Kitabı oku: «Historical Characters», sayfa 14

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.

Part VI
FROM THE RETIREMENT OF M. DE TALLEYRAND TO THE REVOLUTION OF 1830

M. de Talleyrand’s retirement from public affairs during the period which closed with the dethronement of Charles X. – Appearance in the House of Peers on two occasions, to protest against the Spanish war and to defend the liberty of the press. – Reasons for the course he pursued. – Share in the advent of Louis Philippe. – Accepts the embassy to London. – Conduct and policy when there. – Retires after the Quadruple Alliance. – Discourse in the Institute on M. Reinhard. – Death. – Summary of character.

I

M. de Talleyrand gave a proof of his sagacity when he foresaw that, with the violent Royalists entering into power under a minister named by the Autocrat of the North, a state of things was preparing that would lead to a war of opinion throughout Europe, and unite the governments that could not support liberal institutions with that party in the French nation which repudiated them. He was equally sagacious in retiring voluntarily from affairs, and doing so on national and not on party grounds. But at the same time he could not long have remained at the head of a parliamentary government, even had he been free from the peculiar difficulty which then surrounded him. To direct affairs with such a government, in critical times, one must have some of the passions of those times. M. de Talleyrand, as I have said at the beginning of this sketch, had no passions.

He represented the power of reason; but that power, which predominates at the end of every crisis, has its voice drowned at the commencement. His administration then was necessarily doomed: but he had at least the credit of having endeavoured, first to prevent and then to moderate those acts of vengeance which a minority that obtains the supremacy always wishes to inflict on an adverse majority: for he furnished passports and even money (the budget of foreign affairs was charged with four hundred and fifty-nine thousand francs for this purpose) to all who felt desirous to quit France – Ney, though he did not profit by the indulgence, might have done so. The list of proscriptions at first contained one hundred persons, M. de Talleyrand reduced that number to fifty-seven.⁷⁴ Labédoyère – and this owing entirely to his own imprudence, in obliging the government either to release him publicly or to bring him to trial – was the only victim of an administration which wished to be moderate when every one was violent.

A most memorable epoch in French history now commenced – the constitutional education of the French nation. It went through a variety of vicissitudes. For a time the Royalist reaction, headed by the Comte d’Artois, prevailed. It was then for a moment stopped by the jealousy of Louis XVIII., who felt that France was in reality being governed by his brother, who could ride on horseback. After a short struggle the conflict between the two princes ceased, and M. de Villelle with more or less adroitness governed them both. The elder at last was deprived by death of the sceptre he had ceased to wield independently, and with the ardent desire he had ever felt to be loved by his countrymen, Charles X. legitimately commenced his right of ruling them. But a hesitating policy of conciliation producing after a short effort but a doubtful result, another policy was resolved upon. The King would show that he was king, and he selected a ministry ready to be his soldiers in a battle against popular ideas. The battle was fought: the King was vanquished. So passed the time from 1815 to 1830.

Within this epoch of fifteen years, during which it must be said that France, however agitated and divided, made an immense progress under the institutions that she owed in no small degree to M. de Talleyrand, that statesman was little more than a spectator of passing events. The new patriots, orators, journalists, generals of the day, occupied public attention, and he ceased to be considered except as one of those characters of history that have been too interesting in their day to be consigned quietly to posterity. Moreover, the judgment passed on him from time to time by contemporaneous writers was usually superficial and sometimes supercilious.

As to the deputies whom local influence and the zeal of parties returned to the lower chamber, they were for the most part unknown to him by their antecedents, and not worth knowing for their merits.

In the upper chamber, where men of high rank and intellectual eminence were certainly to be found, his personal influence was not great; the sympathies and recollections of that chamber, whether amongst the old Royalists or most distinguished Bonapartists, were against him. There was no one consequently to press him to take part in its debates, nor were there many subjects of discussion sufficiently important to arouse his indolence, and call forth with dignity the exertions of a statesman who had played so great a part amidst the great events of that marvellous period through which his career had run.

On one memorable occasion, however, he stepped boldly forward to claim – if affairs took the course which many thought most probable – the first place in a new system: this was when war, in 1823, was declared against Spain.

