PART V.

FROM THE FALL OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON, IN 1814, TO THE END OF M. DE

TALLEYRAND’S ADMINISTRATION, IN SEPTEMBER, 1815.

Comte d’Artois, Lieutenant-General of France.--Treaty of the

23rd of April for the evacuation of France.--Louis XVIII.,

contrary to M. de Talleyrand’s advice, refuses to accept the

crown with a constitution as the gift of the nation; but,

agreeing to the first as a right, grants the second.--Forms his

government of discordant materials, naming M. de Talleyrand,

of whom his distrust and jealousy soon appear, Minister of

Foreign Affairs.--Reactionary spirit of the Émigré party

and Comte d’Artois.--Treaty of Paris.--M. de Talleyrand

then goes to Vienna, and, in the course of negotiations

there, contrives to make a separate treaty with Austria

and Great Britain, and thus to break up solidarity of the

alliance against France.--Bonaparte escapes from Elba.--New

treaty against Napoleon; not clear as to its intentions, but

appearing as renewal of Treaty of Paris.--Bourbons go to

Ghent.--Bonaparte installed at the Tuileries.--M. de Talleyrand

goes to Carlsbad.--Prince Metternich intrigues with Fouché for

Napoleon’s deposition in favour of the regency of his wife;

does not succeed.--The Allies again take up Louis XVIII.--M. de

Talleyrand goes to Ghent.--At first ill received.--Lectures the

Bourbons.--Is again made Minister.--Opposed by Royalist party

and the Emperor of Russia; feebly supported by us; abandoned by

Louis XVIII.--Resigns.

I.

Such for the moment was the end of the long struggle which M. de

Talleyrand had maintained with a man superior to all others in the

power of his faculties; but who, owing to certain faults, which were

perhaps inseparable from the haughty and imaginative nature of those

faculties, was finally vanquished by the patience, moderation, and tact

of an adversary of far inferior genius, whose hostility he had, by a

singular instinct, dreaded, and, by an unaccountable carelessness,

provoked.

I have said that when M. de Talleyrand first attached himself to

the destinies of Napoleon, he expected from him--first, his own

advancement; secondly, the advancement of French interests.

He followed Napoleon, then, obsequiously up to the period at which he

foresaw clearly that the policy of that personage was beginning to be

such as would neither profit an intelligent adherent nor establish a

durable empire.

It cannot be said, however, that in separating himself from this

policy, after the treaty of Tilsit, he left his sovereign in a moment

of adversity. France never appeared to people in general so great, nor

its ruler so stable, as at that epoch. It was not at the moment of any

evident decline in either, but at a moment when to a keen observer

there was visible a tendency which if pursued would, a little sooner

or a little later, plunge both into inextricable calamities, that the

Prince de Benevent detached himself quietly from the chariot that bore

the great soldier’s fortunes.

Even then he did little more than express with moderation the

convictions he felt; and indeed his opposition when most provoked

was never against the individual whom he had served, but against the

system that individual was blindly pursuing. As the horizon grew

darker, he neither shrank from giving his advice, which events proved

invariably to be just, nor refused his services, if they were allowed

the necessary means of being useful. His infidelity up to the last

consisted in giving counsel that was rejected, and taking measures with

much reserve for preserving himself and his country in some degree from

the fate that was preparing for its ruler. Nor was it until Napoleon

and the nation became two distinct things, and it appeared necessary to

destroy the one in order to save the other, that it can be said that M.

de Talleyrand conspired against the man, who, it must be added, never

asked for heartfelt devotion in exacting blind obedience.

There was nothing on earth, in fact, which Napoleon himself would not

have sacrificed, and did not unscrupulously sacrifice, to promote

his own objects. He said, and I believe thought, that these were the

happiness and glory of France. Behind his selfishness there was, all

must admit, a great and noble idea; but those who felt sure that he

was mistaken were not bound to subject their notions of patriotism to

his: M. de Talleyrand had not been his creature, nor raised up from

the dust by him. He had been a distinguished and eminent man before

General Bonaparte’s career had commenced, and it is hardly fair to

talk of his treachery to a man, who had of late years wearied him with

affronts,--when the most intimate of that man’s favourites (Marshal

Berthier) told Louis XVIII. at the commencement of the Restoration,

“that France had groaned for twenty-five years under the weight of

misfortunes that only disappeared at the sight of its legitimate

sovereign.”

The principal if not the only question at issue concerning M. de

Talleyrand in these affairs is, Whether the advice to place Louis

XVIII. on the French throne was good or bad advice? What other

candidates were there? Bonaparte vanquished was out of the question.

He had not only become odious to M. de Talleyrand; he was equally so

to all Europe and to all France,--the broken fragments of his army

excepted.

There was something to say in favour of a regency with Marie-Louise;

but her husband himself declared at Fontainebleau that she was

incapable of acting for herself. If Napoleon was in a situation to

direct her, the government was evidently still Napoleon’s. If she

was placed in the hands of the marshals, the exchange was that of a

military empire with order and a redoubtable chief, for a military

empire with confusion and without a chief; Marie-Louise was, moreover,

out of Paris.

Had she remained at Paris, had Bonaparte perished on the field of

battle, or been placed anywhere in secure guardianship, the daughter of

the Emperor of Austria, assisted and controlled by four or five men of

eminence, moderation, and capacity, whom the allies could have joined

to her, might have been a possibility more compatible perhaps with the

epoch than the half-forgotten inheritor of the crown of Louis XVI.; but

when the choice was to be made, this combination had gone by.

Then there was the House of Orleans. But this younger branch of the

Bourbon family was personally almost as unknown to France as the elder

one. The name that connected it with the Revolution was not popular,

on the other hand, even with the revolutionists. A mere soldier put

on Napoleon’s throne by foreigners was an evident humiliation to the

French people. Louis XVIII., therefore, really seems the only person at

the moment who could carry with him to the vacant place any dignity,

and represent there, as M. de Talleyrand said, any principle.

This prince in early life had been supposed favourable to

constitutional government. His residence of late years had been in a

constitutional country. He had never been remarkable for the strength

of his personal attachments, and he had, moreover, in his character, or

at least in his manner, a certain authority, which rendered it probable

that he would keep in order the more zealous of his partisans.

Thus, it seemed likely that he would frankly accept such a government

as England possessed and France had desired in 1789, to the opinions

of which period the more thinking portions of the French nation still

looked back with respect.

Risks had to be run, whatever resolution might be taken; but risks in

critical times have always to be run, and a man of action can only

choose the least dangerous.

II.

At all events, having deliberately adopted the legitimate monarchy

with a constitution, there can be no doubt as to M. de Talleyrand

having followed up this idea, amidst immense difficulties, with great

boldness and dexterity. The task, however, so far as it depended on

his skill, tact, and activity, was now nearly over; and its ultimate

success was about to be confided to those who were to reap the fruits

of his efforts. It will have been seen, by what I have said of the

constitution voted by the Senate, that Louis XVIII. was named King

conditionally on his accepting a constitution; a clause against which

the Royalists had revolted.

The Comte d’Artois, at that time out of Paris and in no recognised

position, insisted on appearing in the capital; and, Napoleon having

abdicated on the 11th, he executed his intention on the 12th, assuming

the title of “Lieutenant-general of the Kingdom,” a title which he

pretended to have received from his brother, but which his brother, it

appears, had never given him.

Nothing could be more awkward than the position thus created: Louis

XVIII. was not yet sovereign by any national act; and yet the Comte

d’Artois pretended that he was invested with royal authority by Louis

XVIII.

To establish as a right the Bourbon monarchy, was by no means the

intention of those who had called back the Bourbon family; and yet they

had so compromised themselves to the Bourbon cause, that it was no easy

matter to recede from the ground they stood upon. The resolution to be

taken had to be immediate. Should the existing authorities assist at

the Comte d’Artois’ entry or not? M. de Talleyrand and the provisional

government did assist, for their abstinence would have been a scandal;

the Senate did not assist, for its presence would have stultified its

previous decisions.

I am led to insert an animated account of this entry, not only because

it is painted with the colouring of an eye-witness; but because it

gives an amusing description of the concoction of a celebrated _bon

mot_, which was not without its effect on the early popularity of the

prince to whom it was attributed.[62]

“Next morning (12th of April), we marched out to meet the prince. It

was one of those lovely days of early spring which are so delightful

in the climate of Paris. The sun was shining with all its splendour,

and on every side the tender buds were sprouting under the influence

of its subdued and genial warmth. There were flowers already half

blown, and the soft green was just beginning to peep from the trees,

while the spring notes of birds, the joyous expression of every face,

our march enlivened by the dear old tune of good King Henry, all served

to mark out this day as a festival of Hope. There was little order in

our ranks, but many shed tears. As soon as _Monsieur_ was in sight,

M. de Talleyrand advanced to welcome him, and, leaning against the

prince’s horse with that indolent grace, which the weakness of his legs

excused, he paid him a short compliment, remarkable for its delicacy

and good taste. Feeling that Frenchmen were pressing him on all sides,

the prince was too affected to make him a reply, but said with a voice

stifled by sobs, ‘Monsieur de Talleyrand, gentlemen.--Thank you--I am

too happy--Let us proceed, let us proceed--I am too happy!’

