CHAPTER III

1838

_Rochecotte, January 1, 1838._--In spite of my weakness I remained until midnight in the drawing-room, to embrace M. de Talleyrand, my children, and my sister as the new year came in. I am to go out in the carriage to-day, to come down to dinner, and, in short, to return to life by degrees.

_Rochecotte, January 2, 1838._--The whole countryside passed this way yesterday; people were still here in the evening. I am no worse this morning, but the contrary, and if this marvellous weather will last a few days longer I hope that I shall soon be quite myself again. M. de Talleyrand, unfortunately, already speaks of returning to Paris.

_Rochecotte, January 5, 1838._--I have no good opinion of the year upon which we have entered, from a political point of view. My mind is despondent, my soul sad, my nerves are weak, my heart is full, and, to use the language of the chambermaid, I wouldn't give twopence for anything. We have been plunged in fog for the last few days, but none the less I have been to pay my farewell calls in the immediate neighbourhood.

_Rochecotte, January 6, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand and Pauline have just started for Paris. No one is left in the house except my sister, my son Alexandre, and myself. I must make up my accounts and prepare for departure, as we are all three going the day after to-morrow. Notwithstanding the sad recollections of the illness which darkened my last weeks here, I shall leave this pleasant little spot with regret.

_Paris, January 11, 1838._--I arrived here yesterday at ten o'clock in the evening after a journey which nine degrees of frost and constant snow made extremely unpleasant. However, we had no accident, and the change of air, sudden as it has been, has rather strengthened me and given me a little appetite.

Yesterday I dined at Versailles with Madame de Balbi, whom I thought had grown very old. My sister at the same time was eating fowl with Madame de Trogoff, whom she knew very well long ago.

We found M. de Talleyrand in good health, but anxious about our journey. He told me that the Ministry was absorbed in work upon the Address, so that none of the members are visible for the moment.

_Paris, January 12, 1838._--Yesterday I was very busy with my sister's dresses, my own, and those of Pauline. We have all three arrived in rags. Then I went to see Madame de Laval, who is greatly changed. In the evening I took my sister to hear _The Puritans_, in the same box at the _Théâtre Italien_ as I had last year. Rubini has certainly lost something of his voice, and Madame Grisi has begun to shriek.

I believe there is great agitation in the political world, but I ask no questions, do not even read a newspaper, and preserve my beloved state of ignorance, partly through idleness and partly as a precaution.

_Paris, January 13, 1838._--My sister wished to go for once to the Chamber of Deputies, which is a new sight for her. The Russian Ambassador gave us his tickets, and we spent our morning yesterday at the Palais Bourbon. M. Molé surpassed my expectations. He delighted my sister and charmed myself. There could be nothing more dignified, nothing clearer, better thought or better expressed than his speech. His success was quite complete. I saw Madame de Lieven at the Chamber; my sister and she will not look at one another; they detest one another, though they do not know one another. This is inconvenient for me.[84] M. Guizot came up into our seat, and I thought him greatly changed.

[84] A book recently published by M. Jean Hanotau, _Letters of Prince Metternich to the Comtesse de Lieven_ (1818-1819), shows that it was Prince Metternich who set these two ladies against one another.

I am quite overcome by so different a mode of life from that of the last six months.

_Paris, January 14, 1838._--Yesterday I had a very long and very kind visit from the Prince Royal, who was quite calm and in a placid frame of mind.

I then called upon the Princesse de Lieven, who gave me full details of her domestic situation, which excluded conversation upon any other topic and reduced me to the position of audience. She thinks she will certainly be able to stay here _ad vitam æternam_ without molestation. I hope she may. In the evening I went to the Tuileries, to pay my respects to the Queen.

_Paris, January 15, 1838._--Great fires are becoming quite fashionable. The burning of the London Stock Exchange will form a counterpart to the destruction of the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg, with the difference that a hundred persons perished in Russia, while no loss of life took place in England. Paul Medem told me that the Winter Palace was three times as large as the Louvre, and that six thousand persons lived there; that the Imperial pharmacy was situated in the middle of the castle, and that an explosion resulting from a chemical experiment had caused the conflagration.

I did not go out yesterday. M. de Sainte-Aulaire came to lunch with my sister and myself, after which I had a call from M. Royer-Collard, who is much better this year. I saw MM. Thiers and Guizot with M. de Talleyrand. We had a long and tiresome family dinner, after which my sister and myself found nothing better to do than to go to bed at half-past nine. I have not entirely recovered my strength. A conversation with Dr. Cruveilhier, only too similar to that which I had at Tours with Dr. Bretonneau, has done much to bring back my despondency and listlessness.

_Paris, January 16, 1838._--Yesterday when I was writing I had heard nothing of the conflagration which destroyed the _Théâtre Italien_ the preceding night. The under-manager and four firemen lost their lives. It is a great catastrophe, and disastrous for poor people like myself whose only pleasure was the Italian Opera. I feel it quite deeply.

Lady Clanricarde came to lunch with me yesterday, and it was a great pleasure to see her again. She is very nice, and we talked over "dear, ever dear England," an inexhaustible subject for me.

In the evening I took Pauline to a ball given by the Duc d'Orléans; it was charming and delightfully arranged. We went away after supper at two o'clock in the morning, which was late for me. However, apart from a bad headache I need not complain of the way in which I got through my task. Unfortunately there are many others of the kind, and the prospect of their multiplicity frightens me. I saw nothing noticeable at the ball except the delicate appearance of the Duchesse d'Orléans, which unfortunately is not to be explained by any prospect of a child. I think our excellent Queen looks older, and the Duc de Nemours is terribly thin. He has grown a beard in the modern style, but so fair that it is frightful to behold.

_Paris, January 17, 1838._--Yesterday I spent the morning with my sister in doing what I detest more than anything else--making a full round of indispensable calls. In the evening I took her to the Tuileries. The arrangements were most noble and magnificent. She was a little astonished at the forms of presentation here, and I was more than usually struck by them.

_Paris, January 23, 1838._--I have caught a cold as a result of sitting in a draught which blew straight upon my back at a concert yesterday at the residence of the Duc d'Orléans; this was the only thing of which to complain at an evening's entertainment where there was no crowd and where the music was delightful, well chosen, and not too long.

M. de Talleyrand is very well, except for his legs; their weakness does not matter so much, but they are becoming painful, especially the toes of one foot, which are not always their natural colour. This is an ominous sign. I am very anxious, and so is he; in short, I am greatly depressed, and everything weighs heavily upon my mind.

_Paris, January 28, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is not ill, but his mania for dining out has not agreed with him. Yesterday at Lord Granville's, when giving his arm to the Princesse de Lieven, he trod upon the folds of her dress and nearly fell; he did not actually fall, but his knee gave way, his weak foot turned, and he twisted his big toe. I was deeply anxious when I saw him come back in this state. What a sad year it is! The fact is that since last April nothing has gone right, and if I did not regard all this as a trial and preparation for a better world, I should be quite disgusted with this one.

_Paris, January 30, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand's foot gives him pain, and the worst of it is the difficulty of finding out whether the pain is the result of the sprain or the general weakness of the foot; otherwise he is calm, with people always about him, and plays his game of whist every evening.

I was with the Queen this evening, who had received the sad news that morning of the burning of the palace in Gotha in which her daughter, Princesse Marie, was living. Princesse Marie nearly lost her life, and has lost much valuable property, albums, portraits, books, her diaries, in fact everything. Her diamonds are melted out of the settings, which are mere lumps of metal; the large stones alone resisted the heat, and these must be repolished. And then many precious objects which money cannot replace have gone. This first cloud which overshadows her young happiness is especially cruel, because it raises distrust and destroys the sense of future security. It is a real grief to the Queen, the more so as the shock might have done the Princess some harm, as she is with child.

_Paris, February 1, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is anxious about the state of his leg and the consequent change necessitated in his mode of life. I wish his foot would get strong enough to allow him to get into a carriage, but he cannot yet put enough weight upon it to mount. Want of fresh air and exercise, if this continues, may have serious consequences. Meanwhile he is not alone for a single moment from ten o'clock in the morning till after midnight.

Lady Clanricarde came to lunch with me yesterday. In a few days she is returning to her dear England, of which I think daily with deep regret. I knew all that I was losing when I left it, and I have at any rate counted the cost.

_Paris, February 2, 1838._--The state of M. de Talleyrand's leg is pretty much the same, though it was slightly less swollen yesterday. He is rather despondent, and, I think, too far-sighted not to realise all the possible ill-results. I cannot say how despondent I feel and what a weight is upon my mind.

_Paris, February 3, 1838._--Yesterday was M. de Talleyrand's birthday, and he is now eighty-four. Fortunately his leg has seemed much better during the last day or two. This fact was the best birthday present he could have, or I either.

_Paris, February 5, 1838._--My sister collected some Austrians and Italians yesterday evening at her house, and engaged a band of Neapolitan musicians who are here. She got them to sing some of their national airs, which are very pretty. M. de Talleyrand was carried up to my sister's rooms, and played his game there. His leg improves in appearance, but the sprained foot is weak and painful. I do not know if he will ever be able to walk again. If he could only get into a carriage! His inability to get fresh air makes me anxious.

