THE LAST ACT
Talleyrand had acquired through his long experience a sense of
political equilibrium. Men of science point out to us in lowly marine
organisms a little vesicle filled with fluid and containing a little
stone. It is the organ by which they feel that they are ascending or
descending. In some such way Talleyrand _felt_ the motion when the
governing power had begun to descend a slope. In the later twenties he
knew, as many did, that Charles X was moving towards the abyss into
which he had seen so many plunge. The King was too narrowly Catholic to
love Talleyrand, and, though their relation was amiable enough during
the Martignac Ministry, Talleyrand’s house became once more the centre
of the opposition. All the older Liberals and a large number of the
younger men used to gather about his couch in the morning, or fill
his rooms in the evening from eleven to one. The Martignac Ministry
was the last effort to stem the tide of reaction. But Charles X was
quietly hostile to its enlightened policy, and he dismissed it at the
first check. On August 8th (1829) he bade the Prince de Polignac, a man
of his own views, form a Clerical ministry. Talleyrand left Paris for
Rochecotte in the interest of his health. It was said in Paris that,
as when Napoleon set out for Russia, he had declared it “the beginning
of the end.”
At Rochecotte he was visited by Molé, Sebastiani, de Broglie,
Villemain, and numbers of other politicians. Thiers also was there, but
Talleyrand regarded him rather as a promising writer than a politician.
There was no plotting at Rochecotte. It was unnecessary. While Polignac
was receiving directions from the Virgin Mary in visions for the
governing of France, Liberal leagues were being organised everywhere,
and the second revolution was preparing. “A thousand sinister rumours
are circulating in the capital,” said an orator from the tribune. In
March (1830) Roger Collard presented to the King an address, voted
by the Chamber and drawn up by Guizot and himself. The King replied
by proroguing the Chamber until September. “So you have decided on
prorogation,” said Talleyrand to one of the ministers. “Well, I think
I shall buy a little property in Switzerland.” Charles X declared he
would make no concessions. Weakness had destroyed Louis XVI; “for my
part I have no alternative but the throne or the scaffold.” “He forgets
the post-chaise,” said Talleyrand.
[Illustration: LOUIS PHILIPPE, KING OF THE FRENCH.]
In May Talleyrand was back at Rochecotte, tending his peaches and
flowers as he loved to do, and discussing the situation with Thiers,
Mignet, and others. The elections had gone heavily against the
ministers. On June 11th he wrote to the Princess de Vaudemont that
“the decisive moment was at hand.” On the 14th he wrote to Barante,
“We are moving onward towards an unknown world, without pilot or
compass: the only certain thing is that it will all end in shipwreck.”
Although he had certainly discussed the change from Bourbons to
Orleanists with his friends, he was really in a state of great concern
and anxiety. It was not at all certain that they would be consulted as
to the future. The excesses of the Clerical and Royalist party had so
deeply moved the country that a bloody rebellion and mob-triumph was
possible. In July he was back at Paris. On the 26th appeared the royal
ordinances that would destroy the liberty of the press, dissolve the
Chamber, and manipulate the elections. On the following day he saw the
troops marching to destroy the machines of the rebellious printers,
and the first barricades raised in their path. It is said that he had
the large golden sign, “Hotel Talleyrand,” taken down from over the
gate of his house. His darkest recollections of 1792 were revived.
On the morning of the 28th the streets of Paris were found to be cut
everywhere with barricades. The tricolour floated from the roof of the
Hotel de Ville and Notre Dame.
The long days of the 28th and 29th were spent in great anxiety. His
secretary (or that extremely imaginative person who has dressed up
and expounded Colmache’s “Recollections”) says that when the tocsin
rang out on the morning of the 28th the Prince exclaimed: “Hark! We
triumph.” When the man asked _who_ triumphed, he is said to have
answered: “Hush! I will tell you to-morrow.” On the 29th he tried to
induce the peers to take a definite line, but they were too timid.
On the 30th the rumour spread that the King had fled from St. Cloud.
He sent his secretary to make inquiries at the palace, and heard
that it was so. He then sent Colmache with a note, to be burned in
the secretary’s presence or returned to him, to the sister of the
Duc d’Orléans, Mme. Adélaide, who was at Neuilly with the Duke. The
note merely said: “Madame may have full confidence in the bearer, who
is my secretary.” The secretary was instructed to tell her that the
Duke must come to Paris and call himself Lieutenant-General of the
kingdom—“the rest will follow.” Before night the Duke was at the Palais
Royal. Charles X had withdrawn his inspired ordinances at three o’clock
that afternoon, but it was too late. The Republicans were gradually
controlled, and the Duke of Orleans was accepted as the head of the
State.
This was Talleyrand’s share in the second Revolution, and the fifth
change of government in France during his career. He took his last
oath of loyalty without hesitation. Speaking once to an Imperialist
who distrusted him, he said: “I have never kept fealty to anyone
when he has himself ceased to obey the dictates of common sense. If
you will judge all my actions by this rule you will find that I have
been eminently consistent.” Certainly, there is no serious need of
justifying his conduct in 1830. He had plainly told Louis XVIII the
conditions on which the Bourbons were reinstated. “Governments exist
to-day solely for the people.” Louis and his friends had tried to
reverse the principle. Charles X had thought government a branch of the
Church.
Talleyrand’s restoration to public affairs was a matter of course.
Louis-Philippe offered him the Foreign Ministry, but he felt that the
embassy at London would be at once less onerous and more important.
Once more Talleyrand’s bias towards England proved its soundness.
They agreed that London must be made the pivot of France’s foreign
policy. Austria, Russia, and Prussia looked with little favour on
the new outburst of French revolutionary ardour, or on the monarchy
it had set up on deliberate utilitarian grounds. The best guarantee
for the preservation of peace was to convince and draw close to
England. Here, again, where the principles on which the throne of
Louis-Philippe was raised should be familiar enough, there was (apart
from the trouble that supervened in Belgium) a very natural tendency
to view the outburst with alarm. Wellington had said in 1815, when the
Duke of Orléans was proposed for the French throne, that he would be
“merely a well-bred usurper.” What would he say now? The instability
of Louis-Philippe’s first ministry and the propagandist expressions of
the revolutionaries at Paris made the situation more difficult. It was
decided that Talleyrand would be most useful at London. He received a
very amiable reply from Lord Aberdeen (then Foreign Minister) to the
announcement of his appointment, and left Paris on September 22nd, and
reached “beautiful England, so rich, so peaceful,” a few days later.
The cannonade at Dover that welcomed his arrival reminded him of the
day when he had last quitted the country under an ignominious order of
expulsion.
There were many sources of opposition to Talleyrand’s mission, and he
was at first exposed to great annoyance. Caricatures in Piccadilly
shops represented him as a cripple leading the blindfolded Kings of
Europe, or as a trainer leading a monkey dressed in the livery of the
new French monarchy. In society he had to face a good deal of prejudice
against the new regime. He had his own way of answering it. “Say what
you like,” the Russian Ambassador’s wife once said in his presence,
“what has taken place in France is a flagrant usurpation.” “You are
quite right, madame,” he replied. “Only it is to be regretted it did
not take place fifteen years ago when your master, Alexander, desired
it.” The Princess Lieven afterwards became friendly. On the other hand
he was well received by Aberdeen and cordially welcomed by Wellington
and his older friends.
The personnel of his embassy was not impressive, he himself admits. In
the obituary notice of him a few years later in the _Morning Post_,
he is described as receiving visitors in his salon with a high hat
and a huge tricolour rosette on it, while three young sansculottists
lounged with revolutionary freedom on the couch. This was an echo of
the hostility of 1830. Talleyrand had always been strongly opposed
to the obtrusion of French revolutionary feelings at other courts or
capitals, and is not likely to have furnished the slightest ground for
this gibe over his coffin. He had brought the Duchess de Dino with him,
and this relieved the character of his mission. Such productions of
the time as “Raikes’ Journal” indicate how prominent and distinguished
a place he at once took up in the country. In fact the writer in the
_Morning Post_ himself says that in time Palmerston was almost the only
man to stand conspicuously aloof from the aged Prince, and speak of him
disdainfully as “old Tally.”
