SOME HISTORICAL RESIDENCES.
The Palace of the Legion of Honour--The Ministry of War--The Rue de
Grenelle--Talleyrand.
An interesting walk on the left bank of the Seine is from the end of the
Rue du Bac along the quay to the Pont des Invalides. To many persons the
most remarkable house on the Quai d’Orsay is the café of the same name,
which, by reason, no doubt, of its proximity to the Ministry of War, is
largely frequented by superior officers. At No. 5 is a cavalry barrack
occupied under the Restoration by the King’s Body-guard. Here, up to the
time of the Revolution, was the office of the Court carriages which
conveyed the public of Paris to the different royal residences, but went
nowhere else. In 1788, the year before the Revolution, the prices were
three livres ten sols (three francs ten sous, that is to say) for
Versailles and St.-Germain, nine livres ten sols for Fontainebleau, and
thirteen livres ten sols for Compiègne.
Close to the Café d’Orsay stood the Palace of the Council of State, laid
in ruins by the Communists on the 24th of May, 1871.
The Palace of the Legion of Honour, one of the most beautiful buildings
on the quay, was erected in 1786 by the architect Rousseau for Prince
Frederic John Otho von Salm Kirburg, husband of Jeanne Françoise Fidèle
Antoinette de Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. The prince was well connected,
for, husband of a Hohenzollern, he was brother-in-law of the Duc de
Thouars and of the Prince de Croy. He sat as deputy for Lorraine in the
Constituent Assembly, commanded a battalion of the National Guard of
Paris, was condemned to death by the Revolutionary Tribunal, and
guillotined on the 23rd of July, 1794, four days before Robespierre, and
in the same batch with the Prince de Montbazon-Rohan, M. de
Beauharnais, and M. Gouy d’Arcy. He was brought to the scaffold under
the name, negligently given to him by the _Moniteur_, of “H.
Desalm-Kirbourg, Prince of Germany.”
The former palace of the princes of Salm has had almost as eventful a
history as its first owners. It was put into a lottery, and won by a
hairdresser’s assistant, who sold it to a man named Liertaud, who used
to call himself the Marquis de Boisregard, until he was arrested for
forgery, and passed from the Hôtel de Salm to the galleys of Toulon. The
house was inhabited for a time, under the Directory, by Mme. de Stael,
who made it the scene of those political assemblies which were destined
to get her into trouble, and which, under the Empire, made it necessary
for her to leave Paris and live abroad.
At last the Government bought the Hôtel de Salm, in 1803, and caused it
to be arranged as the Palace of the Legion of Honour. Burnt and pillaged
by the Commune, it was rebuilt on the original plan by a voluntary
subscription, to which, on the invitation of the Grand Chancellor,
General Vinoy, the members of the Legion of Honour contributed.
[Illustration: RUINS OF THE PALACE OF THE COUNCIL OF STATE, QUAI
D’ORSAY.]
At the corner of the Quai d’Orsay, just where the Boulevard St.-Germain
terminates, is the Cercle Agricole, or Agricultural Club, composed
almost exclusively of landed proprietors, and one of the best clubs in
every respect that Paris possesses. The “Potato Club” it is humorously
called by those who have no sympathy with agricultural pursuits, and who
hold with a cert writer that “cultivators of wit have generally no land,
and cultivators of land generally no wit.”
There are several Government offices in this neighbourhood: the
Ministries of Agriculture, of Public Works, and of War.
The Ministry of War occupies a sort of island comprised between the Rue
St.-Dominic, the Rue de Solferino, and the Rue de Bourgogne, with its
principal entrance on the Boulevard St.-Germain, No. 231. The Dowager
Princess of Conti inhabited the mansion until 1775, the year of her
death. The next occupant was the Duc de Richelieu, who was succeeded by
Loménic de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse, and at the same time
Minister of War in the year 1786, and by his brother, the Comte de
Brienne, in 1789. Without being designated “Ministry of War,” the house
seemed destined to be occupied by a succession of War Ministers. At
last, however, it became national property, and from 1802 to 1804 it
was inhabited by Lucien Bonaparte. After the proclamation of the Empire,
Napoleon gave it to Mme. Laetitia Bonaparte; and it was not until the
Restoration that the Hôtel de Brienne became finally the official
residence of the Minister of War.
