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.”

III.

The just described spectacle was gay, but its gaiety was merely superficial. Deeper seated was the danger I have referred to. The Senate had neither gone to meet the Comte d’Artois nor attended the _Te Deum_. It might be said that the members of the provisional government had done so; but the absence of the Senate was, notwithstanding, remarked. It was determined not to leave things uncertain, and to have a clear understanding as to whether the Comte d’Artois meant to despise the national authorities, or to submit to them. This question had to be brought to issue with the least possible delay.

The 13th and 14th of April were spent in negotiations. Napoleon was still in France. Two armies had not yet given in their adhesion to the new order of things.

The allies had solemnly declared that the French government should be one chosen by the Senate, and not one chosen by Louis XVIII.

It took, nevertheless, all M. de Talleyrand’s tact and patience to get the Comte d’Artois and the zealots of his party to act with ordinary prudence. An arrangement was at last arrived at in this manner:

The Senate, professing to know that constitutional principles animated the heart of the Comte d’Artois, offered him the Lieutenant-generalship of France.

The Comte d’Artois accepted the post, saying that though he could not take upon himself to sanction the constitution of the Senate, with which he was acquainted, but which had to be considered by the King, he nevertheless felt sure that he could safely affirm that his Majesty would accept the principal features in it.[63]

The government was thus installed until the arrival of Louis XVIII.; and on the 23rd, M. de Talleyrand signed, under his royal highness’s authority, the treaty which obliged the foreign armies to quit France, and the French troops to quit the fortresses out of France which they still held.

IV.

The most urgent foreign question was thus settled; but the permanent condition of internal affairs, though the temporary arrangement I have been describing established something like a principle in favour of a constitution, still depended on the arrangements that might finally be made with Louis XVIII.

M. de Talleyrand, exceedingly anxious on this subject, had sent M. de Liancourt to the King, in the hope that his Majesty would listen and speak to his messenger confidentially. It was true that M. de Talleyrand was warned that the Duc de Liancourt, who had belonged to the Revolution, would not be well received by the monarch of the Restoration, if a certain nobleman, M. de Blacas, was by his side. But the Prince de Benevent treated this idea _du haut de sa grandeur_.

What! the sovereign who owed him (M. de Talleyrand) his throne; who was at once indolent and ambitious; who knew nothing of the country in which he was to appear, a country in which he had no partisans who could guide him by their counsels or aid him by their influence, and in which were still the sovereigns with whom M. de Talleyrand had been the confederate--would decline to receive a man of the first respectability and the highest birth, universally beloved, because he had taken the same part that M. de Talleyrand himself had taken in the public affairs of former times, and this when the new sovereignty was to be founded on all parties and opinions, and have, moreover, a constitution for its basis; the thing was impossible. M. de Talleyrand replied to the person who gave him this warning--

“The King, you say, will look back on the past, but Nature has placed the eyes of men in the front of their heads, in order that they may look forward.”

Undoubtedly, the warning referred to seemed absurd, but it was correctly given. M. de Liancourt saw “the certain M. de Blacas,” but came back without having seen Louis XVIII.[64]

In sending the particular person he had selected to Louis XVIII., M. de Talleyrand had the idea of engaging the King at once with the party to which that person belonged, viz., the moderate men of the early Revolution: men who were, by opinion, in favour of constitutional monarchy, but who had been so mixed up with persons of all parties and opinions, as to know all and have friends amongst all. In such a party he saw a centre at which divergent lines might meet--a backbone, to which might be attached the scattered members of the great and varied society out of which a new government had to be constructed. The project was not a bad one, and it is probable that during the first days of an uncertain triumph it would have succeeded.

But the unexpected popularity of his family, the general acceptance of the “white cockade,” the reports of his brother and the ardent Royalists, which did not fail to reach him with suitable exaggerations, and the positive abdication of Napoleon, created a new phase in Louis’s affairs, and hesitating what to do, he determined on doing nothing till he arrived in France.

This was sufficient to show M. de Talleyrand, who did not subsequently forget M. de Blacas, that there would be a court circle in the new reign from which he should be excluded; that the King neither meant to confide in him nor to offend him; that a system was not to be formed; that if he did not break with the sovereign on whose head he had a few days previously placed a crown, he must compromise with that sovereign’s prejudices and favourites. There were not as yet sufficient motives for a rupture. Circumstances would shortly develop themselves, and give many opportunities for a decided course. In the meantime a policy of principle was to be sacrificed to a policy of dexterity.

Had he been consulted, he would certainly not have counselled Louis XVIII., who made a sort of triumphal entry into London on the 20th, to have said he owed his crown to the Prince Regent; putting aside the Emperor Alexander, who was still in Paris, and the Senate and the Assembly, which were the only constituted organs at that time of the nation’s wishes, and the only authority which the French army and the French people would so easily have obeyed. But he met his Majesty at Compiègne, where Louis had determined to stay three or four days before entering Paris and fixing his ultimate resolves. The meeting would have been curious to witness.

Both personages were perfect actors in their way, and each with a pretension to superiority, was determined not to be subalternised by the other. Louis had acted the part of king for some years with the more care and punctiliousness because he was only king in name. Talleyrand had been accustomed from his youth to the highest positions in society; in later years he had been admitted into the intimacy of sovereigns, and been treated by them, if not on a footing of equality, with the highest respect; and he had just disposed of the fortunes of France. The descendant of kings meant to impose the sovereign on his powerful subject at once, with the airs of royalty, for which he was famous. The bishop, noble, and diplomatist was prepared to encounter these airs with the respectful well-bred nonchalance of a man of the world, who knew his own value; and the natural but not obsequious deference of a great minister to a constitutional monarch. It is probable that neither said what he intended to say, or what contemporaries have said for them; but it is reported that Louis gave M. de Talleyrand to understand that, in remaining tranquil and contented until Providence had placed the crown on his head, he had played the proper part of the prince and the philosopher, acting with far more dignity and wisdom than the bustling men of action who had been occupied during this time with their own advancement.

On the other hand, when his Majesty, wishing perhaps to efface the impression of observations that were not altogether complimentary, spoke in admiration of M. de Talleyrand’s abilities, and asked him how he had contrived, first to overturn the Directory, and finally Bonaparte, M. de Talleyrand has the credit of having replied with a sort of naïveté which, when it suited him, he could well assume:

“Really, sire, I have done nothing for this: there is something inexplicable about me which brings ill luck on the governments that neglect me.”[65]

Finally, as to essentials, the King appears, without entering much into details, to have given M. de Talleyrand to understand that France would have a constitution, and M. de Talleyrand the administration of foreign affairs.

This was all that M. de Talleyrand now expected.

