Memoirs of the Duchesse de Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1836-1840

Dupin's chance has entirely disappeared. During the two days when it was thought that he would be Minister, Thiers and Guizot both entered the competition for the Presidency, and so gained an opportunity of counting the votes in their favour. M. Guizot received eight, M. Martin du Nord fifteen; the remainder of the Ministerial party would have voted for M. Thiers and secured for him the refusal of the position.

Paris, February 16, 1836.– Fieschi and his accomplices have been condemned to death; M. de Mareuil came yesterday to tell us of the sentence, at eleven o'clock in the evening.11

It seems that many of the peers gave long explanations to justify their manner of voting. A small fraction of the Chamber considered that the circumstantial evidence against Pépin and Morey was inadequate to justify the extreme penalty, and preferred to inflict penal servitude for life. Fieschi was condemned to death unanimously, and M. Barthe asked that the punishments reserved for parricides should be added to the death penalty.

The newspapers announce the death of Madame Bonaparte; her great-granddaughter – that is, the daughter of Joseph, who married the son of Lucien – was the only member of her numerous family at her side. Cardinal Fesch has been very attentive to her, and she leaves him her pictures; it is also thought that the division of her inheritance will cause fresh dissensions among her children, who are by no means at harmony with one another, for it seems that during her lifetime she gave considerable sums to Lucien, Jérôme, and to Madame Murat, which sums they are not willing to repay.

Paris, February 17, 1836.– Yesterday the King assembled his former Ministers and announced that in the first place he would not accept their resignations until another Cabinet was formed. Furthermore, he said that it was only by an accident that a majority in the Chamber had been against them; their system was that of the Chamber, although certain individuals in the Cabinet might not be agreeable to the Chamber, and he would therefore be delighted to see them all remain in office; if, however, they thought that any of their members were likely to keep the Chamber in a state of exasperation, he asked them to consider the matter among themselves and then to let him know upon what he could rely. M. de Broglie said that the King should make trial of the Third Party, to which the King replied: "It may please you, sir, to restate the weakness of that Third Party, but it does not please me to make so disastrous an attempt; I have had enough of three days' ministries; the majority is not to be found either in the Third Party or in the Left, but with you, gentlemen, or, if not with all of you, at any rate with some. Your arrangements and mutual engagements ought to give way before the gravity of the situation: so much I expect from your honesty and your desire for the general welfare; for my own part, gentlemen, I shall fold my arms and bide my time at Saint-Cloud." MM. de Broglie and Guizot replied that no member of the Cabinet was exactly bound, but that there were certain conventions which they must respect in each member's case. This was a very inopportune reply at such a moment, especially from the first speaker, who could have cut the Gordian knot at one word and have simplified the position. No one knows what the result will be, unless matters should turn out as M. Royer-Collard predicted to M. Thiers last Friday: "You are impossible to-day, but in a week you will be necessary, indispensable, and absolute."

M. de Talleyrand and myself visited the Queen yesterday. The fact that the Court was in mourning for the Queen of Naples, together with the trial of Fieschi and the Ministerial crisis, made it impossible for the Château to take part in the pleasures of the carnival, and a very serious spirit prevailed. The King's attention was occupied by thoughts of the punishment which awaited the prisoners condemned the previous evening, and he had not ventured to go out, because he knew that Madame Pépin and her children were lying in wait for him. The Château was mournful indeed, and formed a painful contrast with the joyful tumult in the streets. M. Pasquier came to tell the King that Pépin had asked to see him that morning, so that the execution must be postponed until the next day.

Before going home I spent half an hour with Madame de Lieven. No one was there except Lady Charlotte Grenville and M. Berryer, who said that when one knew nothing one was able to say anything one liked, and that he had no hesitation in asserting that Thiers' was the only possible combination, and alone likely to be agreeable to the Chamber.

Paris, February 19, 1836.– Yesterday morning I had a call from M. Thiers, who had definitely accepted the task of forming a Cabinet and acting as President. He proposed to spend the rest of the day in making up his list. He has too much common sense to underrate the difficulty of his new position, and too much courage or blindness to be dismayed by it. M. Molé failed to secure election to the Academy; it has been a disastrous week for him.