[Illustration: PALACE OF THE LEGION OF HONOUR.]
Close by, on the Boulevard St.-Germain, formerly Rue St.-Dominic, is
installed the Central Depôt of Artillery. It occupies the whole of the
ancient cloister of the monastery of the Reformed Dominicans, whose
church is dedicated to St. Thomas Aquinas. To the right of the church
portal, the little Rue St.-Thomas Aquinas conducts the visitor to a
space surrounded by symmetrical buildings. He is now in the heart of the
ancient convent. The large door to the right is that of the historical
cloister, where the Museum of Artillery found a home until it was
transferred to the Hotel des Invalides. The religious establishment, of
which nothing but the church survives, was the convent of the general
noviciate of the reformed Dominicans or Jacobins, founded by Cardinal
Richelieu in 1631. The construction of the church did not commence till
1638. The architect was Pierre Bullet, and the foundation stone was laid
by the Duchess de Luynes. It was not until nearly the middle of the next
century--1740--that the edifice was completed. The interior is richly
adorned with paintings from the brush of Blondel, Picot, Guillemot,
Lemoyne, Lagrenée, Michel Vanloo, and Ary Scheffer. The church of
St.-Thomas Aquinas is the most aristocratic in Paris, and a wedding
within its walls possesses enormous fascination for the curious
sightseer.
The Rue de Grenelle, which runs parallel to the old Rue St.-Dominique,
is remarkable for a sculptural masterpiece--the fountain designed by
Edmé Bouchardon, who himself executed the whole of the figures and
bas-reliefs. The central figure, representing the town of Paris, and the
two figures to right and left of it, symbolising the Seine and the
Marne, are exquisite. Between the columns and beneath the pediment is a
long Latin inscription, addressed by the Provost of the merchants of
Paris to the glory of Louis XV., “the father and delight of his people,
who, without shedding blood, has extended the frontiers of France.”
On the left, from No. 73 to No. 85, there is a whole series of
remarkable houses, each associated with some person of distinction. At
No. 73 died, in 1856, Viscount d’Arlincourt, once a popular novelist,
now absolutely forgotten. His family was of ancient origin, and his
father, a Farmer General, was guillotined during the Reign of Terror.
Young D’Arlincourt became one of Napoleon’s chamberlains, and afterwards
held some post in connection with the Council of State. At the
Restoration he wished to attach himself to the service of the Court, but
he was not successful, and returning to his castle in Normandy, gave
himself up entirely to literature, in which, under the Empire, he gained
some reputation. In the year 1825 he gave an entertainment in honour of
the Duchess of Berry, which became celebrated, and was made the subject
of elaborate descriptions in the newspapers. Running through the
viscount’s estate was a winding stream, on which a bark had been
prepared for the reception of the duchess, which was attended by the
ladies of the neighbourhood costumed as shepherdesses. The young people
of the surrounding villages, in arcadian attire, towed the boat with
chains of flowers towards a Greek temple, where ballads of a chivalric
kind were sung in praise of the honoured guests. White flags embroidered
with fleurs de lys were waved in the air; and in the evening, after a
sumptuous banquet, there were illuminations and a grand ballet. More
than a thousand persons took part in these operatic scenes, which were
marked by the same theatrical taste that distinguishes the viscount’s
romances. He had begun, under the Empire, an epic poem, called “The
Caroleid,” on the subject of Charlemagne, in which, beneath the features
of Carolus Magnus, the physiognomy of Napoleon could be recognised.