Nevertheless he tried, on a subsequent occasion, to persuade the legitimate monarch that his throne would acquire increased solidity by being accepted as the spontaneous gift of the nation.

A really great man in Louis’s place would probably have provoked a vote by universal suffrage; the mere fact of appealing to such a vote would have attained a universal assent, springing from a universal enthusiasm; and, in fact, such a vote for a king who had legitimacy in his favour would at the same time have renewed the vigour of the legitimist principle.

A very prudent man would not have run this risk; he would have made the most of the vote of the Senate, since it was given, and taken for granted that it was a vote in favour of his race as well as of himself.

A vain and proud man, however, could not so easily divest himself of a peculiar quality which only he possessed. Any man might be chosen king of the French, but Louis XVIII. alone could be the legitimate King of France. This hereditary right to the throne was a personal property. He had claimed it in exile: he was resolved to assert it in power, and when M. de Talleyrand was for continuing the argument, he cut him short, according to contemporaneous authorities, by observing with a courteous but somewhat cynical smile:

“You wish me to accept a constitution from you, and you don’t wish to accept a constitution from me. This is very natural; mais, mon cher M. de Talleyrand, alors moi je serai debout, et vous assis.”[66]

V.

The observation just quoted admitted of no reply. Still Louis had the good sense to see that he could not enter Paris without some explanations, and the promise, more or less explicitly given, of a representative government. Unlike the Comte d’Artois, he felt no sort of difficulty about giving this promise, and was even willing to concert with his minister as to the most popular manner in which he could give the guarantees he intended to offer without abandoning the point on which he resolved to insist.

The first thing, however, to provide for, was a meeting between the sovereign who had taken the crown as a right, and the Senate who had offered it on conditions.

This meeting took place on the 1st of May, at Saint-Ouen, a small village near Paris, where the King invited the Senate to meet him. M. de Talleyrand, on presenting this body, pronounced a speech, composed with much art, and spoke for both parties. He said that the nation, enlightened by experience, rushed forward to salute the sovereign returning to the throne of his ancestors; that the Senate, participating in the sentiments of the nation, did the same; that, on the other hand, the monarch, guided by his wisdom, was about to give France institutions in conformity with its intelligence, and the ideas of the epoch: that a constitutional “Charter” (a title the King had selected) would unite every interest to that of the throne, and fortify the royal will by the concurrence of all wills; that no one knew better than his Majesty the value of institutions for a long time tried happily by a neighbouring people, and furnishing aid and not opposition to all kings who loved the laws, and were the fathers of their people.

A few words from the King, confirming what M. de Talleyrand had said, left nothing to be desired; and on the 3rd of May was published the famous declaration of Saint-Ouen, which, after stating that much that was good in the constitution proposed by the Senate on the 6th of April would be preserved, added that some articles in it bore signs, notwithstanding, of the haste with which they had necessarily been written, and must consequently be reformed; but that his Majesty had the full intention to give to France a constitution that should contain all the liberties that Frenchmen could desire, and that the project of such a constitution would ere long be presented to the chambers.

Louis XVIII., thus preceded, entered Paris amidst a tolerable degree of enthusiasm, and, seating himself in the palace of his ancestors, began to prepare his existence there.

His first thought was to reconstitute his household, and, in doing this, M. de Talleyrand-Périgord was named grand aumonier. The new ministry was next to be formed, and M. de Talleyrand figured as minister of foreign affairs; and was honoured with the title of prince, though he could no longer add to it--of Benevent.

The other persons named in the new ministry, and who afterwards attracted notice, were the Abbé de Montesquieu, minister of the interior, a gentleman of learning and talent, but wholly unused to affairs, and a Royalist as much from prejudice as from principle (M. Guizot, by the way, commenced his career under M. de Montesquieu); and the Abbé Louis, minister of finance, whose financial abilities were universally acknowledged.

But the most important minister for the moment was the minister of the household, “that certain M. de Blacas,” of whose influence over Louis XVIII. M. de Talleyrand had been early informed.

M. de Blacas was one of those gentlemen of the second order of nobility, who often produce on the vulgar a stronger effect as a grand seigneur than nobles of the first class, because they add a little acting to the natural dignity usually attendant upon persons who have been treated from their infancy with distinction. He was middle-aged, good-looking, courteous, a good scholar, a great collector of medals, very vain of his court favour, which was based on his long knowledge of all the moral and physical weaknesses of his master, and with an entire confidence in the indestructibility of an edifice which he had seen, notwithstanding, raised on the ruins of its own foundation.

He had, also, such a confidence in his own capacity that he conceived it impossible for any one but an egregious fool, or a malignant personal enemy, to doubt it.

He concentrated in his hands the King’s resolutions on all affairs, except foreign affairs, which M. de Talleyrand managed directly with his Majesty.

A government was thus formed, and the first duty of that government was to make a treaty of peace with the victorious powers. M. de Talleyrand had, necessarily, the conduct of this negotiation. There were two questions at issue: the one, the arrangements between the European potentates who had to give possessors to the territories they had taken from France; and the other, the arrangements to be made between France and these potentates.

Some persons thought it would be possible to deal with the two questions together, and that France could be admitted into a congress where the special questions of France with Europe, and the questions that had to be decided by the European sovereigns between themselves, could be settled simultaneously.[67]

But a little consideration will, I think, show that the questions between France and Europe, and the questions between the different States of Europe, which had been in hostility with France, were perfectly distinct.

It would also have been absurd, and consequently impossible, for France to have exacted, that all the matters that had to be arranged as resulting from the late war with France, should be treated in France.

The capital of France was the proper place for treating as to French interests.

The capital of one of the allies was the place where the affairs between the allies were naturally to be discussed. Paris was chosen in the first case, Vienna in the second.

The allies, however, had undoubtedly placed themselves in a false position towards the French nation, and this was felt when a peace with it had to be concluded.

They had declared that they separated Napoleon from France, that they only made war against the French ruler, and that they would give the country better conditions than they would give the Emperor. M. de Talleyrand, therefore, came forward, saying, “Well, you were going to give Napoleon the old limits of the French monarchy, what will you give France?”

The allies replied, as it was certain they would reply, that the promises alluded to were vague, they could not dispose of the property of others; that France had nothing legitimate but that which she held before a predatory succession of conquests; that the allies held, it was true, the conquered territories recovered from the French, but that they could not give them back to wrongful acquirers; that the general understanding was, that France should have its ancient limits, and that when the allies had agreed on the 23rd of April to withdraw their troops from the French territory, it had been understood that this was the territory of ancient France. Anything more was out of the question. M. de Talleyrand, however, obtained the frontier of 1792, and not that of 1790, and in rounding that frontier, added some fortresses and inhabitants to the kingdom of Louis XVI. Moreover, Paris remained the mistress, and was permitted to boast of remaining the mistress, of all the works of art ravished from other nations, being thus, in fact, constituted the artistic capital of the world.