“Since then, we have heard the same prince reply to speeches with

presence of mind and effect: but, to those who saw and heard him the

day of his entry into Paris, he has never been so eloquent as on that

occasion. We now proceeded in the direction of Notre-Dame, according

to the old custom of going, after every joyful event, to the most

venerable church of Paris, in order to offer solemnly to God the

grateful homage of the French nation. The procession was principally

composed of National Guards, but it also contained Russian, Prussian,

Austrian, Spanish, and Portuguese officers, and the prince at their

head appeared like an angel of peace descended into the midst of

the great European family. From the Barrière de Bondy to the Parvis

Notre-Dame, faces beaming with joy were seen at every window. The

streets were crowded with people who pressed round the prince with

shouts of applause. It was difficult for him to advance in the midst

of such general enthusiasm, but when some one attempted to clear the

way by removing this pleasing impediment, he exclaimed, ‘Never mind,

sir, never mind, we have plenty of time before us.’ Thus was the prince

borne along to Notre-Dame, if I may be allowed the expression, on the

hearts of Frenchmen. After entering the sanctuary, when he cast himself

down before the altar, which had received during so many centuries the

prayers of his fathers, a vivid ray of light fell upon his countenance,

and made it appear almost heavenly. He prayed fervently, and we all

did the same. The tears trickled down our cheeks, and they escaped

from the eyes even of the foreigners. Oh! how sincerely, how fervently

was each verse of the hymn of gratitude upraised to Heaven! When the

ceremony was concluded, several of the prince’s old servants, who had

bewailed his absence during thirty years, came to embrace his knees,

and he raised them up with that heart-sprung grace so touching and so

natural to him. The return from Notre-Dame to the Tuileries was no less

animated and happy; and when he had reached the court of the palace,

the prince dismounted, and turning to the National Guard, addressed

them in a speech perfectly suited to the occasion. He shook hands with

several of the officers and men, begging them to remember this happy

day, and protesting that he himself would never forget it. I ordered

the palace doors to be opened for the prince, and had the honour of

showing him into the wing which he was to inhabit.

“I asked him to give me his orders for the rest of the day, and to

tell me the hour at which I should present myself the next morning. He

seemed to hesitate whether he would dismiss or retain me. I thought

I could perceive that this arose from kindly feeling, so I told him

that I should be afraid of troubling him an instant longer, as he must

be fatigued, and it was to me that he replied, ‘How can I possibly be

fatigued? This is the only happy day I have enjoyed for thirty years.

Ah! sir, what a delightful day! Say that I am pleased and satisfied

with everybody. These are my orders for to-day. To-morrow morning, at

nine o’clock.’

“After leaving the prince, I resumed my usual occupation, and quitted

it at about eleven o’clock in the evening, to go to M. de Talleyrand’s.

I found him discussing the events of the past day with MM. Pasquier,

Dupont de Némours, and Anglès. They all agreed that it had been a

complete success. M. de Talleyrand reminded us that an article would

have to be written for the _Moniteur_. Dupont offered to do it. ‘No,

no,’ replied M. de Talleyrand, ‘you would make it too poetical; I know

you well: Beugnot will do for that; I dare say that he will step into

the library, and knock us off an article in a moment.’

“I sat down to my work, which was not very difficult: but when the

prince’s answer to M. de Talleyrand had to be mentioned, I did not

know what to do. A few words, springing from a deep emotion, make

effect by the manner in which they are spoken, and by the presence

of the objects which have suggested them; but, when they have to be

reproduced on paper, stripped of these accompaniments, they remain

cold, and it is very lucky if they are not ridiculous. I returned to

M. de Talleyrand, and informed him of the difficulty. ‘Let us see,’ he

answered, ‘what _Monsieur_ _did_ say; I did not catch much; he appeared

to me to be affected, and very anxious to continue his journey; but,

if what he said does not suit you, invent an answer for him.’ ‘But

how can I make a speech that _Monsieur_ never pronounced?’ ‘There is

no difficulty about that; make it good, suitable to the person and to

the occasion, and I promise you that _Monsieur_ will accept it, and

so well, that in two days he will believe he made it himself; and he

_will_ have made it himself; you will no longer have had anything to

do with it.’ Capital! I returned and attempted my first version, and

brought it to be approved. ‘That won’t do,’ said M. de Talleyrand,

‘_Monsieur_ never makes antitheses, nor does he use the slightest

rhetorical flourish. Be brief, be plain, and say what is best suited to

the speaker and to his audience: that’s all.’ ‘It seems to me,’ replied

M. Pasquier, ‘that what is troubling a good many minds, is the fear

of changes, which would be brought about by the return of the princes

of the house of Bourbon; that point would perhaps have to be touched,

but delicately.’ ‘Good! and I also recommend it to you,’ said M. de

Talleyrand. I attempt a new version, and am sent back a second time,

for having made it too long and too elaborate. At last I am delivered

of the one inserted in the _Moniteur_, in which I make the prince say,

‘No more discord; Peace and France; at last I revisit my native land;

nothing is changed, except it be that there is one Frenchman the more.’

‘This time I give in!’ exclaimed the great censor. ‘_That_ is what

_Monsieur_ said, and I answer for it having been pronounced by him; you

need not trouble yourself any longer.’ And in fact the speech turned

out a regular success: the newspapers took it up as a lucky hit; it was

also repeated as an engagement taken by the prince; and the expression,

‘_One Frenchman more!_’ became the necessary password of the harangues,

which began to pour in from all quarters. The prince did not disdain

commenting upon it in his answers: and M. de Talleyrand’s prophecy was

fully accomplished.”

III.

The just described spectacle was gay, but its gaiety was merely

superficial. Deeper seated was the danger I have referred to. The

Senate had neither gone to meet the Comte d’Artois nor attended the _Te

Deum_. It might be said that the members of the provisional government

had done so; but the absence of the Senate was, notwithstanding,

remarked. It was determined not to leave things uncertain, and to have

a clear understanding as to whether the Comte d’Artois meant to despise

the national authorities, or to submit to them. This question had to be

brought to issue with the least possible delay.

The 13th and 14th of April were spent in negotiations. Napoleon was

still in France. Two armies had not yet given in their adhesion to the

new order of things.

The allies had solemnly declared that the French government should be

one chosen by the Senate, and not one chosen by Louis XVIII.

It took, nevertheless, all M. de Talleyrand’s tact and patience to get

the Comte d’Artois and the zealots of his party to act with ordinary

prudence. An arrangement was at last arrived at in this manner:

The Senate, professing to know that constitutional principles animated

the heart of the Comte d’Artois, offered him the Lieutenant-generalship

of France.

The Comte d’Artois accepted the post, saying that though he could not

take upon himself to sanction the constitution of the Senate, with

which he was acquainted, but which had to be considered by the King,

he nevertheless felt sure that he could safely affirm that his Majesty

would accept the principal features in it.[63]

The government was thus installed until the arrival of Louis XVIII.;

and on the 23rd, M. de Talleyrand signed, under his royal highness’s

authority, the treaty which obliged the foreign armies to quit France,

and the French troops to quit the fortresses out of France which they

still held.

IV.

The most urgent foreign question was thus settled; but the permanent

condition of internal affairs, though the temporary arrangement I have

been describing established something like a principle in favour of a

constitution, still depended on the arrangements that might finally be

made with Louis XVIII.

M. de Talleyrand, exceedingly anxious on this subject, had sent M.

de Liancourt to the King, in the hope that his Majesty would listen

and speak to his messenger confidentially. It was true that M. de

Talleyrand was warned that the Duc de Liancourt, who had belonged

to the Revolution, would not be well received by the monarch of the

Restoration, if a certain nobleman, M. de Blacas, was by his side. But

the Prince de Benevent treated this idea _du haut de sa grandeur_.

What! the sovereign who owed him (M. de Talleyrand) his throne; who

was at once indolent and ambitious; who knew nothing of the country

in which he was to appear, a country in which he had no partisans who

could guide him by their counsels or aid him by their influence, and

in which were still the sovereigns with whom M. de Talleyrand had

been the confederate--would decline to receive a man of the first

respectability and the highest birth, universally beloved, because he

had taken the same part that M. de Talleyrand himself had taken in

the public affairs of former times, and this when the new sovereignty

was to be founded on all parties and opinions, and have, moreover, a

constitution for its basis; the thing was impossible. M. de Talleyrand

replied to the person who gave him this warning--

“The King, you say, will look back on the past, but Nature has placed

the eyes of men in the front of their heads, in order that they may

look forward.”

Undoubtedly, the warning referred to seemed absurd, but it was

correctly given. M. de Liancourt saw “the certain M. de Blacas,” but

came back without having seen Louis XVIII.[64]

In sending the particular person he had selected to Louis XVIII., M.

de Talleyrand had the idea of engaging the King at once with the party

to which that person belonged, viz., the moderate men of the early

Revolution: men who were, by opinion, in favour of constitutional

monarchy, but who had been so mixed up with persons of all parties and

opinions, as to know all and have friends amongst all. In such a party

he saw a centre at which divergent lines might meet--a backbone, to

which might be attached the scattered members of the great and varied

society out of which a new government had to be constructed. The

project was not a bad one, and it is probable that during the first

days of an uncertain triumph it would have succeeded.

But the unexpected popularity of his family, the general acceptance

of the “white cockade,” the reports of his brother and the ardent

Royalists, which did not fail to reach him with suitable exaggerations,

and the positive abdication of Napoleon, created a new phase in Louis’s

affairs, and hesitating what to do, he determined on doing nothing till

he arrived in France.

This was sufficient to show M. de Talleyrand, who did not subsequently

forget M. de Blacas, that there would be a court circle in the new

reign from which he should be excluded; that the King neither meant

to confide in him nor to offend him; that a system was not to be

formed; that if he did not break with the sovereign on whose head he

had a few days previously placed a crown, he must compromise with that

sovereign’s prejudices and favourites. There were not as yet sufficient

motives for a rupture. Circumstances would shortly develop themselves,

and give many opportunities for a decided course. In the meantime a

policy of principle was to be sacrificed to a policy of dexterity.

