Historical Characters

“M. Reinhard’s power of observation did not stop here; it had taught him to understand how rare is the union of qualities necessary to make a minister of foreign affairs. Indeed, a minister of foreign affairs ought to be gifted with a sort of instinct, which should be always prompting him, and thus guarding him, when entering into any discussion, from the danger of committing himself. It is requisite that he should possess the faculty of appearing open, while remaining impenetrable; of masking reserve with the manner of frankness; of showing talent even in the choice of his amusements. His conversation should be simple, varied, unexpected, always natural, and at times naïve; in a word, he should never cease for an instant during the twenty-four hours to be a minister of foreign affairs.

“Yet all these qualities, however rare, might not suffice, if they did not find in sincerity a guarantee which they almost always require. I must not omit to notice here this fact, in order to destroy a prejudice, into which people are very apt to fall. No! diplomacy is not a science of craft and duplicity. If sincerity be anywhere requisite, it is especially so in political transactions; for it is that which makes them solid and durable. It has pleased people to confound reserve with cunning. Sincerity never authorizes cunning, but it admits of reserve; and reserve has this peculiarity, that it increases confidence.

“If he be governed by the honour and interests of his country, by the honour and interests of his sovereign, by the love of a liberty based upon order and the rights of all men, a minister of foreign affairs, who knows how to fill his post, finds himself thus in the noblest position to which a superior mind can aspire.

“After having been a distinguished minister, how many things more must be known to make a good consul! For there is no end to the variety of a consul’s attributions; and they are perfectly distinct from those of the other persons employed in foreign affairs. They demand a vast amount of practical knowledge which can only be acquired by a peculiar education. Consuls are called upon to discharge, for the advantage of their countrymen, and over the extent of their jurisdiction, the functions of judges, arbitrators, and promoters of reconciliation; it frequently happens that they are employed in other civil capacities; they perform the duties of notaries, sometimes those of naval administrators; they examine and pronounce upon sanitary questions; it is they who are enabled, by their numerous professional connections, to give correct and perfect notions respecting the state of commerce or navigation, or of the manufactures peculiar to the country where they reside. Accordingly, as M. Reinhard never neglected anything which might confirm the accuracy of the information required by his government, or the justice of the decisions which he had to pronounce as a political agent, as a consular agent, or as a naval administrator, he made a profound study of international and maritime law. It was owing to this study, that he became persuaded that the day would come when, by skilful political combinations, a universal system of commerce and navigation would be inaugurated, which would respect the interests of all nations, and be established on such foundations that war itself would be powerless to assail its principles, even were it able to suspend some of its effects.

“He had also learned to resolve, with accuracy and promptitude, every question connected with exchange, arbitration, valuation of money, weights and measures; and all this without a single dispute ever having arisen from the information he had supplied, or the judgments he had pronounced. But it is also true that the personal consideration, which accompanied him during his whole career, gave a weight to his interference, in every question that required his assistance, and in all arbitrations where he had to give a decision.

“But, however extensive may be a man’s information, however vast his capacity, there is nothing so rare as a complete diplomatist. We should perhaps have found one in M. Reinhard if he had possessed but one qualification more. He observed well, and understood well; when he took up his pen, he could give an admirable account of what he had seen and heard. His written language was ready, abundant, witty, and pointed. Thus we find that, of all the diplomatic correspondence of my time, none was preferred to that of Count Reinhard by the Emperor Napoleon, who had the right, and was under the necessity, of being difficult to please. But this eloquent writer was embarrassed when he had to speak. To carry out his intentions, his mind required more time than ordinary conversation affords. To express his thoughts with facility, it was necessary for him to be alone, and not interfered with.

“In spite of this serious difficulty, M. Reinhard always succeeded in doing, and doing well, whatever was intrusted to him. How, then, did he find the means of succeeding? whence did he derive his inspirations?