Such a limited result, however, did not satisfy the French people with peace when the horrors of war were over; and we find in various works concerning these times comments on the inconceivable _légèreté_ of M. de Talleyrand, in not procuring more advantageous conditions.

I confess that I think that Europe should never have made compromising promises; and that she should have fulfilled generously whatever promises she had made; but upon the whole France, which in her conquests had despoiled every power, ought to have been satisfied when, in the returning tide of victory, those powers left her what she had originally possessed.

Poor M. de Talleyrand! he carried off all the absurd reproaches he had to encounter with a dignified indifference: even the accusation which was now made against him, of having signed the treaty of April, in which the provisional government, not being able to hold the fortresses still occupied by French troops out of France, with a foreign army demanding them in the heart of Paris, resigned them on the condition that France itself should be evacuated. “You seem to have been in a great hurry, M. de Talleyrand,” said the Duc de Berry, “to sign that unhappy treaty.” “Alas, yes, monseigneur; I was in a great hurry. There are senators who say I was in a great hurry to get the crown offered to your Royal house; a crown which it might otherwise not have got. You observe, monseigneur, that I was in a great hurry to give up fortresses which we could not possibly have kept. Alas, yes, monseigneur, I was in a great hurry. But do you know, monseigneur, what would have happened if I had waited to propose Louis XVIII. to the allies, and had refused to sign the treaty of the 23rd of April with them? No; you don’t know what would have happened! No more do I. But at all events you may rest assured, we should not now be disputing as to an act of the prince, your father.”

Again, when a little after this the son of Charles X. was boasting of what France would do when she got the three hundred thousand troops that had been locked up in Germany, Talleyrand, who had been seated at some little distance and apparently not listening, got up, and approaching slowly the Duc de Berry, said, with half-shut eyes and a doubtful look of inquiry, “And do you really think, monseigneur, that these three hundred thousand men can be of any use to us?” “Of use to us! to be sure they will.” “Hem!” said M. de Talleyrand, _fixing_ the Duc, “you really think so, monseigneur? I did not know; for we shall get them from that unfortunate treaty of the 23rd of April!”

The best of it was that Charles X. had thought this treaty the great act of his life, until his son said it was a great mistake; and he did not know then whether he should defend it in his own glorification, or throw all the blame of it on M. de Talleyrand.

VI.

The next link in the chain of events,--a final treaty of peace between France and Europe having been concluded (on the 30th of May),--was the promulgation of the long-promised constitution; for the sovereigns who were still in Paris, and with whom the Restoration had commenced, were anxious to leave it; and they said that they could not do so until the promises they had made to the French nation were fulfilled.

The 4th of June, therefore, was fixed for this national act.

The King had promised, as it has been seen, that the frame of a constitution should be submitted to the Senate and the legislative body.

He appointed the Abbé Montesquieu, whom we have already named, and a M. Ferrand, a person of some consideration with the Royalist party, to sketch the outline of this great work, assisted by M. de Beugnot, an accomplished gentleman, not very particular in his principles, but very adroit in his phraseology; when done, such sketch was submitted to and approved by the King, and passed on to two commissions, one chosen from the Senate and the other from the legislative body, the king reserving to himself the right of settling disputed points.

The result was generally satisfactory, for though the constitution was so framed as to give it the air of being a grant from the royal authority, it contained the most essential principles of a representative government, namely:--

Equality before the law, and in the distribution of taxation,--the admissibility of all to public employments,--the inviolability of the monarch,--the responsibility of ministers,--the freedom of religion,--the necessity of annual budgets;--and, finally, the permission to express in print and by publication all opinions--such permission being controlled by laws, which were to repress or punish its abuse.

There was to be a lower chamber with the qualification for the electors of the payment of three hundred francs, direct taxes; and, for the eligible, of one thousand francs.

The upper chamber was not then made hereditary, though the King might give an hereditary peerage. A great portion of the Senate, the dukes and peers before the Revolution, and other persons of distinction, formed the house of peers. The legislative body was to act as the lower chamber until the time for which the members had been chosen was expired. The senators, not carried on into the peerage, were given as a pension the payment that formerly attached to their function.

The King bargained that the new constitution should be called “La Charte Constitutionnelle;” “Charte” being an old word that the kings had formerly employed, and that it should be dated in _the nineteenth_ year of his reign.

The preamble also stated that “the King, in entire possession of his full rights over this beautiful kingdom, only desires to exercise the authority he holds from God and his ancestors, in determining the bounds of his own power.” A phrase which somewhat resembles one of Bolingbroke’s, who says: “The infinite power of God is limited by His infinite wisdom.”

It cannot be affirmed that M. de Talleyrand had anything to do with the framing of “the Charter,” since Louis XVIII.’s instruction to the commissioners was to keep everything secret from M. de Talleyrand; but it was the sort of constitution he had insisted upon: and thus the Restoration was accomplished according to the plan which he had undertaken to give to it, when he obtained the decrees which deposed the Bonapartes and recalled the Bourbons.

VII.

I have said that when M. de Talleyrand created the government of Louis XVIII., he wanted to give it a backbone, consisting of a party of able, practical, and popular men of moderate opinions. But Louis XVIII., as a principle, distrusted all men in proportion to their popularity and ability, his ministers especially. M. de Talleyrand, therefore, was, in his eyes, a person who should be constantly watched, and constantly suspected. Louis XVIII. had also in horror the idea of his cabinet being a ministry, _i.e._, a compact body agreeing together. His notion as to driving was that horses who were always kicking at each other, were less likely to kick at the carriage; furthermore, he considered that everything which was not as it had been thirty years back was really wrong, though he did not mean to take the trouble of changing it, and that all this new set of persons he had to deal with were _coquins_--not a gentleman amongst them. That it was proper manners, since they existed, to treat them courteously, and proper policy, since they had a certain power in their hands, to temporise with them; but in his heart of hearts he looked upon them as yahoos, who had got into the stalls of horses, and were to be kicked out directly the horses, strengthened by plentiful feeds of corn, were up to the enterprise. In the meantime nothing was to be risked, so that he sat himself down as comfortably as he could in his arm-chair, received all visitors with an air which an actor, about to play Louis XIV., might have done well to study; wrote pretty billets, said sharp and acute things, and felt that he was every inch--a king.

Such was the sovereign of France; but there was also another demi-sovereign, who was to be found in the Pavillon Marsan, inhabited by the Comte d’Artois.