He is sad and worried. Strange to say, he has expressed a wish to make the acquaintance of the Abbé Dupanloup, and has asked me to invite him to dinner on my birthday. I did so at once. The Abbé at first accepted and then refused. I suspect the Archbishop's hand in this. I shall see him to-morrow and get an explanation. When M. de Talleyrand heard that the Abbé had refused he said: "He has less intelligence than I thought, for he ought to be anxious to come here for my sake and his own." These words have impressed me and increased my vexation with the Abbé's refusal.

_Paris, February 7, 1838._--Yesterday, in spite of the keen cold, I went to the Archbishop, who was very gracious. He gave me, for St. Dorothea's Day, my birthday, which was yesterday, a splendid copy of the _Imitation of Jesus Christ_, and another for M. de Talleyrand; for my sister a portrait of Leo XII., the Pope who had received his renunciation, and for Pauline a handsome religious work. He was greatly surprised and vexed that the Abbé Dupanloup had refused to dine with us; in short, I came away quite satisfied.

I was still more pleased at the way in which M. de Talleyrand accepted the Archbishop's present and listened to my account of our conversation. He would like the Archbishop to use his authority to induce the Abbé Dupanloup to come here. I cannot help ascribing his excellent frame of mind to my own feelings in my last illness, and to the words which I was then able to speak to him. I bless God for the sign that He has been pleased to send me by His hidden and always admirable means of working and if to complete this great task I should have to make a yet greater sacrifice I shall readily do so.

_Paris, February 9, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand went out yesterday for the first time for a drive, which did him good, or, more correctly, pleased him. The effects of his sprain are rapidly passing away, but the same is not true of the general condition of his foot, which is unsatisfactory. He was carried into the carriage and helped out again, which was not so difficult as I thought, but this obvious infirmity is painful to look at--more painful than I can say. Rumours are believed that the Duchesse d'Orléans is with child; however, I think we shall have to wait a little before the story can be confirmed.

_Paris, February 10, 1838._--It is said that the quarrel between the Flahauts and General Baudrand will be settled, but I do not think permanently.[85] Madame de Flahaut comes to see M. de Talleyrand in the evenings, and her husband every morning; they are kind and gracious, as threatened people are.

[85] M. de Flahaut and General Baudrand were in constant rivalry with one another. They were continually quarrelling about their official duties in attendance upon the Duc d'Orléans, and in February 1838 they were intriguing to be sent to the coronation of Queen Victoria.

M. Royer-Collard, whom I saw yesterday for a moment, was delighted to find that his speeches the other day had shattered the position which people wished the Deputies to resume. There was some friction between us on this occasion. There is too strong a strain of bitterness in his nature, which sometimes makes him quite mischievous, though he does not know it.

_Paris, February 11, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand was able to visit Madame Adélaïde yesterday, the chief event of his day, and therefore of mine. The event of to-day is the snow, which is falling heavily and incessantly, and brings us back to the middle of the winter.

The Abbé Dupanloup came to see me yesterday, and paid a long call. I was quite satisfied with the result, and he will dine with us in a week.

We also had some people to dinner; the whole of the Albuféra family, the Thiers, the Flahauts; and some people come in every evening.

_Paris, February 15, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is very busy with a small laudatory speech upon M. Reinhard which he proposes to deliver at the Academy of Moral and Political Science at the beginning of next month. He is taking trouble with it, and spent several hours over it yesterday.

The Baudrand and Flahaut business is not yet concluded. Claims, hesitations, and equivocations have been forthcoming from either side, with the result that the two rivals have become ridiculously bitter, and, what is worse, the Prince Royal has been involved.

_Paris, February 23, 1838._--We are still in the midst of cold and snow.

The Duc de Nemours has had a sore throat, which threatened to become quinsy, but his indisposition has not postponed any of the Court festivities, and the day before yesterday he was present at the Queen's ball.

M. de Talleyrand has a cold and his legs are weak. These are his two weak points. The former is only a transitory trouble; the other, though its remote consequences may be serious, is not threatening at present. Such is the true state of affairs.

_Paris, February 25, 1838._--I was informed early this morning that M. de Talleyrand was suffering from a kind of suffocation. This was purely due to outward circumstances, for he had slipped down in his bed and was practically buried by his vast bedclothes, with the result that a kind of nightmare was the consequence. I have just left him sleeping peaceably in an armchair. What I do not like is the fact that for the last two days he has been more or less feverish, and that he will eat nothing or very little for fear of increasing the fever. He is very weak. The absence of Dr. Cruveilhier, who is at Limoges, is also a trouble, and though I feel no immediate anxiety, I am far from confident concerning the result of this invalid condition, which seems to point to a general break-up.

_Paris, March 3, 1838._--In two hours M. de Talleyrand is going to the Academy in cold and most unpleasant rain; I also fear the effect of the excitement upon him. There will be a large audience, but no women, as this Academy will not admit them. I hope that to-day will go off well, but I wish it were to-morrow.

_Paris, March 4, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is very agitated and very weak this morning. He made a great effort, and whatever his success, I fear he will have to pay dearly for it. His success was beyond my expectation; the accounts of some fifty people who besieged my room after the session leave me no doubt upon that point. He had recovered his vocal powers, read excellently well, walked about, seemed younger and entirely himself, and two hours afterwards he was overthrown and incapable of making an effort. I do not know what the newspapers will have to say of the speech, but if anything can disarm them I think it should be the fact that a man at such an age and with so full a past should display such energy in delivering in public farewells so noble and so full of justice and good teaching.[86]

[86] For the speech of M. de Talleyrand _see_ Appendix.

_Paris, March 5, 1838._--The day has gone off better than I expected for M. de Talleyrand. The _Journal Général de France_, which is a Doctrinaire organ, contained the best, cleverest, and pleasantest article upon M. de Talleyrand's speech. Some ascribed it to M. Doudan, others to M. Villemain. The article in the _Débats_ was kind, but dull; that of the _Journal de Paris_ good; of the _Charte_ stupid and badly written; the _Gazette de France_ fairly good; the _Siècle_ and the _Presse_ insignificant; the _National_ of no account. Against my custom, which has been not to open a single newspaper since my return from the country, I read them all yesterday, and shall do the same to-day; then I shall resume my state of ignorance.

_Paris, March 6, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had a fainting fit yesterday before dinner. I think it was due to the excessively rigorous methods of his dieting and to the catarrh of his chest and stomach, which takes away his appetite. The blister which will be placed upon him will relieve him, I hope. Yesterday's newspapers were not equally satisfactory concerning his speech, but he was not disturbed on that account, for the intelligent and right-minded members of his audience have been really pleased. The house is constantly full of people coming to congratulate him. M. Royer-Collard said to me yesterday: "M. de Talleyrand has solemnly disavowed the unpleasant incidents of his life and publicly glorified the good and really useful parts of it."

_Paris, March 7, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had no further attacks of faintness yesterday, but he does not look well, and I think him much changed. I hear that his brother, the Duc de Talleyrand, my father-in-law, is also in a very poor state of health; the Vicomtesse de Laval is feverish with a bad cold and she cannot sleep. This is all very sad, and these omens of death depress me greatly.

_Paris, March 8, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had a better day yesterday. We take great care of him: when I came back from a dinner given to my sister by the Stackelbergs, and from the Queen, to whom I went afterwards, I found him surrounded by fair ladies and in pretty good spirits.

In the morning I took Pauline to ask offerings from the Archbishop. My sister wished to accompany us, so that I was unable to speak with M. de Quélen.

The Flahaut party have lost all touch with the Pavillon Marsan, except the good graces of the Prince Royal, which they seem to be monopolising. At the Pavillon de Flore there is a general satisfaction at their departure, notwithstanding many fine phrases. The Flahauts do not understand the truth, and throw the blame upon a Doctrinaire intrigue, to which the Duc de Coigny is said to have lent his help. They are soon starting for England, where I think they will make a pretty long stay.

_Paris, March 10, 1838._--The Abbé Dupanloup came to see me yesterday. He then asked to see M. de Talleyrand, to thank him for the copy of his speech which he had sent him. Pauline took him there. He stayed alone for twenty minutes with M. de Talleyrand, who did not open the subject directly, but let some kind words fall, and when the Abbé came back to my room he seemed to feel some hope. In any case, he has shown great discretion and perfect tact, and I think he is entirely right. He was the first to suggest that he should take his leave, and was told that he would gladly be seen again. This is all excellent, provided we are given time. It is not so much a case of illness as of general depression and an obvious alteration in his features; but with such a mind one cannot be hasty. What a task it is, and how terrified I should be of it if I did not tell myself that the most unworthy instrument which God is pleased to choose can become more powerful than the greatest saint, if God's providence is not pleased to make use of him!

_Paris, March 11, 1838._--The English Ministry has triumphantly survived the crisis which was thought likely to become its overthrow. Will ours pass equally well through next week's crisis, the question of the secret service funds? Many batteries have been laid in position against it, and a silent agitation is proceeding on all sides. It is said that either extremity of the Chamber will direct a converging fire upon the Ministerial benches, I suppose with the object of afterwards shooting one another down upon the field of battle. It is all very distressing.

_Paris, March 14, 1838._--I spent two hours yesterday with the Archbishop. I was better pleased with his sentiments than with his decisions. However, everything has been left for his meditation. He asked me to write and tell him what I thought, and I hope, with the grace of God, Who will cast light here and there, to reach some satisfactory conclusion, both for those who are to leave us and for those destined to continue their pilgrimage.

