During this time events were advancing in France towards an unavoidable

crisis; the ministry of M. de Polignac had just been formed. Under a

merely political point of view, this was an advantage for Austria,

for the Russian system had been abandoned, and they had entered into

all the English ideas concerning the Eastern question; still a mind

possessed of so much penetration could not fail to entertain great

anxiety while watching so earnest a struggle between the political

powers in a country like France, which had been accustomed to give an

impulse to the rest of Europe. It is said that Metternich advised a

_coup-d'état_: does this idea evince an acquaintance with the spirit

of moderation and the capacity of the prime minister of Austria? A

_coup-d'état_ is too decided and too noisy a step ever to enter into

the mind of Prince Metternich: when a difficult situation occurs, he

does not attack it in front--he turns it; and, when he shews himself

very determined in a strong and firm resolution, it is because people's

minds are already made up, and there is no longer any risk in having

recourse to it. The Chancellor of the Empire was too well aware of

the folly of M. de Polignac, and of the want of firmness of Charles

X., to be ignorant that they were incapable of conducting a perilous

undertaking to a prosperous termination. In the Foreign Office there

is a despatch on this subject from M. de Rayneval, then ambassador at

Vienna, who details one of his conversations with Prince Metternich,

precisely upon these _coups-d'état_; it was much the subject of

conversation at Vienna, and the uneasiness entertained concerning the

system followed by M. de Polignac is revealed in more than one despatch

addressed to M. d'Appony, the Austrian ambassador at Paris.

Then broke out the revolution of July, an event of prodigious

importance. Europe had never been in so much danger; for what were the

ideas that led to the eruption? Was it not the spirit of the secret

societies?--republicanism again triumphant in France, the country

which, for the last forty years, had been accustomed to give the

general impulse to continental Europe? The Propaganda principles had

for their leader that old and obstinate spirit, General Lafayette, who

again went to make an appeal to the independence of the people, as he

had done in 1792. A few Frenchmen, and the tricoloured flag displayed

every where, might have caused a general conflagration. What was to

be done? A young, ardent, and inexperienced minister would, perhaps,

have engaged in a war; what a happiness it was for the friends of peace

that Prussia was governed by a wise king, whose mind was rendered

moderate by age, and Austria by a minister who had witnessed so many

storms without being frightened by them! One of the principal traits of

Metternich's character is his perfect freedom from prejudice, either

against or in favour of persons or events, so that he forms a judgment

of them all with a degree of superiority. He therefore awaited the

event of the revolution in a posture of defence; Austria merely held

herself in readiness, and military precautions, combined with the

renewal of political alliances, enabled her to oppose a barrier to all

the invasions of a revolutionary spirit. This moderation was carried

so far, that, as soon as a regular government was established in

France, Metternich hastened to recognise it, without expressing either

dislike or predilection, solely upon the principle that a regular

government is always a protection to order and public peace. Since this

time, Metternich has appeared to follow three rules of conduct, which

govern the whole tenour of his political life. First, to enter into

a close alliance with Russia and Austria for the suppression of all

disturbances in Europe, and, consequently, to renew all the military

contracts entered into at Chaumont in 1814, and Vienna in 1815;

secondly, to combat the spirit of Propaganda, under whatever form it

may appear; and this was a very laborious task, for the revolution of

July had not only dispersed mischievous principles in Europe, but its

money, its emissaries, its flag, and its hopes, had been circulated

in every direction; and, thirdly, the Propaganda spirit having been

every where diffused, Metternich had felt the necessity of augmenting

both the military forces of Austria, and also her vigorous police

establishment. The executive government has every where become more

severe, because it was exposed to more danger. Liberty has sometimes

been confounded with a revolutionary spirit in the system of strict

repression that has been adopted; and it was unavoidable, perhaps,

even necessary, in the complete overthrow of every thing that had been

contemplated.