“He received them, gentlemen, from a deep and true feeling, which guided all his actions – from the sense of duty. People are not sufficiently aware of the power derived from this feeling. A life wholly devoted to duty is very easily diverted from ambition; and that of M. Reinhard was entirely taken up by his professional avocations, while he never was influenced in the slightest degree by an interested motive or a pretension to premature advancement.

“This worship of duty, to which M. Reinhard continued faithful to the end of his days, comprised entire acquiescence in the orders of his superiors – indefatigable vigilance, which, joined to much penetration, never suffered them to remain ignorant of anything which it was expedient for them to know – strict truthfulness in all his reports, however unpleasing their contents – impenetrable discretion – regular habits, which inspired esteem and confidence – a style of living suited to his position – and finally, constant attention in giving to the acts of his government the colour and lucidity which their importance demanded.

“Although age seemed to invite M. Reinhard to seek the repose of private life, he would never have asked permission to retire from active employment, so much did he fear to be thought lukewarm in the duties of a profession which had occupied the greater part of his days.

“It was necessary that his Majesty’s ever-thoughtful benevolence should have providently intervened to place this great servant of France in a most honourable position, by calling him to the Chamber of Peers.

“Count Reinhard enjoyed this honour during too short a time. He died suddenly on the 25th of December, 1837.

“M. Reinhard was twice married. By his first wife he has left a son who is now following a political career. For the son of such a man the best wish that we can form is that he may resemble his father.”

The force of nature, which a long life had exhausted in a variety of ways, seemed now unequal to any further struggle.

A disease, which at Prince Talleyrand’s age was almost certain to be fatal, and which had already made its appearance, assumed a more formidable character.

An operation was advised. The prince submitted to it, and bore it with a fortitude that surprised even those who most knew the stoicism which he on all occasions affected and usually practised. Dangerous symptoms, however, soon followed, and his physician judged it an act of duty to warn him that his disorder might be fatal.

He was urged indeed to do so by the noble patient’s relations, who were especially anxious that he should die in peace with the church; and when convinced that he could not recover, he assented to all that was asked of him, in this respect, as a favour that could not hurt himself, and was agreeable to those about him.

The following account of his last moments is given by a person who was present at them: “When I entered the chamber where reposed the veteran statesman, he had fallen into a profound slumber, from which some amendment was augured by his physicians. The slumber, or rather lethargy, had continued for about an hour after my arrival, when it became curious to observe the uneasiness which was manifested, as time drew on, even by those dearest and nearest, lest this repose, however salutary, should endure beyond the hour fixed for the King’s visit, for the sovereign intended to pay M. de Talleyrand this last homage.

“With some difficulty he was at last aroused and made to comprehend the approaching ceremony, and hardly was he lifted from his reclining position and placed at the edge of the bed, when Louis Philippe, accompanied by Madame Adelaide, entered the apartment. ‘I am sorry, Prince, to see you suffering so much,’ said the King, in a low tremulous voice, rendered almost inaudible by apparent emotion. ‘Sire, you have come to witness the sufferings of a dying man; and those who love him can have but one wish, that of seeing them shortly at an end.’ This was uttered by M. de Talleyrand in that deep strong voice so peculiar to himself, and which the approach of death had not the power to weaken.

“The royal visit, like all royal visits of a disagreeable nature, was of the shortest duration possible. Indeed, the position was to all parties embarrassing and painful. Louis Philippe rose, after an effort and some few words of consolation, to take his leave; and not even at this last moment did the old prince lose his wonted presence of mind, or forget a duty which the etiquette he had been bred in dictated – that of introducing those formally to the sovereign who found themselves in his presence. Slightly raising himself, then, he mentioned by name his physician, his secretary, his principal valet, and his own private doctor, and then observed slowly: ‘Sire, our house has received this day an honour worthy to be inscribed in our annals, and which my successors will remember with pride and gratitude.’ It was shortly afterwards that the first symptoms of dissolution were observed, and a few persons were then admitted to his chamber; but the adjoining room was crowded, and exhibited a strange scene for a room so near the bed of death.