On leaving the Archbishop I went to the Vicomtesse de Laval, who is weak and shaken in health, but alert in heart and mind.

On my return I found M. de Talleyrand depressed and uneasy; he recovered his spirits after a talk with me. The last few days he has eaten a little better. In the evening he was not so weak, and I have just heard that he had a quiet night. I am swayed incessantly between hope and despair, but supported by the sense that I am useful, and perhaps even necessary. If my strength is to fail me, I trust that it may last to the end of my task, after which the sacrifice will have been made, as I made it during my illness at Rochecotte.

_Paris, March 15, 1838._--Yesterday I accompanied my sister, who wished to go once more before her departure to the Chamber of Deputies. I felt greatly bored. M. Molé spoke very well; M. Barthe was unbearably superficial; M. Guizot gave us the most wearisome of all his sermons; M. Passy was coarse without being clever; M. Odilon Barrot was very clever and witty, and left neither Thiers nor Berryer anything to say, but his delivery is so oratorical and so badly sustained that it is hard work to listen to him. On the whole the honours of the session remained with M. Molé; or, to speak more accurately, if the Ministry gained nothing its adversary lost a great deal, which amounts to the same thing at the present moment.

_Paris, March 16, 1838._--I took Pauline yesterday to mass, to the sermon, and to the salutation, after which she made her collection. Two funerals interrupted the collection, preventing any one from coming out, and they were also delayed by a driving rain, so that we remained standing at the church door for an interminable time. However, the sermon of the Abbé de Ravignan,[87] concerning indifference in religion and its various causes, pleased me greatly, and if it is not one of the best sermons I have read, it is at any rate one of the best that I have ever heard.

[87] The Abbé de Ravignan had taken the place of Lacordaire in the pulpit of Notre-Dame.

M. Molé, who was dining here, said that this morning in the Chamber, during the formation of the official bodies, the alliance between men who were enemies a few months ago was notorious.

_Paris, March 17, 1838._--I spent a long time yesterday morning at the Seminary of Saint-Nicolas-du-Chardonnet, of which the Abbé Dupanloup is the superior. The good Abbé pleased me greatly, and also expressed his satisfaction with the little document which I showed him.[88]

[88] The reference is to the letter which the Prince de Talleyrand wrote to Rome retracting the errors of his life, which had incurred the censure of the Church.

In another month we shall have a new poem by M. de Lamartine, called _L'Ange déchu_,[89] then the _Mélanges littéraires_, by M. Villemain, and a work by M. de Chateaubriand on the Congress of Verona; in short, enough reading for the whole summer.

[89] Better known under the title of _La Chute d'un Ange_ (_The Fallen Angel_), the opening of the poem called _Jocelyn_.

M. de Talleyrand says that on May 1 he will go to his estate of Pont de Sains, in Flanders, stay there for the summer, travel to Nice by easy stages, starting on September 1, and return to Valençay in the month of May 1839. Such extensive projects are decidedly rash, and it is unreasonable for him to expose himself to the damp of Flanders after May 1. I tell him so and trust to Providence.

The motto, or rather the conclusion of a letter, which I find in an old book seems to me very pretty: "Be with God." I have adopted it.

_Paris, March 22, 1838._--Princesse Marie, who has been here since the 19th, nearly had a miscarriage yesterday, as the result of too long a drive; while the Duchesse d'Orléans can only avoid one by remaining in her long chair.

M. de Rumigny, our ambassador at Turin, has brought a foolish dispute upon himself--a personal quarrel with the King over a matter of etiquette. Complaints concerning him have come to hand. It is the most foolish business conceivable, as it is all about the black or white headdresses worn by the women. Sardinian etiquette allows the Queen alone to wear them. How absurd it all is!

A coalition between MM. Thiers and Guizot seems likely, but there is such an outcry against this combination that either party is embarrassed, and it will probably come to nothing. M. Guizot in particular is experiencing the evil results of it, because his reputation is suffering greatly, and upon that, rather than upon his talent, he regarded his importance to be based. The fact is that notwithstanding all that has been said on either side in the speeches which closed last session and the discussions that have filled the interval there is something too abrupt in this alliance, which M. Royer-Collard calls an impious coalition.

There is much talk of a journey to be made by the King to Nantes and Bordeaux for the month of June, which would bring us back to Berry and towards Touraine. Hitherto M. de Talleyrand contemplated only Pont de Sains, a calamitous idea.

_Paris, March 25, 1838._--Yesterday I defied an equinoctial storm to go and see the Archbishop. By degrees we came to an agreement, in the terms of the letter, and I hope that we shall arrive at some useful result, but we require time and the help of outward circumstances which do not depend on us and must be asked from a greater Power than ourselves. In any case, if heaven can be importuned by the prayers of earth, the petitions sent up on this subject should be efficacious.

_Paris, March 28, 1838._--Yesterday I had a most important conversation with M. de Talleyrand, and found him in a state of open-mindedness which seemed miraculous. I now hope to be able to push steadily forward, and though the goal is still far away I trust that no precipice will form an obstacle to my progress.

Death comes upon people here in a terrifying way; M. Alexis de Rougé was carried off in twelve hours by a sudden stroke of apoplexy. His loss has thrown many people into great grief.

I have called upon Madame Adélaïde, where I heard all the nice things that the Duchess of Würtemberg is saying about Germany. The Duchesse d'Orléans feels that her child has quickened, and I think that her condition will be publicly announced in a few days.

They say that the young Queen of England gallops down the streets of London through all the omnibuses and cabs. Her old aunts think this is very shocking, and so it is.

In the English Parliament there is a coalition no less astounding than that of MM. Thiers and Guizot; Lord Brougham and Lord Lyndhurst have joined hands.

_Paris, April 1, 1838._--Yesterday I went with my sister to the court of the Louvre to see the bronze statue which is to be sent off in a few days to Turin and is on exhibition for the moment. It is a statue of Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy after the battle of Saint-Quentin, pulling up his horse and putting his sword into its sheath. It is the work of Marochetti, a delightful thing, full of grace, nobility, and life. I was very pleased with it, and it seems to have met with the general approval.

_Paris, April 3, 1838._--Yesterday I gave M. de Talleyrand the little document which I had drawn up for him. The incident passed over without a storm. I suppose that he will have read and digested it yesterday evening, and I shall see to-day whether the horizon is clouded.

_Paris, April 4, 1838._--The little document was entirely successful.

Yesterday I took my sister to Saint-Roch to hear the Abbé de Ravignan, who pleased her greatly. He has a fine face, a beautiful voice, an excellent delivery, faith, conviction, warmth, authority, a close and vigorous style of argument, couched in clear and noble language, with a precise choice of words. He is not prolix and never diffuse. He lacks unction and his teaching is therefore rather doctrinal than evangelical, so that his talent had full scope as he was preaching on the infallibility of the Church.

M. de Pimodan, a great Legitimist, who was giving his arm to one of the lady collectors, insolently blocked the Queen's passage; the vicar, the Abbé Olivier, who was accompanying her to the door, and who is a little thick-set man, strong as a Turk, vigorously elbowed M. de Pimodan to move him out of the way; he flew into a rage, and rudely asked the _curé_ what he meant by shoving him. The Abbé calmly replied: "I meant, sir, to make room for the Queen"; upon which the gentleman muttered some very insolent remarks, which passed unnoticed.

The Princesse de Bauffremont, who was to be one of the lady collectors, heard the evening before that Madame de Vatry was also to perform this duty. There were six of these ladies, chosen from different circles of Parisian society, in order to untie as many purse-strings as possible. The Princess then said that she would not be seen in company with the daughter of M. Hamguerlot, and withdrew. Was ever such false pride or want of charity?

_Paris, April 8, 1838._--The general attention was occupied by the session in the Chamber of Peers yesterday. The speech of M. de Brigode which was delivered the evening before had made every one alert, and the active part taken by the Duc de Broglie in this discussion seems to be an event, and is connected with the hostile movement and the impious alliance in the Chamber of Deputies. The Ministry made an excellent reply to the attacks of MM. de Broglie and Villemain. M. Pasquier, who is angry at an attempt to limit his powers, made a very bad President. The Ministry is anxious concerning Easter week.

* * * * *

The Duc de Talleyrand, younger brother of the Prince de Talleyrand, died on April 28, 1838. The Duc and Duchesse de Dino then inherited his title, which they afterwards bore. The following 17th of May the Prince de Talleyrand died in his turn, after four days' illness.

* * * * *

The following letter was written on May 10, 1838, but was placed at this point of the Memoirs by the author herself.

_A letter addressed by the Duchesse de Talleyrand to the Abbé Dupanloup with reference to the latter's account of the last moments of the Prince de Talleyrand._

"I have read with profound emotion, M. l'Abbé, as you may be sure, the valuable manuscript which I now beg to return to you.[90]

[90] The manuscript in question was an account of the last moments of the Prince de Talleyrand, written by the Abbé Dupanloup, afterwards Bishop of Orleans. The author never printed it, and bequeathed it, with all his papers concerning the Prince de Talleyrand, to M. Hilaire de Lacombe, who sent them to the Abbé Lagrange, afterwards Bishop of Chartres. He only used them for purposes of frequent quotation in the life of the Bishop Dupanloup, which he wrote some years ago, and two chapters of which are devoted to M. de Talleyrand. These papers are now in the possession of M. Bernard de Lacombe. The letter of the Duchesse de Talleyrand, transcribed in this volume, is reproduced here, although I have already published it in _Le Temps_ of April 30, 1908.