The great issue that complicated his work at London was the revolt of
Belgium against the Dutch. Talleyrand had looked forward to the not
uncongenial task of introducing the new monarchy into the respectable
society of the older ones in Europe by prevailing on England to espouse
its cause. Knowing well the pacific feeling of Louis-Philippe and his
political integrity, he had every reason to hope for success in this
without more than an easy and cheerful use of his own accomplishments.
Aristocratic feeling even in England was suspicious and reserved. He
would disarm it, and place in the hands of the French Foreign Office
the strong card of England’s friendship. Unfortunately for his peace,
the spirit of the Revolution spread immediately into Belgium, and
the Dutch were gradually driven out of the country. It was England
especially that had created this joint kingdom of the Netherlands in
1815, and she now looked with concern on what seemed to be an attempt
of France to regain the control of Belgium.
The news from France increased the difficulty. There was a strong
and loud demand at Paris for the annexation of the rich, and largely
French, provinces of Belgium, and this was echoed by a considerable
party at Brussels. So powerful was the feeling and so moving the
temptation, that the French Cabinet itself inclined to it and the King
hesitated. From the end of October until the end of February Talleyrand
had to fight the whole of Paris, as well as allay anxiety at London.
But he was convinced that a general war would ensue if France directly
or indirectly recovered control of Belgium, and he fought bravely for
peace against King and ministers and people. Non-intervention was the
word that he pleaded unceasingly at London and thundered at Paris.
There is a story that when someone at London asked him to define
non-intervention he said it was “a metaphysical and political term that
meant pretty much the same thing as intervention.” He may have said so
for the fun of the phrase, but his correspondence with Paris shows that
he was in deepest earnest about it.
His policy at London was perfectly straight, but unfortunately his
diplomatic history made many hesitate to accept it as such. It is said
that once under the Empire some piece of news relating to Spain had
reached the knowledge of the Spanish Minister, and Napoleon grumbled.
Talleyrand said he would put the matter right. He went to M. d’Azara,
said that he had something important to whisper to him regarding his
country, and then told him precisely the piece of news that had leaked
out. D’Azara was so far unable to conceive Talleyrand speaking the
truth in such a matter that he concluded the whole story was a hoax,
and wrote to his Government to disregard the information he had sent
them. At London in 1830 and 1831 Talleyrand was pleading in perfect
sincerity for non-intervention, but Palmerston (who came to the Foreign
Office in November) and others were unable to believe him. The more
he assured them of his struggle against his own Government, the more
they suspected him. Palmerston dreaded his diplomatic ascendancy, and
looked for his secret inspiration in every movement towards war and
territorial expansion that was reported from Paris.
There was no unreality about Talleyrand’s statement that he was
fighting his own Government. In November they sent Count Flahaut to
assist him in London and induce him to favour the scheme of a partition
of Belgium between Holland, England, Prussia, and France. Talleyrand
told him he would cut off his right hand before signing such a treaty,
and sent him back to Paris. Sebastiani (Foreign Minister) then sounded
Talleyrand on a scheme for making the King’s son, the Duc de Nemours,
King of Belgium, and was told that it was a “mad idea.” Talleyrand,
in fact, resorted to the device of writing constantly to the King’s
sister, Mme. Adélaide, and told her the Duke “must absolutely refuse”
the Belgian crown if it were offered to him. He believed that Belgium
would not remain a distinct nation (in which his sagacity failed
altogether), and might eventually fall to France, but for the moment
it was “a secondary matter.” “We must make France first,” he said.
But the Congress at Brussels on February 3rd did invite the Duc de
Nemours to the throne, and Paris wavered once more. Talleyrand signed
a protocol at London engaging France to refuse the crown for the Duc
de Nemours. Sebastiani complained seriously, and Talleyrand had to
submit, but added that “if it seemed to him at any time that there
would be imminent danger of war if he refused to sign the protocols of
the Conference, and the real interests of France were not at stake, he
would sign them in accordance with the first instructions given him,”
and threatened to leave London if the situation did not improve in
Paris. Moreover, when, under the influence of a deputy from Brussels,
the King wavered again, and Sebastiani sent word that his reply was
postponed, Talleyrand refused to submit his message to Palmerston.
The Conference to which he alludes was sitting on the Belgian question
at London. When England proposed an international Conference,
Talleyrand was instructed to demand that it be held at Paris, and
he did so. His personal opinion was, however, that Paris was in too
insecure a condition, and he was not disappointed when London was
decided on. He had made up his mind from the first that Prince Leopold
of Saxe-Coburg was the fittest candidate for the Belgian throne.
To this there was no serious opposition at London, and a change of
Ministry at Paris in March brought Casimir Périer to the head of
affairs. With this able statesman and friend Talleyrand could make more
progress, though he described his advance on Ancona as “a piece of
filibustering.” By the middle of July Leopold was accepted in Belgium,
and the irritating problem was settled.
[Illustration: _From a sketch by Count D’Orsay._
TALLEYRAND
(At London, in 1831).]
But one difficulty was removed only to lead to another. Talleyrand had
in April (1831) obtained from the Allies of 1815 a secret promise that
some of the fortresses raised at that time against France should be
demolished. Louis-Philippe wanted to be able to announce this welcome
decision in his July address. As Talleyrand was dilatory in obtaining
permission, the King made the announcement and declared he would not
evacuate Belgium until the forts were destroyed. His ambassador had
meantime secured the assent of the Powers, but had also signed a
promise to evacuate Belgium in August. The King was much annoyed, but
Talleyrand politely requested him and Périer not to make so much noise
about the fortresses. To a private correspondent he wrote that he was
tired to death of fighting Paris, when his whole attention was needed
at London. He could see nothing but _amour propre_ in the agitation at
Paris. The struggle continued for some time. Louis-Philippe wanted
different forts destroyed from those that Talleyrand had named, and
wrote angrily to him. His ambassador sent a polite and sarcastic
reply, and the names of the forts remained unchanged when the matter
was settled in January. Talleyrand’s weariness expressed itself in the
following passage of a letter to Sebastiani, which would probably be
submitted to Louis-Philippe: “The King knows that I am a partisan of
no dynasty. Since the days of Louis XVI I have served all Governments
out of attachment to my country. I have abandoned them the moment they
sacrificed the interests of France to personal interests. If the King
is going to listen to domestic chatterers, he must not count on me.” It
was the voice of the King-maker.
At London he had maintained his diplomatic ascendancy, though
Palmerston annoyed him exceedingly. There was a good deal of
ill-natured carping at his distinction. One day Lord Londonderry was
misguided enough to voice this in the House of Lords. He referred to
the influence of a certain “astute diplomatist” over the Conference,
and said it was “disgusting” to see English Ministers in such
assiduous attendance on this man. Talleyrand, he peevishly reminded
them, had been the Minister of Napoleon, of Louis, and of Charles,
before he took the service of Louis-Philippe. Lord Goderich protested
that Talleyrand’s character should have protected him from such an
attack, and then Wellington arose. After speaking of his relations to
Talleyrand, he said: “I have no hesitation in saying that at that
time, in every one of the great transactions in which I have been
engaged with Prince Talleyrand, no man could have conducted himself
with more firmness and ability with regard to his own country, or
with more uprightness and honour in all his communications with the
Ministers of other countries than Prince Talleyrand.... No man’s public
and private character had ever been so much belied as both the public
and private character of that individual.” His words were greeted with
loud cheers. Lord Holland added that “forty years’ acquaintance with
the noble individual referred to enabled him to bear his testimony
to the fact that although those forty years had been passed during a
time peculiarly fraught with calumnies of every description, there had
been no man’s private character more shamefully traduced, and no man’s
public character more mistaken and misrepresented, than the private
and public character of Prince Talleyrand.” A visitor the next morning
found the aged diplomatist in tears, with the _Times_ in his hand. He
wrote to a friend that “at Paris, for which he was killing himself,
no one would do as much for him.” Cynics have not failed to point the
moral. But it was merely a grateful exaggeration. Casimir Périer wrote
to him soon afterwards: “Posterity will do you that full justice which,
in times of social agitation, those who have charge of public interests
must not expect from their contemporaries.” Unfortunately, posterity
still likes to shudder over romantic wickedness.
Casimir Périer died in May, and there were not a few at Paris who
thought of Talleyrand as his successor. The Prince was rather bent on
retiring from public life. He went over to Paris, and found a condition
of comparative anarchy resulting from the death of the strong leader.