Had he been consulted, he would certainly not have counselled Louis

XVIII., who made a sort of triumphal entry into London on the 20th,

to have said he owed his crown to the Prince Regent; putting aside

the Emperor Alexander, who was still in Paris, and the Senate and the

Assembly, which were the only constituted organs at that time of the

nation’s wishes, and the only authority which the French army and the

French people would so easily have obeyed. But he met his Majesty at

Compiègne, where Louis had determined to stay three or four days before

entering Paris and fixing his ultimate resolves. The meeting would have

been curious to witness.

Both personages were perfect actors in their way, and each with a

pretension to superiority, was determined not to be subalternised

by the other. Louis had acted the part of king for some years with

the more care and punctiliousness because he was only king in name.

Talleyrand had been accustomed from his youth to the highest positions

in society; in later years he had been admitted into the intimacy of

sovereigns, and been treated by them, if not on a footing of equality,

with the highest respect; and he had just disposed of the fortunes

of France. The descendant of kings meant to impose the sovereign on

his powerful subject at once, with the airs of royalty, for which

he was famous. The bishop, noble, and diplomatist was prepared to

encounter these airs with the respectful well-bred nonchalance of a

man of the world, who knew his own value; and the natural but not

obsequious deference of a great minister to a constitutional monarch.

It is probable that neither said what he intended to say, or what

contemporaries have said for them; but it is reported that Louis

gave M. de Talleyrand to understand that, in remaining tranquil and

contented until Providence had placed the crown on his head, he had

played the proper part of the prince and the philosopher, acting with

far more dignity and wisdom than the bustling men of action who had

been occupied during this time with their own advancement.

On the other hand, when his Majesty, wishing perhaps to efface the

impression of observations that were not altogether complimentary,

spoke in admiration of M. de Talleyrand’s abilities, and asked him

how he had contrived, first to overturn the Directory, and finally

Bonaparte, M. de Talleyrand has the credit of having replied with a

sort of naïveté which, when it suited him, he could well assume:

“Really, sire, I have done nothing for this: there is something

inexplicable about me which brings ill luck on the governments that

neglect me.”[65]

Finally, as to essentials, the King appears, without entering much into

details, to have given M. de Talleyrand to understand that France would

have a constitution, and M. de Talleyrand the administration of foreign

affairs.

This was all that M. de Talleyrand now expected.

Nevertheless he tried, on a subsequent occasion, to persuade the

legitimate monarch that his throne would acquire increased solidity by

being accepted as the spontaneous gift of the nation.

A really great man in Louis’s place would probably have provoked a

vote by universal suffrage; the mere fact of appealing to such a vote

would have attained a universal assent, springing from a universal

enthusiasm; and, in fact, such a vote for a king who had legitimacy

in his favour would at the same time have renewed the vigour of the

legitimist principle.

A very prudent man would not have run this risk; he would have made

the most of the vote of the Senate, since it was given, and taken for

granted that it was a vote in favour of his race as well as of himself.

A vain and proud man, however, could not so easily divest himself of a

peculiar quality which only he possessed. Any man might be chosen king

of the French, but Louis XVIII. alone could be the legitimate King of

France. This hereditary right to the throne was a personal property.

He had claimed it in exile: he was resolved to assert it in power,

and when M. de Talleyrand was for continuing the argument, he cut him

short, according to contemporaneous authorities, by observing with a

courteous but somewhat cynical smile:

“You wish me to accept a constitution from you, and you don’t wish to

accept a constitution from me. This is very natural; mais, mon cher M.

de Talleyrand, alors moi je serai debout, et vous assis.”[66]

V.

The observation just quoted admitted of no reply. Still Louis had

the good sense to see that he could not enter Paris without some

explanations, and the promise, more or less explicitly given, of a

representative government. Unlike the Comte d’Artois, he felt no sort

of difficulty about giving this promise, and was even willing to

concert with his minister as to the most popular manner in which he

could give the guarantees he intended to offer without abandoning the

point on which he resolved to insist.

The first thing, however, to provide for, was a meeting between the

sovereign who had taken the crown as a right, and the Senate who had

offered it on conditions.

This meeting took place on the 1st of May, at Saint-Ouen, a small

village near Paris, where the King invited the Senate to meet him.

M. de Talleyrand, on presenting this body, pronounced a speech,

composed with much art, and spoke for both parties. He said that

the nation, enlightened by experience, rushed forward to salute the

sovereign returning to the throne of his ancestors; that the Senate,

participating in the sentiments of the nation, did the same; that,

on the other hand, the monarch, guided by his wisdom, was about to

give France institutions in conformity with its intelligence, and the

ideas of the epoch: that a constitutional “Charter” (a title the King

had selected) would unite every interest to that of the throne, and

fortify the royal will by the concurrence of all wills; that no one

knew better than his Majesty the value of institutions for a long time

tried happily by a neighbouring people, and furnishing aid and not

opposition to all kings who loved the laws, and were the fathers of

their people.

A few words from the King, confirming what M. de Talleyrand had said,

left nothing to be desired; and on the 3rd of May was published the

famous declaration of Saint-Ouen, which, after stating that much that

was good in the constitution proposed by the Senate on the 6th of

April would be preserved, added that some articles in it bore signs,

notwithstanding, of the haste with which they had necessarily been

written, and must consequently be reformed; but that his Majesty had

the full intention to give to France a constitution that should contain

all the liberties that Frenchmen could desire, and that the project of

such a constitution would ere long be presented to the chambers.

Louis XVIII., thus preceded, entered Paris amidst a tolerable degree of

enthusiasm, and, seating himself in the palace of his ancestors, began

to prepare his existence there.

His first thought was to reconstitute his household, and, in doing

this, M. de Talleyrand-Périgord was named grand aumonier. The new

ministry was next to be formed, and M. de Talleyrand figured as

minister of foreign affairs; and was honoured with the title of prince,

though he could no longer add to it--of Benevent.

The other persons named in the new ministry, and who afterwards

attracted notice, were the Abbé de Montesquieu, minister of the

interior, a gentleman of learning and talent, but wholly unused to

affairs, and a Royalist as much from prejudice as from principle (M.

Guizot, by the way, commenced his career under M. de Montesquieu); and

the Abbé Louis, minister of finance, whose financial abilities were

universally acknowledged.

But the most important minister for the moment was the minister of the

household, “that certain M. de Blacas,” of whose influence over Louis

XVIII. M. de Talleyrand had been early informed.

M. de Blacas was one of those gentlemen of the second order of

nobility, who often produce on the vulgar a stronger effect as a grand

seigneur than nobles of the first class, because they add a little

acting to the natural dignity usually attendant upon persons who have

been treated from their infancy with distinction. He was middle-aged,

good-looking, courteous, a good scholar, a great collector of medals,

very vain of his court favour, which was based on his long knowledge of

all the moral and physical weaknesses of his master, and with an entire

confidence in the indestructibility of an edifice which he had seen,

notwithstanding, raised on the ruins of its own foundation.

He had, also, such a confidence in his own capacity that he conceived

it impossible for any one but an egregious fool, or a malignant

personal enemy, to doubt it.

He concentrated in his hands the King’s resolutions on all affairs,

except foreign affairs, which M. de Talleyrand managed directly with

his Majesty.

A government was thus formed, and the first duty of that government was

to make a treaty of peace with the victorious powers. M. de Talleyrand

had, necessarily, the conduct of this negotiation. There were two

questions at issue: the one, the arrangements between the European

potentates who had to give possessors to the territories they had taken

from France; and the other, the arrangements to be made between France

and these potentates.

Some persons thought it would be possible to deal with the two

questions together, and that France could be admitted into a congress

where the special questions of France with Europe, and the questions

that had to be decided by the European sovereigns between themselves,

could be settled simultaneously.[67]

But a little consideration will, I think, show that the questions

between France and Europe, and the questions between the different

States of Europe, which had been in hostility with France, were

perfectly distinct.

It would also have been absurd, and consequently impossible, for France

to have exacted, that all the matters that had to be arranged as

resulting from the late war with France, should be treated in France.

The capital of France was the proper place for treating as to French

interests.

The capital of one of the allies was the place where the affairs

between the allies were naturally to be discussed. Paris was chosen in

the first case, Vienna in the second.

The allies, however, had undoubtedly placed themselves in a false

position towards the French nation, and this was felt when a peace with

it had to be concluded.

They had declared that they separated Napoleon from France, that they

only made war against the French ruler, and that they would give the

country better conditions than they would give the Emperor. M. de

Talleyrand, therefore, came forward, saying, “Well, you were going to

give Napoleon the old limits of the French monarchy, what will you give

France?”

The allies replied, as it was certain they would reply, that the

promises alluded to were vague, they could not dispose of the property

of others; that France had nothing legitimate but that which she held

before a predatory succession of conquests; that the allies held, it

was true, the conquered territories recovered from the French, but

that they could not give them back to wrongful acquirers; that the

general understanding was, that France should have its ancient limits,

and that when the allies had agreed on the 23rd of April to withdraw

their troops from the French territory, it had been understood that

this was the territory of ancient France. Anything more was out of the

question. M. de Talleyrand, however, obtained the frontier of 1792, and

not that of 1790, and in rounding that frontier, added some fortresses

and inhabitants to the kingdom of Louis XVI. Moreover, Paris remained

the mistress, and was permitted to boast of remaining the mistress, of

all the works of art ravished from other nations, being thus, in fact,

constituted the artistic capital of the world.

