A DIPLOMATIC ROMANCE
Talleyrand and his party arrived at Vienna on September 23rd. He
immediately saw the representatives of the other great Powers, found
that his anticipation of their resolve to restrict his action was
correct, and opened his campaign. It was not a difficult task to induce
the ministers of the secondary Powers to make common cause with the
ablest diplomatist at the Congress. The Spanish Minister, Labrador, was
urged to press the disputable claim of his country to be considered
a first-class Power, and support Talleyrand in his manœuvres. The
smaller States were fully disposed to have their feeble voices
swelled into a respectable protest by fitting them into Talleyrand’s
scheme. The representatives of Prussia (Prince Hardenberg and Baron
Humboldt), of Russia (Nesselrode, Stakelberg and Rassoumoffsky), of
Austria (Metternich), and of England (Castlereagh and Stewart), were
in constant correspondence. Talleyrand waited and watched. At last
he inquired of Metternich why there was no indication of the opening
of the Congress, which had been fixed for October 1st. After some
discussion between the four Powers, Metternich and Nesselrode obtained
that Talleyrand and the Spanish Minister should be invited to assist at
a preliminary conference on September 30th, and the diplomatic struggle
begins.
Talleyrand at once sees Labrador and arranges the reply to Metternich’s
note. He himself replies that he will be pleased to meet the other
Powers, in which he carefully includes Spain; Labrador, in accepting,
puts France at the head of the Powers he is prepared to discuss
with. When Talleyrand reached the Foreign Chancellery he finds all
the chief ministers seated at a long table, and he drops into a
vacant chair between Castlereagh, who presided, and Metternich. He
immediately throws in the apple of discord by asking why he alone of
the French legation is invited. When he is told that only the chiefs
of the various legations are summoned, he asks why Baron von Humboldt
represents Prussia as well as Prince Hardenberg. They point out
delicately that Hardenberg is rather deaf, and he smilingly refers
to his own lameness. “We all have our infirmities, and have the same
right to profit by them.” But this is only a trivial point raised in
order to induce nervousness; as is also his support of the Portuguese
Minister’s claim (inspired by himself) to be admitted. Castlereagh
opens the proceedings, and says they have first to inform Talleyrand
and Labrador what has been done. The protocol (minutes) of the
previous conferences is handed to Talleyrand. He raised his eyebrows
in artistic astonishment when he finds that it contains the word
“Allies” in every paragraph. Who are these “Allies?” Are we “still at
Chaumont?” He had supposed that the war was over. They hastily—much too
hastily—assure him that it is a mere form or phrase, and he continues
to read about treaties and agreements that had been concealed or were
supposed to be concealed from him. “I don’t understand it,” he says,
returning the papers. “I don’t know of anything being done on these
dates.” The only date he knows anything of is October 1st, when the
Congress is to begin. The other ministers, thrown off their guard by
his unforeseen tactics, abandon their protocol as unimportant, and
it is not seen again. They then produce a document regulating the
procedure of the Congress, and invite him and Labrador to sign it.
He reads it, hesitates, and says it needs leisurely consideration.
It may be that only the Congress itself can give the representatives
of the four Powers the faculties they have assumed. Castlereagh and
himself, he points out, are responsible to their nations, and must
proceed cautiously. Castlereagh rather assents, and the Prussians
fume. Something is said of “the King of Naples.” “Who is he?” asks
Talleyrand. Humboldt ventures to say that the Powers have guaranteed
Murat his territory. “But they could not, and, therefore, they did
not,” insists Talleyrand.
The conference broke up amid a general air of embarrassment. I have
taken the account of it from Talleyrand’s memoirs and his report to
the King. But the Secretary of the Congress, Gentz, who soon formed
a profound admiration of Talleyrand, describes it as a scene he could
never forget, and says that all the intrigues of the ministers were
defeated. Like Napoleon, Talleyrand believed in setting ajar the nerves
of his diplomatic opponents, but he had also made a substantial attack
on the plot to exclude France. The minutes of the previous meetings
were destroyed, and no more meetings were held to which the French
Minister was not invited.