However, an abler Ministry than ever was got together, and in October
he returned to London. If the chroniclers may be trusted, his wit had
not diminished with age. A poet of suspicious repute had issued a piece
on which his opinion was asked. “C’est que la corruption engendre les
vers,” he replied. A more questionable story is that he found Montrond
one day in a fit on the floor, clawing at the carpet with his nails.
“It looks as if he is quite determined to go down,” he is described as
saying.
The Belgian trouble was still unsettled, and in October he signed a
convention with England to compel the Dutch to retire from Antwerp in
obedience to the Conference. French troops were sent into Belgium,
the Prussians massed a considerable force on the frontier, and this
was a brief period of great anxiety. The Dutch did not finally yield
until May, 1833. But this difficulty had scarcely disappeared before a
fresh one arose. The Sultan of Turkey had appealed to Russia for help
in subduing a rebellious vassal, and signed a treaty with the Tsar in
July. The French were, however, jealous of Russian interference, and
Talleyrand had to press at London for joint action. Nothing was done,
however, when Russia anticipated them, though there was no slight risk
of war at one time.
The crown and end of Talleyrand’s work in England came in April,
1834, when he signed the alliance between England, France, Spain,
and Portugal. In August of that year he left England, and shortly
afterwards resigned his position of ambassador. A number of reasons for
this step are assigned in his letters at the time, though his age and
the completion of his work at London by an alliance might be deemed
sufficient. To Lady Jersey he spoke of a personal affliction, which is
surmised to have been the death of the Countess Tyszkiewitz. To Mme.
Adélaide he complained of his growing infirmity of the legs, and the
behaviour of Palmerston; and also that her son, the Duc d’Orléans, had
been telling his own English guests at Valençay that he was past work.
He declared to Von Gagern that he “only quitted affairs because there
were none to attend to”; while to the King he explained that he had now
secured “the right of citizenship” for France in Europe, and his work
was over. All these motives influenced him, no doubt; but there was
another one, of some interest. He had witnessed at London the growing
agitation for reform, and completely failed to appreciate it. As the
agitation wore on, he spoke moodily of the state of France in 1789.
The convocation of the first reformed parliament in 1833 he described
as “the States-General of London.” He was too old to understand the
new movement, to see a permanent and proper advance beneath all the
menacing clamour. England was no longer “so rich and peaceful.” He
wrote slightingly to the King of her value to France, and thought
rather of a coalition of Europe against what he thought to be a rising
tide of anarchy.
He resisted, therefore, the kindly pressure of the King and retired
to Valençay. “There is,” he wrote to a correspondent, “an interval
between life and death that should be employed in dying decently.”
There still remained three or four years of life. It is said that he
offered to go as ambassador to Vienna in 1835, but Louis-Philippe was
apprehensive of advances being made to him by the Bourbons. In that
year were published, in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, George Sand’s
outrageous _Lettres d’un voyageur_. Imagining her traveller to stand
by moonlight before the chateau of Valençay, she puts into his mouth
some of the most repulsive calumnies against Talleyrand, as the
silhouetted forms appear at the windows. The subject of her ridiculous
nightmares was then an old man in his eighty-first year, peacefully
concluding his memoirs and passing the last slow days in the company
of the Duchess of Dino and her young daughter, Pauline. Maubreuil
was hardly less chivalrous. George Sand was a not distant neighbour,
and her description of his “daily round” may be less imaginative. He
rose at eleven, and spent three or four hours (?) in the hands of his
valets. At three he had a drive round the park with his doctor, and at
five enjoyed “the most succulent and artistic dinner in France.”
After a few words to his family, he would drive in the park again until
eleven, and then work in his own room until five o’clock. Visitors
still made their pilgrimages to Valençay. We find Sir Robert and Lady
Peel there in 1836. His mind is described as retaining its vigour and
perspicacity, but by the end of 1835 loss of power in the legs began
to foreshadow the end. His temperate habits had their reward in good
general health. It is said that after death his organs—apart from the
local trouble—were found to be singularly sound for an octogenarian.
[Illustration: _From a lithograph by Jeffrey, after a bust by Dantan._
TALLEYRAND
(Portrait-caricature, in later life).]
On his eighty-third birthday he wrote a few lines that reveal the pain
and weariness that were growing on him. He concluded a rather gloomy
summary of his long life with the words: “What result from it all but
physical and moral exhaustion, a complete discouragement as to the
future and disdain for the past.” On that day he had asked Dupanloup
to dinner, but the rector of Saint Sulpice pleaded his work in excuse.
“He does not know his business,” said Talleyrand with a smile. For
some time the Prince had been importuned from many sides to make his
peace with the Church. It is said that on one occasion at Valençay he
incautiously asked the little Pauline one Sunday where she had been.
“I have been to mass,” she said, “to pray the good God to give you
better sentiments.” The Duchess of Dino was deeply anxious to see him
reconciled. Letters reached him from very old friends with the same
aim. Royer-Collard advised it. The Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. Quelen,
who had been coadjutor to his uncle, was pressing as far as discretion
allowed. He had obtained instructions from Rome as to the minimum that
need be asked of the illustrious apostate. In 1835 he had received the
dying Princess Talleyrand into the Church, and made it an occasion for
a strong appeal to her husband. Talleyrand politely thanked him for his
interest.
What was the real state of Talleyrand’s mind in regard to religion
as he approached the end? It is quite impossible to discover it with
certainty. It seems probable that throughout life Talleyrand maintained
an attitude of agnosticism, standing between the dogmatic theism
or dogmatic atheism of his friends. It seems clear, too, that his
agnosticism had not very deep philosophic roots, and it would not be
unnatural for it to yield under the pressure of approaching death. It
is true that he often uses theistic expressions in his letters from
1814 onwards, but that may be merely a concession to the new fashions
introduced with the new monarchy. Napoleon had openly described
him as a man who “did not believe in God.” But there are two facts
that strongly dispose us to take a diplomatic view of Talleyrand’s
“reconciliation.” The first is that he had a strong incentive to go
through the form of submission. There were frequently disorderly scenes
at the funerals of his non-Christian friends, and he betrayed a great
concern lest his own exit from the stage should be marred by the same
disorder. He even spoke towards the end of leaving France, and it was
thought that he wanted to die out of the country so as to be buried in
peace without submission. And the second fact is the way in which he
postponed the act of reconciliation until the very last and inevitable
moment, as we shall see.
In March his life-long friend, Count Reinhard, died, and Talleyrand
read a paper on him at the Institut. The hall was crowded with scholars
and politicians, and Talleyrand was greeted with a remarkable ovation.
He read his paper in a strong and sonorous voice, and then made his
way from the room between two compact hedges of admirers, who bowed
their heads as he passed. “A greater than Voltaire,” cried Victor
Cousin. There is little in the oration to explain the enthusiasm. To
us, indeed, who read it in full consciousness of Talleyrand’s whole
career, and not merely in connection with his last work at London, it
has a curious look. The only passage of particular interest is where he
describes the qualities that make the great diplomatist. Of these “good
faith” is the first. He protests against the “prejudice” that conceives
diplomacy as “a science of ruse and duplicity.” “If good faith is ever
necessary it is in political transactions.” The passage rings with
perfect sincerity; but the tradition that Talleyrand’s successes have
left in the school of diplomacy is of a very different kind. The speech
was plain and ineloquent. Lady Blennerhasset thinks Talleyrand had
nearly every gift of this life bestowed on him except “respect.” It is
impossible to see in the splendid enthusiasm evoked by his last public
appearance at Paris anything else but a great demonstration of respect.
The suppuration in his legs ceased some time before his death, and he
spoke cheerfully of a journey to Italy, but in April the last symptoms
made their appearance. He bore his pain with great restraint and
dignity. Dupanloup’s scruples had been overruled by the archbishop, and
he was now a frequent visitor at the Hotel St. Florentin. There seems
to have been no conversation about religion in these visits, but there
was a business-like arrangement of terms. Until the end of March he
politely evaded all Dupanloup’s attempts to make an opening. At last he
promised the duchess he would summon the priest if he fell seriously
ill. He then submitted to him a draft of a recantation, but as it
contained an implication that he had been free to marry, Dupanloup
had to reject it, and proposed another form on May 12th. He watched
Talleyrand’s face with great eagerness as he read it, but not a muscle
moved. The Prince asked him to leave it.