Such a limited result, however, did not satisfy the French people with

peace when the horrors of war were over; and we find in various works

concerning these times comments on the inconceivable _légèreté_ of M.

de Talleyrand, in not procuring more advantageous conditions.

I confess that I think that Europe should never have made compromising

promises; and that she should have fulfilled generously whatever

promises she had made; but upon the whole France, which in her

conquests had despoiled every power, ought to have been satisfied when,

in the returning tide of victory, those powers left her what she had

originally possessed.

Poor M. de Talleyrand! he carried off all the absurd reproaches he had

to encounter with a dignified indifference: even the accusation which

was now made against him, of having signed the treaty of April, in

which the provisional government, not being able to hold the fortresses

still occupied by French troops out of France, with a foreign army

demanding them in the heart of Paris, resigned them on the condition

that France itself should be evacuated. “You seem to have been in a

great hurry, M. de Talleyrand,” said the Duc de Berry, “to sign that

unhappy treaty.” “Alas, yes, monseigneur; I was in a great hurry. There

are senators who say I was in a great hurry to get the crown offered to

your Royal house; a crown which it might otherwise not have got. You

observe, monseigneur, that I was in a great hurry to give up fortresses

which we could not possibly have kept. Alas, yes, monseigneur, I was in

a great hurry. But do you know, monseigneur, what would have happened

if I had waited to propose Louis XVIII. to the allies, and had refused

to sign the treaty of the 23rd of April with them? No; you don’t know

what would have happened! No more do I. But at all events you may rest

assured, we should not now be disputing as to an act of the prince,

your father.”

Again, when a little after this the son of Charles X. was boasting of

what France would do when she got the three hundred thousand troops

that had been locked up in Germany, Talleyrand, who had been seated

at some little distance and apparently not listening, got up, and

approaching slowly the Duc de Berry, said, with half-shut eyes and a

doubtful look of inquiry, “And do you really think, monseigneur, that

these three hundred thousand men can be of any use to us?” “Of use to

us! to be sure they will.” “Hem!” said M. de Talleyrand, _fixing_ the

Duc, “you really think so, monseigneur? I did not know; for we shall

get them from that unfortunate treaty of the 23rd of April!”

The best of it was that Charles X. had thought this treaty the great

act of his life, until his son said it was a great mistake; and he did

not know then whether he should defend it in his own glorification, or

throw all the blame of it on M. de Talleyrand.

VI.

The next link in the chain of events,--a final treaty of peace between

France and Europe having been concluded (on the 30th of May),--was the

promulgation of the long-promised constitution; for the sovereigns who

were still in Paris, and with whom the Restoration had commenced, were

anxious to leave it; and they said that they could not do so until the

promises they had made to the French nation were fulfilled.

The 4th of June, therefore, was fixed for this national act.

The King had promised, as it has been seen, that the frame of a

constitution should be submitted to the Senate and the legislative body.

He appointed the Abbé Montesquieu, whom we have already named, and a

M. Ferrand, a person of some consideration with the Royalist party, to

sketch the outline of this great work, assisted by M. de Beugnot, an

accomplished gentleman, not very particular in his principles, but very

adroit in his phraseology; when done, such sketch was submitted to and

approved by the King, and passed on to two commissions, one chosen from

the Senate and the other from the legislative body, the king reserving

to himself the right of settling disputed points.

The result was generally satisfactory, for though the constitution

was so framed as to give it the air of being a grant from the

royal authority, it contained the most essential principles of a

representative government, namely:--

Equality before the law, and in the distribution of taxation,--the

admissibility of all to public employments,--the inviolability of

the monarch,--the responsibility of ministers,--the freedom of

religion,--the necessity of annual budgets;--and, finally, the

permission to express in print and by publication all opinions--such

permission being controlled by laws, which were to repress or punish

its abuse.

There was to be a lower chamber with the qualification for the electors

of the payment of three hundred francs, direct taxes; and, for the

eligible, of one thousand francs.

The upper chamber was not then made hereditary, though the King might

give an hereditary peerage. A great portion of the Senate, the dukes

and peers before the Revolution, and other persons of distinction,

formed the house of peers. The legislative body was to act as the

lower chamber until the time for which the members had been chosen was

expired. The senators, not carried on into the peerage, were given as a

pension the payment that formerly attached to their function.

The King bargained that the new constitution should be called “La

Charte Constitutionnelle;” “Charte” being an old word that the kings

had formerly employed, and that it should be dated in _the nineteenth_

year of his reign.

The preamble also stated that “the King, in entire possession of his

full rights over this beautiful kingdom, only desires to exercise the

authority he holds from God and his ancestors, in determining the

bounds of his own power.” A phrase which somewhat resembles one of

Bolingbroke’s, who says: “The infinite power of God is limited by His

infinite wisdom.”

It cannot be affirmed that M. de Talleyrand had anything to do with

the framing of “the Charter,” since Louis XVIII.’s instruction to the

commissioners was to keep everything secret from M. de Talleyrand;

but it was the sort of constitution he had insisted upon: and thus

the Restoration was accomplished according to the plan which he had

undertaken to give to it, when he obtained the decrees which deposed

the Bonapartes and recalled the Bourbons.

VII.

I have said that when M. de Talleyrand created the government of Louis

XVIII., he wanted to give it a backbone, consisting of a party of able,

practical, and popular men of moderate opinions. But Louis XVIII., as

a principle, distrusted all men in proportion to their popularity and

ability, his ministers especially. M. de Talleyrand, therefore, was,

in his eyes, a person who should be constantly watched, and constantly

suspected. Louis XVIII. had also in horror the idea of his cabinet

being a ministry, _i.e._, a compact body agreeing together. His notion

as to driving was that horses who were always kicking at each other,

were less likely to kick at the carriage; furthermore, he considered

that everything which was not as it had been thirty years back was

really wrong, though he did not mean to take the trouble of changing

it, and that all this new set of persons he had to deal with were

_coquins_--not a gentleman amongst them. That it was proper manners,

since they existed, to treat them courteously, and proper policy, since

they had a certain power in their hands, to temporise with them; but

in his heart of hearts he looked upon them as yahoos, who had got into

the stalls of horses, and were to be kicked out directly the horses,

strengthened by plentiful feeds of corn, were up to the enterprise. In

the meantime nothing was to be risked, so that he sat himself down as

comfortably as he could in his arm-chair, received all visitors with an

air which an actor, about to play Louis XIV., might have done well to

study; wrote pretty billets, said sharp and acute things, and felt that

he was every inch--a king.

Such was the sovereign of France; but there was also another

demi-sovereign, who was to be found in the Pavillon Marsan, inhabited

by the Comte d’Artois.

I esteem that prince, whom it has been the fashion to decry, more in

some respects than I do his brother; for though he had not a superior

intelligence, he had a heart. He really wished well to his country: he

would have laid down his life for it, at least he thought he would:

his intentions were excellent; but he relied on his old notions and

education for the means of carrying them out.

Louis XVIII. was more cultivated, more cynical, more false: he loved

France vaguely, as connected with his own pride and the pride of his

race: he thought ill of the world, but was disposed to extract the most

he could from it towards his own comfort, dignity, and prosperity. This

character was not amiable, but its coldness and hardness rendered its

possessor more secure against being duped, though not against being

flattered.

The Comte d’Artois was both flattered and duped; but it was by

addressing themselves to his better qualities that his flatterers

duped him. They depicted the French people as eminently and naturally

loyal: full of sympathy and respect for the descendants of Henry IV.

and Louis XIV. “Poor children! they had been led away by having bad

men placed over them in the different functions of the State: all that

was necessary was to place good men, loyal men, men who had served the

royal family even in exile--men, in short, who could be relied upon,

in the public employments. The church, too--that great instrument

of government, and that great source of comfort and contentment to

men--that guardian of the mind which prevents its emotions from

wandering into the regions of false theories and hopes--had been

treated with contempt and indifference. The church and the throne

were required to aid each other--the Bourbons had to bring them into

harmony. On these conditions, and on these conditions alone--conditions

(so said all whom the Comte d’Artois consulted) so clear, so simple, so

pious, and so just--the safety and prosperity of the monarchy depended.”

The whole mistake consisted in considering the French a people that

they were not, and ignoring what they were, and in fancying that a few

prefects and priests could suddenly convert a whole generation from

one set of ideas to another. But the Comte d’Artois’ doctrines were

pleasing to Louis XVIII., though he did not quite believe in them, and

still more pleasing to all the friends or favourites who enjoyed his

intimacy.

Thus, though they had not the support of his convictions, they

influenced his conduct; which, however, never being altogether what

Monsieur and his party required, was always watched by them with

suspicion, and frequently opposed with obstinacy.

Where, then, could M. de Talleyrand turn for aid to maintain the

government at the head of which he figured? To the King? he had not

his confidence. To his colleagues? they did not confide in each other.

To the Comte d’Artois? he was in opposition to his brother. To the

Royalists? they wanted absolute possession of power. The Imperialists

and Republicans were out of the question. Moreover, he was not a man

who could create, stimulate, command. To understand a situation and to

bring to bear not unwilling assistants on its immediate solution, to

collect the scattered influences about him, and direct them to a point

at which it was their own interest to arrive; this was his peculiar

talent. But to sustain a long and protracted conflict, to overawe and

govern opposing parties; this was beyond the colder temperament of his

faculties.