II

That war was commenced by M. de Châteaubriand, who had always been M. de Talleyrand’s antipathy, not merely as a war against the Spanish people, or in support of the Spanish monarch, but as a war which was to be considered an armed declaration in favour of ultra-monarchical principles, thus justifying all the previsions with which M. de Talleyrand had quitted office. A victory was certain to deliver France into the hands of the ultra-Royalist party; defeat or difficulty was as certain to give power to more moderate men and more moderate opinions. In the one case, M. de Talleyrand had nothing to hope; in the other, it was necessary to fix attention on the fact that he had predicated misfortune. The struggle in Spain, moreover, depended greatly on the state of public opinion; and this alone made it advisable to endeavour to create as strong a belief as possible that men of weight and consideration looked upon it with apprehension and disfavour. It was under these circumstances that M. de Talleyrand expressed the following opinion:⁷⁵

“Messieurs,” this impressive discourse commences, “il y a aujourd’hui seize ans qu’appellé par celui qui gouvernait alors le monde à lui dire mon avis sur une lutte à engager avec le peuple espagnol, j’eus le malheur de lui déplaire, en lui dévoilant l’avenir, en révélant tous les dangers qui allaient naître en foule d’une aggression non moins injuste que téméraire. La disgrâce fut le prix de ma sincérité. Etrange destinée, que celle qui me ramène après ce long espace de temps à renouveler auprès du souverain légitime les mêmes efforts, les mêmes conseils. Le discours de la couronne a fait disparaître les dernières espérances de amis de la paix, et, menaçant pour l’Espagne, il est, je dois le dire, alarmant pour la France… Oui, j’aurai le courage de dire toute la vérité. Ces mêmes sentiments chevaleresques qui, en 1789, entraînaient les cœurs généreux, n’ont pu sauver la monarchie légitime, ils peuvent encore la perdre en 1823.”

The Spanish war, in spite of these alarming prognostications, was successful; and courtiers sneered not unnaturally at the statesman who had denounced it. But if M. de Talleyrand had not shown his usual foresight, he had not acted contrary to his usual prudence. People, in deciding on the conduct they should adopt, can only calculate upon probabilities, and must, after all, as Machiavelli with his worldly experience observes, “leave much to chance.” This sort of prophecy, contained in the speech I have just quoted from, had a good deal in its favour; M. de Châteaubriand himself had, as I once heard from the lips of a person to whom he spoke confidentially, the most serious doubts as to the issue of the approaching campaign; though he considered that its happy termination would firmly establish the Bourbons as sovereigns in France, and himself as their prime minister: in both of which conclusions he was wrong, though it seemed likely he would be right. The contemplated enterprise was, in fact, unpopular; the prince at its head was without capacity, the generals around him were on ill terms with each other, the soldiers themselves of doubtful allegiance. A considerable body of Frenchmen and some French soldiers were in the enemies’ ranks, and were about, in the name of liberty and Napoleon II., to make an appeal, from the opposite shore of the Bidassoa, to their advancing comrades.

The courage of the nation now attacked had on many occasions been remarkable; the discipline of its armies had been lately improved; the policy of England was uncertain; the credit of France was far from good. These were all fair elements out of which it was by no means unreasonable to concoct a disastrous presage, which, like many presages, had a tendency to realise itself. But more especially it should be observed that the predictions of M. de Talleyrand, if unfortunate, would do him no harm, and if fortunate, would replace him on the pinnacle of power.

III

The ex-minister of Louis XVIII. thus revived the recollections of the ex-minister of Napoleon le Grand; as already the member of the Chamber of Peers had vindicated the principles of the veteran of the National Assembly; for on the 24th of July, 1821, we find him expressing the same sentiments in favour of the liberty of the press after practical experience, which at the commencement of his career he had proclaimed with theoretical anticipations.

As the question at issue is not yet solved in the country he was addressing, it may not be without interest to hear what he says:⁷⁶

“Without the liberty of the press there can be no representative government; it is one of its essential instruments – its chief instrument, in fact: every government has its principles, and we cannot remember too often that frequently those principles which are excellent for one government are detestable for another. It has been abundantly demonstrated by several members of this House, both in this and the preceding session, that without the liberty of the press representative government does not exist. I will not, then, repeat what you have already heard or read, and which is no doubt the frequent subject of your reflections.

“But there are two points of view in which it appears to me the question has not been sufficiently treated, and which I resolve into two propositions:

“1st. The liberty of the press is a necessity of the time.

“2nd. A government exposes itself when it obstinately refuses, and that for a lengthened period, what the time proclaims as necessary.