Paris, February 20, 1836.– The following are the actual words written by the King beneath the signature which he was obliged to append to the death-warrants of Fieschi, Pépin, Morey, &c.: "It is only a profound sense of duty which induces me to give an approval which is one of the most painful acts of my life; however, considering the frankness which Fieschi showed in his confession and his conduct during the trial, I intend that the subordinate parts of his punishment shall be remitted, and I deeply regret that my conscience will not allow me to do more."

Paris, February 21, 1836.– M. Thiers is finding difficulties in the way of his attempt to combine a Ministry; every one is willing to work with him or under him, but not in company with others. At the same time it is important that the Cabinet should be both strong and reputable. There are difficulties everywhere, even for superior mortals.

Paris, February 22, 1836.– M. de Talleyrand is in a very bad temper: the newspapers and public opinion all regard him as responsible for the new Ministry: the names have at length appeared in this morning's Moniteur.12 He, however, has had nothing to do with it, and as the sudden rise of M. Thiers has not met with universal approval, the English being particularly incensed, M. de Talleyrand is aroused to great irritation by all that he hears upon the subject, and vents his anger upon Paris, his age, and his position, and keenly regrets that he ever left London.

Paris, February 23, 1836.– Yesterday, on returning home at the end of the morning, I found M. Berryer at my door; he had just left the Chamber of Deputies, where Thiers had been speaking. Berryer has a high opinion of the talent, the intellectual power, and the capacity of Thiers. Berryer is himself the most unprejudiced, impartial, and simple of characters; there is nothing artificial, affected, or extreme about him; it is difficult to think of him as a party man. In my opinion, no one was ever less a party man, and perhaps he would be glad if he could avoid the necessity of taking sides entirely. The ease, the lightness, the gentleness, and the simplicity of his conversation are the more creditable to him by contrast with his profession and his position. The justice of his judgment and the kindness which is most constantly characteristic of it compel confidence in his opinions and his statements.

Thiers' speech was received with marked coldness by the Chamber. The fact is fortunate for him, in my opinion. There is some danger that the intoxication of success might lead to his fall, and anything which will keep him from disaster can only be useful and for his good.

Paris, February 24, 1836.– M. Molé dined here yesterday. His bearing shows some traces of coldness and disappointment. He was unwilling to act in concert with M. Dupin in the matter of the Ministry; consequently the latter, who commanded several votes in the French Academy, withdrew them, and so brought about the rejection of M. Molé; he then observed: "M. Molé would not be my colleague, and I do not care for him as my fellow Academician."

Paris is likely to become increasingly difficult as a place of residence. Apart from the two great dynastic divisions which separate society, we shall now have to deal with all the factions caused by disappointed ambition, the Molé, Broglie, Guizot, and Dupin factions, and finally the Thiers faction. These will all be as bitterly hostile to one another as the Legitimists are to the Moderate Party. All these factions will never find any such common point of amalgamation as the Château might and should become; on the contrary, some object to the King, others to our house. Detestation and malignancy are mutual, but no one is willing to examine himself or to recognise that there are faults on all sides, and that the real causes of blame are to be found in himself. How strange is the blindness and how great the ill-faith of men, especially of those who are involved in public affairs and interests!

Paris, March 4, 1836.– Yesterday, at the house of M. de Talleyrand, M. Mignet related that Marchand, a former valet de chambre under the Emperor, proposed to publish a commentary upon the "Commentaries" of Cæsar, which Napoleon had dictated to him in the last weeks of his life in St. Helena. Marchand often spoke to M. Mignet of Napoleon's last moments, of the loneliness and emptiness of his life; in illustration, he said that one evening when the Emperor, who was then very ill, was in bed, he pointed to the foot of the bed and said to him: "Marchand, sit down there and tell me something." Marchand said to him: "Dear me, sire, what can I tell you who have done and seen so much?" "Tell me about your youth; that will be simple and true, and will interest me," replied the Emperor. There is something very pathetic about this little dialogue. What teaching might not Bossuet have drawn from these few words – Bossuet, who did not disdain to introduce the somewhat trivial anecdote of the fowl into the funeral oration upon the Palatine! Surely the greatest homage to Bossuet is the fact that every great misfortune, every triumph or failure, makes us turn towards the Eagle of Meaux, who alone could extol, lament, and immortalise them worthily.