“The flower of the society of Paris was there. On one side old and young politicians, grey-headed statesmen, were gathered round the blazing fire, and engaged in eager conversation; on another was to be seen a coterie of younger gentlemen and ladies, whose sidelong looks and low pleasant whispers formed a sad contrast to the dying groans of the neighbouring sufferer.

“Presently, the conversation stopped; the hum of voices was at an end. There was a solemn pause, and every eye turned towards the slowly opening door of the prince’s chamber. A domestic entered, with downcast looks and swollen eyes, and advancing towards Dr. C – , who like myself had just then sought an instant’s relief in the drawing-room, whispered a few words in his ear. He arose instantly, and entered the prince’s chamber. The natural precipitation with which this movement was executed but too plainly revealed its cause. There was an instantaneous rush to the door of the apartment within which M. de Talleyrand was seated on the side of his bed, supported in the arms of his secretary. It was evident that Death had set his seal upon that marble brow; yet I was struck with the still existing vigour of the countenance. It seemed as if all the life which had once sufficed to furnish the whole being was now contained in the brain. From time to time he raised up his head, throwing back with a sudden movement the long grey locks which impeded his sight, and gazed around; and then, as if satisfied with the result of his examination, a smile would pass across his features, and his head would again fall upon his bosom. He saw the approach of death without shrinking or fear, and also without any affectation of scorn or defiance.

“If there be truth in the assertion, that it is a satisfaction to die amidst friends and relations, then, indeed, must his last feeling towards the world he was for ever quitting have been one of entire approbation and content, for he expired (on the 17th of May, 1838) amidst regal pomp and reverence; and of all those whom he, perhaps, would have himself called together, none were wanting.

“The friend of his maturity, the fair young idol of his age, were gathered on bended knee beside his bed, and if the words of comfort whispered by the murmuring priest failed to reach his ear, it was because the sound was stifled by the wailings of those he had loved so well. Scarcely, however, had those eyes, whose every glance had been watched so long, and with such deep interest, for ever closed, when a sudden change came over the scene.

“One would have thought that a flight of crows had suddenly taken wing, so great was the precipitation with which each one hurried from the hotel, in the hope of being first to spread the news amongst the particular set or coterie of which he or she happened to be the oracle. Ere nightfall, that chamber, which all the day had been crowded to excess, was abandoned to the servants of the tomb; and when I entered in the evening, I found the very arm-chair, whence I had so often heard the prince launch the courtly jest or stinging epigram, occupied by a hired priest, whispering prayers for the repose of the departed soul.”

X

M. de Talleyrand was buried at Valençay, in the chapel of the Sisters of St. André, which he had founded, and in which he had expressed a desire that the family vault should be placed.

His career and character have been gradually developed in this sketch, so that there remains little to say of them here. They were both, as I have elsewhere observed, coloured by their times, and must be regarded in connection with an epoch of social immorality and constant political change. Many of his faults were so inherent in that epoch, that, although they justly merit blame (for vice and virtue should be independent of custom and example), they also admit of excuse.

As to the variety of political parts which he played in the different scenes of the great drama which lasted half a century, one is daily seeing changes so extraordinary and so rapid amongst the most respectable public men of our own day, and even of our own country, that it would be absurd not to acknowledge that, when years run rapidly through changeful events, we must expect to find those whose career is embarked on so unsteady a current, uncertain and variable in their opinions. The stiff consistent character is of the middle ages.

At the commencement of the great Revolution of 1789, M. de Talleyrand took the liberal side in politics; a strong party of his own rank and profession did not do so, but many of the most illustrious did; and with the best motives. A certain interval elapsed; the monarchy was overthrown; a reign of madness and terror succeeded it; and, emerging from this sanguinary obscurity, men were just beginning to adopt some principles of order, which they brought together under the name of a Republic.