“The mind is never completely stationary. The discovery of yesterday is only a means to arrive at a fresh discovery to-morrow. One is nevertheless justified in affirming that it appears to act by impulses, because there are moments when it appears particularly desirous of bringing forth – of producing; at others, on the contrary, when, satisfied by its conquests, it appears to rest itself, and is occupied in putting the treasures it has acquired in order, rather than in seeking after new ones. The seventeenth century was one of these fortunate epochs. The human intellect, dazzled by the immense riches which the art of printing had put at its disposal, paused to gaze in admiration on the wondrous sight. Giving itself up entirely to the enjoyment of letters, science, and art, its glory and happiness became concentrated in the production of masterpieces. All the great men of the time of Louis XIV. vied with each other in embellishing a social order, beyond which they saw nothing, and desired nothing, and which appeared to them made to last as long as the glory of the great king, the object alike of their respect and of their enthusiasm. But when they had exhausted the fertile mine of antiquity, their intelligent activity found itself almost compelled to search elsewhere, and discovered nothing new, except in speculative studies that embrace all the future, and of which the limits are unknown. It was amidst these dispositions that the eighteenth century dawned – a century so little resembling the preceding one. To the poetical lessons of Telemachus succeeded the theories of ‘the Esprit des Lois,’ and Port Royal was replaced by the Encyclopædia.

“I pray you to observe, gentlemen, that I neither censure nor approve: I simply relate.

“In calling to mind all the calamities poured out upon France during the Revolution, we must not be altogether unjust towards those superior men that brought it about; and we ought not to forget, that if in their writings they have not always been able to avoid falling into error, we owe to them the revelation of some great truths. Above all, let us not forget that we ought not to make them responsible for the precipitation with which France rushed practically into a career which her philosophers merely indicated. Thoughts were turned at once into action, and one might well say, ‘Woe to him who in his foolish pride would go beyond the necessities of his epoch! Some abyss or revolution awaits him.’ But when we simply follow the necessity of an epoch, we are certain not to go astray.

“Now, gentlemen, do you wish to know what were in 1789 the real necessities of that epoch? Turn to the mandates of the different orders represented in the National Assembly. All that were then the reflected wishes of enlightened men are what I call necessities. The Constituent Assembly was only their interpreter when it proclaimed liberty of worship, equality before the law, individual liberty, the right of jurisdiction (that no one should be deprived of his natural judges), the liberty of the press.

“It was little in accordance with its epoch when it instituted a single chamber, when it destroyed the royal sanction, when it tortured the conscience, &c. &c. And, nevertheless, in spite of its faults, of which I have only cited a small number – faults followed by such great calamities – posterity which has begun for it accords to it the glory of establishing the foundation of our new public rights.

“Let us hold, then, for certain, that all that is desired, that all that is proclaimed good and useful by all the enlightened men of a country, without variation, during a series of years diversely occupied, is a necessity of the times. Such, gentlemen, is the liberty of the press. I address myself to all those amongst you who are more particularly my contemporaries – was it not the dear object and wish of all those excellent men whom we so admired in our youth – the Malesherbes, the Trudaines – who surely were well worth the statesmen we have had since? The place which the men I have named occupy in our memories amply proves that the liberty of the press consolidates legitimate renown; and if it destroys usurped reputations, where is the harm?

“Having proved my first proposition, that the liberty of the press is in France the necessary result of the state of its society, it remains for me to establish my second proposition – that a government is in danger when it obstinately refuses what the state or spirit of its society requires.

“The most tranquil societies, and those which ought to be the most happy, always number amongst them a certain class of men who hope to acquire by the means of disorder those riches which they do not possess, and that importance which they ought never to have. Is it prudent to furnish the enemies of social order with pretexts for discontent, without which their individual efforts to promote disturbance would be impotent?

“Society in its progressive march is destined to experience new wants. I can perfectly understand that governments ought not to be in any hurry to recognise them; but when it has once recognised them, to take back what it has given, or, what comes to the same thing, to be always suspending its exercise, is a temerity of which I more than any one desire that those who conceived the convenient and fatal thought may not have to repent. The good faith of a government should never be compromised. Now-a-days, it is not easy to deceive for long. There is some one who has more intelligence than Voltaire; more intelligence than Bonaparte; more intelligence than each of the Directors – than each of the ministers, past, present, and to come. That some one is everybody. To engage in, or at least to persist in, a struggle against what according to general belief is a public interest, is a political fault, – and at this day all political faults are dangerous.