Paris, March 5, 1836.– Yesterday morning MM. Berryer and Thiers met at my house. I think it would have been impossible to have been present at a conversation more animated, sparkling, witty, surprising, kind, sincere, free, and true, or more devoid of all party spirit, than that which then arose between these two men, so different and so highly gifted. I also thought that it would never finish; they did not go until after six o'clock.

Paris, March 7, 1836.– M. Royer-Collard introduced me yesterday to M. de Tocqueville, the author of "Democracy in America." He seemed to me to be a nice little man, simple and modest, with an intellectual expression. We talked a great deal about England, and our views upon the destiny of the country were quite in harmony.

Paris, March 9, 1836.– I had several times glanced at the "Imitation of Jesus Christ." Whether it was that my knowledge of others and myself was only superficial or that my mind was ill-prepared and too wandering, I had seen no great difference between this famous work and the "Journée du Chrétien" and the "Petit Paroissien." I had often been surprised at the great reputation which this book enjoyed, but had never found any pleasure in reading it. Chance led me to open it the other day with Pauline; the first lines caught my attention, and I have since been reading it with ever increasing admiration. What intellectual power beneath the highest simplicity of form! What profound knowledge of the deepest recesses of the human heart! What beauty and enlightenment! And yet it is the work of an unknown monk. Nothing humiliates me more than a failure of self-knowledge or shows me more clearly in what darkness I was sunk.

Paris, March 10, 1836.– Yesterday I went with the Duchesse de Montmorency to a ball, given by Madame Salomon de Rothschild, the mother. The house is the most magnificent that can be conceived, and is therefore known as the Temple of Solomon. It is infinitely superior to her daughter-in-law's house, because the proportions are higher and greater. The luxury of it is indescribable, but in good taste – pure Renaissance, without any mixture of other styles; the gallery in particular is worthy of Chenonceaux, and one might have thought one's self at an entertainment given by the Valois. In the chief room the armchairs are made of gilt bronze instead of gilt wood, and cost a thousand francs apiece. The dining-hall is like the nave of a cathedral. All was well arranged and admirably lighted; there was no crushing, and every courtesy.

Paris, March 11, 1836.– Yesterday I went to Saint-Thomas d'Aquin, to hear the Abbé de Ravignan, formerly the King's procureur; he is a friend of Berryer, who praises him greatly, and a brother-in-law of General Exelmans; I had known him in the Pyrenees, where I had been struck by the beautiful expression of his face. He is a good preacher, with an excellent delivery, while his style is pure and refined, but rather logical and argumentative than warm or sympathetic. He therefore lays more stress upon evangelical dogma than upon morality, and seemed to me to be a man of talent rather than a great preacher.

Paris, March 18, 1836.– With regard to my reflections upon Bossuet,13 you praise my attitude somewhat unduly. I have, indeed, a love of truth, and the world, with the dreadful misery which it contains, fills me with disgust; I have learned to fear the contagion of the world, under which I have suffered too long; I examine myself seriously, and am horrified to find myself immersed in the sorrow and grief which are the lot of worldly people and are the destruction of peace of mind, charity, and purity. I make some attempt to burst my bonds and rise to a purer region; but none the less my efforts are usually impotent, and my struggles vain and futile. As a rule I cannot tell whether the moral weariness which overwhelms me is due to the sad sight of the deplorable agitations amid which I live, or to the no less deplorable agitation of my inward life. When we have spent years amid the struggles of life and desire to change our path, however remote may be the road which leads us forward, we find ourselves a burden to ourselves; we can neither go forward with our load nor throw it off straightway; we stumble and retrace our steps; we prove ourselves but feeble travellers, and our goal recedes as our desire to reach it increases. Such is my case…