"Everything is related with a truth and simplicity which must, I think, touch the hearts of the most indifferent and convince the most sceptical. I have nothing to add to your account, which perfectly describes all the incidents of the sad event unfortunately accomplished before our eyes. But perhaps I alone am able to point out the course of mental development which for some years had certainly begun to modify M. de Talleyrand's feelings. It was a gradual process, and there is a certain interest in following its slow but sincere growth, as it eventually led him in so consoling a manner to his goal.

"I will therefore try to retrace my recollections of this matter, and I think I shall not go back too far if I begin with my daughter's first communion, which took place at London on March 31, 1834. On that day she came to ask for the blessing of M. de Talleyrand, whom she called her good uncle. He gave it her tenderly, and then said to me: 'How touching is the piety of a young girl, and how unnatural is unbelief, especially in women.' However, a short time after our return to France M. de Talleyrand was alarmed by the strength of my daughter's feelings. He was afraid that she might be taught to mistrust him, or to form unfavourable opinions of him, and even asked me to find out from what point of view Pauline's confessor treated the subject. I put the question directly to my daughter, who replied with that candour which you yourself know, that as her uncle did not involve her in any sin she never spoke of him to her confessor, who only mentioned him in advising her to pray to God earnestly for him. M. de Talleyrand was touched by this answer, and said to me: 'Such conduct is that of an intelligent and deserving man.'

"From that time he was anxious that Pauline should have more opportunities for attending church, and even go some distance from home to receive the benefit of your wise direction; he used to offer her the use of his carriage, and I have sometimes seen him go to personal inconvenience for the advantage of his 'little girl.'

"Eventually he derived a certain self-esteem on account of Pauline's religious earnestness, and seemed to be flattered that she should have been so well brought up under his own eyes; he would often say, in speaking of Pauline, 'She is the angel of the house.' He took great pleasure, as all good minds do, in declaring the merits of others. No one could give praise more gracefully, with greater moderation, advantage, and propriety; any one who was mentioned or criticised by him received all the credit that could be his due. Upon occasions he would certainly utter words of blame, but only at rare intervals, and never with such direct force as when he praised. He was especially lenient towards ecclesiastics, and if he disapproved of them it was only for political reasons, and never on account of their religious ministrations, while he always expressed himself with great moderation. He both respected and admired the ancient Church of France, of which he spoke as a great, a fine, and a magnificent institution. In his house I have seen cardinals, bishops, and simple village pastors; all were received with infinite respect, and became the objects of tactful attention. An inappropriate word was never uttered before them; M. de Talleyrand would never have allowed anything of the kind. I have seen the Bishop of Rennes (the Abbé Mannay) spend months at Valençay and the Bishop of Evreux (the Abbé Bourlier) stay at M. de Talleyrand's residence in Paris with the same purity and freedom of conduct and enjoying the same respect as in their dioceses. Towards his uncle, the late Cardinal of Périgord, M. de Talleyrand was a tender, attentive, and deferential nephew. He was often to be seen at the Archbishop's house, where he was especially fond of a talk with the Abbé Desjardins, whom he liked for the gentleness and the wide range and tact of his conversation.

"I have often been astonished at the unconstraint of my uncle's bearing in the society of ecclesiastics, which I can only explain by supposing that he was under a delusion, strange, but real and long-lasting, concerning his actual position with reference to the Church. He was quite aware that he had dealt the Church a blow, but he thought that the process of secularisation which he had unduly stimulated had been one of simplification rather than of destruction.[91] As his position thus seemed to him pretty clearly defined, he regarded it as easy. This mistake lasted as long as his political life, and only after his retirement did he think of defining more exactly his relations with the Papacy. But before this time a vague instinct made him feel that if, in his opinion, he did not exactly owe any reparation, he owed at least some consolation to those whom he had saddened. He therefore was ready to support the interests of the clergy upon every occasion, and never refused an alms either to a priest in distress or to a beggar, but tacitly recognised the claims of both upon him. His charity was great, and I gave him much pleasure by repeating to him a remark made by a most estimable person, which was as follows: 'You may set your mind at rest; M. de Talleyrand will come to a good end, for he is charitable.' I was able to remind him of this saying at the most solemn hour of his life, as you, M. l'Abbé, may remember, and remember, also, what consolation he derived from it. He was always deeply grateful to those in retirement from the world and in convents who prayed for him. He never forgot it, and used to say: 'I have some friends among the good souls.' His heart was touched because he was a good man, a very good man indeed; he felt this himself when he used to ask me: 'Am I not really better than I am thought to be?' Certainly he was better than he was thought; only his neighbours, his friends, and his servants could appreciate the extent of his simple kindness, his attention, his love, and his loyalty. You have seen our tears. The good-hearted alone are thus lamented.

[91] M. de Talleyrand had spoken strongly in favour of the Concordat. The Pope was aware of the fact, and on March 10, 1802, addressed a Papal letter to him which authorised him to re-enter civil life, though expressed in somewhat vague terms.

"After his return from England he was twice strongly impressed with salutary effect by the Christian death of the Duc de Dalberg and by the religious habits which characterised the latter part of the life of Dr. Bourdois, his contemporary, his friend, and his doctor. He was grateful to Dr. Bourdois for entrusting him to the clever hands of M. Cruveilhier; he had confidence in his skill, and felt himself honoured to be so well attended by so religious a man. The earnestness of his doctor seemed to be regarded by him as an additional guarantee.

"Pope Pius VII. was always the object of his veneration; he devoted several pages of his memoirs to the struggle between this Pope and the Emperor Napoleon, and his view of the matter was entirely to the advantage of the Pope. He had a strong admiration for the policy of the Papacy as clever, quiet, gentle, and always uniform, which qualities he regarded as of first-rate importance in the conduct of business.

"Throughout the pontificate of Pius VII. my uncle thought himself in fairly good odour at Rome. In support of this conviction he often quoted to me a remark by the holy Father with reference to himself. The Pope was then at Fontainebleau, and was speaking to the Marquise de Brignole, a friend of M. de Talleyrand, and said, referring to my uncle: 'May God rest his soul; for my part, I have a great affection for him.'

"M. de Talleyrand was well aware that I often had the honour of seeing the Archbishop of Paris, and he had guessed that our intercourse was actuated by one principal idea as far as M. de Quélen was concerned--the desire to preserve his relations with my uncle. M. de Talleyrand was never worried by him; on the contrary; and though several letters addressed by the Archbishop of Paris to M. de Talleyrand at different times failed to achieve their object, he was none the less touched by the enduring interest he had inspired in a prelate whose character he honoured and whose sincere zeal and open-mindedness he appreciated. He also showed much interest in M. de Quélen and his political position, which he would like to have been able to render easier. Upon several occasions I have seen him attempt to do him some service, by advice which he thought useful, or by speaking warmly in his favour at any other time. This he did not merely from love of truth, but also as a testimony to the memory of the late Cardinal Périgord. He often said: 'I look upon M. de Quélen as a legacy from my uncle, the Cardinal. He likes us and our name and everything connected with the Cardinal.' On New Year's Day he used to instruct me to leave his card at the Archbishop's house, saying, 'We should always treat him as a grandparent.' He never saw me start upon a visit to Saint-Michel or to the Sacré Cœur[92] without asking me to give his respects to the Archbishop. When I came back he used to ask me for news of him and whether his own name had been mentioned, and what M. de Quélen had said of him. He would listen attentively to my answers, smile, and say at length: 'Yes, yes, I know that he is very anxious to win my soul and to offer it to the Cardinal.' Up to his last year these remarks were never uttered very seriously, but with great kindliness.

[92] The Archbishop de Quélen, who was out of sympathy with the Government of 1830, was threatened in 1831 by an insurrection which pillaged the Archbishop's residence in Paris. As he then had no official residence, he took refuge first in the Convent of the Ladies of St. Michel of Paris, and then in that of the Ladies of the Sacré Cœur at Conflans, a short distance outside the town.

"On December 10, 1838, I received very early notice of the death of the Princesse de Talleyrand. I was obliged to announce the news to my uncle, and I was most reluctant to do so, for it was just at this time that he was attacked by violent palpitations which made us fear a sudden death. Excitement above all was to be avoided, and I was afraid that this news might cause him some agitation. But it was not so, and he immediately replied calmly in words which much surprised me: 'That greatly simplifies my position.' At the same moment from the pocket of his dressing-jacket he drew out some letters and told me to read them. The first was written by a religious lady at the Sacré Cœur; M. de Talleyrand had known her well in past years, had done her some service, and always called her his old friend; she was Madame de Marbœuf. In this letter she spoke to him of God, and sent him a medal, which he always used to wear, and which to-day becomes yours.

"The second letter was sent to him by a clergyman near Gap, who was entirely unknown to him, and who spoke of God with admirable and touching simplicity.

"Finally, the third letter, inspired by the warmest faith, open-mindedness, reason, and sincere interest, boldly touched upon my uncle's religious position. He wrote a few lines to the Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency to thank her for it, and constantly carried this letter about with him in a little pocket-book, where I found it after his death. He often spoke of it, and of the noble and unfortunate lady who had written it, and always with warmth and respect.