I esteem that prince, whom it has been the fashion to decry, more in some respects than I do his brother; for though he had not a superior intelligence, he had a heart. He really wished well to his country: he would have laid down his life for it, at least he thought he would: his intentions were excellent; but he relied on his old notions and education for the means of carrying them out.

Louis XVIII. was more cultivated, more cynical, more false: he loved France vaguely, as connected with his own pride and the pride of his race: he thought ill of the world, but was disposed to extract the most he could from it towards his own comfort, dignity, and prosperity. This character was not amiable, but its coldness and hardness rendered its possessor more secure against being duped, though not against being flattered.

The Comte d’Artois was both flattered and duped; but it was by addressing themselves to his better qualities that his flatterers duped him. They depicted the French people as eminently and naturally loyal: full of sympathy and respect for the descendants of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. “Poor children! they had been led away by having bad men placed over them in the different functions of the State: all that was necessary was to place good men, loyal men, men who had served the royal family even in exile--men, in short, who could be relied upon, in the public employments. The church, too--that great instrument of government, and that great source of comfort and contentment to men--that guardian of the mind which prevents its emotions from wandering into the regions of false theories and hopes--had been treated with contempt and indifference. The church and the throne were required to aid each other--the Bourbons had to bring them into harmony. On these conditions, and on these conditions alone--conditions (so said all whom the Comte d’Artois consulted) so clear, so simple, so pious, and so just--the safety and prosperity of the monarchy depended.”

The whole mistake consisted in considering the French a people that they were not, and ignoring what they were, and in fancying that a few prefects and priests could suddenly convert a whole generation from one set of ideas to another. But the Comte d’Artois’ doctrines were pleasing to Louis XVIII., though he did not quite believe in them, and still more pleasing to all the friends or favourites who enjoyed his intimacy.

Thus, though they had not the support of his convictions, they influenced his conduct; which, however, never being altogether what Monsieur and his party required, was always watched by them with suspicion, and frequently opposed with obstinacy.

Where, then, could M. de Talleyrand turn for aid to maintain the government at the head of which he figured? To the King? he had not his confidence. To his colleagues? they did not confide in each other. To the Comte d’Artois? he was in opposition to his brother. To the Royalists? they wanted absolute possession of power. The Imperialists and Republicans were out of the question. Moreover, he was not a man who could create, stimulate, command. To understand a situation and to bring to bear not unwilling assistants on its immediate solution, to collect the scattered influences about him, and direct them to a point at which it was their own interest to arrive; this was his peculiar talent. But to sustain a long and protracted conflict, to overawe and govern opposing parties; this was beyond the colder temperament of his faculties.

His only parliamentary effort then was an exposition in the chamber of peers of the state of the finances, which exposition was as clear and able as his financial statements always were. For the rest, he trusted partly to chance, partly to the ordinary and natural workings of a constitutional system, which was sure in time to produce parties with opinions, and even ministers, who, in their common defence, would be obliged to adopt a common policy and line of conduct. Thus, shrugging up his shoulders at M. de Fontanes’ declaration that he could not feel free where the press was so, and smiling at Madame de Simiane’s notions as to a minister, who, according to her and the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain, should be a grand seigneur, with perfect manners and a great name, who had hard-working men with spectacles under them, called _bouleux_,[68] to do their business--he hastened his preparations for joining the congress at Vienna, which was to have commenced its sittings two months after the treaty of Paris, that is, on the 30th of July, but which had not met in the middle of September.

VIII.

I have said that the congress was to commence on the 30th of July, but it was not till the 25th of September that the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and the other kings and ministers of the different courts who were expected there, began to assemble. M. de Metternich, Lord Castlereagh, afterwards succeeded by the Duke of Wellington, the Prince Hardenberg, the Count Nesselrode, though only as second to the Emperor Alexander himself, who was his own negotiator, were the principal persons with whom M. de Talleyrand was associated.

His task was not an easy one. His sovereign owed his crown to those whose interests had now to be decided; he might himself be considered under obligations to them. It required a strong sense of a high position not to sink into a subordinate one. M. de Talleyrand had this, and sat himself down at Vienna with the air of being the ambassador of the greatest king in the world.

He was accompanied by persons with names more or less distinguished. The Duc Dalberg, the Comte Alexis de Noailles, M. de la Bernadière, and M. de Latour du Pin.

The first, M. de Talleyrand said, would let out secrets which he wished to be known; the second would report all he saw to the Comte d’Artois, and thus save that prince the trouble of having any one else to do so. As to M. de la Bernadière, he would keep the Chancellerie going, and M. de Latour du Pin would sign the passports.

The ideas he himself took under these circumstances to Vienna were,--to get France admitted into the congress on the same footing as other powers; to break up in some way or other the compactness of the confederation recently formed against her, and to procure friends from the body which was now a united enemy; to procure the expulsion of Murat from the throne of Naples, and lastly, to remove the Emperor of Elba to a more distant location (Bermuda, or the Azores, were spoken of).

The dissolution of the alliance was the independence of France, however brought about. As for the expulsion of Murat from Naples, or the removal of Napoleon from Elba, these, no doubt, were great objects to the Bourbons in France; but it is possible that there were other grounds also which induced M. de Talleyrand to pursue them.

If Murat were removed from Naples, and Napoleon were in some place of security, and the elder branch of the Bourbons compromised itself in France, two other governments, according to circumstances, were still on the cards. The regency with Napoleon’s son, or a limited monarchy with the Duc d’Orléans.

M. de Talleyrand had seen enough before he went to Vienna, and probably heard enough since he had been there, to make him doubtful of the success of his first experiment: but his position was such that in any combination in France that had not the late Emperor Napoleon at its head, he would still be the person to whom a large party in and out of his own country would look for the solution of the difficulty which the downfall of Louis XVIII. would provoke.

The basis of the congress of Vienna was necessarily that furnished by the engagements which had already taken place between the allies at Breslau, Töplitz, Chaumont, and Paris; engagements which concerned the reconstruction of Prussia according to its proportions in 1806, the dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; the re-establishment of the House of Brunswick in Hanover; and arrangements, to which I shall presently allude, concerning the future position of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw.

As all that was to be distributed was a common spoil in the hands of the allies, they suggested that a committee of four, representing England, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, should first agree amongst themselves as to the partition; and that an understanding having been established between these--the principal parties--this understanding should be communicated to the others; to France and Spain in particular;--whose objections would be heard.

Such an arrangement excluded France from any active part in the first decisions, which would evidently be sustained when the four allies had agreed upon them.

The tact and talent of M. de Talleyrand were displayed in getting this sentence reversed.

