Reminiscences of Prince Talleyrand, Volume 2 (of 2)

“It would be difficult,” replied C., “to destroy prejudices which have taken root. Mankind in general cling to them with tenacity, and adopt ready-formed opinions with the greatest facility in proportion as they are improbable and absurd. The Prince de Talleyrand has been the victim of many such errors. From the great reserve, partly natural to his character, and no doubt strengthened by his clerical education, the motives by which he was guided, unexplained by himself, have been left to the interpretation of the mass; and the mass will ever be loth to yield conviction save to the evidence of facts alone. One of the most extraordinary delusions which exist in the public mind with regard to the prince, founded I should think upon no better authority than a brutal attempt at wit made by Napoleon, has been often adopted as a basis for the judgment of his character. ‘Kick Talleyrand behind,’ said the coarse-minded sabreur, ‘and look in his face, you will perceive no indication of any sense of the insult.’ The dictum, which was first uttered by the chattering buffoon of a Parisian salon, has been gravely quoted by more than one historian, and has in many cases gone forth as the standard whereby to judge one of the proudest characters that the Almighty ever sent among mankind!

“Again—how often has he been accused of participating in the murder of the Duc d’Enghien: though his whole life disproves the accusation. What single action of his long career can justify this supposition? His aversion to bloodshed—his avoidance of all violent measures—his forgiving temper, which was constitutional—all tend to combat the suspicion; and yet it has been greedily received, not only by his enemies, but even by the writers least interested in the affair—those of foreign nations, strangers to party-spirit in French politics, and who may be supposed to be mere spectators of the struggle. I think M. de Talleyrand owes this unjust and offensive accusation entirely to the reserve he has always maintained with regard to this event. Had he been more explicit, had he ‘_spoken out_,’ in short, upon the subject, his vilest detractors would not have dared to affix this stain upon his name, while the panegyrists of his great contemporary would have hesitated before the proofs which M. de Talleyrand can still produce. Although he even yet mentions with caution all the circumstances connected with this affair, which he himself calls ‘_déplorable_,’ yet I have gathered enough to make the recital interesting to you, and in tems et lieu I will put you in possession of the facts; but as you wish me to proceed par ordre de date, they will find no place here. Accusation and defiance are contrary to the whole system of conduct of the prince. His forbearance towards his enemies would sometimes excite the indignation of Mirabeau, whose fiery soul gloried in attack, and scorned defeat, from which he rose with fresh venom and fresh vigour.

“‘One thing is needed to complete the character of Talleyrand,’ said the giant, in despair at the mildness of the prince, ‘he needs unjust imprisonment!’ The secret of the whole existence of Mirabeau—of his success—his energy and defiance, may perhaps be found in this simple exclamation. Mirabeau might accuse Talleyrand of coldness and over caution; but it was left for the coarse mind of Napoleon to tax him with baseness and want of self-respect. Now I, who have lived in the intimacy of the prince for many years, and have been in the habit of observing the impression produced upon his temper by outward events, have arrived at the conviction, that it is the very excess of pride, of which Napoleon denied him the slightest portion, that destroys the otherwise perfect equilibrium of his character. I am a believer in the influence of race, and can respect the philosophy which tells us that the qualities of the soul are handed down through long generations as well as the features of the body. The proud motto of the sovereign counts of Perigord, adopted in the sixth century, was borne with justice by Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, their descendant: Ré que Diou! In the old Perigord language, ‘NO KING BUT GOD!’

“Would not the simple utterance of this haughty device form an argument against the accusation of ‘versatility of opinion,’ of ‘change of masters’? The parallel might be carried further still, down to the famous Cardinal de Perigord, friend and confidant of Petrarch, he who is called in Italian history the pope-maker, who in the twelfth century was the nominator of four different pontiffs, and then dethroned the Emperor Louis V. to crown in his stead Charles IV. He, too, was the most able diplomatist of his time, and was deputed to London to negotiate the ransom of the French King John. He succeeded in reducing the ransom, and in obtaining a truce, by the influence of his ‘_langue mielleuse et dorée_,’ as says the quaint old chronicler of the time.

“Henri de Chalais might have saved his life had he but spoken the one word of supplication to his master. ‘The king has said that he will pardon you if you will but sue,’ said his good old confessor the night before his execution. ‘What prevents you, then, Monseigneur, from asking?’

“‘The blood of the Talleyrands!’ said the prince, and, turning to the wall, spoke no more that night.