"He also knew that one of my cousins, Madame de Chabannes, a nun of the Grandes Carmélites at Paris, constantly prayed for him; he was touched by the fact, and would say to me, when speaking of these pious people: 'The good souls will not despair of me.' I know nothing so gentle or so loving as this saying of his, which showed that he had no fear that God would abandon him.

"In the case of any one who knew him as well as I did, attempts to urge him too rapidly along this path would have been tactless. It was, indeed, necessary to give these various impressions time to develop, and with him nothing was done quickly; his trust in time was infinite, and it was faithful to him unto death.

"Whenever I spoke to my uncle of his marriage, as I often did, I was not afraid so show him my surprise at a mistake as inexplicable as it was fatal in the eyes of God. He then replied: 'The truth is that I cannot give you a satisfactory explanation of it; it was done at a time of general disturbance, when people attached no great importance to anything, to themselves, or to others; there was no society and no family, and every one acted with complete carelessness in the midst of wars and the fall of empires. You do not know how far astray men may wander in periods of great social upheaval.' The same idea may be found in his proposed declaration to the Pope, the original of which is in my hands, when he wrote: 'This revolution which has swept everything away and has continued for the last fifty years.'

"Thus you may see that not only did he make no attempt to justify his marriage, but that he did not even try to explain it. His domestic life had been very unhappy under the Empire and the Restoration, and since that time I have always seen him embarrassed and ashamed of this strange bond which he no longer wished to bear, but the painful chain of which he could not entirely break; and when death broke it for him he realised his deliverance to the full.

"Some time afterwards, in March 1836, one of his servants was attacked by an illness which was soon declared mortal. My daughter induced the man to see a priest and to receive the sacraments. M. de Talleyrand knew of it, and expressed his satisfaction. On this occasion he said to me: 'Any other procedure in our house would have been a scandal which would certainly have caused unpleasant talk; I am delighted that Pauline should have prevented it.' The same evening he related the incident to Madame de Laval, and enlarged with satisfaction upon the influence which Pauline exerted upon the whole house by her firm and modest earnestness.

"In the spring of 1837 my uncle desired to leave Fontainebleau, whither he had come for the marriage of the Duc d'Orléans, before the Court had finished its stay. He told me to remain and to be present at the great festival which the King gave at Versailles a few days later. I rejoined him afterwards at Berry, where he had been anxious to go in time to meet the Archbishop of Bourges at Valençay, who was passing that way while making a tour of his diocese. I heard from Pauline that M. de Talleyrand had shown special attention to the prelate, even to the point of changing his personal customs. On Friday and Saturday he had declined to have meat upon his table, and all the meals were served as for a fast day.

"During the summer of the same year, 1837, the superior of the Sisters of Saint-André, who were established at Valençay by the care of M. de Talleyrand, came to inspect this community. He called at the Castle, where he was asked to dinner. As we left the table M. de Talleyrand said to me: 'I have an idea that the Abbé Taury is a member of the community of Saint-Sulpice; go and ask him.' I brought back a reply in the affirmative. 'I was sure of it,' he returned with satisfaction; 'there is a gentleness and reserve and a sense of propriety in the members of that community which is quite unmistakable.'

"On Sundays and great festivals M. de Talleyrand was always present at mass when he was at Valençay; on his two patron saints' days, St. Charles and St. Maurice, he was also present, and would have felt hurt if the vicar had not come to say mass at the Château. His behaviour in chapel was entirely proper, and notwithstanding his infirmity he would always kneel down at the right moment. If there was no mass, if people came late or made a noise, he noticed it as being improper. During mass he read attentively either the _Funeral Orations_ of Bossuet or his _Discourse upon Universal History_. One Sunday, however, in November 1837 he had forgotten his book, and took one of the two which Pauline had brought for herself. It was the _Imitation of Jesus Christ_. As he gave it back to her he turned to me and asked me to give him a copy of this admirable book. I offered him mine, which he afterwards took to mass in preference to any other.

"He regarded it as important that the officiating priest should perform the service in full, and often quoted the Archbishop of Paris as the ecclesiastic whose conduct of the service was most to his taste and most dignified. One Sunday I ventured to tell him that during mass my thoughts had wandered in his direction. He wished to know them, and I ventured to tell him that I had been wondering what his thoughts could be when he remembered that he too had held the same distinction as the priest officiating before him. His reply seemed to me to be an obvious proof of the delusion under which he was concerning his true ecclesiastical position. He said: 'Why do you think it strange to see me at mass? I go there as you do, or any one else. You are constantly forgetting that I have resigned my orders, which fact makes my position very simple.' At that time he wished to show me the letters granting his resignation, but they were at Paris. After his death I found them, with all the papers relating to this business, and very curious they are. I examined them carefully; they showed me that his marriage alone had been the great obstacle to his reconciliation with the Church; his other offences had been pardoned and the ecclesiastical censure removed at Paris by Cardinal Caprara in the name of the Pope.

"I referred just now to the attention with which M. de Talleyrand used to read Bossuet's _Discourse on Universal History_; this fact recalls to my mind an incident which seemed to me remarkable. One day at Valençay, I think in the year 1835, he asked me to come into his room. I found him there reading. 'Come,' he said, 'I wish to show you how mysteries should be spoken of; read aloud and read slowly.' I read the following: "In the year 4000 of the world's history, Jesus Christ the son of Abraham in time, the Son of God in eternity, was born of a virgin.' 'Learn the passage by heart,' he said to me, 'and see with what authority and what simplicity all mysteries may be concentrated in these few lines. Thus and thus only it is proper to speak of holy things. They are imposed upon us, but not explained to us. That fact alone secures their acceptance; in other forms they are worthless, for doubt begins when authority ends, and authority, tradition, and dominion are only revealed sufficiently in a Catholic church.' He always had something unpleasant to say about Protestantism; he had seen it at close quarters in America, and had preserved a disagreeable memory of it.

"In the month of December 1837 I felt seriously ill. We were then at my house at Rochecotte, where, unfortunately, spiritual resources are few. However, as I felt in some danger I wished to send for the local clergyman. My uncle heard of it, and as I was getting well he showed some surprise. 'So you have reached that point,' he said to me; 'and how did you get there?' I told him as simply as I could, and he listened with much interest. In conclusion I added that, among many other serious considerations, I had not forgotten that of my social position, which I was the more bound to remember in view of its importance. He then interrupted me quickly and said: 'In truth there is nothing less aristocratic than unbelief.' Two days afterwards he re-opened a similar conversation of his own accord, made me go through the same details, then looked at me steadily and said: 'You believe, then?' 'Yes, sir,' I replied, 'firmly.'

"During our last stay together at Rochecotte he heard of the arrest of the Archbishop of Cologne; he seemed to regard it as an important event. 'This may give us back the line of the Rhine,' he said immediately. 'In any case, it is a grain of Catholicism sown in Europe; you will see it rise and grow vigorously.'

"At that time I came across a passage dealing with the limits of the spiritual and temporal powers, which is to be found in the discourse delivered by Fénelon at the consecration of the Archbishop of Cologne. I showed this fine passage to my uncle, who was delighted with it, and said: 'That should be copied and sent to the King of Prussia.'

"When we returned to Paris in the month of January 1838 M. de Talleyrand was soon deprived of the little exercise which he had been able hitherto to take. He sprained his foot at the English Embassy, where he was dining, on January 27. The winter was very cold, and the douching which was ordered for his sprained foot to restore its strength gave him a cold. The cold became bronchitis, and he could not sleep or eat. Every morning he used to complain of his harassing insomnia. 'When one cannot sleep,' he said, 'one thinks terribly.' Once he added: 'During these long nights I recall many events of my life.' 'Can you give yourself reasons for them all?' I asked him. 'No,' he said; 'in truth there are some I do not understand in the least; others that I can explain and excuse; and others, too, for which I blame myself the more severely as they were performed with extreme carelessness, though they have since been my chief cause of self-reproach. If I had acted according to any system or principle, then I should certainly understand them, but my actions were performed without consideration and with the carelessness of that age, as was almost everything done in our youth.' I told him that it was preferable, in my opinion, to have acted thus than as a result of false doctrine. He admitted that I was right.

"It was at the end of one of these conversations that your letter arrived, M. l'Abbé, the letter that you quote in your interesting narrative. He handed it to me to read, and said somewhat abruptly: 'If I were to fall seriously ill, I should ask for a priest. Do you think the Abbé Dupanloup would come?' 'I have no doubt of it,' I replied; 'but he could only be of any use to you if you re-entered the communion from which you have unfortunately departed.' 'Yes,' he replied, 'I owe something to Rome, I know well, and have thought of it for a long time.' 'For how long?' I asked him, surprised, I admit, at this unexpected beginning. 'Since the last visit of the Archbishop of Bourges to Valençay, and afterwards when the Abbé Taury came there. I then wondered why the Archbishop, who at that time was more directly my spiritual pastor, did not open the subject. Why did the apostle of Saint-Sulpice never speak to me?' 'Unfortunately,' I replied, 'they would not have dared.' 'Yet,' he said, 'I would have welcomed anything of the kind.' Deeply moved by such satisfactory words, I took his hand, and, standing before him with tears in my eyes, I said: 'Why wait for any one to open the question? Why not take for yourself spontaneously, freely, and nobly the step that is at once most honourable to yourself, most consoling to the Church and to all right-minded people? I am sure that you would find Rome well disposed, while the Archbishop of Paris is deeply attached to you; so make the trial.' He did not interrupt me, and I was able to go further into this delicate and even thorny question, though it was a question that I thoroughly understood, as it had been repeatedly explained to me by M. de Quélen, who had been anxious to make me realise all its bearings. We were interrupted before I had been able to say all I wished, but on going to my room I wrote M. de Talleyrand a long letter under stress of my deep devotion. He read it with that trustfulness with which he was accustomed to rely upon my instinct when his reputation and his real interest was at stake. So my letter made an impression upon him, though he did not tell me so until later, when he gave me a paper for M. de Quélen, of which I will speak afterwards.