The next morning he followed up his advantage by submitting a note on
the procedure of the Congress. He claimed, plausibly enough, that the
representatives of the eight Powers who had signed the Treaty of Paris
(where the Congress was decided on) should appoint a commission to
prepare its programme. This would let in Portugal and Sweden, as well
as France and Spain. Baron Humboldt described it as “a torch flung
amongst us.” Metternich and Castlereagh beg him to withdraw his note.
Talleyrand explains that this is impossible as it has somehow leaked
out, and the Spanish Minister has unfortunately (but at Talleyrand’s
secret suggestion) sent a copy of it to his Court. Metternich threatens
that the four Powers will act by themselves. Talleyrand amiably replies
that in that event he will not feel called upon to attend the Congress.
Nesselrode bluntly protests that the Tsar must leave Austria by the
29th, and Talleyrand suavely assures him he “is very sorry, as in
that case the Tsar is not likely to see the end of the Congress.”
Castlereagh endeavours to talk over Talleyrand with British common
sense. The objects of France can be secured, he is explaining, when
Talleyrand interrupts him with an expression of lofty amazement,
and says France is there to represent principles, not to secure
objects. They have to answer to Europe, which has suffered so much
from the neglect of good maxims of conduct. Von Gagern, representing
Bavaria, said: “Is it not extraordinary that, when the French speak of
principles for the first time since the world began no one will listen
to them?” Gentz admitted to Talleyrand at dinner that night that the
other Powers knew he was right, but did not like to retreat. He wished
Talleyrand had arrived earlier.
[Illustration: _From an engraving, after the picture by Sir Thomas
Lawrence._
PRINCE METTERNICH.]
The Tsar had already granted him the interview he had asked on
arriving at Vienna. In answer to Alexander’s inquiry as to the state
of France he gave a very cheerful (and totally untrue) account. He
had just received pitiable reports from Fouché and D’Hauterive. When
the Tsar spoke of needs or interests deciding what was to be done in
Europe, Talleyrand reminded him that right came before interest. “The
interests of Europe constitute right,” said the Tsar. Talleyrand raised
his head and dropped his arms, ejaculating: “Poor Europe!” When he
remonstrated with Alexander for using the word “Allies,” the Emperor
explained it away as being due to force of habit. A few days afterwards
he saw Metternich, and humorously alluded to “the Allies.” “There
are none now,” said Metternich. When Metternich tried to smile at his
affectation of disinterestedness, Talleyrand offered to sign a note to
the effect that France wanted nothing and would not accept anything
from the Congress. Metternich mentioned Naples, and Talleyrand at once
said it was a question of principle.
The Congress was now a week overdue, and the irritated ministers saw
all their preparations for it thwarted. The Prussian party had been
strengthened by their minister from London, one of the “eagles of their
diplomacy,” but they could make no headway. On October 8th there was
another conference. Talleyrand delivered to Castlereagh another note on
the Congress, and wanted it stated that it would be held “in conformity
with the principles of public right.” Hardenberg jumped up, and, with
his fists clenched on the table, snapped out that “that went without
saying.” “It will be all the easier to insert it,” replied Talleyrand.
Baron Humboldt then took up the quarrel, and wanted to know “what they
had to do with public right.” “It is in virtue of public right that
you are here,” retorted Talleyrand quietly. The phrase did eventually
appear in the Declaration. In the middle of the Conference Castlereagh
drew Talleyrand aside, and asked him if he would be “easier” if they
gave him his point. “What will you do about Naples if I promise?”
immediately asked the moralist. Castlereagh promised his assistance.
Thus the opening stages of the diplomatic campaign went entirely
in Talleyrand’s favour. He had advised the King to publish his
instructions in the Parisian press, and all Vienna now read the
edifying principles on which the French legation proceeded. Russia and
Prussia were being gradually forced into a minority, and their covetous
designs on Poland and Saxony were being cleverly represented as the
real obstacles to progress. Their mortification was profound. Neither
social coldness nor the refusal of information disturbed Talleyrand’s
equanimity. The one design was defeated by the attractiveness of his
establishment, the other was a stratagem he had too often encountered.