Taking advantage of the treaty of peace which France had already signed, he contended that there were no longer _allies_, but simply powers who were called upon, after a war which had created a new order of things in Europe, to consider and decide in what manner this new order of things could best be established for the common good, and with the best regard to the old rights existing before 1792, and the new rights which certain states had legitimately acquired in the long struggle which, with more or less continuity, had existed since that epoch.

With some difficulty he at last made these ideas prevail, and the committee of four was changed into a committee of eight, comprising all the signatories to the treaty of Paris: Austria, England, Russia, Prussia, France, Spain, Portugal, and Sweden.

This first point gained, the second,--viz., a division amongst the allies, was to be brought about. Any precipitate effort to do this would have prevented its success. M. de Talleyrand waited to work for it himself until rival interests began to work with him.

Now Austria’s great pre-occupation was to regain her old position in Italy, without diminishing the importance of that to which she pretended in Germany.

The views of Russia, or rather of the Emperor Alexander, were more complicated, and formed with a certain greatness of mind and generosity of sentiment, though always with that craft which mingled with the imperial chivalry.

I have just said that I should speak of the arrangements respecting the Duchy of Warsaw, which were contemplated during the war in the event of the allies being successful. It had been settled that this duchy--once delivered from the pretensions of Napoleon--should be divided between the three military powers, Austria, Prussia, and Russia.

But the Emperor of Russia now took a higher tone. The annihilation of Poland, he said, had been a disgrace to Europe: he proposed to himself the task of collecting its scattered members, and reconstituting it with its own laws, religion, and constitution. It would be a pleasure to him to add to what he could otherwise re-assemble, the ancient Polish provinces under his dominion. Poland should live again with the Czar of Russia for its king. I doubt whether the Emperor Alexander did not over-rate the gratitude he expected to awaken, and under-rate the feeling existing among the Poles, not merely as to nationality, but as to national independence.

But his notion most assuredly was, that he should thus create as an _avant-garde_ into Europe a powerful kingdom, capable of rapid improvement, and combining with a complete devotion to his family, all the enthusiasm of a people who again stood up amidst the nations of the world.

He argued, moreover, and not without reason, that a kingdom of Poland thus existing would inevitably ere long draw back to itself all those portions of alienated territory which were in the hands of the other co-partitioning powers, and that thus Russia would ere long dominate the whole of that kingdom which she had at one time condescended to divide.

This project was of course easily seen through in Prussia as well as in Austria; but Russia presumed that Austria would be satisfied with her Italian acquisitions. He saw, however, that Prussia required no common bribe. The bribe proposed was Saxony, and thus a secret engagement was entered into between the two northern courts: Russia promising to stand by Prussia’s claims as to Saxony, and Prussia promising to support Russia’s plans as to Poland.

With respect to England, she seemed more especially occupied with the idea of forming a united kingdom of Holland and Belgium, and beguiled by the delusion that you could unite by treaties populations which were disunited by sympathies, fancied she could, by the union proposed, create a barrier against French ambition where England was most concerned; and thus save us in future from those dangers by which we were menaced when the Scheldt was in Napoleon’s possession, and the British coast was menaced by maritime arsenals, which confronted it from Brest to Antwerp.

The conflict which at once commenced had reference to the ambitious claims of Prussia and Russia.

The King of Saxony, though an ally of Napoleon, had been faithful to France, and there was a feeling in the French nation favourable to him. As to Poland, France, which has always taken a lively interest in Polish independence as a barrier against Russian aggrandisement, could not see with satisfaction an arrangement which was to make Poland an instrument of Russian power.

Our disposition as to Prussia was at first somewhat undecided. We did not approve of the destruction of Saxony, still we were not unwilling to see a strong state established in the north of Germany, if it was an independent state: and would therefore at first have allowed the addition of Saxony to the Prussian dominions, if Prussia would have joined with Great Britain and Austria against the Russian projects in Poland. Austria, on the other hand, was quite as much against the Prussian project as the Russian one; but Prince Metternich, being perfectly aware that Prussia would not separate herself from Russia, affected to fall into Lord Castlereagh’s views, and agreed to sacrifice Saxony if Prussia would insist with ourselves on Polish independence.

Prussia, as Prince Metternich foresaw, refused this; and indeed took possession of Saxony, as Russia did of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, assuming towards the other powers an attitude of defiance.

In the meantime the question of Saxony became popular with the English parliament and the English court: with the English parliament, which is always against the oppressor; and with the English court, which began to think that, when Prussia had once got Saxony, she might take a fancy to Hanover. Austria gladly perceived this change, and it was agreed that England and Austria should oppose themselves conjointly and distinctly to the intentions haughtily manifested by the two northern courts.

Thus England, Austria, and France found themselves linked together by common opinions. Still there were reasons why the first two powers hesitated as to connecting themselves with the third.

These reasons were--the connection which M. de Talleyrand desired, would be a rupture of that league by which the peace of Europe had been obtained; it was uncertain whether France could give Austria and England any practical aid; and also it was doubtful whether she would not exact more for such aid, if she did give it, than it was worth, and aim at renewing all the ambitious designs which the overthrow of Napoleon and the treaty of Paris had set at rest.

The principal objection wore away as it became more and more evident that Prussia and Russia had already entered, into separate and particular engagements, which rendered it not only justifiable but necessary for England and Austria, if they did not mean to submit servilely to the results of these engagements, to guard against them by counter-engagements between themselves.

With respect to the power of France as an auxiliary, M. de Talleyrand, by an able exposition of the state of affairs at Vienna, induced the French government to display its military capacity by raising the French army from 130,000 to 200,000, and creating the facility for increasing it to a far more formidable amount--a measure which the extraordinary recovery of French finances under the able administration of M. Louis rendered easy, and which produced a considerable moral effect, both in France and out of it. At the same time the ambassador of France, in his numerous conversations with Lord Castlereagh and M. de Metternich, held this language:

“A government to last must be faithful to its origin. Bonaparte’s was founded by conquest: he was forced to continue conquering; that of the present sovereign of France is based on principle. To this principle it must adhere; it is the principle of legitimate right, which conquest, until confirmed by treaty, cannot effect. We support the King of Saxony on this principle: we do not want then to be paid for doing so. In supporting his throne, we guarantee our own. Do you doubt my sincerity? I will sign any paper you wish to tranquillize all suspicion as to our ambition.”

It was in this manner that he led by degrees to the signing of the secret treaty of 3rd of January, 1815, a treaty by which Austria, England, and France bound themselves to furnish each 150,000 men, to support any one of the three powers which might be attacked by other powers attempting forcibly to alter the equilibrium of Europe for their own advantage. The names of the powers suspected were not mentioned, and the compact entered into was essentially of a defensive character; but it was in sympathy with French feelings; it broke up the anti-French alliance, and gave to France the two most important allies she could hope to gain; for England alone had formed the late coalition, and without her a coalition could not be again formed.

