Part 4

Among the influences which connected d'Argenson with the tradition of the late reign were his relations with that curious and not very admirable person,[144] the Abbé de Choisy. It would appear that during the closing years of his life the harlequin abbé was on terms of some intimacy with his young relative;[145] and shortly before his death in 1724, he placed in d'Argenson's hands a collection of manuscripts,[146] from which the published remains of de Choisy are principally derived.[147] Among them was a record which d'Argenson might recall with a certain melancholy interest.[148] It seems that in 1692, de Choisy's rooms at the Luxembourg became the headquarters of a little company of thirteen men, among whom were Fontenelle and Perrault, and others distinguished in literature and society.[149] They met for discussions upon politics, theology, and moral science, and in fact all those questions of more pressing and immediate concern which the constitution of the three existing Academies ignored. It may well be imagined that such an organisation could scarcely commend itself to the favour of the Monarch who, a few years afterwards, was to break the heart of Vauban; and before a year had passed, the Academy of the Luxembourg came to an untimely end. The collapse was natural enough, for these were the palmy days of the older _régime_; its vices were still to be revealed, and as yet the discussion of political subjects by unauthorised persons might well have seemed an impertinence. Thirty years after, the matter had assumed a different aspect. Disasters abroad and miseries at home, which had stirred the patriotism of Vauban, the ferment created by the advent of the Regency, the widespread concern for questions of administration aroused by the rise and fall of the great "System," and, lastly, the object lesson in political fatuity afforded by the ministry of the Duc de Bourbon, all contributed to raise matters of government to a place of primary interest; and it is not surprising that about a year after the publication of the "Lettres Persanes," a serious and successful attempt should have been made to organise and define political thought. In 1722 the Abbé Alary invited a number of gentlemen connected with the administrative and diplomatic services to meet in his rooms in an entresol in the Place Vendôme, which became for about eight years the home of the memorable "Club de l'Entresol." The idea of this, the first of French political societies, was probably suggested by Bolingbroke, an intimate friend of Alary, who may have hoped to find, in a little cabinet of embryo statesmen, some mild consolation for his banishment from Whitehall. Certain it is that the English politician did much to give it a successful start; and a year afterwards (July, 1723) we find him writing to the perpetual president, Alary:[150]

"You will give my kind regards to our little Academy. If I were not sure of seeing them again next month, I should be quite miserable. They have confirmed my taste for philosophy; they have revived my old love for literature; how grateful I am to them!"

In 1725, upwards of a year after his return from Valenciennes, d'Argenson became a member of the Entresol;[151] and some time afterwards he had the honour of introducing a man whose whole life was devoted to insisting upon the paramount importance of political concerns--his friend and master, the Abbé de St. Pierre.[152]

It is a curious fact that the man who received the record of the ill-starred society of the Luxembourg should have become the historian of its successor; for it is from d'Argenson that our knowledge of the Entresol is mainly derived. Several years after its suppression, he sat down to record his reminiscences of "a little organisation, whose history, at present unknown to many people, will soon be forgotten by all the world."[153] Events are grouped very differently by the redressing hand of time, and, apart from the interest attaching to it in connection with the life of d'Argenson, the Entresol is in no danger of being forgotten.

Its meetings[154] were held on Saturday evenings, and lasted from five o'clock till eight. The time was spent in the recital of political news, conversation on passing events, the reading of papers, and open discussion. The procedure, though carefully ordered, was sufficiently elastic, and on extraordinary occasions--as when His Excellency Horace Walpole appeared to advocate the maintenance of the understanding with England[155]--might be entirely suspended. Not the least useful member of the Entresol was d'Argenson himself; he joined in its labours with his usual industry and zeal. He made it his business to extract the political intelligence from the leading newspapers--those of Holland[156]--at the same time maintaining a correspondence with Florence[157] and Brussels. In addition to this, he undertook the department of canon law, with which his position on the ecclesiastical committee of the Council of State peculiarly fitted him to deal.[158] In connection with this subject, he read to the society a series of papers in which he argued strongly for the independence and the pre-eminence of the civil power. His conclusions might have been less absolute had he known that they were one day to rise up in judgment against him in the shape of two formidable quarto volumes.[159] In the general debates he took an active part, and his discussions with St. Pierre upon the innumerable projects which the latter presented to the society were recalled by him with lively pleasure.

