CHAPTER V.
TALLEYRAND’S DESIRE FOR AMITY BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE—LOUIS DIXHUIT—THE ARCHBISHOP DE M.—MADAME DE KRUDENER—ALEXANDER OF RUSSIA.
Just as my friend had ceased speaking, the door was opened, and the two valets-de-chambre of the prince, armed with shaving-pot and powder-puff, with the same solemn look as at the toilet of Louis Quatorze, described with such humour by Saint Simon, entered and took their station one on each side the doorway; but when the prince himself entered likewise, in dressing-gown and slippers, leaning on his cane, and bowing low, with a courteous “good morrow,” the picture was complete. Le grand monarque in his old age, Fagon and Bréville, seemed to arise before me. I have heard it said that one great test of the temper of a man is the mood in which he awakes from slumber. This certainly was true as applied to Prince Talleyrand, for perhaps at no other moment in the day was he more lively, more free from care, than at the hour of his toilet. It seemed as if the dreams of the past night had brought with them calm and pleasant recollections, for he was always more disposed to narrate at that moment than during the rest of the four-and-twenty hours. He had soon despatched the business upon which he had summoned me; but he bade me remain, and I was in no hurry to depart; for one by one the favoured few dropped in, and the conversation became interesting enough to make me behold without regret the hurrying off to the wood of a joyous caravan which issued from beneath the gateway with echoes of merriment.
C. had busied himself in turning over the journals, translating from the various English papers the leading article of each, and pausing here and there to extract speeches and opinions most worthy of notice. I shall never forget that morning—it was the last opportunity which was afforded me of judging of the never-failing faculty of that conteur intarissable. The conversation had turned upon England, and it was in reference to some observation made in one of the articles which C. had just been reading that the prince expressed himself towards this country with an admiration and gratitude which I shall never forget.
“It has ever been my dream,” said he, “to behold a firm and stable alliance between England and France. I cannot live to behold what I have yearned for all my life long; but you may yet be witness to the result to which the events of Europe have all tended for the last three centuries. There are many countries, many climes in Europe; there will soon be but two nations—the English and the French. Before many generations have passed away, they will even stand face to face alone upon the globe. They must become, not only allies, but friends. Already you will perceive that their mutual hatred has become tradition. The wars between these two great nations have often partaken of the chivalrous character of the ancient duel, in which the combat was carried on less from antipathy or thirst of vengeance, than from a boyish valour and love of glory. Believe me, where genius and courage are equal, peace becomes indispensable—two countries cannot make war upon each other until both fall dead upon the field of battle; destruction is not triumph. The good which has sprung up, even amidst their mutual jealousies, has been immense; much more has been sown than has yet been gathered, but the seed which has thus been buried will bring forth fruit, in its own good time, to benefit the whole human race.
“You will find, by the study of history, that they have proceeded in the goodly work together, as though by a tacit agreement, working with the same perseverance and the same success, to promote the progress of reason and the advancement of prosperity throughout the world. It was at the very same instant that the cry of horror at the tyranny and oppression of the people arose from the heart of each, and hand in hand did their philosophers and men of genius sound the first alarm at the encroachments of despotism. They are destined to regenerate the world.”
I may be forgiven if I listened to this eloquent and soothing speech as to a hallowed prophecy. The theme was one upon which I could have loved to hear him expatiate yet further; but other matters soon pressed upon his attention, and drove the subject from his mind. I observed, however, during my stay at Valençay, that the prince took every opportunity of exalting and approving England, and of putting forth his favourite theory of an exclusive alliance between the French and English.
Meanwhile, the toilet was proceeding rapidly under the skilful hands of the two veteran valets; and while I was contemplating with infinite satisfaction a scene to me so novel in its details, the prince, who was in excellent spirits, kept up with even more than his wonted share of vivacity the ball of conversation. Many of the stories which he told that morning were exceeding curious and worthy of record. I was much struck with some observations which he made with regard to the policy and conduct of Louis the Eighteenth, a sovereign whom he disliked most particularly. To one who carried the principle of forgiveness of injuries to the extent to which the Prince de Talleyrand displayed throughout his career, the cold, vindictive nature of Louis must have been singularly obnoxious, while the sense of obligation must have pressed heavily enough upon the small soul of the monarch. Besides which, a rivality of wit had sprung up between them, which served to increase their mutual dislike and distrust of each other. Louis Dixhuit could not bear the succès which some of the bon-mots of the Prince had obtained, and sought to humiliate and embarrass him by direct attacks, as if to put to the proof before the courtiers the well-earned reputation for repartee which the prince had acquired. But the prince always came out of the affray with honour, his self-possession giving him an immense advantage over the irritable temper of the king.
On the day when Madame de Talleyrand (who had been sent to England with a pension) re-appeared in Paris, the king, who seized every opportunity to annoy M. de Talleyrand before the court, exclaimed, on perceiving him, “Ah, monsieur, que je vous plains! Is it true that Madame is arrived in France?” “Alas, it is, sire. I also was doomed to have mon vingt Mars!” The king did not reply, but walked before the line of courtiers, biting his lip, as was his wont when vexed. Presently he returned, and again stood before the recreant wit, who alone looked all unmoved and unconscious amidst the general hilarity.
“Prince de Talleyrand,” said he, in a severe tone, “is it not time for you to seek the country? Paris is growing hot. I have been told that the shades of Valençay are the coolest and most delightful in all France.”