Gagern and Castlereagh alone used to visit the Hotel Kaunitz in the
first week or two, but the amiable countess soon saw her dinners well
attended. Early in December the Austrian papers described her as the
first lady in the quadrille at a ball of the utmost brilliance and
importance. And Talleyrand’s tongue counted for something in the
cosmopolitan society at Vienna. “His biting sarcasm ranged all the
thinkers and all the laughers on his side,” said Metternich. His
quips on the quaint manners of the Tsar, the heavy sullenness of the
Prussians, the political innocence of the English, and the “niaiseries”
of Metternich, circulated at every ball and dinner.
The opening of November saw little advance in the negotiations.
Talleyrand fought resolutely for the preservation of Saxony, against
the cession of Poland to Russia, and for the restoration of Naples to
the Bourbons. He admitted that Prussia should be indemnified, but
“the sacred principle of legitimacy” forbade the sacrifice of Saxony
to them. When the Prussians retorted that they would be satisfied
in conscience if the Powers assigned it to them, he replied that
the Powers could not give what did not belong to them. When Russia
tried to seize his weapon of “legitimacy” for the defence of their
design to re-establish Poland (under the Russian crown), he blandly
assented, _if_ they would re-erect the whole of Poland and make it
completely independent. And whenever a minister approached him with
a quiet suggestion of “making a bargain,” he drew himself up with
haughty moral dignity. He was determined to get both Saxony and
Naples. Throughout October he was writing that the English ruled the
Congress, and they had “no principles.” They were ready to give Saxony
to Prussia—Castlereagh complaining bitterly of the “treachery” of its
king—and generally to strengthen Prussia and Austria against France;
but they joined Talleyrand and Austria in regard to Poland, and were
ready to be accommodating as regarded Naples.
On November 5th Metternich invited Talleyrand to meet himself and
Castlereagh. They wanted his confidence and assistance to make some
progress. The French Minister threw up his arms. How could he help
them when he knew nothing that they did not know, whereas they were
perpetually withholding their deliberations from him? Let them open
the Congress. He was told that the Prussians—Castlereagh told him
privately how they dreaded him—would not hear of it until the Powers
were agreed. On the same day the King of Prussia had a private
interview with the Tsar, and they decided to support each other.
Prussia was to have Saxony, and Russia to set up a kingdom of Poland.
Talleyrand met the agreement by impressing its inacceptable features
on Austria and England, and drawing closer to them. By the insertion
of articles in the Parisian papers and the publication of pamphlets
he was bringing public opinion to his view as regarded Saxony. The
Austrian generals were openly in favour of it, and there was a strong
feeling for it in England. By the beginning of December Metternich
sent Talleyrand a copy of a letter in which he protested to Prussia
against the annexation of Saxony, and “rejoiced to find himself in
line with the French Cabinet on an object so worthy of defence.” The
Tsar was losing ground daily. In spite of his excessive amiability—he
danced or took tea with every lady in Vienna—his ambition was alarming
people. The Prussian ambassadors were seen nowhere. They were shedding
fruitless perspiration in their cabinets. By the end of November
Talleyrand reported to Louis that France was now not only not excluded
from the settlement of questions that interested her, but was sharing
in the redistribution of Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. Austria and
England now needed her. The perspicacious Louis solemnly accepted
Talleyrand’s assurance that it was his (the King’s) lofty enunciation
of principles which had changed the atmosphere of Vienna. His brief
letters are full of unconscious humour.
By the middle of December Talleyrand heard that Austria, Russia, and
Prussia had come to an agreement about Poland. The Tsar relinquished
his larger pretensions, granted parts of Poland to Prussia and Austria,
and was then allowed to give the remainder a constitution. Prussia
appealed to Austria to help her to get her much laboured compensation,
and Metternich offered her part of Poland and only a fifth part of
Saxony. This note was delivered to Talleyrand, and at once inspired him
with a fresh flow of that “noble phraseology” which he had promised
Mme. de Staël to employ at Vienna. He ceased to speak of Poland, and
concentrated on Saxony. The King of Saxony must be invited to say what
part of his territory he would surrender (it was now clear the whole
could not be preserved). Civilised nations know no such process as
confiscation. Castlereagh was now directed to come to an understanding
with Talleyrand. The French Minister responded with a proposal that
England, France, and Austria should sign a convention to protect
Saxony, and in the early days of January a secret treaty between the
three was signed. Military preparations were quietly made, and it
transpired in Vienna that they had urged the Turks to make a diversion
against Russia in case of war. A number of the secondary Powers joined
them.