“You see they have ever been a taciturn and haughty race, faithful to the battle-cry of their fierce forefathers. ‘_Ré que Diou_’ must have been graven on their hearts, as well as painted on their banner. Did it never occur to the hard mind of the emperor, that Talleyrand might be insensible to insult from contempt of the aggressor? But come, I am wasting time in theory, and you, I am well aware, prefer facts and example.

“The political career of Prince Talleyrand may be said to have begun at his very entrance into life. I have given you a sketch of his childhood—to detail the events of his youth would be to give the history of the close of the eighteenth century. I have heard him say often that few men could boast of having passed through life as he had done—always in a crowd, having to elbow his way through the thickest ranks. During those early years he cannot remember to have enjoyed or experienced a single week’s solitude. Always in a crowd, and that crowd composed of all that was celebrated at the time, for wit, fashion, and beauty, by his own merit he was continually in advance, and, long before the age when other men enter the lists, he had already travelled far on the road to fame and fortune. It is this circumstance which makes his age for ever a subject of dispute. His name has been so long before the public eye, in connexion with those of individuals who had begun their career so many years before him, that it seems as if he himself belonged to another epoch than our own. At the age of twenty-six, when he was named agent-général of the clergy, he had already acquired the conviction that the society amid which he was born was tottering to its basis, and, moreover, that it was unworthy of an effort to save it from destruction. I remember being much amused by his description of the very first visit he paid after being invested by his uncle with the title and power of his new office, which, at the time, was one of great trust and influence, and one which demanded great industry and talent.

“He was one day en confidence with me, and mentioning several events of the last century. ‘How has that poor siècle been calumniated,’ said he, gaily, ‘and yet, after all, I do not see that the productive power of your system equals that of the one you so much condemn. Where is the wit of your salons, the independence of your writers, the charm and influence of your women? What have you received in exchange for all these, which have fled for ever? Were I young, I should regret, and wish that I were old, to enjoy, at least in memory, the delicious existence morale of my time. I would not give the remembrance of those times for all the novelty and what you call improvements of the social system of to-day, even with the youth and spirit necessary to enjoyment. ’Tis true there were abuse and exaggeration in many of our institutions, but where is the system in which these do not exist? If our people was devoured with misery and taxes, yours is wasting to the core with envy and with discontent. Our noblesse was corrupt and prodigal, yours is bourgeoise and miserly—greater evils still for the prosperity of the nation. If our king had many mistresses, yours has many masters. Has he gained by the exchange? Thus you see it clearly demonstrated that not one of the three orders has advanced in happiness by these wonderful improvements which you so much admire.’

“He joined good-naturedly in the laugh which I could not repress at his last regret, and I asked him if he had ever seen the dernière maîtresse en titre du Roi de France, Madame Dubarri.

“‘Frequently,’ replied he, ‘both before and after her disgrace, and, moreover, the last visit I ever paid her has been impressed upon my memory, by the circumstance of its being the first I made after having obtained the dignity of agent-général du clergé, which my mother had been soliciting for me so long. I had been the whole morning closeted with my uncle, listening to his various instructions and counsels relative to my new duties. So anxious was the dear good man to make me perfectly aware of the new dignity with which I had just been invested, that he had kept me for more than two hours standing before him. So strict was the clerical etiquette of the time, that he dared not request me to be seated in the presence of the two acolytes, who, by the law of that same etiquette, never left him, night or day, save when he himself was admitted into the presence of a superior.

“‘As you may imagine, both my strength and patience were exhausted before my dear uncle’s allocution was over, and most heartily did I rejoice when he stretched forth his hand for me to kiss, in token of dismissal. He told me that he had much more to say (I shivered), but that he was anxious I should pay my respects to the minister that very day, as the neglect of such attention might bring disgrace and défaveur at the very outset of my career. I had just time sufficient to gain the minister’s hôtel before the closing of his cabinet, so made all speed to quit my uncle’s presence, glad to escape even with the prospect of another lecture.

“‘I was just descending the steps of the hôtel, when I met the young Duc d’Aiguillon, all excited and ébouriffé as usual, with his vest wide open, and his garments in disorder.

“‘Where are you going so fast?’ exclaimed he, seizing my arm.

“‘To call upon the minister, mon ministre,’ said I, laughing at the look of surprise with which he eyed me, and which betrayed plainly the troubled state of his intellect.

“‘_Parbleu!_’ exclaimed he, with the twinkling of the eye peculiar to persons in the same state of blessedness in which he then was, ‘and so am I going to call upon the minister. My coach is waiting at the corner, let us go together.’