The empire of Austria is composed of so many different nations,

that political unity would be as impossible in that empire as in the

Russian, which extends over the half of two hemispheres. All that

can be looked for is liberty in their local constitutions, and in

establishments quite in accordance with the spirit of the States,

and more especially with their situation with regard to the Austrian

government. The most prejudiced people agree that no country can be

more peaceably governed than the hereditary states; the other provinces

which have been successively attached to it require more active

precautions and a more watchful police; but civil liberty, which is,

indeed, the first of all, is even there complete and entire. Let us not

exaggerate; I do not propose the Austrian government as a model--I am

too great an admirer of liberty and of the institutions of my country

not to remain deeply attached to them, but I also give their due to

the manners and customs of the people; and we well know that there are

some countries that require to be governed, because they are utterly

incapable of governing themselves. When travelling in Italy, I have

often asked myself whether all these nations, indolently at variance

with each other, who possess more genius than national vigour, more

liveliness and intelligence than strength and reason, could ever aspire

to a laborious liberty under the dominion of the greatly extolled

Unity, which must have been obtained sword in hand--in fact, if this

rich and lovely Italy, like a charming coquette, was not under the

necessity of submitting to the rule of some one, because she has not

sufficient energy to master either her love or her hatred.

The administration of Prince Metternich appears to be deeply imbued

with this sentiment, which has been severely put to the proof by him,

that if civil liberty is necessary to all, political liberty is only

desirable for a few, so far as it does not affect the character and

the safety of government. Protection should be granted to talent, but

it ought to be serious talent, which will not evaporate in pamphlets;

improvement, no doubt, is desirable, but it should take place without

turbulence. The house of Austria has a great dread of noise, she is

afraid of being talked of; never striving after _éclat_ or clamorous

liberty, she resembles those German professors who amass a store of

erudition and science in some dusty corner of the university, and who

only publish a few scarce copies of their works for the use of the

learned.

The private life of Prince Metternich has been repeatedly visited

with domestic affliction. Mourning has darkened his dwelling, and the

distractions of the busy world have not always been able to mitigate

his grief. In private society his manners are affable, and he enjoys

the repose of home after the fatigues of his vast ministerial duties.

A clever writer has observed that he spends great part of his time

in conversation; it is a propensity indulged in by men who have seen

every thing--they take pleasure in _talking history_ in their fireside

conversations, which are carefully preserved by their auditors. And

who has not listened with delight to M. Talleyrand, when he used to

give vent to his recollections? Prince Metternich has written long and

curious memoirs, full of justificatory notes, for he considers himself

at the bar of posterity. His work is a great one, and, as I said at the

commencement of this sketch, all the glory and all the responsibility

of it will rest with him. When we look back upon what Austria was

after the peace of Presburg, and that we contemplate her now, greater

than she had ever been, with her public credit, her ascendancy among

the European states, the peace and the government of her provinces,

her civil and military organisation, and then consider that all this

is the work of _one_ minister, who has governed the empire for the

last thirty years, we may easily form an idea of some of the judgments

of posterity. We are ourselves surrounded by ruins, both of men and

things; government, administration, ministry, every thing, has fallen

to pieces, and when, from the midst of the wreck the revolutions have

brought upon us, we turn our eyes upon a countenance which has remained

unmoved among all the ravages of time, it appears as if it did not

belong to the present period; we look back upon Richelieu, upon those

ministers who laid down a system, and then carried it onward to its

completion.

Prince Metternich has reached an advanced age, yet he preserves all

his faculties perfectly, with a ready wit that is admirable, and a

freshness of recollection, which turns with extreme pleasure to the

time of the French Empire and his embassy to Paris during the reign of

Napoleon. We have all some favourite period of our lives, and we love

particularly to dwell upon the days of our youth, before the illusions

which charmed us had entirely faded away. He always speaks with great

respect of the Emperor Napoleon, whose noble countenance exercised an

unspeakable influence over his future life. Wherever that great genius

passed, it left an indelible impression; and it was by the desire of

Metternich that the remains of the Duke de Reichstadt were placed

beside those of Maria Theresa and Francis II. in the vault of the

Capuchin Church. It is a fine idea of the emperors of Austria to choose

their last abode in the church of the most lowly of religious orders,

to humble their greatness before the poorest brethren of the Christian

church. The Capuchins have every thing in common, among them there is

no property, no distinction between mine and thine. Babœuf was only

a plagiary from them without the moral idea of heaven, which purifies

and sanctifies every thing.