For a time the situation seemed dangerous, and the exasperation of
Prussia was great. But the defensive character of the new alliance
was discreetly emphasised, fresh concessions of territory were made
to Prussia, and the Tsar urged a peaceful and speedy settlement.
Talleyrand wrote in glowing language to France, and he was assured from
the capital that his prestige had risen considerably. He made a last
adroit use of his indirect diplomatic machinery before the close of the
Congress. The anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI occurred on
January 21st, and arrangements were made for an impressive ceremony in
the cathedral at Vienna, at which few of the rulers and statesmen could
decline the invitation to assist. Every detail of it was directed to
further Talleyrand’s aims. The sermon delivered had been prepared by
the Count de Noailles—Louis said that nothing so fine had been heard
at Paris—and Talleyrand induced Gentz to write a special account of
the ceremony in the Vienna _Beobachter_. A huge crowd of princes and
politicians dined that night at the Hotel Kaunitz. Vienna was subtly
impregnated with sympathy.
The last stages of the Congress passed more swiftly and smoothly.
Prussia had to withdraw her protest against the admission of Talleyrand
to the commission on territorial redistribution, so that the great aim
of his policy as regarded procedure was fully attained. That he should
secure the literal acceptance of his programme in the redistribution
itself was not to be expected, but the final arrangement was widely
different from what the other Powers had intended. The kingdom of
Saxony was preserved, though greatly reduced. On the other hand
Prussia obtained the Rhine districts, which Talleyrand had tried to
prevent her from getting on the ground that she was “a quarrelsome
neighbour.” The other Powers were not unwilling to see her mount guard
against France on the Rhine. The smaller German kingdoms were left in
existence. Some of them had bespoken Talleyrand’s interest. Austria
obtained Venice in spite of him, but he eventually got his way as
regarded Naples. Wellington (who replaced Castlereagh in February)
supported the French demand for the expulsion of Murat, Russia was
driven to the same conclusion in the design of weakening Austria, and
Murat finally played into their hands by declaring for Napoleon. Thus
the two chief details of his programme, the maintenance of a kingdom of
Saxony and the restoration of Naples to the Bourbons, were secured. His
dignified refusal to compromise had the full empirical justification
which he had expected. In other matters he was less rigid in his cult
of “principle.” He raised no protest to Bernadotte retaining Sweden,
and maintained the act of mediation in Switzerland.
The Congress of Vienna is the greatest of Talleyrand’s diplomatic
achievements, and I have endeavoured to give an outline of his methods
of action there. The results are familiar in general history. Apart
from the distinguished talent that he exhibited, and that is easily
appreciated, it only remains to say a word about his motives. It is
needless to point out that his inexorable insistence on principle was
a carefully calculated expedient. It would be misleading to recall here
his saying that “the best principle is to have none at all.” He had
principles; but they were ultimate principles. Peace, justice, France
and humanity were ideals at which he never scoffed. There his idealism
ended. It was one of the chief grounds of the exasperation of his
opponents that they knew how little he really cared about principles
of “legitimacy” and the like. His action was inspired and controlled
by a variety of motives—the interest of France, the cause of European
peace, the family interests of Louis XVIII, some sense of chivalry for
the smaller States, the picturesqueness and humour of posing as the
champion of virtue amongst the partitioning Powers, and the expectation
of gratitude from such men as the King of Saxony. He is said to have
received two, and even three, million francs from Saxony. As usual, the
statement is quite unauthoritative, and the rumours are conflicting.
The Congress of Vienna probably brought him a very large sum. I have
pointed out before that there was no pretence of stealth about his
receiving money, though the sums mentioned by various writers seem
generally to be guesses. Not a single instance is alleged in which he
was “bought.” Presents of money changed hands very freely at Vienna. As
it had been Talleyrand’s deliberate policy to stand between the larger
Powers and the smaller—to prevent, as far as possible, the growth of
the former by the absorption of the latter— he would be in the end an
exceptional recipient of gratitude.[55] He would have smiled at the
notion that this gratitude should only have been embodied in diamonds
or china, especially if it is true that at that very moment his
splendid library was being dispatched to Sotheby’s.