Anthrax had set in on May 11th, and all Paris was interested in the end
of the great diplomatist and the question of reconciliation. Candles
were burning in every chapel in the city. Messengers were running to
and fro between Saint Sulpice and the archbishop’s house, as they
had run so many times between foreign embassies when Talleyrand was
obstinate. On the evening of the 16th he was visibly sinking, and his
niece implored him to sign the form. He promised to do so at six in
the morning. When he grew worse during the night, and they pressed him
to sign, he observed it was not yet six. When the hour came Dupanloup
sent in to him the little Pauline dressed for her first communion,
and as Talleyrand caressed her the clock struck six. Dupanloup and
the witnesses entered, and Talleyrand signed. “I have never ceased,”
the paper ended, “to regard myself as a child of the Church. I again
deplore the actions of my life that have caused it pain, and my last
wishes are for its supreme head.” Dupanloup had politely refrained from
inserting such phrases as “sin” and “repentance.” It was a gracious
acknowledgment of errors committed in a wayward age. This was the
price of a peaceful and honourable burial. Gregory XVI is said to have
described it as one of the triumphs of his reign. The document was
antedated two months.
During the day the King came to bid him farewell. Talleyrand was
greatly moved at the honour, and received the King ceremoniously.
Dupanloup was in constant attendance, and succeeded in inducing him
to confess and receive the sacraments. As the day wore on he became
more and more exhausted, and approached the end. In the adjoining room
all Paris was waiting for the close. Statesmen, nobles and scholars,
young and old, were gathered in little groups before the curtain that
cut off the bedroom from the library. At a quarter to four the doctor
was called, and there was a general movement towards the door. The
curtain was drawn back, and all saw the figure of the Prince. He sat
on the edge of the bed supported by two servants—a “dying lion,” says
one witness. His long, white hair now hung loosely about the pallid
and shrunken face. The head drooped on the chest, but now and again he
slowly raised it and looked with the last faint shadow of a smile on
the great crowd that had come to pay the tribute of France. It was a
“grand spectacle,” said Royer-Collard; the fall of “the last cedar of
Lebanon.” He “died in public,” “died amidst regal pomp and reverence,”
say other eyewitnesses. The duchess and her daughter knelt by the
bedside. He was conscious to the end—conscious that his career was
ending amidst a manifestation of love, power and profound respect as
great as he could ever have wished.
He was accorded by State and Church the funeral of a prince. In the
Church of the Assumption, where he was to be interred until the vault
was ready at Valençay, an imposing ceremony was held, at which Europe
was represented. Over the catafalque on which his worn frame lay was
emblazoned by priestly hands the motto of his house: “Re que Diou”—I
lived so high that God alone towered above me. It was his last triumph.
The story-tellers close their version of his career with the statement
that, as the cortége started some time after for the gates of Paris,
to take the body to Valençay, and the driver called out the usual
question: “Which barrier?” a deep voice replied from underneath the
hearse: “La barrière de l’Enfer.”
* * * * *
That there are unanswered and perhaps unanswerable questions in
regard to Talleyrand’s career must be admitted: that his personality
is obscure and enigmatic can no longer be maintained. The work of
successive historians and biographers, which I have put together in
succinct form in this study, has made him intelligible. When we set
aside demonstrable myths and legends, and when we decline to entertain
the vicious charges of his enemies that are unsupported by other
testimony, we have a tolerably clear character and consistent career.
We see a boy of many excellent qualities thrust into a school of
hypocrisy, a youth of sensuous and amorous temper and sceptical views
admitted into a Church that asks no serious questions, a sincere
patriot serving a country that deliberately changes its rulers five
times in the course of his life. The tortuousness is largely in the
path marked out for him. A refined epicurean, but no sybarite, he set
out with deliberate intent to enjoy life. It is no injustice to point
out that he fell short in practice of ideals of personal and political
asceticism that he never even respected in theory. A certain laxity of
morals, a disposition to pass over in silence the misdeeds of those who
employed him, a readiness to take money for service done, were parts
or consequences of his map of life. He was no Stoic, and would be
the last to expect us to strain his character into harmony with Stoic
ideals.
But if Talleyrand chose the comfortable valleys instead of scaling the
arduous heights of great personal or political virtue, he had, none
the less, distinct graces of character. Few men of recent times have
been so heavily and so successfully calumniated. He was not licentious,
nor corrupt, nor vindictive, nor treacherous, nor devoid of idealism.
He was humane, generous, affectionate, a sincere patriot, a lover of
justice and peace. He sought a comfortable existence, but he desired
to avoid inflicting pain or discomfort on others. He was sensitive of
the honour of France, proud of her greatness, happy in serving her
with distinction. He was a kind master, a genial and liberal friend, a
lover of domestic peace and harmony. He sought throughout his career to
disarm violence, prevent bloodshed, resist oppression, and help on the
reign of good taste, good sense and good feeling.
His political career is to-day free from ambiguity. He was a Churchman
by accident and the fault of others. He did right in abandoning the
Church. Some of his Catholic royal critics in 1815 declared that the
mistake of his life was not to have clung to the Church, and enjoyed
his wine and his mistress in the tranquility and comfort of the
cardinalate. He was not low enough in character for that. He behaved
towards the Church he had left with a moderation and absence of passion
that is rare in the embittered and calumniated apostate. Not a single
change in his later political career can be seriously challenged.
In later years he said, in varying phraseology, that he had never
conspired except with the whole of France, and had never deserted a
cause until it had deserted itself or common sense. He had no belief
in the divine right of either kings or mobs; and no ruler he met had
charm enough or real greatness enough to win from him a personal
allegiance. With his last breath (and in his will) he spoke tenderly
of Napoleon, and commended the ex-Emperor’s family to his heirs. He
served France more in deserting Louis XVI than those who remained
faithful; and his successive desertion of the Directors, Napoleon, and
Charles X needs no defence. The only rational ground of censure is that
he kept so entirely together his personal interest and the high cause
of France and humanity that he served through all these vicissitudes
of his country. This will withhold from him for ever the title of
self-forgetting greatness, the nobler enthusiasm, which we so fitly
reverence, of losing sight of self at times in an exalted cause. He
made his choice, and he will abide by it.
THE END
INDEX
Abbés Commendataires, 9, 21.
Aberdeen, Lord, 354.
Aboukir, The Battle of, 169.
Acton, Lord, on Talleyrand, 268, 337, 338.
Adams, President, 158.
Addington, 192.
Adélaide, Mme., 352, 356.
Agent-General of the Clergy, 39.
Alexander I, 228, 248, 261-4, 286, 307, 316.
America, Talleyrand’s Impression of, 136.
American Envoys, Talleyrand and the, 158-60.
American War of Independence, 48.
Amiens, Treaty of, 193.
Amsterdam, Talleyrand at, 143.
Ancien Régime, The, 24-34.
Anna, The Archduchess, 264-316.
Arnault, 64.
Arnold, General, 134.
Artois, M. d’, 70, 75, 290.
Assembly of Notables, The, 52.
Auch, The Archbishop of, 21.
Austerlitz, 233.
Austria, The First Napoleonic War with, 185.
Autun, Talleyrand promoted to See of, 47, 57.
Azara, M., 357.
Bacourt, M. de, 72.
Barras, 149, 152, 159.
Barry, Mme. du, 18.
Barthélemy, 154.
Bastide, Charges of, 161.
Bastille, Taking of the, 74.
Bautzen, The Battle of, 275.
Beaumetz, M. de, 135, 138.
Belgium, Independence of, 355, 363.
Bellechasse, Convent of, 29.
Benevento, The Princedom of, 242.
Bernier, The Abbé, 203.
Bernadotte, 175.
Berry, The Duc de, 295, 316, 325.
Beugnot, 291, 322, 330.
Biron, The Duc de (see Lauzun).
Blacas, 298.
Boisgelin, The Abbé de, 40.
Blücher, 325, 330.
Boissy d’Anglas 139.
Bollmann, 132.
Bonaparte, Joseph, 187, 193, 206.
Bonaparte, Lucien, 173, 176.
Bonaparte, Napoleon (see Napoleon)
_Bookman_ on Talleyrand’s Birth, 2, 140.
Bordeaux, Talleyrand’s Journey to, 3
Boulogne, The Camp of, 231.
Brionne, The Cardinal de, 8, 33.
Brionne, The Countess de, 47, 319.
Brougham on Talleyrand, 212, 213.
Bruix, 172.