His only parliamentary effort then was an exposition in the chamber of

peers of the state of the finances, which exposition was as clear and

able as his financial statements always were. For the rest, he trusted

partly to chance, partly to the ordinary and natural workings of a

constitutional system, which was sure in time to produce parties with

opinions, and even ministers, who, in their common defence, would be

obliged to adopt a common policy and line of conduct. Thus, shrugging

up his shoulders at M. de Fontanes’ declaration that he could not feel

free where the press was so, and smiling at Madame de Simiane’s notions

as to a minister, who, according to her and the ladies of the Faubourg

St. Germain, should be a grand seigneur, with perfect manners and a

great name, who had hard-working men with spectacles under them, called

_bouleux_,[68] to do their business--he hastened his preparations

for joining the congress at Vienna, which was to have commenced its

sittings two months after the treaty of Paris, that is, on the 30th of

July, but which had not met in the middle of September.

VIII.

I have said that the congress was to commence on the 30th of July, but

it was not till the 25th of September that the Emperor of Russia, the

King of Prussia, and the other kings and ministers of the different

courts who were expected there, began to assemble. M. de Metternich,

Lord Castlereagh, afterwards succeeded by the Duke of Wellington, the

Prince Hardenberg, the Count Nesselrode, though only as second to

the Emperor Alexander himself, who was his own negotiator, were the

principal persons with whom M. de Talleyrand was associated.

His task was not an easy one. His sovereign owed his crown to those

whose interests had now to be decided; he might himself be considered

under obligations to them. It required a strong sense of a high

position not to sink into a subordinate one. M. de Talleyrand had this,

and sat himself down at Vienna with the air of being the ambassador of

the greatest king in the world.

He was accompanied by persons with names more or less distinguished.

The Duc Dalberg, the Comte Alexis de Noailles, M. de la Bernadière, and

M. de Latour du Pin.

The first, M. de Talleyrand said, would let out secrets which he wished

to be known; the second would report all he saw to the Comte d’Artois,

and thus save that prince the trouble of having any one else to do so.

As to M. de la Bernadière, he would keep the Chancellerie going, and M.

de Latour du Pin would sign the passports.

The ideas he himself took under these circumstances to Vienna were,--to

get France admitted into the congress on the same footing as other

powers; to break up in some way or other the compactness of the

confederation recently formed against her, and to procure friends from

the body which was now a united enemy; to procure the expulsion of

Murat from the throne of Naples, and lastly, to remove the Emperor of

Elba to a more distant location (Bermuda, or the Azores, were spoken

of).

The dissolution of the alliance was the independence of France, however

brought about. As for the expulsion of Murat from Naples, or the

removal of Napoleon from Elba, these, no doubt, were great objects

to the Bourbons in France; but it is possible that there were other

grounds also which induced M. de Talleyrand to pursue them.

If Murat were removed from Naples, and Napoleon were in some place of

security, and the elder branch of the Bourbons compromised itself in

France, two other governments, according to circumstances, were still

on the cards. The regency with Napoleon’s son, or a limited monarchy

with the Duc d’Orléans.

M. de Talleyrand had seen enough before he went to Vienna, and probably

heard enough since he had been there, to make him doubtful of the

success of his first experiment: but his position was such that in any

combination in France that had not the late Emperor Napoleon at its

head, he would still be the person to whom a large party in and out of

his own country would look for the solution of the difficulty which the

downfall of Louis XVIII. would provoke.

The basis of the congress of Vienna was necessarily that furnished by

the engagements which had already taken place between the allies at

Breslau, Töplitz, Chaumont, and Paris; engagements which concerned the

reconstruction of Prussia according to its proportions in 1806, the

dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; the re-establishment of

the House of Brunswick in Hanover; and arrangements, to which I shall

presently allude, concerning the future position of the Grand Duchy of

Warsaw.

As all that was to be distributed was a common spoil in the hands of

the allies, they suggested that a committee of four, representing

England, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, should first agree amongst

themselves as to the partition; and that an understanding having been

established between these--the principal parties--this understanding

should be communicated to the others; to France and Spain in

particular;--whose objections would be heard.

Such an arrangement excluded France from any active part in the first

decisions, which would evidently be sustained when the four allies had

agreed upon them.

The tact and talent of M. de Talleyrand were displayed in getting this

sentence reversed.

Taking advantage of the treaty of peace which France had already

signed, he contended that there were no longer _allies_, but simply

powers who were called upon, after a war which had created a new order

of things in Europe, to consider and decide in what manner this new

order of things could best be established for the common good, and

with the best regard to the old rights existing before 1792, and the

new rights which certain states had legitimately acquired in the long

struggle which, with more or less continuity, had existed since that

epoch.

With some difficulty he at last made these ideas prevail, and the

committee of four was changed into a committee of eight, comprising

all the signatories to the treaty of Paris: Austria, England, Russia,

Prussia, France, Spain, Portugal, and Sweden.

This first point gained, the second,--viz., a division amongst the

allies, was to be brought about. Any precipitate effort to do this

would have prevented its success. M. de Talleyrand waited to work for

it himself until rival interests began to work with him.

Now Austria’s great pre-occupation was to regain her old position

in Italy, without diminishing the importance of that to which she

pretended in Germany.

The views of Russia, or rather of the Emperor Alexander, were more

complicated, and formed with a certain greatness of mind and generosity

of sentiment, though always with that craft which mingled with the

imperial chivalry.

I have just said that I should speak of the arrangements respecting the

Duchy of Warsaw, which were contemplated during the war in the event of

the allies being successful. It had been settled that this duchy--once

delivered from the pretensions of Napoleon--should be divided between

the three military powers, Austria, Prussia, and Russia.

But the Emperor of Russia now took a higher tone. The annihilation of

Poland, he said, had been a disgrace to Europe: he proposed to himself

the task of collecting its scattered members, and reconstituting it

with its own laws, religion, and constitution. It would be a pleasure

to him to add to what he could otherwise re-assemble, the ancient

Polish provinces under his dominion. Poland should live again with the

Czar of Russia for its king. I doubt whether the Emperor Alexander did

not over-rate the gratitude he expected to awaken, and under-rate the

feeling existing among the Poles, not merely as to nationality, but as

to national independence.

But his notion most assuredly was, that he should thus create as

an _avant-garde_ into Europe a powerful kingdom, capable of rapid

improvement, and combining with a complete devotion to his family, all

the enthusiasm of a people who again stood up amidst the nations of the

world.

He argued, moreover, and not without reason, that a kingdom of Poland

thus existing would inevitably ere long draw back to itself all those

portions of alienated territory which were in the hands of the other

co-partitioning powers, and that thus Russia would ere long dominate

the whole of that kingdom which she had at one time condescended to

divide.

This project was of course easily seen through in Prussia as well as in

Austria; but Russia presumed that Austria would be satisfied with her

Italian acquisitions. He saw, however, that Prussia required no common

bribe. The bribe proposed was Saxony, and thus a secret engagement was

entered into between the two northern courts: Russia promising to stand

by Prussia’s claims as to Saxony, and Prussia promising to support

Russia’s plans as to Poland.

With respect to England, she seemed more especially occupied with

the idea of forming a united kingdom of Holland and Belgium, and

beguiled by the delusion that you could unite by treaties populations

which were disunited by sympathies, fancied she could, by the union

proposed, create a barrier against French ambition where England was

most concerned; and thus save us in future from those dangers by which

we were menaced when the Scheldt was in Napoleon’s possession, and the

British coast was menaced by maritime arsenals, which confronted it

from Brest to Antwerp.

The conflict which at once commenced had reference to the ambitious

claims of Prussia and Russia.

The King of Saxony, though an ally of Napoleon, had been faithful to

France, and there was a feeling in the French nation favourable to

him. As to Poland, France, which has always taken a lively interest in

Polish independence as a barrier against Russian aggrandisement, could

not see with satisfaction an arrangement which was to make Poland an

instrument of Russian power.

Our disposition as to Prussia was at first somewhat undecided. We did

not approve of the destruction of Saxony, still we were not unwilling

to see a strong state established in the north of Germany, if it was

an independent state: and would therefore at first have allowed the

addition of Saxony to the Prussian dominions, if Prussia would have

joined with Great Britain and Austria against the Russian projects

in Poland. Austria, on the other hand, was quite as much against the

Prussian project as the Russian one; but Prince Metternich, being

perfectly aware that Prussia would not separate herself from Russia,

affected to fall into Lord Castlereagh’s views, and agreed to sacrifice

Saxony if Prussia would insist with ourselves on Polish independence.

Prussia, as Prince Metternich foresaw, refused this; and indeed took

possession of Saxony, as Russia did of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw,

assuming towards the other powers an attitude of defiance.

In the meantime the question of Saxony became popular with the English

parliament and the English court: with the English parliament, which

is always against the oppressor; and with the English court, which

began to think that, when Prussia had once got Saxony, she might take

a fancy to Hanover. Austria gladly perceived this change, and it was

agreed that England and Austria should oppose themselves conjointly and

distinctly to the intentions haughtily manifested by the two northern

courts.

Thus England, Austria, and France found themselves linked together by

common opinions. Still there were reasons why the first two powers

hesitated as to connecting themselves with the third.

These reasons were--the connection which M. de Talleyrand desired,

would be a rupture of that league by which the peace of Europe had

been obtained; it was uncertain whether France could give Austria and

England any practical aid; and also it was doubtful whether she would

not exact more for such aid, if she did give it, than it was worth,

and aim at renewing all the ambitious designs which the overthrow of

Napoleon and the treaty of Paris had set at rest.

The principal objection wore away as it became more and more evident

that Prussia and Russia had already entered, into separate and

particular engagements, which rendered it not only justifiable but

necessary for England and Austria, if they did not mean to submit

servilely to the results of these engagements, to guard against them by

counter-engagements between themselves.