It is hardly for us (who have with our own eyes seen Frenchmen of high rank and generally acknowledged honour, even the personal friends of a deposed sovereign, become, within a few days after his fall, Republicans; and within a few years the confidential leaders of another dynasty) – it is hardly for us, I say, to judge with any great severity a Frenchman, who, returning to France at the time at which M. de Talleyrand revisited it, consented to serve the Directory. Neither can we be surprised, when it appeared evident that under the Directory things were again approaching the state of terror and confusion, of which so horrible a recollection still existed, that M. de Talleyrand preferred the government of one man to the want of any government at all – the organization of society under a temporary despotism, to its utter and radical decomposition. By and by, license and disorder being vanquished, moderate and regular notions as to liberty grew up; the dictator then appeared the tyrant, – and the fortunate soldier, the military gambler after fortune. This soldier converted the nation into an army, and his army was beaten: and M. de Talleyrand aided in reviving that nation, and giving it the framework of a constitutional system, under a legitimate monarchy; – almost, in fact, that very system which thirty-five years before he had wished to see established. Years rolled on and seemed to bring with them the renewal of the old maxim, that “Restorations are impossible.” The royal émigré, pointedly described as having forgotten nothing and learned nothing during his misfortunes, had not sufficiently imbibed the spirit of a new society which had risen up since his youth – a society which had neither the customs nor inclinations on which he considered that a monarchy should be maintained.

Charles X.’s views created suspicions which his acts, greatly exaggerated by those suspicions, hardly justified. But the knowledge that he thought that public liberty depended solely on his will, made the slightest movement towards controlling that liberty – dangerous.

The crown fell into the gutters of Paris. The government which most resembled the one which was overturned was still a monarchy with a monarch taken from the same family as the one deposed, but who was willing to accept his throne as a gift of the French nation and could not pretend to it as a legitimate right. M. de Talleyrand helped to form such a government.

It cannot be said that he departed in this case from his principles, though he changed his allegiance.

In fact, I hardly think, looking calmly and dispassionately at each of the epochs I have thus rapidly passed over, that any sensible and moderate man will deny that the side taken by M. de Talleyrand was the one on which, in every instance, lay good sense and moderation. It cannot be said that in the various changes that marked his career, he ever acted disinterestedly; but at the same time it may be urged that every time he accepted office he did thereby a real service to the cause he espoused, and even to the country to which he belonged.

There can be no doubt that at the first establishment of something like order and government under the Republic, the relations of France with foreign powers were considerably strengthened by a man of M. de Talleyrand’s birth and well-known acquirements and abilities being selected as minister of foreign affairs. It is also undeniable that, during the Consulate and early part of the Empire, the experience, sagacity, and tact of the accomplished diplomatist were eminently useful to the young, half-educated, and impetuous warrior whose fiery genius had placed him at the head of the State. To Louis XVIII. M. de Talleyrand’s assistance, when that sovereign recovered his throne, was invaluable, and Louis Philippe derived in no small degree, as I have already noticed, the respect which foreign governments paid so promptly to his suddenly-acquired authority from the fact that M. de Talleyrand had consented to undertake the embassy to London. I must likewise here repeat that to which I have already called attention. No party had to complain of treachery or ingratitude from this statesman so frequently stigmatised as fickle. The course he took at the different periods of his eventful life was that which seemed natural to the position in which he found himself, and the course which both friend and foe expected from him. His defections were from those whose policy he had been previously opposing, and whose views the higher order of intellects in his country condemned at the time that his own hostility commenced. Indeed, the rule of his conduct and the cause of his success may be pretty generally found in his well-known and wise maxim, that “The thoughts of the greatest number of intelligent persons in any country, are sure, with a few more or less fluctuations to become in the end that public opinion which influences the State.”