Yesterday, towards the end of the morning, M. de Tocqueville came to pay his call; I like him. The Duc de Noailles also called; he is not so attractive, though by no means disagreeable. Another caller was Berryer, who might be most agreeable if his mind and bearing did not betray traces of low life, which have struck my notice. However, the conversation never flagged, as the first visitor has sound views, the second good judgment, and the third that mental alacrity which enables him to apprehend a point at once. The conversation of these distinguished men was concerned only with facts, and not with people: names were not mentioned; there was no gossip, no bitterness or extravagance. The talk was as it should always be, especially at a lady's house.

Paris, March 20, 1836.– How deep a melancholy may be inspired by the first fine spring day, when it fails to harmonise with one's own frame of mind! For forty-eight hours the weather has been mild and lovely, the atmosphere filled with sweetness and light and breathing joy and happiness; new life, new warmth and pleasure are springing into being, and I feel suffocated in this town. The public promenades cannot take the place of the country, and nothing can bring back the sweet springtime of last year, with its flowers, its wide horizon, and its freshness, in which it was so easy to take breath. I would worship any one who could give me back these things! And instead I drive with Madame de Lieven through the Bois de Boulogne in a closed carriage! Such was my occupation yesterday, while M. de Talleyrand was at the Academy of Moral and Political Science, voting for M. de Tocqueville, who failed to secure election.

Paris, March 24, 1836.– The Princess Belgiojoso is rather striking than beautiful: she is extremely pale, her eyes are too far apart, her head too square, her mouth large and her teeth discoloured; but she has a good nose, and her figure would be pretty if it were somewhat fuller; her hair is jet black, and she wears striking dresses; she has intellect, but wants balance, and is full of artistic whims and inconsistencies; her manner is intentionally and skilfully natural, sufficiently to hide her affectation, while her affectation seems to counterbalance a certain innate vulgarity, which her flatterers style an untamed nature. Such is my impression of this personage, with whom I have but the slightest acquaintance.

M. Royer-Collard found me reading the "Imitation" the other day, and brought me yesterday a pretty little copy which he has had from his youth, and has almost invariably carried about with him. I have been deeply touched by this gift, and regard it as a most precious possession. My only objection to this little book is the fact that it is in Latin: I never knew Latin well, and I find that I have now forgotten it. I think I shall have to take it up again.

M. Royer asked me to give him in exchange some book which I had constantly read. I gave him a copy of Bossuet's "Funeral Orations," deeply scored with my marks; the ribbon-mark is torn away, but a hairpin happened to be marking one of the passages in the oration on the Princess Palatine, which had a special meaning for myself. M. Royer accepted the little volume most gratefully.

Yesterday evening I went to the Italian Opera, and Berryer paid a visit to my box. His mind was full of the morning session in the Chamber of Deputies and of M. Guizot's formidable speech. M. Thiers proposes to reply this morning, as, indeed, he must, unless he wishes to see M. Guizot become paramount in the Chamber; in short, we are to see the real adversaries engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle. This is an event, and is so regarded. Berryer described the whole affair marvellously well, without bitterness against any one, and without a word more than was necessary to make the situation clear. In ten minutes he had told me everything.

Paris, March 27, 1836.– Yesterday morning I had the honour of seeing the King with Madame Adélaïde; his conversation was charming. He was kind enough to tell me stories of his marriage, of the Court of Palermo and the famous Queen Caroline. I also heard that Prince Charles of Naples and Miss Penelope arrived here within the last two days in a state of complete destitution. This was an embarrassing event, and in a sense discreditable, especially to the Queen.14

I have reason to believe that Thiers did not reply forthwith to Guizot's great speech the other day for reasons of prudence, and in obedience to the orders of his superiors; but he will lose nothing by waiting, and we shall see a striking explosion upon the next opportunity. I think the authorities were unwilling to regard the question as a duel between two individuals, and have preferred to let the effect of the first speech wear off before offering a reply. In any case, an enormous majority responded to the effort that was made. The only vexatious point is the number of concessions offered by M. Sauzet in his speech, and on this subject I have noticed some strong discontent.