Before the Tsar left Vienna Talleyrand was compelled to impair still
more their earlier friendship. Alexander had shown much coolness in
regard to him in September and October. To disappointment in the
development in France was added the consciousness that Talleyrand
was strenuously opposing his Polish plans. As time wore on, and
Talleyrand’s campaign succeeded, there was a change. By the end of
November Alexander was looking out everywhere for Talleyrand, who
avoided him. The settlement of the Polish question left them tolerably
friendly. Then came an incident which Talleyrand must have faced with
great reluctance. He had earlier favoured the idea of a marriage
between the Archduchess Anna and the Duc de Berry. He now felt that a
Franco-Russian alliance was undesirable, and wrote to dissuade Louis
XVIII from entertaining the project. The Tsar approached him directly
on the matter at Vienna, and he had to suggest difficulties and have
recourse to the very transparent device of postponing the subject.
The Tsar had not forgotten how Talleyrand and he had secretly agreed
at Erfurt to deceive Napoleon in regard to the same archduchess. It
considerably widened the breach between them.
Had Talleyrand foreseen the events of the coming March he might have
used more diplomacy. In the evening of March 6th the various ministers
were urgently summoned by Metternich. Talleyrand was the first to
arrive and to hear that Napoleon had sailed from Elba. There was
excitement enough, but it is a great exaggeration to speak of dismay.
The news had the good effect of quickening the pace at Vienna, and
there was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the Powers as to
the steps to be taken. Napoleon was a common enemy, a common outlaw.
Talleyrand did not believe at first that he would land in France, but
he could hardly have been unprepared for the account of his victorious
advance on Paris. For weeks he had been receiving letters on the
mutinous condition of the army, the criminal expenditure on gold-laced
household troops, the incessant attacks on the holders of nationalised
property, and the other abuses and follies of the returned party.
Within a fortnight Napoleon was at Paris, and the pompous and misguided
Louis was flying towards Belgium. The Powers became “allies” once more,
and set their forces in motion to arrest “the bandit.”
Lytton, who has done so much to clear the character of Talleyrand
from calumny, is here betrayed into an unfortunate error. He says
that Talleyrand recollected that the first duty of a diplomatist
after a congress is to see to his liver, and departed for Carlsbad.
Sainte Beuve and others have eagerly reproduced this picture of the
wily politician retiring into inactivity on Napoleon’s reappearance,
and waiting to see which side would win in the struggle. The picture
is totally false. The Congress was not completed—its act was not
signed—until June 9th. Talleyrand left Vienna the very next day for
Belgium, and was in Brussels on June 21st. Further, we have the
correspondence he wrote to Louis from Vienna, and from this it is
clear, not only that he remained at Vienna, but that he rendered most
important and loyal service to Louis throughout the Hundred Days. There
is never more than an interval of a few days between his letters, and
they are all dated from Vienna. It is true that Von Gagern speaks of
him as asking an asylum in Wiesbaden, but there is no room whatever
to admit an absence from duty at any time of more than a day or two.
Finally, we know that he formally rejected the advances made by
Napoleon.
In the first few days he clearly felt no serious concern about the
movements of Napoleon. The event might be turned to good account, he
observed. He went at once with Metternich and Wellington to see the
King of Saxony at Pressburg on behalf of the Congress. It was left to
Talleyrand chiefly to persuade the king that he must submit, and the
mission was quickly discharged. He found an old friend of his, the
Countess de Brionne, dying at Pressburg, and interrupts his account
of the Congress to describe his touching farewell. He could weep
like a woman on such occasions. He was back in Vienna on March 13th,
and signed on behalf of France the manifesto of the Powers against
Napoleon. It is impossible that he should have had any serious doubt
about the final issue of Napoleon’s raid. He heard Alexander offer the
whole resources of his country, and saw the absolute unanimity and
resolution of Europe. The Treaty of Chaumont was revived, and every
State in Europe was invited to join the grand coalition. Talleyrand
secured that the French king should now be included in the allied
forces against Napoleon.