Brumaire, The _coup d’état_ of, 173-6.
Brussels, Congress of, 358.
Cagliostro, 28, 33.
Calonne, 51.
Calumnies of Talleyrand, 13, 44.
Cambacérès, 179, 195.
Cambrai, 324.
Campo Formio, Treaty of, 156, 162, 165.
Cardinalate, Talleyrand misses the, 47.
Carlsbad, Talleyrand at, 318.
Carnot, 150.
Casenove, 135.
Castellane, 147.
Castlereagh, 297, 300, 304, 333.
Ceylon, 193.
Chalais, The Princesse de, 3.
Chamfort, 24, 31, 32.
Champ de Mars, The mass in the, 91-94.
Champagny, 254, 258.
Charles IV, 253.
Charles X, 348, 350.
Charlotte, 196, 212.
Chartres, The Duc de, 33.
Châtre, The Countess de la, 131.
Chateaubriand, 145, 214, 320, 322.
Chateaux Vieux, 343.
Chauvelin, The Marquis de, 117.
Chénier, 139.
Chivalry, Orders of, 27.
Choderlos de Laclos, 64.
Choiseul, 48.
Choiseul-gouffier, 5, 29.
Church, Talleyrand’s attitude to the, 38, 82, 90.
Civil constitution of the Clergy, The, 96.
Clergy, The French, before the Revolution, 8, 12, 22.
Clergy, The French, during the Revolution, 65-78.
Clichy Club, The, 153.
Cobentzl, Count, 186.
Collège d’Harcourt, 3.
Colmache, 351, 352.
Colonisation, Talleyrand on, 146.
Compiègne, Talleyrand at, 291-2.
Concordat, Drafting of the, 202-7.
Condorcet, 106.
Consalvi, Cardinal, at Paris, 204.
Constant, B., 155, 178, 287.
Constantinople, Napoleon’s designs on, 169.
Constituent Assembly, The, 86-109.
Constitutional Club, The, 145.
Constitution Committee, Talleyrand’s defence of the, 89.
Constitution, Completion of the, 109.
Continental system of Napoleon, The, 236.
Copenhagen, Battle of, 192.
Council of Ancients, The, 140, 173.
Council of the Five Hundred, The, 140, 173.
Courland, The Duchess of, 277, 279, 332, 341.
Court, Cost of the, 9.
Cousin, V., 367.
Cuvier, 348.
Dalberg, Bishop, 240, 247, 283, 300.
D’Antigny, Marquis of, 1, 140.
Danton, 123, 125, 127.
Daunou, 139.
Décadi, The, 20.
Declaration of St. Ouen, The, 293.
Delille, The Abbé, 31.
Democratic Principles of Talleyrand, 60.
Department of Paris, Talleyrand on the, 110, 121.
Desmoulins, C., 72.
Dillon, Archbishop, 8, 43, 96.
Dino, The Duchess of, 280, 300, 309, 332, 341.
Dino, The Duchy of, 332.
Directorate, Paris during the, 143.
Divorce of Josephine, The, 270.
Dumouriez, 117, 142, 216.
Dupanloup, Mgr., 2, 365, 368.
Dupont de Nemours, 50, 52.
Duroveray, 117.
Dutch and Belgians, The, 335-63.
East Indies, Talleyrand’s Ship to the, 138.
_Éclaircissements_, Talleyrand’s, 156, 170.
Education in the Eighteenth Century, 5-6.
Education, Talleyrand’s great Speech on, 106-9.
Egypt, Napoleon’s Expedition to, 161, 168-9.
Election-Manifesto of Talleyrand, 60.
Enghien, Murder of the Duc d’, 215, 259.
England, Opening of the War with, 227.
Erfurt, The Conference at, 259-64.
Eylau, The Battle of, 247.
_Femmes de Talleyrand_, _Les_, 36.
Ferdinand, 253.
Fesch, Cardinal, 221, 270.
Feuillants, Club of the, 87.
Finance, Talleyrand’s acquaintance with, 50.
First Consul, Napoleon becomes, 179.
Fitzgerald, Lord E., 142.
Flahaut, Count, 357.
Flahaut, The Countess de, 34, 98, 142.
Flight of the King, 104.
Foreign Ministry, Talleyrand’s Introduction to, 150.
Fox, 113.
Fouché, 173, 188, 266, 271, 326, 329.
Francis, Sir Philip, 147.
Franklin at Passy, 48.
Friedland, The Battle of, 247.
Fructidor, the _coup d’état_ of, 153-5, 195-8.
Gagern, Baron von, 196, 213, 241, 246.
Galiffet, The Hotel, 164, 210.
Gallicanism, 200.
Gambling before the Revolution, 26.
Gambling, Talleyrand’s Confession of, 95.
Gazette, Talleyrand’s Letter to the, 129.
General Assembly of the Clergy, The, 19, 40-42.
Genlis, Mme. de, 7, 11, 29, 131.
Gentz, 306, 307.
George III, 113, 182.
Georges, 216.
Ghent, Louis XVIII at, 321.
Gobel, Bishop, 97.
Goderich, Lord, 360.
Goethe, 264, 265.
Godoy, 182, 252.
Gohier, 171, 173.
Gramont, The Duchesse de, 33.
Grand, Mme., 147-9, 209, 212.
Grand Chamberlain, Talleyrand as, 221.
Grand Elector, 179.
Gratuitous Gifts of the Clergy, 20, 40.
Gregory XVI, 369.
Grenville, 114, 118, 183.
Grimaldi, Mgr. de, 56.
Guizot, 350.
Gustavus IV, 230.
Hamburg, Talleyrand at, 141-2.
Hamilton, Colonel Alex., 135.
Hanover, 236.
Hardenberg, Prince, 304, 308.
Haugewitz, 234.
Hauterive, M. d’, 205.
Helvetian Republic, Formation of the, 156, 197.
Heydecooper, 136.
Hohenlinden, 188.
Holland, Lord, 361.
Hortense, 211.
Humboldt, Baron von, 304, 306, 308.
Institut, Talleyrand’s Speeches at the, 146.
Issy, 56.
Italian Republic, Formation of the, 190.
Jacobins, Napoleon on the, 182.
” Origin of the, 87.
Jena, The Battle of, 243.
Jersey, Lady, 363.
Jews, Enfranchisement of the, 88.
Josephine, 166, 211.
La Besnardière, 240, 300.
Labrador, 303.
Lacoste, The Marquis, 75.
Lafayette, 48, 106, 121.
Lamartine, 102.
Lansdowne, Lord, 115, 130, 137.
Laporte, 128.
Latour du Pin, M., 300.
Lauderdale, Lord, 239.
Lauzun, 26, 30, 111.
La Vendée, The war in, 169, 184.
Laval, The Duchess de, 265, 267.
Lebrun, 128, 179.
Legendre, 139.
Legion of Honour, Founding of the, 194.
Legislative Body, The, 178.
Leipzig, The Battle of, 275.
Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, Prince, 359.
Lessart, M. de, 111.
Library, Sale of Talleyrand’s, 130, 273.
Lieven, The Princess, 354.
London, Conference of, 358.
” Talleyrand at, 113, 133, 354-64.
Londonderry, Lord, attacks Talleyrand, 360.
Louis XVI, Crowning of, 17.
” ” Execution of, 130.
Louis XVIII, 289, 317, 319, 322, 333, 348.
Louis Philippe, 352, 353, 358-9, 364, 369.
Louis, Baron, 298.
Louisiana, 199.
Luchesini, 224
Lunéville, The Treaty of, 187.
Lutzen, The Battle of, 275.
Lytton on Talleyrand, 255, 272, 317, 333.
Malmesbury, Lord, 156.
Malta, 185, 224.
Marbœuf, Mgr., 46.
Marengo, 186.
Maret, 156, 274, 277.
Marie Antoinette, 26, 47, 53, 81.
Marriage of Talleyrand, 209.
Marseillais, The, 122.
Martignac, 349.
Maubreuil, Marquis de, 346.
Maurepas, 36, 48.
Maury, 84.
Melzi, 190.
Memoirs, The, of Talleyrand, 335-8.
Meneval, 267.
Merlin de Douai, 154.
Metternich, 303, 306, 310.
Michaud, 285, 286.
” Charges of, 161.
Michelet, 75.
Mignet, 350.
Miller, Sir J. R., 88, 103.