With respect to the power of France as an auxiliary, M. de Talleyrand,

by an able exposition of the state of affairs at Vienna, induced the

French government to display its military capacity by raising the

French army from 130,000 to 200,000, and creating the facility for

increasing it to a far more formidable amount--a measure which the

extraordinary recovery of French finances under the able administration

of M. Louis rendered easy, and which produced a considerable moral

effect, both in France and out of it. At the same time the ambassador

of France, in his numerous conversations with Lord Castlereagh and M.

de Metternich, held this language:

“A government to last must be faithful to its origin. Bonaparte’s was

founded by conquest: he was forced to continue conquering; that of the

present sovereign of France is based on principle. To this principle it

must adhere; it is the principle of legitimate right, which conquest,

until confirmed by treaty, cannot effect. We support the King of Saxony

on this principle: we do not want then to be paid for doing so. In

supporting his throne, we guarantee our own. Do you doubt my sincerity?

I will sign any paper you wish to tranquillize all suspicion as to our

ambition.”

It was in this manner that he led by degrees to the signing of the

secret treaty of 3rd of January, 1815, a treaty by which Austria,

England, and France bound themselves to furnish each 150,000 men,

to support any one of the three powers which might be attacked by

other powers attempting forcibly to alter the equilibrium of Europe

for their own advantage. The names of the powers suspected were not

mentioned, and the compact entered into was essentially of a defensive

character; but it was in sympathy with French feelings; it broke up

the anti-French alliance, and gave to France the two most important

allies she could hope to gain; for England alone had formed the late

coalition, and without her a coalition could not be again formed.

M. Thiers, who is too prone to consider that all statesmanship consists

in acquiring extensions of territory, objects to everything done by M.

de Talleyrand, and considers that this diplomatist should have waited

quietly, rather favouring Prussia and Russia, and that then these

powers would have offered France Belgium or the frontiers of the Rhine,

in which case Prussia and Russia would, he considers, have been more

advantageous allies to France than England and Austria.

Now, of all ideas the one that seems the most extravagant to me is

that Prussia, or even Russia, would have reseated France on the Rhine,

or brought her back in any way nearer to Germany. I feel certain that

under no circumstances was this likely. But, at all events, Prussia and

Russia would only have made the strange proposal on which M. Thiers

counts, at the last extremity.

They would have previously carried their negotiations with their late

allies to the utmost limit; and as we were prepared to make many

concessions, and did indeed finally give up one-third of Saxony to

Prussia, and as much of Poland as she could well digest to Russia,

there is not the slightest probability that, for the remaining

differences, Prussia and Russia would have purchased the aid of France

by a large increase of frontier and a deadly quarrel with Great Britain

and Austria.

M. de Talleyrand then, in following the policy suggested by M. Thiers,

would, in the first place, have lost the opportunity which he more

wisely seized of separating the great powers; he would also have

ungenerously abandoned Saxony, and at the same time so disgusted

England, that it would afterwards have been impossible to get an

English parliament to vote a sixpence for sustaining the Bourbon cause.

Waterloo would never have been fought; Russia and Prussia could have

done little without English subsidies; and France would have been again

delivered into the hands of Napoleon, whose triumph would have been M.

de Talleyrand’s own ruin; and the ruin of the master he then served.

As it is not my intention to enter into the general subject of the

treaty of Vienna, which I have always considered alike defective in

principle and policy, I shall not follow the negotiations I have been

alluding to further; though it may be as well, since I have spoken

of Naples, to observe that M. de Talleyrand never obtained Prince

Metternich’s attention to the dethronement of Murat until the Prussian

and Russian questions had been settled by suitable arrangements; for

Prince Metternich was too wise to have Germany and Italy on his back

at once; when, however, these arrangements were completed, and the

brother-in-law of Napoleon had compromised himself by intrigues, which

had been watched but allowed to ripen, the Austrian statesman then gave

the French ambassador a private but positive assurance that the Kingdom

of Naples should shortly be restored to its old possessors.

As to the question of a change of residence for Napoleon, that was

decided, just as the congress was closing, by Napoleon himself; who,

not ignorant of the plans that were maturing for his removal from a

position wherein nothing but the most absurd want of consideration

could ever have placed him, engaged in that audacious enterprise, the

most glorious, though the most fatal, in his meteor-like career.

IX.

It was in the midst of the gaieties of a ball on the 5th of March,[69]

and just as the congress was about to separate, that from a small group

of sovereigns collected together and betraying the seriousness of their

conversation by the gloom of their countenances, there came forth as a

sort of general murmur:--

“Bonaparte has escaped from Elba.” Prince Metternich, it is said, was

the only person who at once divined that the ex-Emperor’s intentions

were to march at once on Paris. The success of so bold an adventure

was, of course, doubtful; but in the hope there might still be time to

influence public opinion, a proclamation, proposed (at the instigation

of the Duke of Wellington) by Austria, and signed 13th March by France

and the four great powers, denounced the Emperor of Elba in language

only applicable to a pirate or a freebooter: a language that Louis

XVIII. had used at Paris on the 6th of March, and might use with some

propriety, but which came far less decorously from princes who had not

very long previously treated this pirate and freebooter as “the king

of kings,” and which was unsuitable to the lips of a sovereign who was

speaking of the husband of his favourite daughter.

People, however, often cover a hesitation in their decisions by an

extravagance in their attitude.

The idea of a new war was popular with no one; the different powers,

moreover, represented at Vienna, were no longer on the same cordial

terms of fraternity that had distinguished their relations at Paris;

they felt notwithstanding, that, in the face of a common danger they

must consider as extinguished their several rivalries and animosities,

and show themselves united and determined on the deadly combat, which

alone could, if successful, repair the effects of their imprudence and

save the honour of their arms.

Shortly after this came the news of that glorious and soul-stirring

march through legions who, when commanded to point their bayonets at

the breast of their old commander as a traitor, wept at his knees

as a father; but this great historical romance rather strengthened

than weakened the resolves that had previously been formed; and the

proclamation of the 13th of March was soon succeeded by the treaty of

the 25th.

This treaty, to which the four allied powers were the only principal

parties, was a revival of the treaty of Chaumont and the treaty of

Paris. The position of the Bourbons was not clearly defined; for though

Louis XVIII. was invited to be a party to it, the allies, and England

in particular, expressly declared that they did not attempt to impose

a government on France, nor bind themselves to support the claims of

the fugitive monarch. I say “fugitive monarch” because Louis XVIII.

had by this time tested the value of his adherents, and was settling

down quietly at Ghent; Napoleon being as quietly re-established in the

Tuileries.

The secret of all that had occurred is to be stated in a few words.

Louis XVIII. had not gained the affections of the French nation; his

predecessor had retained the affections of the French army. There was

little mystery in the intrigues of the Bonapartes. The Queen Hortense

(Comtesse de St. Leu) resided at Paris, and the conversation of her

drawing-room was a constant conspiracy, whilst the correspondence she

received was the confidence of half the capital. Barras and Fouché

both informed M. de Blacas of much that was going on, and offered

to give him more detailed information; but that gentleman’s horizon

was limited, and what he did not see he did not believe. Moreover,

the Royalists conceived that the most Christian king had gained the

consciences of the military by naming an _aumonier_, with the rank of

captain, to each regiment, and had the provinces in his hands, because

he had placed them in those of functionaries who professed hatred to

“the usurper.” “What had they to fear?” Thus, the country which had

been fatigued with the soldier and the drum, was teased by the mass and

the _émigré_. And, in the meantime, the veterans of the great army,

who saw themselves replaced by a guard of young gentlemen with good

names and splendid uniforms; and the beauties of the Empire, who found

themselves out of fashion amongst the great ladies of the legitimate

court, were at the two ends of the electric wire, which had only to be

touched by the little man in the grey great-coat, in order to vibrate

through the heart of every soldier who had ever followed the imperial

eagle, and still kept the tricolour cockade in his writing-desk or his

knapsack.

X.

The conduct of M. de Talleyrand at Vienna had been that which he always

followed to any government that employed him--zealous and faithful. He

had, in short, been an active and able agent, carrying out the policy

which Louis XVIII., with whom he kept up a private correspondence,

thought the best for his dynasty and for France; and he had succeeded

in giving both dignity and influence to a government which in reality

wanted both. He had not during his foreign mission meddled with the

internal policy of the court, nor relaxed in his endeavours to serve it

on account of the faults it committed: but to his intimate friends he

had made no secret of his belief that it was taking a road which would

probably lead to ruin. When it had arrived at that goal the case was

different. He did not separate himself from it--but he did not link

himself indissolubly with it. He showed no hesitation, however, as to

declaring against its opponent. Concentrating himself indeed on the one

idea of getting rid of Napoleon, he repeated constantly to those who

expatiated on the deficiency of the Restoration, “I don’t know what

government may be the best for France, but I do know that Napoleon’s is

the worst.”

His old master would willingly have softened this animosity; and

Fouché, who was intriguing with all parties, with the intention of

choosing the most powerful, sent M. de Montrond to Vienna to learn

what he could, as to the real intentions of the alliance, and more

especially as to the intentions of M. de Talleyrand, whose services

M. de Montrond was to endeavour, by any assurances he might judge

necessary, to obtain.

This M. de Montrond was a specialty of his epoch: a type of that

French _roué_ whom Faublas, and more particularly the “_liaisons

dangereuses_,” had produced. He had ruled the world of fashion by his

loves, his duels, and his wit, which was superior to any man’s, for

nearly forty years. He was one of M. de Talleyrand’s pets, as M. de

Talleyrand was one of his admirations. Each spoke ill of the other, for

each said he loved the other for his vices. But no one could speak to

M. de Talleyrand with so much intimacy as M. de Montrond, nor obtain

from him so clear an answer. For they trusted each other, though M. de

Montrond would never have told any one else to trust M. de Talleyrand,

nor M. de Talleyrand told any one else to trust M. de Montrond.

