des révolutions du système politique de
l'Europe_, which secured his admission to the Berlin Academy. In 1836,
he became tutor to the Crown-prince, with whom he visited Paris in
1814. On his return, he entered official life and, in 1831, became
Prussian Foreign Secretary.--T.]
[Footnote 78: Christian Günther Count von Bernstorff (1769-1835),
Prussian Minister for Foreign Affairs.--T.]
[Footnote 79: Jean Bart (1650-1702), a famous French sailor. After
serving some time in the Dutch Navy, he returned to France, when war
broke out with Holland, and equipped a privateer, with which he did
great damage to the enemy. Louis XIV. thereupon gave him a commission
in the Navy, then generally granted only to nobles, and, in 1691, made
him a vice-admiral. In that year, Bart burnt over eighty English ships
outside Dunkirk, and made a descent upon Newcastle, returning with an
enormous booty. He fought continuously against the Dutch and English
until the Peace of Rijswijk, in 1697. Louis XIV. ennobled him and sent
for him to Court: his rough and awkward manners and brusque frankness
of speech aroused the mirth of the courtiers, and the King himself more
than once went out of his way to defend him.--T.]
[Footnote 80:
"Le bon roi Dagobert
Portrait sa culotte à l'envers," etc.:
"Our good King Dagobert
Wore his breeches front to rear," etc.--T.
]
[Footnote 81: Elise Philippine Amalie Baroness von Hohenhausen
(1789-1857), _née_ von Ochs, a woman of letters well-known in her day,
and a regular contributor to the _Morgenblatt._--T.]
[Footnote 82: Count David d'Alopeus (1769-1831), after being Russian
Minister first to the Court of Sweden, and later to that of Wurtemberg,
in 1813 became Commissary-General to the Allied Armies. His wife, who
accompanied him to head-quarters, made herself noted for her beauty
and the charms of her mind. In 1815, the Count d'Alopeus was Governor
of Lorraine for Russia. Shortly afterwards, he was appointed Minister
Plenipotentiary to Berlin, where he continued till his death in
1831.--B.]
[Footnote 83: Mademoiselle Alexandrine d'Alopeus married Albert de
La Ferronnays, a son of the Comte de La Ferronnays, Chateaubriand's
friend.--B.]
[Footnote 84: Princess Frederica Charlotte Mary of Wurtemberg, later
Grand-duchess Helen Paulowna of Russia (1807-1873), daughter of
Prince Paul of Wurtemberg, and married, in 1824, to the Grand-duke
Michael Paulovitch, brother to the Tsar Alexander and the Grand-duke
Nicholas.--B.]
[Footnote 85: Frederic II. Elector of Brandenburg (1413-1471), surnamed
"Iron-tooth," on account of his strength; abdicated in 1469.--T.]
[Footnote 86: Joachim II. Elector of Brandenburg (1505-1571), the
first Lutheran Elector of Brandenburg. He died on the 3rd of January
1571, said to have been poisoned by Lippold, a Jew at the Court of
Brandenburg.--T.]
[Footnote 87: Lippold (_d._ 1571), Master of the Mint, was tortured
and executed for the death of Joachim II., although the case was never
proved against him.--T.]
[Footnote 88: John Sigismund Elector of Brandenburg (1572-1619)
added the Duchy of Prussia to his States, through his marriage with
Anne, eldest daughter of Albert Duke of Prussia, and heiress to the
Duchy.--T.]
[Footnote 89: George William Elector of Brandenburg (1595-1640),
surnamed "the Irresolute." The anecdote is taken from Frederic the
Great's Memoirs of Brandenburg.--T.]
[Footnote 90: Gustavus II. Adolphus King of Sweden (1594-1632).--T.]
[Footnote 91: Frederic William Elector of Brandenburg (1620-1648),
surnamed the Great Elector, in whom began the power of this House.--T.]
[Footnote 92: A quotation from Frederick the Great's Memoirs of
Brandenburg.--T.]
[Footnote 93: Frederic III. Elector of Brandenburg, later Frederic I.