Unfortunately, four days afterwards came the news that the King had
crossed the frontier with a slender regiment of followers. Talleyrand
had urged that he should remain in one of the fortresses in the north
of France. He had written to the King on April 23rd to tell him of the
firm attitude of the Powers against Napoleon, but had added, “with
infinite regret,” that they were less definite in their attitude
towards Louis. This was really not the case at that time, but it seemed
a good opportunity to bring the King to reason. He followed up his
point with a strong plea for reform and Liberalism, and said he would
join the King as soon as the interests of France permitted him to leave
Vienna. A few days later he wrote that there had been an intrigue to
prevent the signature of the Act of the Congress, and he must remain
to defeat it. Then came the very unwelcome news that Louis had fled
from the country. Talleyrand wrote to express his regret, and hoped
that the Court had brought away from Paris all his letters from Vienna.
Amongst them was a copy of the secret treaty with Austria and England
against Russia and Prussia. Napoleon would not fail to make use of
this. Louis’s courtiers had brought away the crown jewels and left the
documents behind.
The Act of the Congress was not signed until June 9th, and Talleyrand
resisted all entreaties to come to Belgium until this was done.
Chateaubriand wrote him that it was “absolutely necessary” for him
to come. Talleyrand’s decision to remain at or near Vienna until the
fruits of his diplomacy were fully secured is not open to criticism
or misinterpretation. There was a real danger in the postponement and
reopening of the Congress. It is quite true that he was approached
by an emissary of Napoleon during April. Montrond, an old friend
of Talleyrand’s, came to Vienna to ascertain the attitude of the
Powers and make overtures to Talleyrand. Napoleon, who had at first
proscribed him, was now anxious to secure him. Michaud declares, with
the customary absolute lack of authority, that Talleyrand offered to
negotiate for him the return of the Empress and her son. Napoleon
himself admits that one of the objects of Montrond was to “win
Talleyrand,” and claims that “all his objects were achieved.” The claim
is frivolous. We have not a very distinct picture of Talleyrand’s
occupation during April and May, but there is no ground whatever for
doubting the truth of his statement that he refused to treat with
Montrond. At the most we may merely smile at his explanation that
it would have “prostituted his politics.” He saw that Europe was
determined to remove Napoleon. No doubt he had a momentary anxiety when
he learned that Napoleon had given the Russians a copy of his secret
treaty of January 3rd, but he laughed it off to Nesselrode, and soon
learned that Alexander was unmoved by it. Once that danger was over,
the alliance against Napoleon was irresistible.
On the other hand there was an increasing disinclination among the
Allies to pledge themselves to support Louis, and other alternatives
were freely discussed. We may very well admit that Talleyrand kept an
open mind on these, and would much rather be in Austria than Belgium.
But he acted loyally on behalf of the King. It was he who induced the
reluctant Allies to send representatives to the Court at Ghent. The
most serious alternative to Louis was the Duke of Orléans, who was at
London, and in regard to whom Talleyrand seems to have been entirely
passive. It is not unlikely that, apart from his real concern to see
the Act of the Congress signed, he wanted to see the ultra faction
entirely discredited at Ghent, and a more definite leaning to his own
liberal policy before proceeding there. He knew how things were going
on at Ghent. The distracted King was wavering between the courtiers,
who threw the whole blame of the revolution on the Radicals, and the
Liberal statesmen who returned it to the shoulders of the returned
emigrants. The Allies were throwing their weight in the latter side
of the scale, and were discussing the advisability of superseding
Louis. The Tsar openly favoured the Duke of Orléans. Louis was forced
to press for the return of Talleyrand, and the signing of the act of
the Congress on June 9th left him no reason for delay in Vienna. He
departed on the following day, and arrived at Brussels on the 21st.