M. Thiers, who is too prone to consider that all statesmanship consists in acquiring extensions of territory, objects to everything done by M. de Talleyrand, and considers that this diplomatist should have waited quietly, rather favouring Prussia and Russia, and that then these powers would have offered France Belgium or the frontiers of the Rhine, in which case Prussia and Russia would, he considers, have been more advantageous allies to France than England and Austria.

Now, of all ideas the one that seems the most extravagant to me is that Prussia, or even Russia, would have reseated France on the Rhine, or brought her back in any way nearer to Germany. I feel certain that under no circumstances was this likely. But, at all events, Prussia and Russia would only have made the strange proposal on which M. Thiers counts, at the last extremity.

They would have previously carried their negotiations with their late allies to the utmost limit; and as we were prepared to make many concessions, and did indeed finally give up one-third of Saxony to Prussia, and as much of Poland as she could well digest to Russia, there is not the slightest probability that, for the remaining differences, Prussia and Russia would have purchased the aid of France by a large increase of frontier and a deadly quarrel with Great Britain and Austria.

M. de Talleyrand then, in following the policy suggested by M. Thiers, would, in the first place, have lost the opportunity which he more wisely seized of separating the great powers; he would also have ungenerously abandoned Saxony, and at the same time so disgusted England, that it would afterwards have been impossible to get an English parliament to vote a sixpence for sustaining the Bourbon cause. Waterloo would never have been fought; Russia and Prussia could have done little without English subsidies; and France would have been again delivered into the hands of Napoleon, whose triumph would have been M. de Talleyrand’s own ruin; and the ruin of the master he then served.

As it is not my intention to enter into the general subject of the treaty of Vienna, which I have always considered alike defective in principle and policy, I shall not follow the negotiations I have been alluding to further; though it may be as well, since I have spoken of Naples, to observe that M. de Talleyrand never obtained Prince Metternich’s attention to the dethronement of Murat until the Prussian and Russian questions had been settled by suitable arrangements; for Prince Metternich was too wise to have Germany and Italy on his back at once; when, however, these arrangements were completed, and the brother-in-law of Napoleon had compromised himself by intrigues, which had been watched but allowed to ripen, the Austrian statesman then gave the French ambassador a private but positive assurance that the Kingdom of Naples should shortly be restored to its old possessors.

As to the question of a change of residence for Napoleon, that was decided, just as the congress was closing, by Napoleon himself; who, not ignorant of the plans that were maturing for his removal from a position wherein nothing but the most absurd want of consideration could ever have placed him, engaged in that audacious enterprise, the most glorious, though the most fatal, in his meteor-like career.

IX.

It was in the midst of the gaieties of a ball on the 5th of March,[69] and just as the congress was about to separate, that from a small group of sovereigns collected together and betraying the seriousness of their conversation by the gloom of their countenances, there came forth as a sort of general murmur:--

“Bonaparte has escaped from Elba.” Prince Metternich, it is said, was the only person who at once divined that the ex-Emperor’s intentions were to march at once on Paris. The success of so bold an adventure was, of course, doubtful; but in the hope there might still be time to influence public opinion, a proclamation, proposed (at the instigation of the Duke of Wellington) by Austria, and signed 13th March by France and the four great powers, denounced the Emperor of Elba in language only applicable to a pirate or a freebooter: a language that Louis XVIII. had used at Paris on the 6th of March, and might use with some propriety, but which came far less decorously from princes who had not very long previously treated this pirate and freebooter as “the king of kings,” and which was unsuitable to the lips of a sovereign who was speaking of the husband of his favourite daughter.

People, however, often cover a hesitation in their decisions by an extravagance in their attitude.

The idea of a new war was popular with no one; the different powers, moreover, represented at Vienna, were no longer on the same cordial terms of fraternity that had distinguished their relations at Paris; they felt notwithstanding, that, in the face of a common danger they must consider as extinguished their several rivalries and animosities, and show themselves united and determined on the deadly combat, which alone could, if successful, repair the effects of their imprudence and save the honour of their arms.

Shortly after this came the news of that glorious and soul-stirring march through legions who, when commanded to point their bayonets at the breast of their old commander as a traitor, wept at his knees as a father; but this great historical romance rather strengthened than weakened the resolves that had previously been formed; and the proclamation of the 13th of March was soon succeeded by the treaty of the 25th.

This treaty, to which the four allied powers were the only principal parties, was a revival of the treaty of Chaumont and the treaty of Paris. The position of the Bourbons was not clearly defined; for though Louis XVIII. was invited to be a party to it, the allies, and England in particular, expressly declared that they did not attempt to impose a government on France, nor bind themselves to support the claims of the fugitive monarch. I say “fugitive monarch” because Louis XVIII. had by this time tested the value of his adherents, and was settling down quietly at Ghent; Napoleon being as quietly re-established in the Tuileries.

The secret of all that had occurred is to be stated in a few words.

Louis XVIII. had not gained the affections of the French nation; his predecessor had retained the affections of the French army. There was little mystery in the intrigues of the Bonapartes. The Queen Hortense (Comtesse de St. Leu) resided at Paris, and the conversation of her drawing-room was a constant conspiracy, whilst the correspondence she received was the confidence of half the capital. Barras and Fouché both informed M. de Blacas of much that was going on, and offered to give him more detailed information; but that gentleman’s horizon was limited, and what he did not see he did not believe. Moreover, the Royalists conceived that the most Christian king had gained the consciences of the military by naming an _aumonier_, with the rank of captain, to each regiment, and had the provinces in his hands, because he had placed them in those of functionaries who professed hatred to “the usurper.” “What had they to fear?” Thus, the country which had been fatigued with the soldier and the drum, was teased by the mass and the _émigré_. And, in the meantime, the veterans of the great army, who saw themselves replaced by a guard of young gentlemen with good names and splendid uniforms; and the beauties of the Empire, who found themselves out of fashion amongst the great ladies of the legitimate court, were at the two ends of the electric wire, which had only to be touched by the little man in the grey great-coat, in order to vibrate through the heart of every soldier who had ever followed the imperial eagle, and still kept the tricolour cockade in his writing-desk or his knapsack.

X.