King of Prussia (1657-1713). In 1701, the Emperor Leopold, whom he
had assisted against the Turks, raised his Duchy of Prussia into a
kingdom.--T.]
[Footnote 94: Frederic William I. King of Prussia (1688-1740), son of
Frederic I.--T.]
[Footnote 95: Johann Paul Gundling (1673-1731), an historiographer of
some merit, was the butt of the Court of Frederic I., owing to his
absurdities. He left a Life of Frederic I. and an excellent description
of Brandenburg.--T.]
[Footnote 96: Elizabeth Queen of Prussia (1715-1797), married to
Frederic the Great in 1733--T.]
[Footnote 97: François Marie Arouet de Voltaire (1694-1778) lived at
Berlin in the intimacy of Frederic the Great from 1750 to 1753.--T.]
[Footnote 98: Jeanne Antoinette Lenormand d'Étioles, Marquise de
Pompadour (1722-1764), _née_ Poisson, mistress to Louis XV. from 1744
to her death, and practical ruler of France during that period.--T.]
[Footnote 99: François Joachim Abbé, later Cardinal de Pierres de
Bernis (1715-1794), wielded considerable power during the time of his
favour with Madame de Pompadour.--T.]
[Footnote 100: Louis XV. King of France (1710-1774), great-grandson of
Louis XIV. and grandfather of Louis XVI. It was during his reign that
the Prussian Alliance was abandoned for the Austrian Alliance, destined
to be so disastrous to France.--T.]
[Footnote 101: Sophia Wilhelmina Margravine of Bayreuth (1709-1758),
sister to Frederic the Great and married, in 1731, to the future
Margrave of Bayreuth. Her Memoirs and Correspondence with her brother
are well-known.--T.]
[Footnote 102: Wilhelmina Rietz, Countess von Lichtenau (1754-1820),
_née_ Enke, daughter of a musician of the Prussian Chapel Royal.
At sixteen, she became the mistress of the Crown Prince, nephew of
Frederic II., who married her to one of his footmen, called Rietz, and
who became king in 1786 as Frederic William II., when he gave her the
title of Countess von Lichtenau.--B.]
[Footnote 103: Prince Henry of Prussia (1726-1802), brother to Frederic
the Great, and one of the latter's most distinguished generals. He went
to live in France in 1788, intending to spend the rest of his days
there; but the Revolution compelled him to return to Germany, and he
died at Rheinsberg at the age of seventy-six.--T.]
[Footnote 104: MIRABEAU, _Histoire secrète de la cour de Berlin, ou
Correspondance d'un voyageur français du 5 juillet 1786 au 19 janvier
1787_ (Alençon, 1789).--T.]
[Footnote 105: Karl Wilhelm Baron von Humboldt (1767-1835), a
distinguished Prussian diplomatist and author of a number of extremely
erudite philological works.--T.]
[Footnote 106: Louis Charles Adélaïde de Chamisso de Boncourt
(1781-1835), known as Adelbert von Chamisso, a noted German writer
and naturalist, of French birth. His parents had taken him to Germany
during the Emigration, and he subsequently made Prussia his adopted
country. The best known of Chamisso's multifarious works, most of which
are in German, is the world-famed _Peter Schlemihl_, the story of the
shadowless man.--T.]
[Footnote 107: Chamisso's two elder brothers (not his uncles),
Hippolyte and Charles, were with Louis XVI. on the 10th of August 1792.
Charles was wounded, while defending the King, and was saved by a man
of the people. Shortly afterwards, he received a sword that had been
worn by the unfortunate monarch, with a note thus worded:
"I commend to my brothers M. de Chamisso, one of my faithful
servants; he has often exposed his life for me.
"LOUIS."--T. ]
[Footnote 108: I here omit a quotation of some thirty-two lines of
verse of Chamisso's.--T.]
[Footnote 109: Nikolai Count Romanzoff (1754-1826), Russian Chancellor
previous to 1812, and a considerable patron of science.--T.]
[Footnote 110: Captain Otto von Kotzebue (1787-1846) of the Russian
Navy, son of Kotzebue the German writer, discovered the Kotzebue
Straits, on the north-east coast of America, in 1816. The expedition
lasted three years, from 1815 to 1818.--T.]