These passages were, however, marked out when, under the Restoration,
the viscount published the complete work. The most successful of all M.
d’Arlincourt’s books was “Le Solitaire,” which when it first appeared
went through a number of editions, and was translated into many
languages. It may be added that Bellini’s last opera, _I Puritani_, was
based on a novel by M. d’Arlincourt, called “Cavaliers and Roundheads.”
At No. 75 Talleyrand resided as Minister of Foreign Affairs under the
Directory. Before entering political life, Charles Maurice de
Talleyrand-Perigord studied theology and took holy orders. His family
would have placed him in the army, but for an accident of rather a
frightful kind, which happened to him in his childhood. His nurse had
put him down in a field, while she walked away in conversation with her
lover, and during her absence the child under her care was attacked by a
pig, which bit away part of one of the calves and of one of the feet of
the future diplomatist. At the age of twenty-one young Talleyrand was
named Abbé of St.-Denis in the diocese of Rheims. He led the dissipated
life common among the young abbés of his day; but he cultivated the
society of intellectual men, and was on friendly terms with Mirabeau,
Buffon, and Voltaire. In 1780 he was appointed Agent-General of the
French clergy: a lucrative post which placed him in relations with the
Minister, M. de Calonne, from whom he acquired ideas on the subject of
finance which enabled him to repair his shattered fortune. Leading at
the same time a life of pleasure and of affairs, Talleyrand did not
remain insensible to the changes that were taking place around him; and
in a letter addressed to his friend, Choiseul Gouffier, ambassador at
Constantinople, he showed himself an intelligent advocate of political
reform. A separate administration for the provinces--provincial
self-government, in fact--was one of the remedies he proposed. He
declared war against all privileges, and ended his letter by observing
that “at last the people must count for something.” In 1788, the year
before the Revolution, Talleyrand was made Bishop of Autun, with an
income of 80,000 francs. A member of the Assembly of Notables in the
month of November in this year, he showed himself one of the warmest
advocates of the new ideas, and became at this time the friend of
Necker. The clergy of his diocese sent Talleyrand as deputy to the
States-General of 1789. Here he ranged himself on the popular side, and
voted for the union of the two privileged orders (nobility and clergy)
with the Tiers États. He voted, too, for the suppression of tithes, and
for the constitution of an executive with responsible ministers.
At the great Federation Festival in the Champs de Mars, it was
Talleyrand who celebrated mass on the altar of the country, and a few
months afterwards he gave up the bishopric of Autun. For supporting the
civil constitution of the clergy he drew upon himself a decree of
excommunication. In 1791 Talleyrand undertook his first diplomatic
mission, being sent to London in order, if possible, to obtain a
declaration of neutrality from England. In this he was unsuccessful. The
atmosphere of London, however, suited him better than that of Paris, and
Talleyrand kept away from France until after the Reign of Terror. From
England he had passed to the United States. But on the formation of the
Directory he thought the time had come for him to go back to France; and
though his name had been placed on the list of _émigrés_, he had no
trouble in obtaining permission to return. He now established friendly
relations with Barras, with Chénier, and with Mme. de Stael, and, in
spite of some opposition from the austere Carnot, who disliked
Talleyrand’s levity, he was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs, or
“director of external relations.” He at once recognised the genius of
the young chief who, as General Bonaparte, had already made himself a
great name; and Talleyrand’s appointment as Foreign Minister was renewed
when Napoleon became First Consul. He foresaw the establishment of the
Empire, and encouraged Napoleon in that direction. He had a serious
misunderstanding with the emperor in regard to the execution of the Duke
d’Enghien, which Talleyrand strongly condemned, though, according to
Napoleon, it was he who first suggested it.
[Illustration: THE MINISTRY OF WAR.]