The conduct of M. de Talleyrand at Vienna had been that which he always followed to any government that employed him--zealous and faithful. He had, in short, been an active and able agent, carrying out the policy which Louis XVIII., with whom he kept up a private correspondence, thought the best for his dynasty and for France; and he had succeeded in giving both dignity and influence to a government which in reality wanted both. He had not during his foreign mission meddled with the internal policy of the court, nor relaxed in his endeavours to serve it on account of the faults it committed: but to his intimate friends he had made no secret of his belief that it was taking a road which would probably lead to ruin. When it had arrived at that goal the case was different. He did not separate himself from it--but he did not link himself indissolubly with it. He showed no hesitation, however, as to declaring against its opponent. Concentrating himself indeed on the one idea of getting rid of Napoleon, he repeated constantly to those who expatiated on the deficiency of the Restoration, “I don’t know what government may be the best for France, but I do know that Napoleon’s is the worst.”

His old master would willingly have softened this animosity; and Fouché, who was intriguing with all parties, with the intention of choosing the most powerful, sent M. de Montrond to Vienna to learn what he could, as to the real intentions of the alliance, and more especially as to the intentions of M. de Talleyrand, whose services M. de Montrond was to endeavour, by any assurances he might judge necessary, to obtain.

This M. de Montrond was a specialty of his epoch: a type of that French _roué_ whom Faublas, and more particularly the “_liaisons dangereuses_,” had produced. He had ruled the world of fashion by his loves, his duels, and his wit, which was superior to any man’s, for nearly forty years. He was one of M. de Talleyrand’s pets, as M. de Talleyrand was one of his admirations. Each spoke ill of the other, for each said he loved the other for his vices. But no one could speak to M. de Talleyrand with so much intimacy as M. de Montrond, nor obtain from him so clear an answer. For they trusted each other, though M. de Montrond would never have told any one else to trust M. de Talleyrand, nor M. de Talleyrand told any one else to trust M. de Montrond.

This latter gentleman, the soul of Queen Hortense’s circle, and at the same time the friend of the Duc d’Orléans, whom he had known in Sicily, to which island he had exiled himself in one of Napoleon’s fits of ill-humour--not, as it was thought, without an object--first tried to see if any consideration could bring the diplomatist, once known as Prince de Benevent, to his old allegiance: and, on finding this impossible, sounded him, it is said, as to his feelings towards the son of that prince, with whose celebrated society in the Palais Royal his early remembrances must have been familiar. The answer he obtained was “that the door was not then open, but, should it ever be open, there was no necessity for shutting it with vehemence.”

This lukewarm fidelity was not precisely of the temperature that suited the loyalty of Ghent, where some people thought that it would not have been difficult to have induced the allies to have been more positive and explicit in favour of the legitimate monarch, if his representative had been more zealous as to his rights and less sensible as to his errors. The party of the Comte d’Artois, also, instead of repenting of the excess to which it had carried its principles, and recognizing that this excess had been the cause of its overthrow--thought, or at least _said_, as is usual in such cases, that its failure was caused, not by the policy it had pursued, but by the checks which that policy had encountered.

XI.

M. de Talleyrand, then, was more or less in disgrace with the politicians, who were already disputing about the redistribution of the places that their mistakes had just lost; and, bearing this disgrace with his usual supercilious negligence, declared that his health required the waters of Carlsbad, observing that a diplomatist’s first duty after a congress was to take care of his liver.

In the meantime the hundred days which concentrated so much of the past, present, and future, were rushing rapidly on. I know no example that teaches us more clearly that our intellect is governed by our character, than that which is to be found in the conduct of Napoleon during these hundred days. None saw more clearly than himself that prudence and policy advised that he should either appear before the French as the great captain who came to free them from a yoke imposed by the foreigner; and refuse any other title than that of their general until a peace was established or a victory gained: or that he should seize the full powers of dictator, and sustain them by his prestige over the military and the masses, arming and revolutionizing France, and being himself the representative of that armed revolution. But he loved the title and decorations of sovereignty, and could not induce himself to descend from the emperor to the soldier. Neither could he persuade himself to call to life those elements of force in which he saw the elements of disorder, nor condescend to be the chief of the mob even with the title of majesty. He temporised, therefore, for the moment with those with whom he had the least sympathy, and from whom he could get the least assistance; I mean the Constitutionalists, who, representing the middle order and the thinking portion of the French people, formed a party, that with a regular government, and at an ordinary time, and under a sovereign they could have trusted, might have possessed considerable influence, but such a party, with a government created by the sword, at the moment of a crisis, under a ruler of whom they were suspicious, could only embarrass Napoleon’s action, and could not add to his authority.

The conditions, then, under which this marvellous being fought for the last time for empire were impossible. He had not in his character the elements of a revolutionary leader; and he was not allowed to use the qualities, with which nature had endowed him, of a great captain and despotic chief.

His cool head, his incomparable energy, gave something like character and system to his own military proceedings, but all beyond them was confusion. A great battle was to be safety or ruin. He fought it, and was vanquished; but he had fought it with skill and courage against foreign invaders; and I confess that my heart, though an English one, beats in sympathy for him, as he quitted the field where he left so many of his devoted followers, and, prescient of the fate which awaited him, sought a city which never tolerates the unfortunate. Would for England’s honour that his destiny had closed on that memorable field, and that we had not to inscribe on the same page of our history the captivity of St. Helena and the victory of Waterloo!

XII.

To return to Ghent; the ex-King, irritated and perplexed by the prolonged absence of his minister, not satisfied with that of the Duc d’Orléans, who had retired to England, and harassed by the zeal of Monsieur, had conducted himself, notwithstanding, with dignity and ability; and, by a sort of representation about his person, a continued correspondence with France, and a confident attachment on the part of his adherents, kept up a certain prestige in his favour.

Nothing, however, had at first been positively decided concerning him, for M. de Metternich carried on, for a time, a secret negotiation with Fouché, in which he offered--if that false and wily man could procure Napoleon’s abdication or deposition--to support the claims of either the Duc d’Orléans or Marie-Louise: a proposition which, as long as its success was uncertain, could not but affect considerably the state of M. de Talleyrand’s liver.

This negotiation once broken off, Louis’ claims made a great advance, since the allied sovereigns were strongly persuaded that on entering France they must have some national party in their favour.

There were certain indications likewise in France itself, serving to show men who watched the inclination of the many straws that were then in the air, that these were being blown back towards the old monarchy; and when Louis XVIII. saw that the list of Bonaparte’s senators did not contain the name of M. de Semonville, he considered his return pretty secure.

The same conviction arrived about the same time at Carlsbad, where the distinguished invalid began to think that he ought no longer to delay a personal account of the services he had rendered at Vienna.

His arrival at Ghent was not, however, particularly agreeable there, since he came as the decided enemy of the now celebrated M. de Blacas, to whom he was determined to attribute nearly all the errors which the King had committed.