[Footnote 111: Louisa Augusta Wilhelmina Amelia Queen of Prussia
(1776-1810), daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, married to
the Hereditary Prince of Prussia, later King Frederic William III., in
1793.--T.]
[Footnote 112: Princess William of Prussia (1785-1846), formerly
Princess Amelia Marianne of Hesse-Homburg, sister-in-law to the
King.--B.]
[Footnote 113: Caroline, Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, formerly
Princess Caroline of Hesse-Darmstadt.--T.]
[Footnote 114: Gioachino Antonio Rossini (1792-1868) had produced some
twenty operas prior to 1823.--T.]
[Footnote 115: Christopher Gluck (1712-1787), the great classical
operatic composer.--T.]
[Footnote 116: Johann Friedrich Christopher Schiller (1759-1805). His
tragedy of _Joan of Arc_, or, rather, the _Jungfrau von Orleans_,
appeared in 1802.--T.]
[Footnote 117: Gaspardo Spontini (1778-1851), a native of the Papal
States, made his first great success with the _Vestal_ in 1807, at
which time he was musical director to the Empress Joséphine. In 1810,
he became manager of the Théâtre Italien in Paris and, in 1820, manager
of the Berlin Opera. On the death of Frederic William, in 1842, he
returned to Paris, where he had been elected a member of the Academy of
Fine Arts in 1839.--T.]
[Footnote 118: Sébastian Érard (1752-1831), the famous pianoforte
manufacturer. He was born at Strasburg, went to Paris in 1768 and,
after a stay of some years in London, settled finally in Paris in 1812.
Érard perfected the modern piano, organ and harp.--T.]
[Footnote 119: Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) fulfilled a number of
political missions before 1300, when he was made a Florentine
magistrate.--T.]
[Footnote 120: Ludovico Ariosto (1474-1533) spent his life between
poetry and public affairs. In 1512, he was sent on a mission from the
Duke of Ferrara to Pope Julius II.; in 1521, he was sent to suppress
the bands of brigands infesting one of the provinces, and so on.--T.]
[Footnote 121: John Milton (1608-1674) was secretary-interpreter for
the Latin tongue to the Privy Council under the Commonwealth and,
subsequently, private secretary to the Protector Cromwell.--T.]
[Footnote 122: Charles de Lameth had made himself ridiculous in 1790,
in his capacity as a member of the Committee of Inspection of the
Constituent Assembly, by leading a nocturnal expedition against the
convent of the Nuns of the Annunciation at Pontoise, in order to look
for M. de Barentin, brother of the Abbess. The Marquis de Bonnay,
Chateaubriand's predecessor in Berlin, wrote on this occasion an
heroi-comical poem of the wittiest description, entitled the _Prise des
Annonciades._--B.]
[Footnote 123: Philippe de Courcillon, Marquis de Dangeau (1638-1720),
a great favourite with Louis XIV., thanks originally to his skill at
cards. He accompanied the king as aide-de-camp in all his campaigns.
Dangeau had a great reputation for wit and learning, and, although he
had published nothing, was admitted a member of the French Academy in
1668. He left manuscript Memoirs from which extracts were published by
Voltaire (1770), Madame de Genlis (1817) and Lemontey (1818); but the
whole, entitled _Journal de la cour de Louis XIV._, first appeared in
1858.--T.]
[Footnote 124: Gédéon Tallemant des Réaux (_circa_ 1619--_circa_ 1700)
left Memoirs which were first published by M. Monmerqué in 1834, under
the title of _Historiettes de Tallemant des Réaux_, forming a crowd of
curious and cynical anecdotes.--T.]
[Footnote 125: Karl August Prince von Hardenberg (1750-1822), born
in Hanover, entered the Prussian service in 1790, and became Foreign
Minister in 1806, and State Chancellor in 1810. He signed the Treaty
of Paris in 1814, in which year the King of Prussia made him a prince,
and took part as plenipotentiary in all the important congresses of the
time.]