“When the press is free – when each one knows that his interests are or will be defended – all wait with patience a justice more or less tardy. Hope supports, and with reason, for this hope cannot be deceived for long; but when the press is enslaved, when no voice can be raised, discontent will soon exact, on the part of the government, either too much concession or too much repression.”

On the 26th of February, 1822, M. de Talleyrand spoke on the same subject, commenting on the rights accorded by, and the intentions which had presided over, the charter. Such efforts on such subjects preserved for his name a national character, and connected the most memorable acts of his own career with the most ardent aspirations of his country.

IV

Still, notwithstanding these occasional appearances on the public stage, it is certain that the easy though momentary triumph of a cause of which he had somewhat solemnly announced the almost certain defeat, disgusted him from further meddling in affairs, and much of his time was afterwards passed out of Paris, at Valençay, the estate which he meant should be ancestral, in Touraine. His fortune, moreover, was much affected by the bankruptcy of a commercial house in which he had engaged himself as what we call a “sleeping partner.” Nevertheless he held, when in the capital, a great existence: – his drawing-room becoming to the Restoration what it had been to the best days of the Empire – a rival court, and a court which gathered to itself all the eminences of the old times, and all the rising young men of the new.

There, from his easy-chair, drawn up to the window which looks upon the Tuileries, and surrounded by those who had acted in the past with him, or who might make a future for him, he read with pleased composure the fall of ministry after ministry on the flushed countenance of the eager deputy rushing to or from the fatal vote; until, at the nomination of M. de Polignac, he repeated calmly to those about him, the phrase he is said to have pronounced after the Russian campaign: “C’est le commencement de la fin.” Indeed, ever since the dismissal of the National Guard, and the failure of M. de Martignac’s ministry, which, tried as it was and at the time it was, could not but fail, he spoke without reserve, though always with expressions of regret, to those in his intimacy, of the extreme peril to which the legitimate monarchy was hurrying; and he could do this with the more certainty, from the knowledge he possessed of Charles X.’s character, the good and bad qualities of which he considered equally dangerous.

V

The following account of the share which M. de Talleyrand took in the new Revolution, that, after many ominous preludes, at last took place, was given me by an actor in the history he relates.

For the first two days of the insurrection, viz., the 27th and 28th of July, M. de Talleyrand said little or nothing, remaining quietly at home and refusing himself to all inquirers. On the third day he called to him his private secretary, and with that winning manner he knew so well how to adopt when he had any object to gain, said to him: “M. C – , I have a favour to request of you; go for me to St. Cloud” (the service was one of some danger and difficulty), “see if the royal family are still there, or what they are doing.” The secretary went and found Charles X. just departing for Rambouillet. M. de Talleyrand, who had during his messenger’s absence seen General Sebastiani, General Gerard, and two or three other influential persons of the same party and opinions, on hearing that the King had quitted St. Cloud, retired to his room and remained there alone for about two hours, when he again sent for the same gentleman, and this time his manners were, if possible, more persuasive than before. “I have yet another and greater favour to ask, M. C – . Go for me to Neuilly; get by some means or other to Madame Adelaide;⁷⁷ give her this piece of paper, and when she has read it, either see it burnt or bring it back to me.” The piece of paper contained merely these words: “Madame peut avoir toute confiance dans le porteur, qui est mon secrétaire.” “When madame has read this, you will tell her that there is not a moment to lose. The Duc d’Orléans must be here to-morrow; he must take no other title than that of Lieutenant-general of the Kingdom, which has been accorded to him – ‘le reste viendra.’”

With this confidential message, M. C – started. With great difficulty – for the gates of Neuilly were closed to every one – he got to the château and to Madame. On saying that he brought a message from M. de Talleyrand, “Ah, ce bon prince, j’étais sûre qu’il ne nous oublierait pas!”⁷⁸ The messenger then delivered his credentials and his message. “Tell the prince that I will pledge my word for my brother’s following his advice. He shall be in Paris to-morrow,” was the reply; after which M. C – had the courage to ask, though with some hesitation, that the piece of paper should be destroyed or returned. It was given back to him, and he restored it to M. de Talleyrand, who did not, by the way, forget to ask for it. It only remains to say that the Duc d’Orléans did come to Paris the following day; did only take the title of Lieutenant-general; and that the rest did, as M. de Talleyrand had predicted, follow. Thus ended the last Revolution with which this singular man was blended.