Miot de Melito, Charges of, 155, 161, 168.
Mirabeau, 31, 51, 64, 86, 102.
Mirondot, Bishop, 97.
Monaco, The Hotel de, 265, 273.
Monasteries, The Suppression of, 90.
Monastic Orders before the Revolution, 22.
_Moniteur_, The, 89.
” Talleyrand’s Letter to the, 95.
Mons, Talleyrand at, 322.
Montesson, Mme. de, 33.
Montrond, 320, 362.
Morality during the Revolution, 112.
” ” Directorate, 143.
Morellet, The Abbé, 24.
Morgan, Lady, 340.
_Morning Post_ on Talleyrand, 354.
Morris, Governor, 34, 98.
Moscow, Napoleon’s Return from, 274.
Moulin, 171, 173.
Murat, 244, 314.
Napoleon, Attempt on the Life of, 188.
” buys Talleyrand’s Hotel, 273.
” Crowning of, 222.
” Diplomatic Methods of, 187, 226.
” First Marriage of, 221.
” in Egypt, 168.
” King of Italy, 231.
” leaves Elba, 317.
” Second Marriage of, 271.
” Talleyrand’s first acquaintance with, 165.
” Talleyrand’s respect for, 178, 189.
” Violence of, 267.
Narbonne, Count Louis de, 29, 131.
National Assembly, The, 69.
Nationalisation of Church Property, 82.
Necker, Talleyrand’s Attack on, 51.
Nemurs, The Duc de, 357, 358.
Nesselrode, Count, 285, 304, 306.
Netherland Trouble, The, 355-6, 360-3.
Noailles, The Count de, 300, 313.
Noailles, The Vicomte de, 74, 86.
Nobles after the Restoration, 295.
” The pre-Revolutionary, 26, 53.
Noel, 125.
Nonconformists, 103.
Non-swearing Priests, Talleyrand protects, 110.
Ollivier, M., 302.
“Orange-War,” The, 191.
Ordination of Talleyrand, 39.
Orléans, The Duc d’, 64, 131.
Palais Royal, The, 33, 63.
Palmerston, 355, 357.
Panchaud, 32.
Pasquier, Charges of, 155, 161, 188, 331.
Paul I, Death of, 192.
Pauline, 342, 365, 369.
Peel, Sir Robert, 365.
Périer, Casimir, 332, 359, 361.
Périgord, Cardinal Hélie de, 12.
Perrey, 217, 218.
Pétion, 121.
Philadelphia, Talleyrand at, 135.
Pichegru, General, 153.
Pitt, 113.
” Talleyrand meets, 49.
Piedmont, Annexation of, 224.
Pius VII, 10, 200, 221.
Poland, Talleyrand’s Work in, 245.
Polignac, Prince de, 349.
Poniatowski, Princess, 247.
Portugal, Affairs of, 191.
Pozzo di Borgo, 43, 328.
Pradt, Archbishop de, 288.
Press, Talleyrand defends Liberty of the, 345.
Provincial Assemblies, 54.
Prussia, Alliance of, with Russia, 22.
” declares War on France, 243.
Pultusk, The Battle of, 224.
Quelen, Mgr., 366.
Rastadt, Congress of, 156.
Reinhard, 117, 142.
Rémusat, Mme., 149, 212.
Renan, 108.
Renaudes, The Abbé des, 45, 58.
Reveillère, 149.
Revolution, Causes of the, 49, 53, 109.
Revolution, Paris during the, 111.
Revolution of 1830, The, 351.
Rewbell, 149, 152.
Rheims, The Archbishop of, 7, 11.
Rhine Confederation, The, 237, 240.
Richelieu, The Duc de, 328, 333.
Rights of Man, Declaration of, 76, 78.
Robespierre, 109.
Roche-Aymon, Archbishop de la, 11, 20.
Rochecotte, 343.
Rochefoucauld, The Cardinal de la, 65, 67.
Rochefoucauld, The Duc de la, 121, 140.
Roederer, 277.
Roger-Ducos, 171, 173.
Rohan, The Cardinal de, 8, 28.
Roman Republic, Formation of the, 156.
Rose, Mr. Holland, on Talleyrand, 191, 201, 203, 215.
Rousseau, 235.
Roux, 161, 162.
Royal Lottery, Proposal to buy up the, 42.
Royer-Collard, 342, 365.
St. Denis, Talleyrand’s _abbaye_ of, 18, 23.
St. Domingo, 199.
St. Florentin, The Hotel, 273.
St. Julien, Count, 186.
Saint Sulpice, 10.
Sainte-Beuve on Talleyrand, 13, 45, 60, 102, 161.
Sand, George, on Talleyrand, 364.
Savary, 217, 273, 276, 284, 285.
Saxony, The partition of, 310, 312.
Schwartzenberg, Prince, 286.
Sebastiani, 225, 357, 360.
Secularization of Talleyrand, 207.
Sèmonville, 214.
Senate, The, 178.
Senfft on Talleyrand, 163, 241, 250.
September massacres, The, 125.
Sieyès, 65, 69, 73, 158, 160, 171, 172, 179.
Simon, Jules, 108.
Sloane, Professor, 18, 161.
Smith, Sidney, 132.
Société du Manège, The, 170, 175.
Sorbonne, Talleyrand at the, 14, 24-5.
Souza, The Marquis de, 142.
Spain, Napoleon’s Expedition to, 252-6.
Spanish Princes, The, at Valençay, 256, 278.
Spina, Mgr., 202.
Staël, Mme. de, 62, 111, 131, 146.
Stapfer, 192, 196.
States-general, The, 65, 79.
Strassburg, Napoleon’s fit at, 231.
Stuart, Sir Ch., 300.
Talleyrand, Archbishop, 10, 39, 54, 283.
Talleyrand-Périgord, C. M. de:—
” Ancestry of, 1.
” as Agent-General, 39, 46.
” Birth of, 2, 140.
” Bishopric of, 54.
” Consecration of, 56.
” Constitutional Ideal of, 60, 72.
” Death of, 370.
” Education of, 5-14.
” Energy of, 4, 230.
” Expelled from England, 133.
” Feeling of towards Napoleon, 178, 189.
” in America, 135-40.
” Marriage of, 209.
” Morality of, 36, 371.
” Ordination of, 39.
” Parents of, 2, 140.
” Person of, 28, 340, 371.
” President of the National Assembly, 89.
” Reconciliation of, 366.
” Religious Views of, 201, 366.
” Resignation under Napoleon, 250.
” Secularised, 207.
” Suspension of, 99.
” Venality of, 157-63, 195-8, 315.
” Wit of, 35, 213, 294, 328, 344, 348.
Talleyrand-Périgord, Lt. de, 3, 6, 55.
Talleyrand, The Princess, 212, 341.
Tallien, Mme., 149.
Target, 68.
Tennis Court, Oath in the, 70.
Theophilanthropists, The, 151, 202.
Thiers, 350.
Thirty Club, The, 62.
Tilsit, The Conference at, 247.
Tithe, Surrender of, 77.
Toleration, Talleyrand’s Spirit of, 103.
Tour et Taxis, The Princess de la, 261.
Toussaint l’Ouverture, 199.
Trafalgar, 233.
Tribunate, The, 178.
Trinidad, 191, 193.
Tuileries, Attack on the, 122.
” Napoleon at the, 180.
Turgot, 48, 50.
Tuscany, Talleyrand seeks to go to, 130.
Tysykiewitz, Countess, 247, 266, 363.
Ulm, Battle of, 232.
Universal Suffrage under Napoleon, 178.
Valençay, 256, 278, 342, 364.
” The Spanish Princes at, 256, 278.
Varennes, Flight to, 104.
Vars, The Baron de, 36.
Venality of Talleyrand, 157-63.
Vercelli, The Bishop of, 201.
Versailles, Court life at, 226.
Veto, The right of, 79.
Vice-grand Electorship, The, 250.
Vienna, Congress of, 303.
Vienne, The Archbishop of, 67, 69.
Vitrolles, Baron, 283.
Voltaire’s last visit to Paris, 35.
Walewski, The Countess, 245.
Warsaw, Talleyrand at, 245.
Waterloo, 322.
Wealth of the French Clergy, 21, 42, 83.
Weimar, Napoleon at, 264.
Wellington, 297, 314, 324, 327, 331, 360.
Whitworth, Lord, 225.
