“No sooner did the missive reach him, than he set out from Vienna without a moment’s delay, travelling night and day, until he reached Presburg. It was just at the grey peep of dawn when he traversed the streets of that ancient city, but yet he resolved to drive at once, prompted by one of those singular presentiments to which through life he has always listened, to the old palace which the princess now inhabited.
“How different was his reception from that he had experienced at Linz! Even at this early hour, servants were standing round the gate; and as soon as his carriage, with the broad rattling wheels and jingling bells, had turned the corner of the street, the gates were thrown open wide, and the carriage entered at once, without impediment. It was evident that he had been expected with impatience, for he was received in silence, as if there had been no time to waste in idle greeting. The old servants whom he remembered did not speak out their welcome, but merely bowed in acknowledgment of his kindly recognition, and hurried him without announcement and without ceremony to the chamber of their mistress.
“It was not until he stood upon the threshold of that silent chamber and viewed the scene within, that the truth flashed upon his mind—then the reason of the expectation and the silent greeting, of the haste in which he had been ushered into her presence, became evident at once, and he tottered forward to the bed, and fell upon his knees by the side of the priest, whose muttered prayer filled the room with a low mysterious murmur. Madame de Brionne was dying; her eyes were already closed, and her fingers were already relaxing their grasp of the rosary which lay outside the bed. It seemed as if the repose of death had already stolen over her, when suddenly, as if a supernatural instinct had warned her of the entrance of M. de Talleyrand, she started up, and gazed at him fixedly; then said, with a sweet, sad smile of affection, as she stretched forth her hand towards him, ‘Ah, Monsieur de Perigord, you alone can tell how dearly I have loved you!’ She sighed deeply, sank back upon the pillow, and before his lips had ceased their pressure upon her outstretched hand, it lay powerless and dead within his own! She had died while the words of tenderness with which she had greeted him were yet upon her lips, and while that smile of recognition yet lingered on her placid countenance. And when M. de Talleyrand rose from that bedside, her form was already straightened beneath the coverlet; the tapers were already lighted round the bed, and the sheet was thrown over her face, concealing it from view, so that he beheld it no more!
“I have always considered this event as one of the most touching episodes in M. de Talleyrand’s life. I have heard him speak of Madame de Brionne in terms of the highest veneration, as a woman of the most exalted virtue, and one of the grandest souls he had ever met with, well fitted by nature to be that which fortune had made her—the sister and mother of kings and princes—and there is, perhaps, a little remorse mingled with the regret with which he laments the loss of her society during so many years. Her advice had guided and sustained his youth; it might, perhaps, have aided him in his maturer age; and, while he was at the height of his power and influence during the empire, he has often surprised, in his own mind, a slight feeling of uneasiness respecting the sentiment with which Madame de Brionne would peruse the journals wherein his name was mentioned in connexion with that of the emperor. I think that the tie which bound him to Madame de Brionne must have been the only one by which he suffered his soul to be held captive. In other cases, he withstood the influence; in this one alone did he submit to it, perhaps, in fact, scarcely conscious of his slavery.
“The next link in these voluntary bonds was that woven by beauty and talent combined. Young as he was, he was already too old to be captivated by wit alone. The liaison to which I now refer has made much noise in the world, and were I attempting to represent the prince, not as he really is, but as I should wish to find him, I might gloss over the one spot of this kind which has darkened his career, or endeavour to wipe off the reproach which he has incurred; but I will give you the facts as they really were, leaving you to make your own comments.
“It would appear that, contrary to the usual theory, the fascination entered neither by the eye nor by the ear; it was the result of fanatical admiration of his great powers of mind. This lady was married, at the age of fifteen, to the Count de Flahaut, who was fifty-eight. With the steady, uncompromising morality of your English principles, you will, perhaps, be startled at the coolness with which I mention this; but surely there is some excuse in this unjustifiable union, and the unstability of principle at the time, and it is unfair to separate crime and error from the institutions from which they have arisen. It was not till after the death of her husband, who perished on the scaffold in ’92, that she became acquainted with M. de Talleyrand, having been in active correspondence with him during the whole period of his exile, and having saved him, by her timely information of the state of feelings and parties in Paris, from acting with precipitation, and from yielding to the treacherous invitations of false friends, who advised his return to certain destruction. He had received, for many months, regular intimation of all that was passing in the capital. At first he had paid but small attention to these anonymous epistles, but, by degrees, as he beheld the realization of all the previsions put forth by the unknown writer, he took confidence, and resolved to abide by the counsels expressed in the mysterious letters, and so blindly did he rely upon the correctness of the information contained therein, that, being twice upon the point of re-crossing the channel, he twice deferred the step in obedience to the advice of his anonymous friend, and each time had cause of rejoicing that he had thus acted.
“Madame Champion, at that time, like himself, an exile in London, was his only confidante in this affair, and to her alone did he communicate his embarrassment touching the author of the correspondence. I have spoken to you before about the singular fatality which has sometimes attended upon the steps of M. de Talleyrand, and which must be attributable to his surprising memory and great powers of observation. In this instance did he once more experience its influence, and by its aid alone, I have often heard him declare, did he discover the name and station of his benefactor.
“He had one day been speaking with Madame Champion upon the subject, and in his perplexity was enumerating the relations whose affection could be likely thus to render them vigilant and clear-sighted; she had called over successively every degree of relationship—aunt, uncle, cousin, brother. But to every new suggestion, M. de Talleyrand discovered some well-founded objection, until, at last, Madame Champion cried, laughingly, ‘Well, it is evident, then, you have, as in the good old fairy tales, some wise and powerful Marraine.’ M. de Talleyrand shook his head. ‘Alas, Madame, neither Marraine nor Filleul,’ returned he, quoting from Beaumarchais’s ‘Figaro,’ and the subject dropped.
“It was soon after this that the unknown friend advised his return to Paris, and, as he had hitherto found benefit in following the counsels thus conveyed, he hesitated not in this instance. Upon his arrival in the capital, he found everything in the state in which he had been led to expect it, and his greeting was such as to make him rejoice that he had not lingered in the execution of the step suggested by his well-wisher. After this, he was indefatigable in his researches. He kept the adventure no secret, but told it in every circle he frequented; hoping thereby to obtain some clue to the discovery of his benefactor. He felt sure that the letters were written by a female, not from the handwriting, nor from any peculiar refinement of style, but from the singular mixture of boldness and timidity which was evident in every line. The deep interest expressed for his safety, and yet the kind of awkward fear lest this interest should be exaggerated in the mind of the reader; in short, whether it was that the conviction of M. de Talleyrand led him to believe that such disinterested sentiment could emanate from none but a woman, I know not, but it is certain that never did his suspicion light on an individual of the other sex, while, from the very moment of his return to Paris, did he begin to look around among the women of his acquaintance, and to fix suspicion upon each, until further research displayed the futility of his surmises.
“He had already been for some time at Paris without being able to obtain a clue whereby to form any probable conjectures upon the subject, when, one evening, being by chance at a soirée given by Barras, his attention was attracted to a young lady whom he had at first observed with that languid indifference with which one is too apt to survey a stranger, where there is nothing in particular to arrest the attention. M. de Talleyrand had been standing, half hid by a curtain, in a recess of one of the windows, talking to Count Réal, and the lady had left her seat at the further end of the room, to take one close beside him. He had paid but slight attention to this circumstance, and after the departure of Réal, went to join the group of talkers assembled in the doorway.