The house of Austria is accustomed to be governed by old ministers,

and its traditionary spirit takes pleasure in it. In politics it is

often better to do well than to do a great deal, to act after due

deliberation than to act hastily, and then return to deliberate. Prince

Metternich is not an enemy to any form of government that has order

for its basis; and this offers an explanation of his conduct since

the revolution. When the Propaganda was heard every where, he decided

strongly in favour of war, and his expression to the French ambassador

at Vienna is well known: "If we must perish, it is just as well to die

of apoplexy as to be suffocated with a slow fire; we will declare for

war."

The wisdom of the French government, its salutary repression of

every Propaganda spirit, maintained peace. Since that period the

Austrian minister, in all questions of any importance, has preserved

the position of an armed mediator, with the invariable desire of

preserving peace, and what he terms the European _status quo_. He does

not consider the present time requires agitation, war, or conquest.

According to him, it is a season of organisation, and, by the position

he gives to his monarchy, he holds the balance even, so as to prevent

any conflict between the north and south of Europe. He said to me

wittily one day: "I am, to a certain degree, the confessor of all the

cabinets; I give absolution to those who have committed the fewest

sins, and I thus maintain peace in their souls."

In this situation it is easier for Metternich to employ himself

in particular improvements. Austria is in a remarkable state of

prosperity; we ought to be proud of our France, and it undoubtedly is

a fine country, but, with our national pride, we form singular ideas

upon the state of other people; and yet, among them also, we may every

where observe signs of very forward civilisation, commerce, industry,

railroads, with pleasing and kind hospitality, all are to be met with

in the Austrian states; without speaking of the intellectual movement

more sober, and as far advanced as in our country of little romances,

novels, theatrical, and literary critiques.

Men who like to bring circumstances together have sometimes instituted

a comparison between Prince Metternich and Prince Kaunitz, who was so

long at the head of the Austrian government. Although these parallels

are always rather arbitrary, and that the different shades in the human

character are innumerable, we may safely affirm in this instance,

that there never existed two minds more completely opposed to each

other; the only point of resemblance consists in the duration of their

administration. Prince Kaunitz, altogether weakened by the ideas of the

eighteenth century, allowed the Austrian empire to degenerate into a

state of supineness and indolence. Prince Metternich, on the contrary,

has reconstructed and consolidated this monarchy; he has retained

nothing of Prince Kaunitz's system, except its extreme moderation, and

the traditions of _status quo_, adopted after the great reign of Maria

Theresa. After Metternich, will Austria follow a different system? Will

the statesman that appears likely to succeed him adopt a less prudent

and more advanced plan? We do not believe it. It is in Austria with

the ministers as with the heirs of the throne in England; before their

accession they aim at popularity, and, when once at the head of the

government, they continue the proceedings of the former reign, because

reason and experience are of some value, and that the magnificent

part of Austria is to place itself as an idea of pacification between

empires which would strike against each other with too much violence.

M. DE TALLEYRAND.[7]

[7] M. de Talleyrand, who had naturally an inclination in favour of

ancient honours, preferred his title of duke of the old monarchy to

his principality; for the title of prince, unless in connexion with

the Blood Royal, was considered as of foreign extraction, and not to

possess any aristocratic importance.

One of the torments of a statesman who has played a great part in

politics is to see his conduct subjected to the judgment of ignoble

minds and the discussions of people incapable of forming a just

estimate of it. How much has been written concerning M. de Talleyrand!

how many _bons mots_, and how many rude sayings have been attributed to

him! His biography has been made a sort of _Ana_, for the amusement of

idle people; he has been represented as a kind of facetious personage,

almost a mountebank, abounding in all the little wit of society, and of

provincial towns. Few men have pierced through the mysteries of that

long existence; still fewer have read in the wrinkles of this old man,

and in his eyes, still sparkling under his slightly contracted brows,

the secret thoughts, the powerful motives that swayed his life, which

was one of unity and system.