Talleyrand had more than one difference of opinion with Napoleon, and on
a certain occasion the emperor, half familiarly, half contemptuously,
pulled him by the ear. “What a pity,” exclaimed Talleyrand, “that so
great a man should be so ill-bred!” More than once Talleyrand was
dismissed from Napoleon’s service; but in moments of difficulty it was
found necessary to recall him. Finally, however, on Napoleon’s fall, he
got the Emperor of Russia to declare that he would treat neither with
Napoleon nor with any member of his family. Talleyrand used all his
influence, moreover, with the Senate to procure its acceptance of the
Bourbons, sure by this means to secure the favour of Louis XVIII. “Il
n’y a rien de changé: il n’y a qu’un Français de plus”--was the phrase
which Talleyrand at this time put into the mouth of the king’s brother,
Count d’Artois, who, after a time, believed that he had really uttered
it. The restored monarchy, however, gave the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
to the Duc de Richelieu, Talleyrand receiving an office he had before
held under Napoleon, that of Grand Chamberlain, with a salary of 100,000
francs.
When the Revolution of 1830 broke out, the Duke of Orleans, afterwards
Louis Philippe, consulted Talleyrand as to whether, should he accept the
throne, the European powers would be likely to recognise him. Talleyrand
wrote to the Duke of Wellington, at that time Prime Minister, and,
finding that England would make no objection, took it for granted that
there would be no trouble with Russia, while it was comparatively
unimportant what views the other governments might take. A month
afterwards he started for London, where he had been appointed
ambassador, and where he laid the foundation of that _entente cordiale_
(the expression was Guizot’s) which has secured to both countries a long
period of peace.
In 1834 Talleyrand, now in his eighty-first year, resigned his embassy
and returned to Paris, where, no longer taking part in public affairs,
he died four years afterwards. “Talleyrand spoke little,” says
Capefigue, “but with exquisite delicacy said all that it was necessary
to say with precision and politeness. He defined a situation by a word;
terminated a discussion by a phrase. He had seen so many events, so many
men, and so many passions, that no small thing could excite him. He
could meet anger, bursts of temper, with the most impassible
countenance. To a reproach he would reply by some charming _mot_. Thus,
when Napoleon said to him abruptly one day: “They say you are very rich,
M. de Talleyrand; you have made lucky speculations on the stock
exchange.” “Yes,” was his answer, “I bought into the funds on the eve of
the 18th Brumaire”--the day on which Napoleon made his celebrated _coup
d’état_.
Many witticisms have of course been attributed to Talleyrand which he
never uttered, and many more, which he did utter, but which were not
absolutely original. According to M. Edouard Fournier he was a constant
student of a collection of jests entitled, with curious irony,
“L’Improvisateur Français.” All necessary deductions, however, having
been made, the fact remains that this statesman was very witty, and with
a wit characteristically his own. “Language was given to man in order to
conceal his thoughts” is, perhaps, the most famous of his sallies. When
someone said in his presence that M. Thiers was a “parvenu,” “not
_parvenu_, but _arrivé_,” he remarked.
[Illustration: FOUNTAIN IN THE RUE DE GRENELLE.]
Besides being witty himself, he was according to M. Louis Blanc, the
cause at least on one occasion of wit in another. When Talleyrand was
dying, says the author of “The History of Ten Years,” King Louis
Philippe went to see him. “_Je souffre les tourments d’enfer_,”
complained Talleyrand. “_Déjà?_” the king is reported to have muttered.
This story, however, was at the time of M. Louis Blanc’s writing at
least two or three centuries old, and there is no reason for supposing
that either Talleyrand or the king uttered the words attributed to them
by this always interesting but generally inaccurate historian.
As a rule Talleyrand’s witticisms were marked by politeness. But he
could say severe things; and once when a lady, who suffered from
defective vision, seemed by her mode of inquiry after his health to be
hinting at his lameness, he replied to her “_Comment allez vous?_”
“_Comme vous voyez, Madame_.” His “_Surtout pas de zèle_” is well known;
also his amusing if cynical caution on the subject of spontaneity:
“Beware of first impulses: they are nearly always generous.”