[Footnote 126: David Friedrich Koreff (1783-1851), a famous German
doctor, for some time secretary to Prince von Hardenberg.--B.]
[Footnote 127: Hyacinthe Pilorge, Chateaubriand's secretary.--B.]
[Footnote 128: Karl Ludwig Sand (1795-1819), a student of the
University of Jena, who had assassinated August von Kotzebue, the
famous writer, on the 23rd of March 1819, at Mannheim. Kotzebue was
regarded as the tool of absolutism by Young Germany. He was the father
of the Captain Otto von Kotzebue mentioned above in connection with
Chamisso.--B.]
[Footnote 129: Prince George of Cumberland, late George V. King of
Hanover (1819-1878), succeeded to the throne of Hanover in 1851. In
1866, his kingdom was annexed by Prussia. King George, who was totally
blind, married, in 1843, the Princess Mary of Saxe-Altenburg. Her
Majesty is still living (1902) at Gmunden, in Upper Austria.--T.]
[Footnote 130: Victoria Queen of Great Britain and Ireland,
Empress of India (1819-1901), the last sovereign of the house of
Brunswick-Lüneburg, succeeded to the throne in 1837 and, in 1840,
married Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who died in 1861.--T.]
[Footnote 131: 19 April 1821. Chateaubriand had gone to Paris to attend
the baptism of the Duc de Bordeaux.--B.]
[Footnote 132: George.--_Author's Note._]
[Footnote 133: George IV. King of Great Britain and Ireland (1762-1830)
was crowned on the 19th of July 1821. Queen Louise of Prussia died on
the 19th of July 1810.--B.]
[Footnote 134: The Queen of Prussia.--_Author's Note._]
[Footnote 135: Napoleon died on the 5th of March 1821.--T.]
[Footnote 136: Eginhard (_d. circa_ 839), secretary to Charlemagne:
the reference is to his more or less legendary adventures with
Charlemagne's daughter Emma, whose hand Eginhard is supposed to have
obtained. The family of the Counts of Erbach claim to be descended from
Emma and Eginhard.--T.]
[Footnote 137: Queen Frederica of Hanover died in July 1841;
Chateaubriand lived until the 4th of July 1848.--T.]
[Footnote 138: 14 December 1822.--B.]
[Footnote 139: A military revolution had broken out in Naples on the
2nd of July 1820. The army had been won over by the Carbonari, a vast
secret society which covered a large part of Italy with its network.
General Pepe had obliged Ferdinand I. King of the Two Sicilies to
proclaim a constitution modelled on that which the Revolutionaries had
lately established in Spain. The Austrians entered Naples on the 23rd
of March 1821. The principal actors in the movement took refuge on
foreign ships. The Parliament broke up, and the supreme council of the
Carbonari pronounced its own dissolution. Ferdinand I., who had been
forced to leave his capital on the 10th of December 1820, entered it
again on the 15th of May 1821.--B.]
[Footnote 140: Ferdinand VII. King of Spain (1784-1833) had been
compelled to grant a Constitution to his subjects in 1820, but revoked
it, with the material aid of the King of France, in 1823. It was owing
to Ferdinand's unconstitutional repeal of the Salic Law, without the
consent of the Cortes, that the present Alphonsist Branch occupies
the throne of Spain, to the prejudice of the Legitimist, or Carlist,
Branch, and as the result of a long series of bloody civil wars.--T.]
[Footnote 141: John VI. King of Portugal and Brazil (1767-1826) was
proclaimed Regent of Portugal in 1792, when his mother, Mary I., became
insane. In 1807, attacked by the French, he withdrew with the Royal
Family to the Colony of Brazil, which he raised to a kingdom. In 1816,
on the death of his mother, he was proclaimed King of Portugal, but
did not return to Europe until 1821. On his arrival, he found himself
obliged to accept a Constitution, which he abolished two years later.
Meanwhile, Brazil had declared her independence (1822) and proclaimed
John's son, Peter I. (IV. of Portugal), Emperor. Civil wars, curiously
similar in their origin to those in Spain, broke out in Portugal soon
after his death, in 1826.--T.]