Wieland, 264.
Yarmouth, Lord, 237, 239.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The date is variously given as February 2nd or 13th, and even
March. The first seems to be correct. Dupanloup speaks of the
Prince celebrating his eighty-fourth birthday on that date. But the
myth-making faculty has been so busy with the life of Talleyrand that
his very birthplace and parentage have been disputed. It will prepare
the reader for the wild legends we shall encounter to learn at once
that serious French writers have attributed Talleyrand’s lameness to
a congenital defect or to an encounter with a savage sow, and that
serious American writers (_Bookman_, September 26, 1901) have asked us
to consider gravely a story of his having been born at Mount Desert,
Maine, the illegitimate son of an American fisher-girl and a French
naval officer.
[2] Mr. Holland Rose (_Life of Napoleon_) is entirely wrong in speaking
of his “resentment against his parents.”
[3] I have already ignored scores of stories about Talleyrand’s
youth. The biographer has to plunge beneath a mass of them to reach
his true subject. A discharged secretary of his, who could imitate
his signature, flooded Paris and London with fabricated letters and
anecdotes, and he had many rivals in the business. Writers like
Bastide, Pichot, Villemarest, Michaud, Stewartson, Touchard-Lafosse,
and even Sainte-Beuve, readily admit these, and some of the best
biographies contain a few that are inconsistent with known facts.
Such are the stories of his chalking Voltairean verses on his uncle’s
garden wall, and of (in the following year) scaling the walls of Saint
Sulpice by night, seducing a whole family, and being imprisoned in the
Bastille. The dates or other features betray these apocryphal legends.
[4] Lady Blennerhassett and most biographers wrongly describe him as a
priest. He was not ordained until four years later. The archives of the
Sorbonne, in registering his application in April and June, 1775, speak
of him as a sub-deacon.
[5] On the strength of this absurd story historians like Professor
Sloane inform their readers that Talleyrand “was a friend of the
infamous Mme. du Barry, and owed his promotion to her.” So the
legendary Talleyrand still lingers in serious literature. The story
contains a gross anachronism, and the mere fact of the abbey being at
Rheims points at once to the influence of Archbishop Talleyrand having
obtained it for his nephew.
[6] I speak throughout the work of livres (=francs) unless I state
otherwise. It is not true that, as is often said, the sum was
invariable.
[7] Talleyrand signs the minutes (from which I take my account)
under this name, but he is described in the scrutiny of titles as a
sub-deacon. The title _abbé_ was then given, not only to priests and
_abbés commendataires_, but to many teachers and others who never took
orders.
[8] Michaud tells that he first attended lectures on constitutional law
at Strassburg for a few months. Talleyrand does not mention this.
[9] “Shall we ever teach him to be polite?” sighed one noble to
Maurepas, after a lesson from the King on his irregularities.
[10] M. de Lacombe has investigated all the documents at Rheims, and so
cleared up the mystery of his ordination—a mystery which had emboldened
the myth-makers to say he received the episcopate whilst in minor
orders.
[11] I do not know whether it is necessary to point out that, though
Talleyrand was one of the most tactful and forbearing of men, he was
bound to create numbers of enemies. When he passed on from the clergy
and nobility to the Revolution, from the Directorate to Napoleon, from
Napoleon to the Restoration, and finally from the Bourbons to the
Orleanists, he left a shoal of bitter enemies behind him at each step.
His personality, his caustic wit, and his curious experiences, formed
an excellent nucleus for legends to gather about. You have to pick your
way through hundreds of these to reach the real Talleyrand.
[12] It is interesting to note that he met Pitt (with Elliot and
Wilberforce) at Rheims in 1783.
[13] The Cambridge History, in saying Talleyrand was “no expert in
administration or finance,” forgets his five years’ Agency.
[14] In the Memoirs he gives as the only possible alternative a strict
limitation of the franchise and of the conditions of candidates.
[15] The date is not certain, however. Talleyrand speaks of going
to Marly, and of seeing M. d’Artois just before he left France. But
the Court had left Marly a week before the emigration began. We must
suppose there were several visits, and must fix this one, in which he
urged strong measures, by the political circumstances. Such measures
Footnote: would certainly not be possible in the middle of July, where
M. de Bacourt would put the interview; they would have a plausible
value up to June 24th. Talleyrand probably did see d’Artois again
later. The fact of the interview and the substance of the conversation
were afterwards admitted by the Prince.
[16] Talleyrand was appointed to the Committee with the Archbishop
of Bordeaux, Lally-Tollendal, Clerment-Tonnerre, Mounier, Sieyès,
Chapelier, and Bergasse. Three of these were Anglophile like himself,
and the work seemed not only vitally necessary but promising. Carlyle
sadly failed to appreciate it.
[17] Maury was not without wit. “Now I will close the abbé in a vicious
circle,” said Mirabeau one day during one of their usual contests.
“What! Are you going to embrace me?” asked Maury.
[18] The legendary suggestion that Talleyrand poisoned him is
absolutely frivolous, yet Sainte-Beuve professes to have a “terrible
doubt” in the matter.
[19] It is assumed by some biographers that Talleyrand was privy to
the plot. There is no evidence whatever of this, and I think it quite
improbable.
[20] The reader may usefully be reminded that the fashion had come in
at that time of pasting several-page leaflets on the walls.
[21] She had introduced a female friend to stand for the man she really
intended, Talleyrand.
[22] Most of the reports of the embassy to the Foreign Minister
(published by Pallain) were obviously written or dictated by
Talleyrand. At the end of the report of May 28th Chauvelin is made to
say very pointedly that, though he alone signs, “_nous_” means all
three of them. In one dispatch Talleyrand thus describes the English
(for whom he had a genuine regard: there is not a sharp or sarcastic
word about them in these letters): “A nation slow and methodical by
temperament, and which, unceasingly occupied with its commercial
interests, does not care to be constantly diverted from it by political
controversy.” He is explaining why the French Revolution has little
echo in England.
[23] But the passport is dated the 7th, and we know of a still earlier
application to leave.
[24] Lady Blennerhassett makes it precede the Jacobin propagandist
decrees, and so not only robs it of half its credit, but finds it in a
ridiculous predicament. She dates the memorandum November 2nd. It is
really dated the 25th.
[25] Fortunately for him, as it now proved his only resource outside
of France. His fine collection passed under the hammer at Sotheby’s in
April (1793). The sale lasted ten days and realised more than £2,000.
Talleyrand puts it at £700, but I have seen a catalogue with the prices
filled in. Another somewhat mysterious sale of a French diplomatist’s
library took place at Sotheby’s in 1816, realising £8,000. The King’s
librarian describes this collection also as having belonged to
Talleyrand, and in that case the earlier sale would not represent his
whole library. But we shall see that it is almost impossible to trace
the second sale to Talleyrand.
[26] I have referred already to a legend assigning his birth to
America. The only foundation for this is that he visited Mount
Desert, and, as he limped about, reminded the older inhabitants of
a lame boy, born there of a French officer and American girl in
1754, and afterwards taken to France. In spite of the fact that
Talleyrand’s father was a distinguished noble of high character
attached to Versailles; that the father’s wife, daughter of the Marquis
d’Antigny, acknowledged Charles Maurice to her death in 1809, and was
supported by him in her later years; that the interest in him of his
great-grandmother, his uncle, and every member and friend of the family
was known to all France; this legend has been put forward in America
(_Bookman_, September 26th, 1901) as worthy of serious consideration.
There is hardly another character in recent history about whom myths
have been so blindly entertained.
[27] To be quite accurate, I must add that it is by no means certain
Talleyrand met Mme. Grand before he became Minister. Mme. Rémusat
makes her come to his ministerial bureau for a passport at their first
meeting.
[28] Let me add, too, that the letter is full of gratitude to her.
“I love you with my whole soul” is his sincere (if rather Gallic)
expression.
[29] The Cambridge “French Revolution” states that they asked £50,000
for Talleyrand, and the 32 million francs for the Directors! A minor
slip in the Cambridge “America” makes the agents claim 50,000 dollars
“for each Director.” Some of the Directors were honourable men.
[30] Professor Sloane informs America that Talleyrand was forced to
resign “in consequence of his scandalous attempt to extort a bribe from
the American envoys.” It is of a piece with Sloane’s whole reckless
reference to Talleyrand. He would have us believe that Talleyrand was
from the beginning in the pay of Napoleon; and so he contrives to be
ignorant of the fact that when Napoleon left Toulon for Egypt in May,
1798, _Talleyrand gave him_ 100,000 francs.