Though devoted to political research, "the good Entresolists" were careful to exclude even the suggestion of pedantry. They formed a sort of "club" on the English model. "We had all sorts of pleasant things, comfortable seats, a good fire in winter, and in summer windows opened upon a pretty garden. There was no dinner or supper, but tea was to be had in winter, and in summer lemonade and cooling drinks. The gazettes of France, Holland, and even the English papers, were always to be found there." In a word, it was "un café d'honnêtes gens."[160] On the summer evenings, when the meeting was over, they used to go for a stroll round the terrace of the Tuileries, discussing the questions that had arisen in the debate. In the winter they "went straight home, and always with a fresh regard for the Entresol."[161]

It may well be imagined that a society of this kind must have inspired a very warm feeling among those who were privileged to take part in it; and d'Argenson is affectionately anxious to make it clear that its ultimate dissolution was in no way due to failure of interest. We might well believe it from the letters of one of its most distinguished members, the hero of Dantzig, Count de Plélo, whose appointment to Copenhagen in 1728 was largely due to the prestige he acquired as a member of the Entresol.[162] From the cold solitudes of the Baltic he writes to the President: "O! this accursed climate! Am I never again to breathe the air of the Entresol?"[163] and again, "A person accustomed to read the Gazette at the Entresol finds it very dry reading all alone at Copenhagen."[164] And then, when the crisis came and the society was no more, he writes:

"I can imagine how keenly you feel the unhappy fate which has befallen the Entresol. Would you ever have believed that anything so innocent could fall under suspicion? Surely something out of the common must have happened since my departure, or else the great ones of the earth have very little to do."[165]

The attitude of the "great ones" is not without interest. Even Cardinal Fleury had been compelled to breathe the air of the Regency; and upon succeeding to the authority of the Duc de Bourbon, he was inclined to look graciously upon the nascent society.[166] Nor was his protection hastily withdrawn, for in the winter of 1730 he appointed its president Curator of the King's Library, and thither the meetings of the Entresol were transferred.[167] In the following summer it received a further earnest of ministerial approval in the preferment of Alary to the tutorship of the Children of France.[168] In the elation produced by these marks of favour the members threw off their accustomed reserve, and the proceedings of the Entresol acquired a notoriety which was little to the mind of its more cautious spirits.

"I tired myself to death in recommending moderation and discretion, even in regard to the name of the Entresol; for I kept saying to them: 'You will see that one fine morning the Government will ask us what we are about.'"[169]

But d'Argenson's efforts were powerless to withstand the vain temerity of some of the members; the fatal day arrived at last; and at one of the meetings in the autumn of 1731, Alary appeared with the announcement that he had a poniard in his heart, and that the days of the Entresol were numbered.[170] There was no gainsaying the will of the Cardinal, and the dissolution was effected in decent silence. But it was not accepted without an effort. A little conspiracy was formed among the more earnest members, with d'Argenson for one of the ringleaders; the day of meeting was changed to Wednesday; the black sheep were excluded; and it was hoped that by absolute silence and a careful avoidance of ministers, they would be able to hold on until the storm had blown over. Yet scarcely three meetings had been held when d'Argenson fell into the hands of Chauvelin, who extracted from him a promise that no further effort would be made to revive the beloved society.[171] There was no more to be said.

D'Argenson's personal disappointment was keen enough, nor was he slow to appreciate the public loss. He writes reproachfully: "It is surprising that so many sciences are cultivated in Europe, whilst there is not a single school of public law. Why should not theoretic knowledge be as useful to society in general as to societies in particular? You aspire to employment in the public service, and you cannot qualify yourself by preliminary practice; for this is the fashion which has been introduced into France in our day: people say, 'When I am appointed ambassador, when I am raised to the Ministry, I will learn the duties of my post.'"[172]

It was not upon d'Argenson that the loss fell; his political apprenticeship was already complete. On those Saturday evenings in the Place Vendôme, he had learnt to think clearly and boldly upon public questions; and the doors of the Entresol were scarcely closed when he resolved to turn his acquirements to account.