"In the month of March 1838 he read a eulogy upon M. Reinhard at the Academy of Moral and Political Science. His doctor feared the effect upon him of such an enterprise. Our attempts to dissuade him were in vain. 'This is my last appearance in public,' he said, 'and nothing shall keep me back.' He was anxious to use the opportunity for explaining his political doctrines and for showing that they were those of an honest man. He even hoped that he would be thus of some use to those who proposed to follow a diplomatic career. The evening before the meeting he went over his speech with me, and said: 'The religion of duty; that will please the Abbé Dupanloup.' When we reached the passage concerning theological study I interrupted him to say: 'Admit that that is intended much rather for yourself than for good M. Reinhard.' 'Why, certainly,' he replied, 'there is no harm in letting the public see my point of departure.' 'I am delighted,' I said, 'to see you overshadowing the end of your life with the recollections and traditions of your early youth.' 'I was sure you would be pleased with it,' was his kindly reply.

"M. de Talleyrand bore the strain of this fatiguing meeting, where he was successful in every way, remarkably well. From the point of view of literature and politics he was successful, and also as a nobleman and an honest man. When he returned home he at once sent the first proofs of his speech to M. de Quélen and to you. He expected your approval, and was touched by it.

"Then his health seemed to improve; he recovered his strength, made plans for travel, and talked of Nice for the following winter; he felt his powers reviving, and noticed it with pleasure. On April 28, however, when he heard of his brother's death, who was eight years younger than himself, he put his hands before his eyes and said: 'Another warning, my dear child. Do you know whether my brother recovered his memory before death?' 'Unfortunately not, sir,' I said. He then resumed with extreme sadness: 'How dreadful it is thus to fall from the most worldly life into dotage, and from dotage into death!'

"This painful shock did not check the improvement in his health, and we were able to think that he had been restored to life. I am the more careful to observe that this was the moment, when all idea of an approaching death was far away, when he chose to undertake seriously the project of submission to the Pope. He drew up a form of declaration without saying anything to me of it, a kind of pleasant surprise which he wished to keep for me. One day, when he saw me ready to go to Conflans to M. de Quélen, he drew from the drawer of his desk, the desk at which I am now writing, a sheet of paper covered on both sides, with erasures at several points. 'Here,' he said, 'is something which will secure you a hearty reception where you are going. You shall tell me what the Archbishop thinks of it.' On my return I told him that M. de Quélen deeply appreciated the paper, but wished the statements there expressed to be presented in a more canonical form, and intended to send him the ecclesiastical formula in a few days.

"You know better than any one, sir, that thus the matter was actually carried out. M. de Talleyrand also spoke to me on the same day of his intention to write an explanatory letter to the Pope when sending him the declaration. He went into full details, and insisted upon his willingness to speak of Pauline in this letter. He ended by a saying which seems to me of considerable importance: 'What I am to do should be dated during the week of my speech to the Academy. I do not wish people to be able to say that I was in my dotage.' This idea was carried out upon his deathbed, and was performed as he wished.

"But here I must stop. Attractive as the subject may be, your narrative contains full details. Moreover, during my uncle's illness I was nothing more than his nurse, and my actions were confined to summoning the consolations of your presence and to obeying my uncle by reading to him the two addresses to Rome before he signed them. I forced myself to read them slowly and seriously, because I neither would nor could diminish in any way the merit of his action; it was necessary that he should thoroughly understand what he was about to do. His faculties were too clear, heaven be praised, and his attention too concentrated, for any hurried or confused reading to have satisfied him. It was for me to justify his touching confidence which had induced him to wish this important reading to be performed by myself, and only the firmness and clearness of my pronunciation could satisfy this condition. He was to be left to the last moment in full consciousness of his act and full freedom of his will. From this difficult task I have derived the complete indifference with which I have afterwards faced any doubts, attacks, or calumnies of which I have been the object.

"I can say in the sight of God that there was no ignorance or weakness on the part of M. de Talleyrand; there was no delusion and no abuse of confidence on my part. His generous nature, the recollections of his early youth, his family traditions, the wide experience of a long career, the example of Pauline, some explanations which I was instructed to give him, the confidence with which you were able to inspire him, the revelation that comes to every man at the gate of the tomb, and above all the infinite mercy of a gracious Providence--such are the reasons which allow us to honour him as sincerely in his death as we loved him in his life.

"Carried away by a subject which is near to my heart, I have overstepped the limits which I had at first laid down, but I have no fear that I have wearied you by recalling your attention to details which I know you will value, and which for me have the special advantage that they have established, M. l'Abbé, between us, a bond which nothing can weaken or break.

"DUCHESSE DE TALLEYRAND," "PRINCESSE DE COURLANDE."

_Heidelberg, August 27, 1838._--I have been here with my daughter since yesterday evening. My sister, the Duchesse de Sagan, arrived the previous evening. This morning, at six o'clock, faithful to my habits at Baden, I went out while my sister and daughter were still asleep, and while recalling memories of the place I found the bridge and stopped before the statue of the Elector Charles Theodore; I then crossed the river and walked upon the banks of the Neckar for three-quarters of an hour, with the town upon my left, dominated by the old castle. The pretty landscape, with the river valley, the position of the town, and even the style of the agriculture, reminded me of the hillsides of Amboise and my dear Loire, and was pleasantly lighted by the broken rays of a sun struggling through light clouds.

I now know who wrote the article upon M. de Talleyrand which appeared in the _Gazette_ of Augsburg. My sister read it in manuscript. The writer was the Minister Schulenburg, a clever man, who had seen a great deal of M. de Talleyrand in past times. He is a friend of the Vicomtesse de Laval, and saw M. de Talleyrand at her house once more when he came to Paris eighteen months ago. He is anxious not to be known as the author of this article.

_Paris, September 6, 1838._--I arrived here the day before yesterday, and found a letter which told me that as M. Molé had refused to make an alliance with M. Guizot, the latter had formed a coalition with M. Thiers. M. Guizot will become President of the Chamber of Deputies and M. Thiers Prime Minister. All this is to be revealed and settled during the discussion upon the Address. I cannot guarantee this story. The King is at Eu, and I shall not see the Court until I return.

I am just finishing the last work of Villemain.[93] The first chapter of the second volume deals with Montesquieu; the second is a detailed analysis of the _Esprit des Lois_, which is much too deep for me. The following chapters summarise the bad philosophy of the eighteenth century, as it appears in the mouths of its prophets, its votaries, and its adversaries. The last part of the volume is devoted to Rousseau, by whose charms Villemain seems too obviously to have been overcome. I have no kindly feelings for Rousseau, for he was a hypocrite, and Voltaire's cynicism is perhaps less disgusting; at any rate, Voltaire was not guilty of so many positively bad actions as Rousseau, and mere talent in itself is no justification for either man.

[93] _The Eighteenth Century._

My children write from Valençay saying that the crowd at the funeral ceremony was enormous.[94] Starting from Blois, the procession was joined by the people of all the neighbouring settlements on foot, in great sadness, while at night they came with torches. On the carriage which bore the coffin of M. de Talleyrand and that of my granddaughter, Yolande, were Hélie and Péan;[95] in the carriage which followed was my son Alexandre. All the clergy of the district offered their services. My son Valençay also sends me the programme of the ceremony, which seems very well arranged; I especially approve of a large distribution of charity to the poor, who should never be forgotten, neither in joy nor sorrow.

[94] The funerals of the Prince de Talleyrand, of his brother, the Duc de Talleyrand, and of the little Yolande de Périgord, daughter of the Duc and Duchesse de Valençay, who died in childhood, took place on September 6, 1838, at Valençay. The three coffins were placed in a vault which the Prince de Talleyrand had constructed during his lifetime.

[95] The Prince de Talleyrand's footmen.

Before starting, the coffin of M. de Talleyrand was covered with black velvet, with silver nails, and bore an escutcheon with his arms, his name and distinctions; the coffin of Yolande was covered with white velvet. The arrival of the funeral procession in the Castle court at Valençay, at ten o'clock at night in the most beautiful moonlight, is said to have been extremely imposing; there was deep silence, broken only by the sound of the hearse as it slowly passed the draw-bridge. The bodies were placed for the night in the church, and watched by the clergy in prayer. The coffin of the Duc de Talleyrand, accompanied by the doctor who had attended him, arrived two hours later.

_Paris, September 7, 1838._--The Princesse de Lieven, whom I saw yesterday, told me that she no longer receives any letters from her husband. She examined me closely as to any information I might have gained in Germany concerning her Emperor, whom I think she really hates as much as the inhabitants of Warsaw can hate him. If, however, she was once more within his grasp, or merely out of France, her patriotism would be equal to that of any old Muscovite. She told me that at Munich the Emperor Nicholas had displayed great exasperation with the Russian Minister at the enormous expense to which he had gone for the reception of the Empress, saying, "Do you wish, then, to increase our unpopularity?" She spoke a great deal of the father's carelessness with respect to his son's well-being. Apart from the rapidity of their journey, and the scanty food which the father gave him in the course of it, he made the Grand Duke continually hold his legs outside the carriage, no matter what the weather might be, in order that they should not be in his father's way.