In fact, M. de Talleyrand’s disgrace was resolved upon; and, as he was rarely the last to know what concerned himself, when he waited on Louis XVIII. the day after the battle of Waterloo, it was to request his gracious permission to continue his cure at Carlsbad; nor was his Majesty so ill-natured as to reply otherwise than by saying: “Certainly, M. de Talleyrand; I hear those waters are excellent.”

Nothing could equal the amiable and contented mien with which M. de Talleyrand limped from his most Christian Majesty’s presence after this considerate reply; and, eating an excellent dinner that evening with the mayor of Mons, he was never known, says one of the guests, to be more gay, witty, or agreeable;--dilating to one or two of his intimate friends on the immense pleasure it was to find that he had no longer to disturb himself about the affairs of a clique which it was impossible to serve and to please.

But, as it happened, the Comte d’Artois, who hated M. de Talleyrand as a liberal, hated M. de Blacas still more as a favourite; and Louis XVIII. finding that, whatever happened to M. de Talleyrand, M. de Blacas could not be kept, and that he (the king) must either be the tool of his brother, or obtain a protector in his minister, preferred, on the whole, the latter situation.

The Duke of Wellington, moreover, who, since the secret treaty at Vienna, considered the French negotiator there as linked with the policy of England, told Louis that if he wished for the influence of our government, he must have a man at the head of his own in whom he could confide.

M. Guizot, likewise, who, though young in affairs had acquired, even thus early, much consideration, and who spoke in the name of the constitutional Legitimists, had already said that, to have the support of this small but respectable party, a cabinet must be formed with M. de Talleyrand at its head; and thus, on those second thoughts which come to us often when we have been a little too hasty and bold in listening to our first, M. de Talleyrand received the order to join the King at Cambrai the day after he had been allowed to proceed to Carlsbad.

M. de Talleyrand was, however, not only mortified by the treatment he had received, but foresaw that he had only such treatment eventually to expect, and was determined to prefer the first recommendation to the subsequent command.

There are many, however, anxious that a statesman from whom they expect favours should not abjure office; and, finally, the man of the first Restoration, his pride being satisfied by a general appeal to his patriotism, agreed to appear again as the minister of a second.

Still, in coming to this determination, M. de Talleyrand adopted another. He had frequently, it is said, blamed himself for having in 1814 allowed the sovereign, who could not have done without him, to assume too absolute an authority over him. He did not now expect to be at the head of the French Government long, but he deemed that his only chance of remaining there, or of doing any good whilst he was there, was to show an indifference to office, and a consciousness of power.

He appeared, then, when summoned to his Majesty’s council, with a sketch of a proclamation which he called upon the King to sign, and which was, in fact, a recognition of the errors of his Majesty’s late reign.

As the conversation that took place on the reading of this proclamation is related by a witness, I give it as narrated, the more especially as it shows the position which M. de Talleyrand assumed, and the cool self-confidence with which he confronted the indignation of the whole Bourbon family.[70]

“The Council assembles: it was composed of MM. de Talleyrand, Dambray, de Feltre, de Fancourt, Beurnonville, and myself” (M. de Beugnot is speaking).

“After a few words from M. de Talleyrand, explanatory of the subject which was to be brought before the Council, I commenced reading the proclamation, such as it remained after the corrections made in it; the King permitted me to read it to the end, and then, though not without some emotion that his face betrayed, told me to read it once more.

“Monsieur then spoke, and complained bitterly of the terms in which the proclamation was drawn up. ‘The King,’ he said, ‘is made to ask pardon for the faults he committed. He is made to say that he allowed himself to be carried away by his affections, and that for the future he will conduct himself differently. Such expressions can only do this mischief--lower royalty; for in all other respects they say too much or too little.’

“M. de Talleyrand replied: ‘Monsieur will pardon me if I differ from him; I find these expressions necessary, and appropriately placed. The King has had faults, his affections have misled him. There is nothing too much in this paper.’ ‘Is it I?’ said Monsieur, ‘whom it is intended indirectly to point out?’ ‘Why, yes, since Monsieur has placed the discussion on that ground, Monsieur has done a great deal of harm.’ ‘The Prince de Talleyrand forgets himself.’ ‘I fear so, but truth carries me away.’ The Duc de Berry, with the accent of anger painfully restrained: ‘Nothing but the presence of the King would permit me to tolerate this treatment of my father before me, and I would like to know----’ At these words, pronounced in a higher tone than the rest, the King made a sign to the Duc de Berry, and said, ‘Enough, my nephew; I am the only person to judge of the propriety of what is said in my presence, and in my Council. Gentlemen, I neither approve of the terms of this proclamation, nor of the conversation to which it has given rise. The framer must retouch his work, not forgetting that when I speak, it must be with a due sense of my dignity and high position.’ The Duc de Berry, pointing at me: ‘But it is not he who has strung all this nonsense together.’ The King: ‘Forbear interrupting, nephew, if you please. I repeat, gentlemen, that I have listened to this discussion with much regret. Let us turn to another subject.’”

XIII.

The proclamation with some slight alterations was published, and M. de Talleyrand finally carried his point, and formed his ministry. It is difficult to place oneself so completely in the troubled scene of Paris at this time, amidst the confused society composed of a defeated army, disappointed Republicans, triumphant Royalists, all uneasy and agitated in their actual position, and without the possibility of a common attachment to what was to be their government--it is difficult, I say, to take into a comprehensive glance the confused and troubled state of the French capital, disturbed by a thousand plots which might at any moment concentrate into one--and, therefore, it is difficult to appreciate the possible necessity of employing an able and dexterous adventurer, who had pulled many of the cords of the machine which had now to be brought into harmonious working. Still, I venture to consider that the Duke of Wellington committed an error in recommending, and M. de Talleyrand an error in accepting, M. Fouché as a member of the cabinet about to be formed.

The late minister of police was, in fact, at this time, an acknowledged scoundrel; he had gained our favour by betraying his master’s secrets to our general; he had gained the favour of the extreme Royalists by concealing their plots, and keeping safe their persons when he was serving the government they were attempting to overthrow. He had betrayed the Republicans of France to the Emperor of France, and he had subsequently betrayed the Emperor of France to the foreigner; and he had voted for the death of the brother of the monarch who was now to sit upon the throne. It was impossible for a man of this sort, whatever his abilities, not to bring ultimate disgrace on the government that enrolled him in its ranks; and, in fact, by his successive efforts, first to gain one party, and then to gain the other, by his personal ambition, by his constant intrigues, and by the general distrust he inspired, he deprived his colleagues of the consideration of all honest men, and exposed them consequently to the attacks of all violent factions.

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.