He was now in his thirty-seventh year. His affairs, which had often given rise to embarrassment, had been arranged by the recent sale of Réveillon (December, 1730);[173] there appeared to be no further obstacle in the way of a successful career. He was not slow in adopting the only means by which a political aspirant could bring himself under the notice of the governing powers--the presentation of gratuitous advice; and it was at this time that he began that series of memoirs which was continued until after his accession to the ministry, and which would have been such an invaluable treasury of contemporary history and thought.[174] Unhappily they all perished in the burning of the library of the Louvre in 1871,[175] and our only knowledge of them is derived from fragmentary notices published before that date. The series appears to have begun in December, 1731; and it is pleasant to find that here again that amiable influence which had appeared so early in d'Argenson's career was present to lend him a guiding hand. A memoir which d'Argenson proposed to present against the arbitrary distribution of the taille (December, 1731), was scored with annotations by St. Pierre, who advised that it should be cut down, that certain vague views about things in general should be excised, and that the author should confine himself to a single point. "He must not give occasion to say, 'He is a fine talker, he is an eloquent speaker, _qui bat la campagne_.'"[176] St. Pierre was himself too melancholy a proof of the wisdom of his own advice for d'Argenson to reject it lightly; and in May, 1732, we find him writing:

"I was several months without meddling with affairs of state; I did not wish to give myself out for a maker of memoirs."[177]

This wholesome caution was not long sustained, nor indeed was it really necessary. The time was one of keen political excitement. It was in this very summer of 1732 that the great conflict of old French privilege and tradition against the arrogant zeal of the Ultramontane party reached its acutest stage; and it happened that that was the question of all others with which d'Argenson was competent to deal. He had been for some years a member of the ecclesiastical committee of the Council, and at the Entresol, as we have seen, he had been charged with the department of canon law.[178] Upon the questions at issue he entertained ideas at once liberal and politic. He admitted in principle the plea of ecclesiastical authority; but as a politician he deprecated any encouragement of its supporters in their factious proceedings against the Jansenists; the attitude of the Government in regard to heterodoxy should be simply one of passive disapproval. But it was no longer time to think of principles and policies; the matter had now resolved itself into a fierce conflict of privilege between the Crown and the Parlement of Paris. On the 13th of June the Parlement accepted an appeal in the teeth of direct orders from the King. The reception was quashed by a decree of Council, and four magistrates were sent to join Pucelle in exile. The Chambers of Inquests and Requests immediately resigned.[179] D'Argenson's views upon the crisis were strong and clear. They were laid before the Ministry; and the author received a letter from Chauvelin, the Warden of the Seals, to the effect that two hours' conversation with him would be of material service to the Government. He set out at once for Compiègne, halted a moment for breath, scribbled out a "policy complete," and presented it to Chauvelin in a secret interview which lasted from five o'clock in the morning until nine.[180] In the whole of the discussions he appears to have taken a prominent part; he was kept informed, by secret channels, of the deliberations of the Cabinet;[181] and he seems to have been treated throughout as an active and esteemed adviser.

The nature of his advice we are at no loss to determine. Among the documents destroyed at the Louvre was one written by d'Argenson when the struggle was at its height. It is in the form of a letter from an Englishman to a Frenchman.[182] In the course of it he says:

"Wherever the sovereignty may reside, it is necessary that authority should be entire, without partition, and should bow to the judgments of God alone." He proceeds to urge the necessity of doing away with the superior courts, or of placing them absolutely at the disposal of the Crown. In replying to the objection that that would establish "a veritable Turkish government," he reveals the secret of his peculiar attitude with regard to royalty in France. "What of it?" he rejoins. "You live in France under a despotic authority. The die is cast, so to speak. You must either obey it or destroy it entirely." Its only restraint must be that imposed by "opinion, reason, delicacy, public spirit. Is it not the case that for two centuries the progress of authority in France has been that of peace, art, and morality, and is it not increasingly active in suppressing violence, whether public or private?"

How far d'Argenson is to be credited with the policy adopted is a secret which is buried with Chauvelin and Fleury. Had he been the moving spirit in the government, its measures could not have been in stricter conformity with his advice. By a declaration of the 18th of August, appeals were withdrawn from the jurisdiction of the Parlement, and the chambers of Inquests and Bequests were suspended. A "Lit de Justice" followed on the 2nd of September, and upon the 7th the chambers of Inquests and Requests were scattered to the four winds.[183]

This policy, which d'Argenson had perhaps inspired, was not consistently pursued. It was not for the last time that Chauvelin had betrayed the Cardinal into bold and decisive action, nor the last time that Fleury regretted it. His will was absolute, and before three months had elapsed the declaration and the _lettres de cachet_ were withdrawn, and the Parlement returned in triumph.