I am assured that Queen Victoria, who showed herself so anxious to escape from the maternal yoke, is now trying to avoid the influence of her uncle, King Leopold.

The Flahaut family have been saying the most horrible things at London about the Tuileries, and the Tuileries are aware of the fact.

France has abandoned Belgium in the course of the negotiations in progress at London, and forces her to yield upon all questions of territory, but supports her pecuniary claim; between the figures of Leopold and King William there is a difference of 16,000,000. The Powers wish to compromise, but Leopold objects, and refuses to relax his grasp of Limburg until the crowns are paid.

In Spain Queen Christina is trying to make money out of everything, and demands a price for every nomination that she makes. She thinks only of amassing money and spending it quietly out of Spain, for which she may speedily have an opportunity. Her sister, whose practical mind has already gained her a certain influence here, and who might be able to marry her prettiest daughter to the Duc de Nemours, is intriguing vigorously against her.

M. Thiers spent three hours with Count Metternich near Como, and showed anything but sympathy for Spain during the conversation. However, people have not been taken in and prejudice remains unaltered.

_Bonnétable, September 17, 1838._--I reached this strange place an hour before dinner-time. The country is very pretty, but the castle stands at the end of a little town, and the only view is the high-road which runs along the moat. It is an old manor-house, with heavy turrets, thick walls, and the windows few and narrow. There is little in the way of furniture or decoration, but it is solid and clean, and the necessaries of life of every kind are at hand, from an almorne to a warming-pan. The mistress of the house, an active, bustling, good-tempered lady, is largely occupied in most charitable work, in which she shows great insight, and really leads the life of a Christian widow, on the principles laid down by St. Jerome. In short, one is inclined to think oneself in a country far away from France and in a century quite remote from the nineteenth. Evening prayers are said all together at nine o'clock in the chapel, and are read by the Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency herself. They moved me deeply, especially the prayer for the rest of the departed, repeated by one who has survived all her relatives, whether older, of her own age, or younger than herself. This prayer in the mouth of one who is thus alone, without forefathers or posterity, was strangely sad. The other isolated being, poor Zoé,[96] who repeated the responses, completed the picture and the impression, which went to my heart. All the servants were present. No more edifying spectacle could be seen than that of this great and ancient house. The Duchesse is very highly connected, and came to her title through the Luynes, who had inherited it by marriage from the Duchesse de Nemours, one of whom had married the niece.

[96] Zoé was a negress in the service of the Vicomtesse de Laval, to whom she showed the greatest devotion. In 1838, after the death of the Vicomtesse, Zoé was taken into service by the Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency, daughter-in-law of Madame de Laval, who lived upon the estate of Bonnétable, where Zoé ended her days in peace.

_Bonnétable, September 18, 1838._--If the weather were not so damp I should find much interest in this place, which is quite unique. Mass brings the household together every morning at ten o'clock; we do not lunch until eleven o'clock, and have then half an hour for walking in the moats, which are dry and have been turned into gardens by the care of the Duchesse; she also took us for a walk around her kitchen garden and the whole of her strange household. After lunch we worked round a table at an altar-cloth, while the prior read his newspapers aloud. At one o'clock we went to visit the fine hospital and the schools founded by the Duchesse; everything is perfectly arranged, and much better cared for than the castle. There are six beds for men and six for women, a kind of boarding-school for twelve girls, and classes for day scholars and the poor, together with a large dispensary. This is all in one place, with the necessary outbuildings. Eight sisters do the work of the establishment, which is really very fine. The Duchesse then made us get into an old carriage with worm-eaten lining, but drawn by four handsome horses, driven very cleverly four-in-hand by one of the coachmen of Charles X. With Madame de Montmorency everything is in contrast. She inherited her taste for horses from her mother, and indulges herself in that respect; she has no taste for carriages, and does not care if the one makes the other look shabby. Thus drawn over shocking roads, we reached a magnificent forest of full-grown timber, where the fine trees are only cut every hundred years. It is really beautiful. In the centre of this forest, where six roads meet, is a vast clearing; there the Duchesse has built a china factory, with all the necessary outbuildings, which is almost a village. She has spent a great deal of money on it, and admits herself that it is not a lucrative investment, but it gives occupation to sixty-eight people, is a reason for a pretty walk, and an additional interest for herself. I made a few purchases, and Pauline was interested in seeing the pottery moulded, fired, painted, and enamelled.

After dinner one of the local clergy called while we spent our time in embroidery, as after lunch, and talked of matters of local interest. Then came prayers, good-night, and sleep.

_Bonnétable, September 19, 1838._--Yesterday it rained all day. No one went out except the clergy, who were going to a retreat at Mans, and stopped here to pay their respects to the Duchesse. The sisters also came in for their orders. The Duchesse is in very good spirits. She has the gift of narrative, and kept the conversation going very well throughout a long day, without the smallest appearance of ill-nature. When I went down to my room she lent me a manuscript book of her thoughts. She writes wonderfully, and her writing displays a wealth and variety of astonishing description. The outpourings of her heart since her husband's death are especially touching, and display a tenderness of feeling which would hardly be guessed from her outward appearance. I shall leave her entirely overcome by the warmth of her reception, her fine qualities, and the admirable example which she sets here.

_Rochecotte, September 27, 1838._--Yesterday I had a most unexpected piece of news which grieved me deeply: Madame de Broglie is dead of brain fever, though she was so young, at any rate for death--a year younger than myself--though she was so happy, healthy, beautiful, useful, distinguished, and beloved. In one short week she was carried off, though prepared for death by her constant goodness. It has been no surprise to her.

Almost the same day, but after a longer illness, amid the dissipations of too worldly a life, died Lady Elizabeth Harcourt. She was of the same age, and also handsome, but I think in no way prepared for the dread passage.

With the death of my brother-in-law, the Prince of Hohenzollern-Hechingen, I have heard of three deaths during the last week. Last month Anatole de Talleyrand died; in the month of July Madame de Laval; on May 17 M. de Talleyrand; on April 28 my father-in-law; in March my uncle Medem. In less than seven months eight persons have disappeared who were bound to me by ties of blood, friendship, or intercourse. Death surrounds me on every hand, and I can no longer trust either to the freshness of my daughter or to the cares of others; only the goodness of God can be infallibly trusted, and on His infinite mercy I must rely, and confide my loved ones to His care.

During the last two days of her life Madame de Broglie was delirious, and chanted the Psalms so loudly that one could hear her from one end of her residence to the other. When she was not singing she talked to her brother and her daughter who had died years before.

_Valençay, October 3, 1838._--I am again in this beautiful spot, so rich in memories and so deprived of life and movement. I reached here yesterday in the moonlight, which suits the place so well, and which M. de Talleyrand always pointed out to us with such admiration. It was an unpleasant journey: broken carriages, tired horses, bad postillions, torn harness, and abominable roads, as they are being repaired or constructed afresh; in short, a series of petty obstacles, which troubled and vexed us, and made us late. M. de Talleyrand's old dog, Carlos, was strangely excited at our arrival, and pulled Mlle. Henriette by her dress, as if he would say, "Come and help me to look for the missing one."

_Paris, October 9, 1838._--I am now again in Paris, though I cannot conceal the fact that a stay in this town makes me sadder than ever. How I long for my workmen, my garden, the soft skies of Touraine, the quiet of the country, the restfulness of the fields, time to think and to reflect, of which I am here deprived by constant business and worry!

_Paris, October 12, 1838._--Yesterday I went to the Convent of the Sacré Cœur, where I stayed a long time with the Archbishop of Paris. He gave me an exact translation of the letter of secularisation sent by Pius VII. to M. de Talleyrand. It is a curious document, and shows that even though M. de Talleyrand, with his habitual carelessness, had mistaken the text, the general sense had been known to him, and that he had every reason to say that Rome could not be too exacting without self-contradiction. As, however, the letter had preceded the marriage of M. de Talleyrand, and as that marriage was not authorised by the Church, it was actually necessary for him to retract. This was done _in verba generalia_, as Rome admitted, and so every one should be satisfied.

When I returned home I gave orders that I should not be disturbed during the evening, and busied myself in putting the papers that I had found at M. de Talleyrand's house into some order. I shall complete this work only by degrees, for it causes me keen emotion. For instance, I came upon a note which M. de Talleyrand sent to me from his room to mine on February 6, 1837,[97] in which he told me that at his supreme hour his only anxiety would be my future and my happiness. I cannot say how this scrap of paper has agitated me.

[97] February 6 is St. Dorothea's Day, the patron saint of the Duchesse de Talleyrand.