This latter gentleman, the soul of Queen Hortense’s circle, and at

the same time the friend of the Duc d’Orléans, whom he had known in

Sicily, to which island he had exiled himself in one of Napoleon’s fits

of ill-humour--not, as it was thought, without an object--first tried

to see if any consideration could bring the diplomatist, once known

as Prince de Benevent, to his old allegiance: and, on finding this

impossible, sounded him, it is said, as to his feelings towards the son

of that prince, with whose celebrated society in the Palais Royal his

early remembrances must have been familiar. The answer he obtained was

“that the door was not then open, but, should it ever be open, there

was no necessity for shutting it with vehemence.”

This lukewarm fidelity was not precisely of the temperature that suited

the loyalty of Ghent, where some people thought that it would not have

been difficult to have induced the allies to have been more positive

and explicit in favour of the legitimate monarch, if his representative

had been more zealous as to his rights and less sensible as to his

errors. The party of the Comte d’Artois, also, instead of repenting of

the excess to which it had carried its principles, and recognizing that

this excess had been the cause of its overthrow--thought, or at least

_said_, as is usual in such cases, that its failure was caused, not

by the policy it had pursued, but by the checks which that policy had

encountered.

XI.

M. de Talleyrand, then, was more or less in disgrace with the

politicians, who were already disputing about the redistribution of the

places that their mistakes had just lost; and, bearing this disgrace

with his usual supercilious negligence, declared that his health

required the waters of Carlsbad, observing that a diplomatist’s first

duty after a congress was to take care of his liver.

In the meantime the hundred days which concentrated so much of the

past, present, and future, were rushing rapidly on. I know no example

that teaches us more clearly that our intellect is governed by our

character, than that which is to be found in the conduct of Napoleon

during these hundred days. None saw more clearly than himself that

prudence and policy advised that he should either appear before the

French as the great captain who came to free them from a yoke imposed

by the foreigner; and refuse any other title than that of their general

until a peace was established or a victory gained: or that he should

seize the full powers of dictator, and sustain them by his prestige

over the military and the masses, arming and revolutionizing France,

and being himself the representative of that armed revolution. But he

loved the title and decorations of sovereignty, and could not induce

himself to descend from the emperor to the soldier. Neither could he

persuade himself to call to life those elements of force in which he

saw the elements of disorder, nor condescend to be the chief of the

mob even with the title of majesty. He temporised, therefore, for the

moment with those with whom he had the least sympathy, and from whom

he could get the least assistance; I mean the Constitutionalists,

who, representing the middle order and the thinking portion of the

French people, formed a party, that with a regular government, and

at an ordinary time, and under a sovereign they could have trusted,

might have possessed considerable influence, but such a party, with a

government created by the sword, at the moment of a crisis, under a

ruler of whom they were suspicious, could only embarrass Napoleon’s

action, and could not add to his authority.

The conditions, then, under which this marvellous being fought for the

last time for empire were impossible. He had not in his character the

elements of a revolutionary leader; and he was not allowed to use the

qualities, with which nature had endowed him, of a great captain and

despotic chief.

His cool head, his incomparable energy, gave something like character

and system to his own military proceedings, but all beyond them was

confusion. A great battle was to be safety or ruin. He fought it, and

was vanquished; but he had fought it with skill and courage against

foreign invaders; and I confess that my heart, though an English one,

beats in sympathy for him, as he quitted the field where he left so

many of his devoted followers, and, prescient of the fate which awaited

him, sought a city which never tolerates the unfortunate. Would for

England’s honour that his destiny had closed on that memorable field,

and that we had not to inscribe on the same page of our history the

captivity of St. Helena and the victory of Waterloo!

XII.

To return to Ghent; the ex-King, irritated and perplexed by the

prolonged absence of his minister, not satisfied with that of the Duc

d’Orléans, who had retired to England, and harassed by the zeal of

Monsieur, had conducted himself, notwithstanding, with dignity and

ability; and, by a sort of representation about his person, a continued

correspondence with France, and a confident attachment on the part of

his adherents, kept up a certain prestige in his favour.

Nothing, however, had at first been positively decided concerning him,

for M. de Metternich carried on, for a time, a secret negotiation with

Fouché, in which he offered--if that false and wily man could procure

Napoleon’s abdication or deposition--to support the claims of either

the Duc d’Orléans or Marie-Louise: a proposition which, as long as its

success was uncertain, could not but affect considerably the state of

M. de Talleyrand’s liver.

This negotiation once broken off, Louis’ claims made a great advance,

since the allied sovereigns were strongly persuaded that on entering

France they must have some national party in their favour.

There were certain indications likewise in France itself, serving to

show men who watched the inclination of the many straws that were then

in the air, that these were being blown back towards the old monarchy;

and when Louis XVIII. saw that the list of Bonaparte’s senators did not

contain the name of M. de Semonville, he considered his return pretty

secure.

The same conviction arrived about the same time at Carlsbad, where the

distinguished invalid began to think that he ought no longer to delay a

personal account of the services he had rendered at Vienna.

His arrival at Ghent was not, however, particularly agreeable there,

since he came as the decided enemy of the now celebrated M. de Blacas,

to whom he was determined to attribute nearly all the errors which the

King had committed.

In fact, M. de Talleyrand’s disgrace was resolved upon; and, as he

was rarely the last to know what concerned himself, when he waited on

Louis XVIII. the day after the battle of Waterloo, it was to request

his gracious permission to continue his cure at Carlsbad; nor was

his Majesty so ill-natured as to reply otherwise than by saying:

“Certainly, M. de Talleyrand; I hear those waters are excellent.”

Nothing could equal the amiable and contented mien with which M. de

Talleyrand limped from his most Christian Majesty’s presence after

this considerate reply; and, eating an excellent dinner that evening

with the mayor of Mons, he was never known, says one of the guests,

to be more gay, witty, or agreeable;--dilating to one or two of his

intimate friends on the immense pleasure it was to find that he had no

longer to disturb himself about the affairs of a clique which it was

impossible to serve and to please.

But, as it happened, the Comte d’Artois, who hated M. de Talleyrand

as a liberal, hated M. de Blacas still more as a favourite; and Louis

XVIII. finding that, whatever happened to M. de Talleyrand, M. de

Blacas could not be kept, and that he (the king) must either be the

tool of his brother, or obtain a protector in his minister, preferred,

on the whole, the latter situation.

The Duke of Wellington, moreover, who, since the secret treaty at

Vienna, considered the French negotiator there as linked with the

policy of England, told Louis that if he wished for the influence of

our government, he must have a man at the head of his own in whom he

could confide.

M. Guizot, likewise, who, though young in affairs had acquired, even

thus early, much consideration, and who spoke in the name of the

constitutional Legitimists, had already said that, to have the support

of this small but respectable party, a cabinet must be formed with M.

de Talleyrand at its head; and thus, on those second thoughts which

come to us often when we have been a little too hasty and bold in

listening to our first, M. de Talleyrand received the order to join

the King at Cambrai the day after he had been allowed to proceed to

Carlsbad.

M. de Talleyrand was, however, not only mortified by the treatment he

had received, but foresaw that he had only such treatment eventually to

expect, and was determined to prefer the first recommendation to the

subsequent command.

There are many, however, anxious that a statesman from whom they expect

favours should not abjure office; and, finally, the man of the first

Restoration, his pride being satisfied by a general appeal to his

patriotism, agreed to appear again as the minister of a second.

Still, in coming to this determination, M. de Talleyrand adopted

another. He had frequently, it is said, blamed himself for having in

1814 allowed the sovereign, who could not have done without him, to

assume too absolute an authority over him. He did not now expect to be

at the head of the French Government long, but he deemed that his only

chance of remaining there, or of doing any good whilst he was there,

was to show an indifference to office, and a consciousness of power.

He appeared, then, when summoned to his Majesty’s council, with a

sketch of a proclamation which he called upon the King to sign, and

which was, in fact, a recognition of the errors of his Majesty’s late

reign.

As the conversation that took place on the reading of this proclamation

is related by a witness, I give it as narrated, the more especially

as it shows the position which M. de Talleyrand assumed, and the cool

self-confidence with which he confronted the indignation of the whole

Bourbon family.[70]

“The Council assembles: it was composed of MM. de Talleyrand, Dambray,

de Feltre, de Fancourt, Beurnonville, and myself” (M. de Beugnot is

speaking).

“After a few words from M. de Talleyrand, explanatory of the subject

which was to be brought before the Council, I commenced reading the

proclamation, such as it remained after the corrections made in it; the

King permitted me to read it to the end, and then, though not without

some emotion that his face betrayed, told me to read it once more.

“Monsieur then spoke, and complained bitterly of the terms in which

the proclamation was drawn up. ‘The King,’ he said, ‘is made to ask

pardon for the faults he committed. He is made to say that he allowed

himself to be carried away by his affections, and that for the future

he will conduct himself differently. Such expressions can only do this

mischief--lower royalty; for in all other respects they say too much or

too little.’

“M. de Talleyrand replied: ‘Monsieur will pardon me if I differ from

him; I find these expressions necessary, and appropriately placed. The

King has had faults, his affections have misled him. There is nothing

too much in this paper.’ ‘Is it I?’ said Monsieur, ‘whom it is intended

indirectly to point out?’ ‘Why, yes, since Monsieur has placed the

discussion on that ground, Monsieur has done a great deal of harm.’

