Historical Characters

Still entertaining ideas which they had carried into a long exile, they could not even conceive what France, or the French Senate, or the allies, had to do with the disposal of the French government. Was not Louis XVIII. the next in blood to Louis XVI.? Could there be a doubt that he was the only possible king, the unholy and audacious usurper having been defeated?

Did not the Comte d’Artois, said the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain, long to embrace his early associate, the Bishop of Autun?

M. de Talleyrand, with a smile slightly cynical, acknowledged the extreme happiness that this embrace would give him; but begged, half mysteriously, that it might be deferred for the present. He did not, however, think it expedient that the Senate should delay any longer confirming the act of the coalition as to Napoleon’s deposition; and that assembly (exposing, as the motives of its conduct, a thousand grievances which it had been its previous duty to prevent), declared, as the Emperor Alexander had already declared, that neither Napoleon nor his family should reign in France, and relieved the nation from its oath of allegiance.

It named also a ministry composed of men suited for the occasion, and thus assumed provisionally all the attributes of government.

In the meantime the deposed Emperor, still at Fontainebleau, with an energy which misfortune had not abated, was counting his gathering forces, studying the position of his foes, and forming the plan for a final and desperate effort, which consisted in defeating one of the three divisions of the enemy, which was on the left bank of the Seine, and following it in its flight into the streets of Paris, where, amidst the general confusion, he felt certain of an easy victory, even if amongst the blazing ruins of the imperial city.

With him losses that led to success were not calculated: and though he would have preferred victory on other terms, he was perfectly willing to take it as he could get it. At least, this was said; and the intention attributed to him, and which he did not deny, having being promulgated before it was executed, shattered the remaining fidelity of his superior officers. He could not understand their timorous scruples; nor they his desperate resolves. An altercation ensued, and, rendered bold by despair, the marshals ventured to urge his abdication in favour of his son. He foresaw the futility of this proposition, but was nevertheless induced to accede to it, partly in order to show the idleness of the hopes which his unwelcome counsellors affected to cherish, partly in order to get rid of their presence, and thus to find himself free, as he thought, to execute his original projects, should he determine on doing so.

Ney, Macdonald, together with Caulincourt, who had rejoined the Emperor on the 2nd of April, and communicated the inefficacy of his previous mission, were sent then to the allied sovereigns; they were to enumerate their remaining forces, protest as to their unwavering fidelity to that family, the fortunes of which they had so long followed – declare resolutely against the legitimate princes, whom they considered strangers to their epoch; and state, with firmness, their resolve to conquer or perish by the side of their ancient master, if this, the last proposal they could make in his name, were rejected.

They carried with them Marmont, at the head of the important division of Bonaparte’s army stationed on the Essonne, and commanding the position of Fontainebleau. This general, though the one most favoured by Napoleon, had nevertheless already entered into a capitulation with the Austrian general; but, urged by his brother marshals, to whom he confessed his treason, to retract his engagements, he did so; and ordering those officers under his command, and who had been acquainted with his designs, to remain quiet till his return, accompanied Ney and Macdonald to Paris. The haughty hearing, the bold and vehement language, of men accustomed to command and conquer, and representing an army which had marched victoriously from Paris to Moscow, made an impression on the somewhat flexible Alexander. He did not accord nor deny their petition, and granted them another interview on the morrow, at which the King of Prussia was to be present. This one took place on the 5th of April, at two in the morning, with himself alone.

The struggle was yet undecided; for the Emperor of Russia was never very favourable, as I have said, to the Legitimists, and quite alive to the consideration of settling matters quietly with Bonaparte, who had arms in his hands, rather than with the Bourbons, who had not. M. de Talleyrand had again to exert himself, and with his easy, respectful, but self-confident manner, to point out the feebleness and dishonour of which (though acting under feelings of the noblest generosity) the Czar would be accused, if, after having compromised himself and his allies by what he had been doing during the last few days, he was at last to undo it. He added, as it is said, that he did not, in holding this language, consult his own interests, for it was probable that he should have a more durable position under the regency of Marie-Louise, if such a regency could be durable, than under that of the emigration, which, it was much to be feared, from what was then passing (he wished to call the Emperor’s attention to the efforts which this party was at that very moment making against the publication of a constitution), would, ere long, become more powerful and more forgetful than could be desired. “Pardon my observations, sire,” he continued – “others are uneasy, but I am not – for I know full well that a sovereign at the head of a valorous army is not likely to admit the dictation of a few officers of a hostile force, more particularly when they represent the very principle of constant war which the French nation repudiates, and which has armed the allies.”

Both the Emperor Alexander (whose transitory emotion soon passed away) and the King of Prussia received the marshals on the following day, under the impressions that M. de Talleyrand’s remarks and their own considerate judgment produced; and the refusal to treat on any basis that gave the government of France to Napoleon or his family, was clearly but courteously pronounced. The marshals were persisting in their representations, when a Russian officer, who had just entered the room, whispered something into Alexander’s ear: it was the intelligence that the division of Marshal Marmont had quitted its post; an accident produced by the officers, to whom he had confided his troops, having fancied that their intended treachery was discovered, and would be punished, unless immediately consummated. After such a defection, the moral power of the deputation, which could no longer speak in the name of the army, was gone; and all it attempted to procure was an honourable provision for the Emperor and the Empress, if the former tendered an immediate abdication. The advice of his generals, who accepted these poor conditions, left their commander no alternative but submission, for his government was a military machine, of which the main instrument now broke in his hands.

On the 6th, the Senate framed a constitution, which, on the 8th, was published, creating a constitutional monarchy, with two chambers, and conferring the throne of France on Louis XVIII. if he accepted that constitution. On the 11th was signed a treaty by which Marie-Louise and her son received the principality of Parma, and Napoleon the sovereignty of Elba, a small island on the coast of Italy, where it was presumed that a man, still in the prime of life, and with the most restless spirit that ever beat in human bosom, would remain quiet and contented in the sight of empires he had won and lost.

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.”