[31] Thus, the list includes 1,500,000 made on change during the
English negotiations, and 2,000,000 as a share in the prizes taken at
sea. It also includes 1,000,000 from Austria for the insertion of the
secret articles in the Treaty of Campo Formio (on which Talleyrand had
no influence whatever), and 1,000,000 from Prussia for preventing the
fulfilment of these articles, and so on.
[32] Napoleon speaks in his memoirs of Talleyrand dreading to meet him
on account of his failure to follow him to the East, and making every
effort to win his favour. It is absurd. Talleyrand knew precisely what
he was worth to Napoleon. All Napoleon’s later remarks on Talleyrand
must be read with discrimination; many of them are obvious untruths.
[33] Lady Blennerhassett misses the subtlety of the distinction
when she suggests that Talleyrand attempted to play a double game
with Napoleon on this occasion. Compare Mr. Holland Rose’s version:
“Talleyrand took the most unscrupulous care that the affair of the
Presidency should be judiciously settled.” Standing between the two
I should say he took most “scrupulous care” to have Napoleon’s wish
realised. The full passage in the memoirs runs: “Je m’ouvris à Melzi,
non pas sur ce que le Premier Consul désirait, mais sur ce qu’il
fallait que la République Cisalpine demandat. En peu de jours je
parvins à mon but. Au moment que Bonaparte arriva á Lyons, tout était
préparé, &c.”
[34] Yet M. Olivier, in his attack on Talleyrand (_Revue des Deux
Mondes_, September, 1894), complains of him deserting the English
Alliance under Napoleon.
[35] Contrast with Mr. Rose’s opinion that of E. Ollivier, a violent
modern critic: “He threw himself with equal zeal into the negotiation
of the Concordat.”
[36] See M. Crétineau-Joly’s _Bonaparte et le Concordat_.
[37] As described in the civil registry of marriage at the time.
[38] The habit is, of course, pointed to as proof of the indolence of
the legendary Talleyrand. The more candid observer would be disposed to
refer it to his lameness. We know that Talleyrand had to keep a heavy
ironwork about his foot and wear a heavy thick-soled boot. One can
easily understand his preference for lying in bed or on a couch.
[39] Mr. Holland Rose claims to have shown that the officials of the
English Foreign Office were co-operating in the Cadoudal conspiracy.
[40] In one letter, for instance, he tells how the Spanish Minister
at Paris had died and left him 60,000 francs to settle on his
god-daughter. “I found,” he adds, “that she had a more sacred title to
his interest than that.”
[41] Rogers, hearing this from Talleyrand, asked Lucien if he knew of
it. Lucien said he did not; but he added with a laugh that he knew
his brother had once had a similar fit when an actress declined to be
honoured by him.
[42] He relieves his narrative here by telling how the courier
arrived from Paris, and Napoleon interrupted his triumph to read his
correspondence. There was a letter from Mme. de Genlis, and Napoleon
fell into a violent storm of anger and mortification in the midst of
his glory as he heard of the irrepressible chattering about him of the
Faubourg St. Germain.
[43] Towards the close of his “Memoirs” (Mein Anthiel an der Politik,”
vol. vi.) he again emphatically denies that “zwischen mir und ihm,
weder direct noch indirect, sowohl was die Nassauischen als die
Zahlreichen andern Fürstern betrifft die ich in den Rheinbund aufnehmen
liess, zu irgend einem Handel, Bedingung, oder Bieten gekommen sei.”
[44] See Demaria’s “Benevento sotto il Principe Talleyrand.”
[45] I give the quotation with a becoming hesitation, because, though
Mr. H. Rose says “it is difficult to see on what evidence this story
rests,” Professor Sloane says the words are “reported by Napoleon
himself.”
[46] “Aus dem Eheleben eines Bischofs.”
[47] Such as the following: “His Majesty, who may justly regard himself
as the most powerful of living Christians, would feel his conscience
aggrieved if he paid no attention to the complaints of the German
Churches, which the Pope has neglected these ten years. As Suzerain
of Germany, heir of Charlemagne, real Emperor of the West, and eldest
son of the Church, he desires to know what conduct he ought to pursue
for re-establishing religion amongst the peoples of Germany.” What he
wanted, the bishops and cardinals knew but dared not suggest, was a
sanction of the secularisations.
[48] She refused this when he married Mme. Grand. Talleyrand, with
great delicacy and generosity, continued to pay it, unknown to her,
through his brother!
[49] I have earlier described the sale of Talleyrand’s first library
at London in 1794. I have seen a second catalogue, of the year 1816,
in which the library of a “foreign nobleman, distinguished for his
diplomatic talents,” is put up at Sotheby’s. This must have been taken
as a reference to Talleyrand, and the King’s librarian explicitly
describes the books as his. The sale lasted eighteen days and produced
£8,000. But it is almost impossible to believe that the library was
Talleyrand’s. The books are described as having been consigned from
France in 1814, and as the finest collection ever put at auction. By
that time Talleyrand’s anxiety was over, and he could not have taken
the extreme step of selling a superb library. Either the books were
_sold_ in 1812, or they were not Talleyrand’s.
[50] Napoleonists are naturally very ready with accusations against
Talleyrand at this time. Maret, besides impugning his advice in the
matter of Ferdinand, hints that he secretly sent word to the Allies of
the state of feeling in France, and the slight resistance the Emperor
could make to their advance. It is impossible to weigh seriously
irresponsible charges of that kind. Still less serious is Bourrienne’s
statement that he advised Napoleon to win over the Duke of Wellington
by offering him the throne of Spain. Such a suggestion ought to enable
English readers to appreciate fully the recklessness of Napoleonist
charges against Talleyrand.
[51] The drama would not be complete without the suggestion of a plot
on Talleyrand’s part to assassinate Napoleon. I will deal with this
later.
[52] A stupid story is told by Vaulabelle, and greatly embroidered by
some of the romanticists, that the Duchess of Courland’s daughter was
seen joining in wild orgies on the night of April 2nd, and riding on
horseback behind a Cossack. One of Talleyrand’s letters to the duchess
unconsciously reveals the germ of this monstrous story. Talleyrand had
sent a Cossack escort to accompany her back to Paris from Rosny that
evening on account of the mob.
[53] Talleyrand probably gives the more correct version. Both he and
Beugnot make the King say: “We were the cleverer. If you had been so,
you would say to me: ‘Let us sit down and talk.’ Instead of that I say
to you: ‘Take a seat and talk to me.’” Talleyrand says the King was
speaking of their remote ancestors and the relative positions their
families had won in France. Beugnot would have it that the emigrant
party had been the cleverer in 1789. But it is impossible to understand
the words in this sense. They would imply that Talleyrand had aimed at
the throne.
[54] The determination to have Murat deposed and Naples restored to
Ferdinand is one of the cardinal points. This was insisted on by Louis
XVIII as a family accommodation. It was not less advisable for France
generally. Murat was too near Elba, as the sequel showed. Yet an able
French critic of Talleyrand, M. Ollivier (_Revue des Deux Mondes_,
September 15th 1894), has so far strained, perverted and ignored the
evidence as to say Talleyrand first corresponded with Murat, and got
1,250,000 francs from him, and _then_ turned against him and obtained
several millions from Ferdinand. The blind hostility of Sainte Beuve is
not yet extinct at Paris. Ollivier’s whole case is founded on Sainte
Beuve’s “remarkable study” (a happy phrase!), Pasquier’s “judicious”
memoirs and the wild charges of Savary, Chateaubriand and Napoleon.
[55] It is also clear that presents more frequently took the form
of cash then than they do now. Ambassadors of historic and wealthy
families could afford the luxury of disdaining money. Talleyrand had
not a franc of hereditary wealth; and his diplomatic pre-eminence
entailed enormous expenditure. To-day no man of character or culture
could be offered money. Talleyrand lived in an age of transition, and
was a cynic.
[56] Pasquier does not name her. Lady Blennerhassett thinks it was the
Duchess of Dino. It is much more likely to have been the Duchess of
Courland, her mother, as we find the daughter in touch with Talleyrand.
The Duchy of Dino had been given to the Foreign Minister by Ferdinand
IV, and he had assigned it to his nephew.