If you have ever travelled in the southern part of France, you must

have lingered in the Périgord, the province which still comprehends

the best and the most numerous nobility of very ancient descent in the

whole kingdom. There you will on every side meet with memorials of the

Bosons and the Talleyrands, the sovereign princes of the province of

Quercy: the keepers of the old records will recount to you the exploits

of the Bosons of Périgord, under the Wolf dukes during the Carlovingian

dynasty, who received this name from their wild exploits in the

forests. The families of Talleyrand and Montesquiou-Fezensac disputed

with each other the precedence over all the southern nobility. M. de

Talleyrand sprang from the younger branch of the Grignols, who were

of the stock of André de Talleyrand, Comte de Grignols, the youngest

branch of the Périgord family; the eldest branch became extinct upon

the death of Marie Francoise, Princess of Chalais, and Marchioness of

Exideuil.[8]

[8] The arms of M. de Talleyrand were, Gules, three lions, or, langued,

armed, and crowned azure, prince's coronet on the shield, ducal crown

on the mantle. Device, _Re que Diou_ (Nothing but God above us).

I have been particular in dwelling upon the high nobility of his

origin, because it greatly assisted his position in diplomatic affairs.

Noble birth, however people may declaim against it, facilitates

negotiations with European powers. Be it a weakness, be it a habit,

when a man takes his place as a titled nobleman, among so many

foreigners of illustrious birth, it is an advantage to his position; he

treats on a footing of equality, he obtains more because he is among

his peers, misfortune does not upset him, because he preserves his name

in spite of every thing; he cannot be degraded, for revolutions no more

deprive him of the nobility of his race, than the royal confiscations

that formerly took place could destroy the old family coat-of-arms.

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord was born at Paris in the year

1754; his maternal grandmother was the clever and witty Princess

des Ursins, that eminent person who directed the councils of Philip

V. of Spain, as her friend Madame de Maintenon governed the mind of

Louis XIV. M. de Talleyrand, being the youngest of the family, was

intended for holy orders, according to the custom of the nobility,

who devoted themselves to the profession of arms, to the church,

or the manor; an active life was necessary to men of family. There

had always been a high prelate of the house of Talleyrand, and this

ecclesiastical dignity was intended for the young Abbé of Périgord,

who was accordingly sent at the age of fourteen to the seminary of

Saint-Sulpice. One ought to have heard Talleyrand himself, in his hours

of gaiety and unreserve, recount the pranks and first love-affair of

the young abbé; his scaling the walls, his visits to the roof of the

house,--all of them things little suitable to the serious profession

for which he was intended by his family. I think that in reading his

Memoirs in the year 1827-28, at which time he was out of favour, he

made some concessions to the little philosophers of the eighteenth

century, who surrounded him under the Restoration.

His ecclesiastical studies were limited; he occupied himself but little

with theology, but already very much with business. The situation of

general agent for the clergy was given him by the custom of his family,

which was a very lucrative appointment, for he might be considered

as the _chargé d'affaires_ of that great body, and he exhibited

great method and remarkable judgment in the skilful application of

the revenues of the church, which amounted to above one hundred and

thirty-six millions of livres. The clergy met in a chapter every year,

and the Abbé de Talleyrand gave an account of their revenues, of the

steps he had taken, and the duties he had performed with regard to the

court; his reports are remarkably exact, with a clearness of style that

is very uncommon.