M. de Tocqueville's name was proposed, without his knowledge, to the Academy of Political and Moral Science by M. Cousin; M. Tocqueville has told me that he did not wish to seek election again. As the grandson of M. de Malesherbes, he has no desire to join an Academy of mere figureheads, of which, for the most part, this institution is composed.

Paris, March 29, 1836.– It is certain that all idea of intervention in Spain has been abandoned by every grade within the Governmental hierarchy; some had never entertained the project, and others have dropped it. I think there is no reason to fear any imprudence whatever in this direction.

Rumour is entirely occupied with a conversation between the King and Guizot, in which the former is said to have expressed his extreme displeasure with the dates which were given as marking the good system of administration. The King said that the system was not the work of any individual, but was his own, and that the only date he would recognise was his own date, August 9. He added that it was bad policy to attack the only Cabinet which could command a majority at that moment. Guizot replied that if the King cared to test the matter he would see that the majority was to be found elsewhere. "Not so," returned the King; "it is you, sir, who are deluded, and you fail to see that the course you are pursuing rather divides you from the points at issue than brings you nearer to them. If you continue, you will perhaps force me to take a measure which I detest, and which will assuredly be more displeasing to yourself; that measure is a dissolution of the Chamber, please remember." I believe this conversation to be literally exact, and I think it will induce people to consider their words and deeds more carefully, the more so as the doctrinaires, who know perfectly well that they have no chance of re-election, will shrink from a dissolution.

M. de Chateaubriand has sold his works, unedited or as yet unwritten, for a hundred and fifty thousand francs cash, in addition to a yearly income of twelve thousand francs payable to his wife upon his death. He is said to be completely upset by the payment of his debts, and his future existence which is thus defined and circumscribed seems to him a heavy burden. Everything he writes, even apart from his memoirs, will belong to his publishers in return for a scale of payment now laid down. The manuscripts of his memoirs have been solemnly sealed up in his presence in an iron box, which has been deposited with a solicitor. He says that his thoughts have suffered imprisonment for debt in place of himself.

Paris, March 30, 1836.– I have certainly heard more music this year than last; as I am deprived of all my favourite amusements, I have devoted myself wholeheartedly, without reserve, to music, and have sought opportunities for hearing it. As the advance of years or circumstances diminish my tastes, the pleasures which are left to me are intensified by the disappearance of others; affection takes the place of coquetry and music of dancing; reading and meditation replace idle conversations, with their malignity or indiscretions; I drive instead of calling, and prefer rest to excitement.

Paris, April 13, 1836.– I took Pauline yesterday evening to a charity lottery at the house of the Duchesse de Montmorency, where there was a crowd. All the Faubourg Saint-Germain were there, including even the Duchesse de Gontaut, formerly governess to the Duc de Bordeaux; she condescended so far as to bow to me very politely. Pauline was interested by everything, as girls of fifteen usually are. She was very pretty; her hair was simply done, but dressed by the great Edouard; she wore a sky-blue dress, and looked fresh as a rose, with her calm and dainty bearing and her happy little face; in short, she met with general approval, consequently I felt well disposed to every one; the slights formerly inflicted upon me by this or that person were forgotten when a pleasant word or a kind look was addressed to Pauline. It is certainly better not to live in hostility with society, and if one is so wrong-headed or unfortunate it is very pleasant to make one's daughter a means of reconciliation.

I have letters from England telling me that the Duchess of Gloucester has become the happiest person in the world; Lady Georgiana Bathurst is her lady of honour; she is at home every evening, and her house is the meeting-place of the high Tories; all the news is to be heard there, and gossip goes on, with which the Duchess delights the King every morning. The King of England sees his Ministers only on business, and has no social intercourse with them. Lord Melbourne does not care or complain, and goes his own way without worrying the King, which seems to me to be a sound plan.