‘The Prince de Talleyrand forgets himself.’ ‘I fear so, but truth

carries me away.’ The Duc de Berry, with the accent of anger painfully

restrained: ‘Nothing but the presence of the King would permit me to

tolerate this treatment of my father before me, and I would like to

know----’ At these words, pronounced in a higher tone than the rest,

the King made a sign to the Duc de Berry, and said, ‘Enough, my nephew;

I am the only person to judge of the propriety of what is said in my

presence, and in my Council. Gentlemen, I neither approve of the terms

of this proclamation, nor of the conversation to which it has given

rise. The framer must retouch his work, not forgetting that when I

speak, it must be with a due sense of my dignity and high position.’

The Duc de Berry, pointing at me: ‘But it is not he who has strung

all this nonsense together.’ The King: ‘Forbear interrupting, nephew,

if you please. I repeat, gentlemen, that I have listened to this

discussion with much regret. Let us turn to another subject.’”

XIII.

The proclamation with some slight alterations was published, and M.

de Talleyrand finally carried his point, and formed his ministry. It

is difficult to place oneself so completely in the troubled scene of

Paris at this time, amidst the confused society composed of a defeated

army, disappointed Republicans, triumphant Royalists, all uneasy and

agitated in their actual position, and without the possibility of a

common attachment to what was to be their government--it is difficult,

I say, to take into a comprehensive glance the confused and troubled

state of the French capital, disturbed by a thousand plots which might

at any moment concentrate into one--and, therefore, it is difficult to

appreciate the possible necessity of employing an able and dexterous

adventurer, who had pulled many of the cords of the machine which had

now to be brought into harmonious working. Still, I venture to consider

that the Duke of Wellington committed an error in recommending, and

M. de Talleyrand an error in accepting, M. Fouché as a member of the

cabinet about to be formed.

The late minister of police was, in fact, at this time, an acknowledged

scoundrel; he had gained our favour by betraying his master’s secrets

to our general; he had gained the favour of the extreme Royalists by

concealing their plots, and keeping safe their persons when he was

serving the government they were attempting to overthrow. He had

betrayed the Republicans of France to the Emperor of France, and he had

subsequently betrayed the Emperor of France to the foreigner; and he

had voted for the death of the brother of the monarch who was now to

sit upon the throne. It was impossible for a man of this sort, whatever

his abilities, not to bring ultimate disgrace on the government that

enrolled him in its ranks; and, in fact, by his successive efforts,

first to gain one party, and then to gain the other, by his personal

ambition, by his constant intrigues, and by the general distrust he

inspired, he deprived his colleagues of the consideration of all honest

men, and exposed them consequently to the attacks of all violent

factions.

But if England committed a fault in approving of the appointment of the

Duc d’Otrante, she committed another fault still more important.

In designating M. de Talleyrand as the man best calculated to establish

a government in France, and to consolidate an alliance between France

and England, we ought to have been prepared to render the position of

that minister tenable and honourable. Whether rightly or wrongly, we,

in common with the other four powers, had made war, for a second time,

on precisely the same principles on which we had made it for the first;

since we had made it with the same declaration, that our conflict was

with a man, and not with a nation. Our second peace, therefore, ought

to have been in strict conformity with our first, or, rather, our first

treaty of peace should have been maintained. We were dealing with the

same monarch under the same circumstances, and we ought to have done

so, preserving the same conditions.

If new circumstances of importance,--circumstances we had not

foreseen,--rendered a change of policy necessary, that change should

have been a large one, based on large considerations, and its necessity

should have been clearly explained.

To take a few strips of territory, and a few pictures and statues, was

the spite of the pigmy, not the anger of the giant.

Unfortunately, the power which rendered itself conspicuous for its

animosity, was one which had been conspicuous for its valour. The

descendant of all the Capets was insulted by the dirty linen of the

Prussian soldier hung up to dry on the railing of his palace; and the

intention of the Prussian army to blow up the bridge of Jena was only

averted by M. de Talleyrand’s timely precautions.

The story is recounted in rather an amusing manner by a gentleman I

have frequently cited, and is characteristic of the subject of this

memoir.

M. de Talleyrand, on hearing what the Prussians were about to do,

and knowing in these occasions no time was to be lost, ordered M. de

Beugnot to find Marshal Blücher wherever he might be, and to use the

strongest language in his vocabulary on the part of the King and his

government in order to induce the marshal to give such peremptory

orders as would prevent the threatened outrage. “Shall I say,” said M.

de Beugnot, “that the King will have himself carried to the bridge, and

be blown up with it?” “Not precisely; people will not believe us quite

so heroic, but say something strong, very strong.”

Off went M. de Beugnot to discover the marshal, who was easily to be

found in a certain gambling house in the Palais Royal. Though by no

means delighted at being disturbed in his only amusement, the marshal,

on being assured that the name of the bridge was to be altered, gave

the orders for stopping its destruction.

When M. de Beugnot returned, and gave an account of his mission, M. de

Talleyrand said, good-humouredly, “Well, now I think that we may profit

by your idea of this morning. You remember the King threatened to be

carried to the bridge, and was prepared to be blown up with it. It will

make a good newspaper article.” “I profited,” says Beugnot, “by the

hint.” The anecdote appeared in all the papers, and the King received

the compliments made to him upon it with his accustomed affability and

assurance.[71]

But this was not all. The violent seizure of the works of art which

France had till then retained, and which might justifiably have been

taken away at the first capture of Paris, was this time an unwarranted

robbery, against which the King and his ministers could only protest

in a manner which seemed offensive to the conquerors and feeble to the

French people.

The payment of a large indemnity, the maintenance of a large foreign

army, to be supported by France for seven years for the suppression

of its own action and independence, were conditions that no French

minister could sign with dignity, and least of all the minister who had

taken so active a part with the coalition.

Having assisted at the appointment of a French government which was

friendly to good relations with England, and it being our predominant

interest to be on good terms with the French nation, we should have

firmly resisted the imposition of such disgraceful conditions.

The natural consequence of our not doing so was that the Emperor

Alexander, who had never forgiven M. de Talleyrand for his conduct

at the recent congress, did not now disguise his personal antipathy

to him, and told Louis XVIII. that he had nothing to expect from the

cabinet of St. Petersburg as long as M. de Talleyrand was at the

head of that of the Tuileries; but that, if his Majesty gave M. de

Talleyrand’s place to M. de Richelieu, he (the Emperor) would then do

what he could to mitigate the severity of the conditions that all the

allies now peremptorily demanded.

XIV.

The Duc de Richelieu, illustrious by his name, and with a character

which did honour to that name, was one of those nobles who, when the

state of France rendered it impossible as they thought to take an

active part in their own country, could not, nevertheless, submit

themselves to the useless inactivity of an _émigré’s_ life in the

suburbs of London. He sought his fortune then in Russia, and found it

in the Emperor Alexander’s favour, at whose desire he undertook the

government of the Crimea, and marked his administration by an immense

progress in the condition of that country.

The new order of things made him again a Frenchman; but, diffident of

his own powers, he was far from being ambitious of office, and even

declined it at the first Restoration. But the public has frequently a

tendency to give people what it is thought they don’t want, and there

was a pretty general feeling that M. de Richelieu was a man destined to

figure politically in his native land. His air was noble, his manners

were polished and courteous, his honesty and straightforwardness

proverbial, his habits of business regular, his abilities moderate; but

there was that about him which is felt and cannot be defined, and which

points out persons for the first places, if they are to have any places

at all. Every one acknowledged then that if the Duc de Richelieu was to

be a minister, he should be the first minister.

The King was delighted to get rid of M. de Talleyrand, whose presence

reminded him of an obligation, and whose easy air of superiority was

disagreeable to his pride. But it was deemed prudent to wait the result

of the elections that were then pending.

They were decidedly unfavourable to the existing administration. A

government, in fact, can only be moderate when it is strong, and the

government of M. de Talleyrand was weak, for the only efficient support

it could have had against the court party, was that of the King’s

favour, and this support it had not got.

Thus, the Royalists, emboldened by the foreign armies which were, so to

speak, holding a rod over their opponents, acted with the force of a

party which considered it must be victorious,--and carried all before

it.

For a moment, M. de Talleyrand seemed disposed to resist the coming

reaction, and even obtained the creation of some peers, whom the

King unwillingly consented to name for that purpose. But, exposed to

the violent hostility of the Emperor of Russia, and not having the

active friendship of Great Britain, he saw that the struggle could not

succeed; and, whilst foreseeing and foretelling that his retirement

would be the commencement of a policy that would eventually link France

with the despotic governments of the continent in a war against liberal

opinions, he resigned on the national ground that he could not sign

such a treaty as the allies now proposed; and on the 24th of September

ceased to be prime minister of France.

Louis XVIII. rewarded his retirement with an annual pension of

one hundred thousand francs, and the high court charge of great

chamberlain, the functions of which, by the way, the ex-minister, who

might be seen coolly and impassively standing behind the King’s chair

on all state occasions, notwithstanding the cold looks of the sovereign

and the sagacious sneers of his courtiers, always scrupulously

fulfilled.

In their last official interview, his Majesty observed:

“You see to what circumstances oblige me: I have to thank you for your

zeal, you are without reproach, and may remain unmolested at Paris.”[72]

This phrase pierced through the usual coolness of the person it was

addressed to. He replied with some vehemence:

“I have had the happiness of rendering sufficiently important services

to the King, to believe that they are not forgotten. I cannot

understand then what could oblige me to quit Paris. I shall remain

there, and shall be too happy to find that the counsels which the King

receives will not be such as to compromise his dynasty and France.”[73]

As these remarks were made on either side before the cabinet, and

subsequently repeated, they may be considered authentic.