TALLEYRANDIANA.
A banker, anxious about the rise or fall of stocks, came once to Talleyrand for information respecting the truth of a rumor that George III. had suddenly died, when the statesman replied in a confidential tone: “I shall be delighted, if the information I have to give be of any use to you.” The banker was enchanted at the prospect of obtaining authentic intelligence from so high a source; and Talleyrand, with a mysterious air, continued: “Some say the King of England is dead; others, that he is not dead: for my own part, I believe neither the one nor the other. I tell you this in confidence, but do not commit me.”
During Talleyrand’s administration, when the seals of private letters were not very safe, the Spanish Ambassador complained, with an expressive look, to that Minister, that one of his despatches had been opened. “Oh!” returned the statesman, after listening with profound attention, “I shall wager I can guess how the thing happened. I am convinced your despatch was opened by some one who desired to know what was inside.”
When Louis XVIII., at the Restoration, praised the subtile diplomatist for his talents and influence, he disclaimed the compliment, but added, what might serve both as a hint and a threat: “There is, however, some inexplicable thing about me, that prevents any government from prospering that attempts to set me aside.”
After the Pope excommunicated his apostate Abbé, that unworthy son of the church wrote to a friend, saying: “Come and comfort me: come and sup with me. Everybody is going to refuse me fire and water; we shall therefore have nothing this evening but iced meats, and drink nothing but wine.”
When the Abbé Dupanloup told him, during his last hour, that the Archbishop of Paris had said he would willingly die for him, the dying statesman said, with his expiring breath: “He might make a better use of his life.”
He proposed that the Duchess de Berri should be threatened for all her strange conspicuous freaks, thus: “Madame, there is no hope for you, you will be tried, condemned, and pardoned!”
Speaking of a well-known lady on one occasion, he said emphatically:—
“She is insufferable.”
Then, as if relenting, he added:
“But that is her only fault.”
Madame de Stael cordially hated him, and in her story of Delphine was supposed to have painted herself in the person of her heroine, and Talleyrand in that of a garrulous old woman. On their first meeting, the wit pleasantly remarked, “They tell me that we are both of us in your novel, in the disguise of women.”
While making a few days’ tour in England, he wrote this note to a gentleman connected with the Treasury:—
“My dear Sir,
“Would you give a short quarter of an hour to explain to me the financial system of your country?
“Always yours,
“Talleyrand.”