In dealing with d'Argenson's action as Minister, it has been usual to attribute its strange inconsequence to his own weakness and oscillation of mind. The indictment is a hazardous one to prefer against the son of Marc René d'Argenson; and here it is only necessary to say that in nothing that he ever wrote or did has there appeared to be sufficient ground for it. There seem to have been few men who have formed their ideas with a more quick decision, or have clung to them with a more sane tenacity. His mind cut into the interests which engaged it sharp and clear as a diamond; the very fault of it was that it was incapable of those politic shifts, those timely irresolutions, which have often been the making of smaller men. Indeed, there is even ground for suggesting that if, in judging the events of d'Argenson's ministry, his own real share in them be scrupulously weighed, there may remain no reason to reject the opinion formed of him, in the beginning of their relations, by one of the ablest men of his own day, the Warden of the Seals himself. It is worth remarking that at this very time Chauvelin was so impressed with his intrepidity of mind that he thought of him as a possible premier president of the Vacation Chamber, designed to supersede the Parlement;[184] in other words, as the foremost instrument of the stringent measures contemplated by the Crown and the most conspicuous target of a virulent Opposition.

Nor is this the only reply to an imputation which the mere turning of d'Argenson's pages might almost suffice to dissipate.

Why, it may be asked, was this offer not accepted? D'Argenson himself shall furnish the answer, surely as pathetic as it is fatally true. He shrank at Chauvelin's suggestion, protesting that "at bottom he must be aware of my defects, and that, besides several others, I had that of being what is called shy and timid; I had been badly brought up; my father, when I was young, had given all the preference to my brother;[185] he had only known me during the last two years of his life when I was in the public service." Upon a word of deprecation, he repeated "it had not been the case in the latter time, and when he once knew me, the matter changed completely."[186]

Indeed his new patron could not help regarding him with interest, and at the same time with embarrassment. He never tired of urging him to conquer the weakness which dogged his life. He invited him to his house, "where all France crowded," and asked him to regard it as his own;[187] he exhorted him to lose no opportunity of making himself at home with the world and the Court. He said "that before all things it was necessary to rescue me from the position in which I was, from a sort of obscurity."[188] His counsels were as assiduous as they were disinterested;[189] and they were at last heard with impatience by the man who felt that the power to follow them had passed for ever beyond his reach.

"But," he represented at last, "provided that I am known to you, and to the King and the Cardinal, as I see I am known to his Eminence, and as you have told me I am to his Majesty, what does it matter whether I am known to the rest?"[190]

Indeed he felt such dependence to be his one resource. Some years afterwards he was called to what was, in the circumstances of the moment, the most important post in the French Government, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He brought to the proof a devotion to the King which had been the growth of generations; he placed at his service a ripe wisdom, a capacity for firm, constructive statesmanship, such as few of the ministers of the reign possessed. All he asked was a free hand, and firm and kingly support; for he knew that he could not have maintained himself for an hour amid the clang of policies and the machinations of intrigue. He threw himself proudly and confidently upon the loyalty of the King. He only learnt that the staff on which he leaned was a bruised reed when it went into his hand and pierced it.

It was to no mistiness of mind or constitutional indecision that the vagaries of his ministry were due; but simply to the fact that his voice was drowned by the clamour of the Council, and his position sacrificed by the desertion of the King.

D'Argenson could not fail to attract remark, but he was not strong enough to make himself necessary. Chauvelin had received him with curiosity and unfeigned regard; but after a time he lost the freshness of originality, and his shrinking eccentricity alone remained. The Minister treated him not unkindly. He put him off with promises, and was lavish of countenance and encouragement; and d'Argenson passed a couple of years in continual expectation of preferment, and in constant labour in the directions suggested by his patron. It was at this time that he began those researches upon foreign politics which were afterwards to prove so fruitful; and his Journal is henceforth enriched with discussions of the interests of France abroad, interesting in themselves, and often admirable for breadth and originality of view. They suggest that though d'Argenson may have been a student and a recluse, a pedant he certainly was not. One of them, presented to Chauvelin in 1734 in the form of a memoir, enables us to bring into just focus the relations between d'Argenson and his political mentor. It was criticised with his usual directness and vigour by St. Pierre, who, after pointing out its faults and admonishing the author, exhorts him not to be discouraged. "At your age," he says,[191] "I was very far from thinking so profoundly upon public affairs," and he predicts a brilliant future as the reward of his perseverance. It is in mentioning this same memoir that d'Argenson sums his opinion, repeatedly expressed, of the man who had been so long his friend. "No one knows this admirable citizen, and he does not even know himself. He has given to the public a number of his political works; he has his eyes fixed upon a goal too far removed from us; and so it happens that he repeats himself, is always harping upon the same themes, and is not appreciated. For all that, he is deeply versed in modern history, present and past; he is an able man; and he has given himself up to a branch of philosophy, profound and abandoned by all the world, namely, the true method of political action most conducive to human happiness."[192]