It must, however, be confessed that there is something to an honest nature displeasing in the history of a statesman who has served various masters and various systems, and appeared as the champion of each cause at the moment of its triumph. Reason may excuse, explain, or defend such versatility, but no generous sympathy calls upon us to applaud or recommend it.

The particular and especial talent of M. de Talleyrand was, as I have more than once exemplified, his tact; the art of seizing the important point in an affair – the peculiar characteristic of an individual, the genius and tendency of an epoch! His other qualities were accessories to this dominant quality, but of an inferior order and in an inferior degree.

His great good fortune was to have been absent from France during the horrors of the Committee of Public Safety; his great merit, to have served governments when in serving them he served the public interests. His great defect, a love of money, or rather a want of scruple as to how he obtained it. I never heard any clear justification of his great wealth, though that which, it is said, he gave to Bonaparte, “I bought stock before the 18th Brumaire, and sold it the day afterwards,” has wit and à propos to recommend it. His great calamity was to have been minister of foreign affairs at the moment of the execution of the Duc d’Enghien; and the part of his conduct most difficult to explain justifiably, is to be found in the contradiction between his declaration to Lord Grenville, when he came over to England after the 10th of August in 1792, that he had nothing to do with the provisional government then established in France, and the declaration of M. de Chénier to the convention in 1795 – a declaration which he himself subsequently repeated – that he went to England at the time alluded to as Danton’s agent.

An extract from the Moniteur, the 27th of May, 1838, page 1412, quoting from the Gazette des Tribunaux, is worth preserving:81

“We have already said that in the sequel to the will of Prince Talleyrand was found a sort of manifesto, in which the celebrated diplomatist asserted the principles which had guided him in his political life, and explained his way of looking at certain events.

“According to various facts we have collected, the following is the substance of that declaration, which is dated in 1836, and which, in accordance with the wish of the testator, has been read to the family and assembled friends.

“The prince declares that before all things, and to all things, he had preferred the true interests of France.

“Explaining himself on the part he had taken in the return of the Bourbons in 1814, he says that, in his opinion, the Bourbons did not re-ascend the throne in virtue of a pre-existing and hereditary right; and he gives us, moreover, to understand that his counsels and advice were never wanting to enlighten them on their true position, and on the conduct which they ought to have followed in consequence.

“He repels the reproach of having betrayed Napoleon; if he abandoned him, it was when he discovered that he could no longer blend, as he had up to that time done, France and the Emperor in the same affection. This was not without a lively feeling of sorrow, for he owed to Napoleon nearly all his fortune. He enjoins his heirs never to forget these obligations, to tell them to their children, and to instruct these, again, to tell them to their offspring; so that if some day a man of the name of Bonaparte should be found in want of assistance, he should always find it in the family of Talleyrand.

“Replying to those who reproached him for having served successively all governments, he observes that he had done so without the least scruple, guided by the idea that, in whatever situation the country might be, there were always means of doing it some good, and that to do this good was the business of a statesman.”

Supposing the testament thus spoken of to exist, it is curious; and the expression of gratitude to the Bonaparte family is the more creditable from the fact that it could not have been made with any idea that it would be rewarded.

As to the defence set up for serving all dynasties and all causes, it cannot apply to any country where public men have the power, out of office, to put down a bad government, as they have in office the power to uphold a good one.

I will conclude with the appreciation of a French friend, who thus summed up many of my own remarks: —

“Enfin, chez M. de Talleyrand, l’aménité et la raison remplaçaient le cœur, et la conscience. Avec bien des défauts qui ont terni sa réputation, il avait toutes les qualités qui devaient faire prospérer son ambition. Ses talents qu’il a employés constamment pour son propre avantage, il les a employés presque aussi constamment pour le bien public. Beaucoup attaqué et peu défendu par ses contemporains, il n’en restera pas moins pour la postérité un des hommes les plus aimables de son temps et un des citoyens les plus illustres de son pays.”