Waterloo had been fought and won. Napoleon was now a dead force, but
Louis continued to be a very equivocal one. Acting on the unfortunate
advice of Wellington, the King was re-entering France in the train of
the allied armies. Talleyrand had urged the more politic course of
entering France independently, and setting up the government quite
apart from their influence. He concluded that the King was again
swayed by his incompetent followers, and declined to see him. He had
proceeded to Mons, where the King had halted, but angrily rejected the
advice of the more moderate ministers to have an interview. In the
night, however, he was awakened with the intelligence that Louis was
on the point of leaving Mons, and he hurried across. Witnesses who
scanned Talleyrand’s countenance after the interview read contradictory
expressions into it. Chateaubriand says he was “mad with rage”;
Beugnot, a less sentimental observer, says that he was in one of his
best moods. Talleyrand probably played the Sphinx, but we know from
him that he “made no impression” on the King, although he spoke very
plainly to him of the divine right of kings and the human rights of
peoples.
He had, apparently, some presentiment of the evil disposition of the
King, and had prepared a memorandum to be read at leisure. In this
“Report” he gave his official account of his work at Vienna, and added
a very straight talk on the situation in France. While the principle of
legitimacy was triumphing in Vienna, he said, it was being enfeebled
in France itself. He summarises the complaints of constitutionalist
people, putting them in the mouth of observers at Vienna. “The source
of a power must not be confused with its exercise.” “When religious
sentiments were profoundly graven on the hearts and were all-powerful
in the minds of the people, men might believe that the power of the
sovereign was an emanation of the Divinity. To-day it is the general
opinion—and it is useless to seek to enfeeble it—that governments
exist solely for the people.” Neglect of these principles had prepared
the way for Napoleon. His memoir made no more impression than his
conversation.
The King would not be persuaded to follow Talleyrand’s plan of entry
into France, and proceeded to Cambrai. Talleyrand ended by asking
permission to take the waters at Carlsbad, and the King politely
trusted they would do him good. It is useless to seek to discover any
plan in Talleyrand’s thoughts on the day after the King left him at
Mons. There was probably none. The situation was too changeful and
precarious for such designs. He assisted at the dinner given by the
Mayor of Mons, and covered his chagrin with more than customary charm
and brilliance of conversation. Metternich wrote to confirm him in his
attitude; but Wellington was determined to have in France “one man they
could trust,” and immediately begged him to rejoin the King. He replied
in a long letter to Wellington, accepting his advice and enlarging
on the folly of the King in putting himself in the hands of the
extreme Royalists. There was still, he said, no guarantee whatever of
constitutional procedure, and the whole work of the Allies might again
be frustrated. But he joined Louis “amongst the baggage of the English
army” at Cambrai, and resumed the struggle with evil influences.
Wellington now occupied the predominant position that Alexander had
held in the Restoration of 1814. Talleyrand speaks of him at the time
with no great respect, but they later formed an intimate friendship.
When Talleyrand arrived at Cambrai a Council was called by the King.
A most tactless proclamation had been issued by the Court party, and
Talleyrand now submitted a second one to the Council. It contained such
phrases as: “My Government may have made mistakes; possibly it has.”
The King’s brother objected that such an admission “lowered royalty”
and could not be made. When the document went on to describe the King
as “carried away by his affections,” Monsieur warmly requested to know
if that was a reference to himself. “Yes, it is,” said Talleyrand,
“since Monsieur has placed the discussion on that ground. Monsieur has
done a great deal of harm.” The Duc de Berry now heatedly interposed
that only the presence of the King prevented him from resenting the
use of such language to his father. Louis stopped the quarrel, and
said that the proclamation would be altered. The substance of it
was adopted, however, and it was issued, signed by the King and by
Talleyrand.
They entered Paris on July 8th, and another phase of Talleyrand’s
difficulties began. Whether the Allies would have been more moderate,
or less secure in their ground, if Louis had followed his advice and
entered France independently of them, is not quite so clear as he
would have us think. In any case the situation was very different from
what it had been in 1814. Prussia was more determined than ever to
humble France. The Tsar was less disposed than ever to curb Blücher,
and to protect Louis. Wellington was the only one who was thoroughly
in favour of the Restoration; and he was too little acquainted with
French affairs and too eager to take independent action to co-operate
with Talleyrand’s plans. After two months of exasperating struggle
Talleyrand was driven into retirement.