At the age of five-and-thirty, after having attained the majority

required by the Church, he was raised to the bishopric of Autun,--a

fine appointment, which would afterwards lead to the archbishopric of

Rheims and a cardinal's hat. The revenue of the see amounted to 60,000

francs, a magnificent situation for a young bishop, but such was the

custom of the nobility; nevertheless, the bent of his inclinations

led him to belong to the philosophical society, and the followers of

the English school, which began to appear upon the horizon in 1789;

among these were Mirabeau, Cabanis, Lally-Tollendal, and Mounier, in

fact all the men who were dreaming of a reform in France. People said

wittily that M. de Talleyrand, bishop of Autun, with his prebend and

his bishopric, looked upon himself as an abuse. At this time people

were animated with a glorious passion for suppressing themselves;

and when one recollects that the proposal to abolish the titles of

nobility was made by De Montmorency, De Montesquiou, La Rochefoucauld,

De Talleyrand, and Clermont-Tonnerre, those illustrious elders of the

French nobility, one must honestly confess that an incomprehensible

spirit of vertigo had taken possession of the French society. There

was in this something so insane, so eccentric, that I imagine the

ancient nobility must have been led by an interested motive towards the

suppression of titles: during the last three centuries so many patents

of nobility had been conferred, that the really illustrious families

were no longer distinguished: there were too many titled plebeians.

Now, if all titles were abolished by a decree, all this nobility of

a modern date would be entirely suppressed, for it depended solely

upon royal grants and letters patent written according to the caprice

of the sovereign; whilst those who bore a historical name, as the

Rochefoucaulds, the Montmorencys, and the Montesquious, had no need of

deeds to prove their genealogy; it was part of the soil.

The Abbé de Talleyrand was in possession of his rich bishopric of Autun

when the States-General were convened, and he was appointed deputy of

the clergy of his diocese to the Constituent Assembly, so remarkable

from its adventurous spirit, the boldness of its conceptions, and its

total want of connexion, and absence of all kind of unity or method,

either moral or political. The Constituent Assembly was a great chaos,

where the opinions of men of talent clashed with each other, where all

sorts of extravagances were proposed in the executive government, and

all the ideas most fitted to overturn the monarchy and the society of

France were encouraged; Rousseau's social contract was applied to a

people already old in its customs and civilisation.

The Bishop of Autun shewed himself the most zealous protector of all

these innovations; he proposed the abolition of titles, and vehemently

advocated the civil constitution of the clergy; he also introduced into

the public system of education all the ideas of false and mischievous

philosophy which the eighteenth century had diffused in human minds.

Along with the Marquis of Condorcet, and Cabanis, he was one of the

adepts, and of the friends of Mirabeau, whom that statesman and popular

orator used to employ for the furtherance of the interests of his

intellectual dictatorship. They were accustomed to meet in the evening

at Mirabeau's house, to prepare the projects which would resound the

next day from the tribune of the assembly. Without being very well

educated, the Bishop of Autun was gifted with an extremely fluent

style, and a mode of expression remarkable for its clearness, and its

elegant precision: the ancient high nobility certainly always possessed

great natural talents; they had but little information, and yet they

were eminently gifted with the power of expressing what they wished to

say.

The solemn festival of the confederation took place at this

period, a singular proceeding of which the spirit has been greatly

misrepresented: it was theatrical, for such is always necessary in

France. In the Champ de Mars an altar was erected, surmounted by

tricoloured flags, upon a scaffolding fifty feet high, ornamented with

ribands, also of the national colours. Then came M. de Lafayette,

at that time a very handsome man, with his courteous and somewhat

hypocritical countenance beaming with smiles, mounted upon his

snow-white, slender, prancing steed, and wearing the uniform of the

National Guard with long skirts and a three-cornered hat on his head,

as it was the fashion at the time of the American War. He was then

trying on his royal dignity. Around him crowded the deputations from

the Departments with their flags; there were many drunken people, as it

was natural there should be, and others tired with having wheeled earth

from the Champ de Mars; and there was a plentiful exchange of kisses

and embraces, according to the system so approved by Lamourette. At the

foot of the altar of which I have spoken appeared M. de Talleyrand,

bishop of Autun, dressed in his pontifical habits, his mitre on his

head, a crosier in his hand, and with manners as elegant, as much

refinement, and as studiously dignified a demeanour, as he afterwards

discovered when carrying his crutch stick into the assembly of the

corps diplomatique: kneeling beside him was the Abbé Louis (afterwards

Minister of Finance) one of the curates, in his alb and surplice.

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