_Paris, October 13, 1838._--M. de Montrond came to see me yesterday. He showed himself extremely kind and soothing; but the true nature of things peeps out invariably, and towards the end of his call, which had been spent in expressions of regret for M. de Talleyrand's death, he let fall a phrase to this effect: "Do you propose to become a lady of the Faubourg Saint-Germain?" I was able to reply that I had no need to do anything of the kind, that my position was plain: a lady of rank and independent means, unwilling to sacrifice my opinions here or my position there; too deeply attached to the memory of M. de Talleyrand not to be on good terms with the Tuileries, and too good company not to live happily with my family and my own friends. He replied that I had not forgotten to speak like M. de Talleyrand himself. Then he rose, took my hand, and asked me if I would not be kind to him, saying that he was alone in the world, that he was very anxious for opportunities to talk of M. de Talleyrand with me sometimes, and then he began to weep like a child. I told him that he would always find me ready to listen to him, and to reply, if he spoke of M. de Talleyrand, a subject of inexhaustible interest to myself. Human nature is remarkable in its great diversity and its astonishing contrasts.

_Paris, October 17, 1838._--I have only had two satisfactory incidents since my return: the arrival of my son Valençay, who is so good to me, and a long conversation with the Abbé Dupanloup, which went on yesterday for two hours at my house. Our minds are in sympathy, and, what is better, we are marvellously alert to divine one another's feelings, and both noticed it, owing to the strange and rapid coincidence of our expressions. He has a rapidly working mind, and for that reason pleased M. de Talleyrand, while with him one is never embarrassed or hampered, and transitional ideas are never clogged; his clearness of mind is never marked by dryness, because he has a sweet and most affectionate soul. My long intercourse with M. de Talleyrand has made it difficult for ordinary people to get on with me; I meet minds which seem slow, diffuse, and ill-developed; they are always putting on the brake, like people going downhill; I have spent my life with my shoulder to the wheel in uphill work. In M. de Talleyrand's lifetime I took more pleasure in the society of others, because I fully enjoyed my own society with him; perhaps also because I sometimes felt the need of rest at some lower elevation. But to-day I feel that I am being overcome, in a moral sense, by what the English call creeping paralysis; in short, yesterday I was able to spread my wings for a moment, and it did me good. I complained to him of the want of system in my life, of the weariness and oppression which were the result of overstrain. He spoke of my reading, and told me that he thought I should be deeply attracted by patristic literature; he promised to sketch out a little course of reading for me within my range. He is no inquisitive or indiscreet converter of souls; he is a good and intelligent man, a pure and lofty soul, discreet and moderate, whose influence can never be anything but wise, gentle, and restrained.

_Paris, October 18, 1838._--The Princess Christian of Denmark, who is at this moment at Carlsruhe, is no longer young; but fifteen years ago, when she came to Paris, she was very pretty; her complexion, hair, and shoulders were especially beautiful. Her features were less striking, and those are the most permanent elements in beauty. I know that she and her husband have retained a very kindly feeling for the present royal family of France. Princess Christian is the granddaughter of the unfortunate Queen Mathilda of Denmark. Prince Christian's first wife was a mad woman with dreadful manners.[98] She went to Rome for refuge and to join the Catholic Church, and there she plunged into the most ridiculous mummeries. Her husband adored her, and if the King of Denmark had not insisted upon a separation Prince Christian would have remained under her yoke. He still corresponds with her, and has never ceased to regret her loss. The present Princess Christian, though prettier, is quite sensible, but has never had much influence with her husband, owing, it is said, to the fact that she has no children. The first wife was the mother of Prince Frederick, who is an exile in Jutland.

[98] The first wife of Prince Christian of Denmark was Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Schwerin. Unfaithful to her husband, she was separated from him in 1809, and divorced by order of the king in 1810. She died in 1840 at Rome, where she had lived after her conversion to Catholicism. She was born in 1784, and married in 1806.

_Paris, October 20, 1838._--Yesterday I went with Pauline to the Comédie-Française to hear Mlle. Rachel, who is now causing so great a sensation. I was not at all pleased. They all acted very badly, though Mlle. Rachel is not so bad as the rest. They played _Andromaque_, in which she took the part of Hermione, the part of irony, scorn, and disdain. She went through it accurately and intelligently, but there is no sympathy or attraction in her acting. She has a thin voice, is neither pretty nor beautiful, but very young, and might become an excellent actress if she had good training. The rest of the company is wretched. I was very bored, and returned home benumbed.

_Paris, October 21, 1838._--The Duchesse de Palmella, whom I saw yesterday, told me a strange thing. She said that the Duke of Leuchtenberg, the first husband of Queen Doña Maria, had never been her husband; that on his arrival in Portugal he was attacked with scurvy, which made him contagious and greatly disgusted his wife, who adores the little Coburg. She is now expecting her confinement.

With Pauline I called upon the Duchesse d'Orléans, who seemed to have recovered very well from her confinement. Her child, which she was kind enough to show us, is really charming. She has every reason to be as proud of him as she is.

We came home for an audience granted me by the Infanta Carlotta, the wife of Don Francisco. Like myself, they are both staying in the Galliffet residence.[99] It was a curious interview. The Infanta is a much bolder figure than Madame de Zea, and much taller. She is very fair, with a face which, though washed out, is none the less stern, with a rough manner of speaking. I felt very ill at ease with her, although she was very courteous. Her husband is red-haired and ugly, and the whole tribe of little Infantas, boys and girls, are all utterly detestable. The eldest of the princesses is well brought up, inclined to talk, and graciously took notice of Pauline. In my opinion, this Infanta would be a most unpleasant Sovereign.

[99] After the death of the Prince de Talleyrand the Duchesse de Talleyrand sold the residence in the Rue Saint-Florentin to the Rothschilds. This house she had inherited from the Prince. She then settled in a large suite of rooms in the residence of the Marquis de Galliffet, Rue de Grenelle.

_Paris, October 31, 1838._--During the last two days I have seen a great deal of the Comtesse de Castellane. She speaks of only one thing which she wants, and for which she is working with incredible energy. I cannot complain, as her efforts show how much she thinks of my daughter, to whom she wishes to marry the young Henri de Castellane. Yesterday I went to consult the Archbishop on the point. He, as well as the Abbé Dupanloup, seems to think that of all the possible openings that have hitherto appeared Henri de Castellane would offer the best chance of domestic happiness, by reason of his personal merits. Both of them say that Pauline ought to choose for herself, after due examination. Examination requires acquaintanceship; to become acquainted they must see one another; and to see one another they must meet. And so I have reached a new phase in my life, when I am obliged to give a young man the run of my house in order to see what he is worth. I have known M. de Castellane personally for many years, but I have lost sight of him for a long time; besides, he is going to marry Pauline, and not me. He is clever and well-educated, hard-working, and, I think, ambitious. He is very correct and polite, lives a retired life, and goes only into the best society; he is a good son and a good brother, has an excellent name, but no title at present, and no prospect; has few family ties, and wishes to live in the same house as myself at Paris, though with a separate establishment. He is respectful to his mother, but not on confidential terms with her; wishes to have a religious wife, though he does not practise the forms of religion himself. He is to have twenty thousand francs income when he marries, and thirty thousand more from his grandmother. He has a childless uncle who is worth forty-two millions. For the moment the uncle will not give or promise or guarantee anything, but he is very anxious for the marriage, and as he is eccentricity personified he may come down handsomely some day. The Abbé Dupanloup advises me to speak to Pauline on the subject without any constraint, and also to tell her of other proposals made for her hand. She does not like Jules de Clermont-Tonnerre, and thinks he looks vulgar; the Duc de Saulx-Tavannes horrifies her--as a matter of fact he has the figure of an elephant, while there is madness in the family on both sides. The Duc de Guiche is not yet nineteen years of age, has no property whatever, a number of brothers and sisters, a rather foolish mother, while his family are always in extremities. The Marquis de Biron is very rich and a good fellow; he is a childless widower, but extremely stupid, and a red-hot Carlist. Pauline has recently seen M. de Castellane on two occasions, and likes him greatly; but she says she would like to know more of him, to make certain of his principles and belief. I tell her that there is no hurry, that she can very well wait, and that in any case I shall not consent to any marriage taking place until our business affairs have been wound up, the will declared, and the anniversary of the 17th of May over. This is understood, though the parties would like a promise to be given before that date, without celebrating the marriage. I can also understand that they would like to make certain of Pauline, but I do not propose to have our throats cut in that way. Madame Adélaïde, who is much afraid that Pauline's marriage might prevent her from going to the Tuileries, is a warm supporter of M. de Castellane. She let me know that M. de Talleyrand, to her knowledge, had thought of him. This is true, but he was more inclined to M. de Mérode, though family arrangements made the proposal impossible; besides, Pauline likes M. de Castellane much better than M. de Mérode. Another who has been mentioned to me is Elie de Gontaut, the younger brother of the Marquis of Saint-Blancard, but he is a young fop, and, though rich, his position as younger brother is very pronounced, and that would not please Pauline. In short, there is a perfect crowd of suitors, and I do not know to whom I should listen. One point is certain, and I shall make it perfectly clear: that Pauline herself will have to make the choice.[100]

[100] Mlle. Pauline de Périgord did in fact marry M. de Castellane, on April 11, 1839. He then assumed the title of Marquis from his grandfather, who had just died. His father, General de Castellane, afterwards Marshal of France, yielded the title to him on the occasion of his marriage and never bore it himself. From his grandmother, who brought him up, the old Marchioness de Castellane, _née_ Rohan-Chabot, whose first husband, the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, had left her a large fortune, M. de Castellane received as a wedding-gift the property of Aubijou, in Auvergne, in the department of Cantal, which will often be mentioned in these memoirs.