[Footnote 142: Troubles broke out in Piedmont so soon as the Neapolitan
revolution had died away. On the 10th of March, the garrison at
Alessandria mutinied. Turin, Pinerolo and Ivrea followed suit. On the
13th, King Victor Emmanuel I. abdicated in favour of his brother,
Charles Felix. In the absence of the latter he gave the regency
to Charles Albert, the King's cousin, who promptly proclaimed the
constitution of the Spanish Cortes, but, at the end of a few days (21
March), he was obliged to fall back before the Austrian intervention.
The conspirators of Alessandria and the Italian "federates" were
dispersed at Novara, and the victorious army entered Turin on the 10th
of April. Victor Emmanuel maintained his abdication and Charles Felix
restored the old government.--B.]
[Footnote 143: He gave bold advice which was disregarded at
Versailles.--_Author's Note._]
[Footnote 144: Max Jose Garnerin, Count von Montgelas (1759-1838), the
favourite minister of Maximilian I. King of Bavaria, under whom he held
successively pretty well all the great departments of State.--T.]
[Footnote 145: William IX. Landgrave, later William I. Elector of
Hesse-Cassel (1743-1821), a field-marshal in the Prussian service,
reigning Count of Hanau (1764) and Landgrave of Hesse (1785). He
entered into the coalition against France in 1792, went through the
campaign of 1793, and concluded a treaty of peace with the Republic in
1795. In 1803, he changed his title of Landgrave for that of Elector,
but after the battle of Jena (1806) he was deprived of his sovereignty,
which he did not recover till 1813. He died in 1821. The Landgraviate
of Hesse-Cassel was absorbed into Prussia in 1866.--T.]
[Footnote 146: Jerome Bonaparte became King of Westphalia, a State
specially created for him, with Cassel as its capital, in 1807.--T.]
[Footnote 147: The Palace of Charlottenburg was built by Sophia
Charlotte, wife of Frederic I. King of Prussia, in 1706. Windsor Castle
was built by the Norman sovereigns from William I. to Edward III.; the
palace at Aranjuez was begun under Philip II., from designs by Juan de
Herrera; the palace at Caserta was built, in 1752, by Charles IV. King
of the Two Sicilies, and III. of Spain: the castle is very old; the
Palace of Fontainebleau, in 999, by Robert II. King of France: it was
successively enlarged and embellished by Francis I., Henry II., Henry
IV., Louis XIV., Napoleon I. and Louis-Philippe.--T.]
[Footnote 148: I omit these lines.--T.]
[Footnote 149: "Paris, 28 April. M. le Vicomte de Chateaubriand,
Minister Plenipotentiary of France in Berlin, arrived in Paris on the
day before yesterday" (_Moniteur_, 29 April 1821).--B.]
[Footnote 150: _Vide_ the incident of the Bordeaux market-women, _supra_,
p. 24.--T.]
[Footnote 151: The baptism took place at Notre Dame on the 1st of May
1821. Chateaubriand was restored to the list of ministers of State,
Messieurs de Blacas and de Montesquieu were created dukes and numerous
promotions were made in the several Orders.--B.]
[Footnote 152: Villèle and Corbière resigned on the 27th of July 1821,
on the question of the censorship.--B.]
[Footnote 153: Pierre Paul Royer-Collard (1763-1845), politician and
philosopher, was President of the Commission of Public Instruction
in 1816, resigned this office in 1820, when the Ultra-Royalist Party
had won the day, opposed the reactionary measures in the Chamber of
Deputies and, in 1828, became President of the Chamber. Royer-Collard
held no office after 1830. He was elected a member of the French
Academy in 1827.--T.]
[Footnote 154: The Princess Frederica, Queen of Hanover, has just
succumbed after a long illness: death is always present in the "Note"
at the end of my text!--_Author's Note_ (Paris, July 1841).]
[Footnote 155: The other ministers were: the Duc de Bellune, War; M. de
Clermont-Tonnerre, Navy; M. de Peyronnet, Justice; M. de Lauriston, the
Royal Household.--B.]