“‘Were he to hear your ballad of the “Proscrit,” it would hurry his return,’ said Chénier to Madame de la Bouchardie, at the same time taking her by the hand, and leading her to the harp, and Eugénie, although declaring that the song was a pièce de circonstance and out of date, yielded to his entreaty that she would sing it; and, finding inspiration in the remembrances which the music called up, she gave it with all the impassioned energy which had before roused the soul of her lover to pursue with such unwearied perseverance the cause he had himself at first condemned. While she was singing, M. de Talleyrand had drawn near unperceived, and when her hand fell to her side at the conclusion of the ritournelle, he seized it in a transport of delight, and imprinted on those fairy fingers a fervent kiss of gratitude. The loud shriek of surprise uttered by Madame de la Bouchardie roused Madame de Staël from the reverie into which the melody of the voice of her friend never failed to plunge her. In an instant, the arms of both ladies, with the true republican sans gêne of the day, were around the neck of the happy ‘Proscrit,’ and while Madame de Staël expressed with fluency all the joy she felt at again beholding him, the Comtesse de la Bouchardie shed tears of happiness, more eloquent in their silence than all the florid declamations of her friend. It would enchant you to hear the prince describe that scene, the mixture of the burlesque and the pathetic which he can paint so well.”
“What became of Madame de la Bouchardie?” said I. “Her name is never mentioned in the annals of that time, and yet it seems difficult to suppose that she could have sunk so completely into obscurity as to have left no trace. The friend of Buonaparte and Talleyrand, the mistress of Chénier, the companion of Corinne, must of necessity have been a personage of note, not a mere comparse to occupy the back of the stage.”
“Alas! you should not have asked me this,” said C., mournfully. “It seems as if a curse hung over all that was fair and virtuous at that stormy time. There is a tale connected with Madame de la Bouchardie, of such frightful injustice, of such base ingratitude, that it would harrow up your soul were I to tell it. At Chénier’s death, she went to live on her estate, but was brought back to Paris, some few years ago, a confirmed, incurable lunatic. When the prince seems overcome by sadness, and calls for his carriage before the hour at which he is accustomed to take his daily drive, I know almost by instinct that Dr. E. has been closeted with him for some time—and I can easily guess who has formed the melancholy subject of their conference.”
CHAPTER II.
THE ABBÉ CERUTTI.
“The sudden change from the frivolous papillotage of the ancien régime to the sombre enthusiasm which broke out at the epoch of the American war, made but little impression on M. de Talleyrand. He was evidently prepared, and at once declared his opinion, not by pamphlets or inflammatory speeches, but by an argument far more forcible than either. Conjointly with his friend, the Count Choiseul Gouffier, he equipped a privateer, which he called the ‘Holy Cause,’ and which left the harbour of Brest in the month of May, 1779. The Duc de Castries, then minister of marine, furnished the guns. This single fact would almost serve to paint the time. A vessel of war armed and equipped by the agent-général du clergé de France, aided by a savant of the haute noblesse, and countenanced by one of the ministers, exhibits at once the utter confusion of ideas which must have existed just then.
“I have heard that the privateer, which, placed under command of a runaway scion of nobility, was to have carried death and destruction among the English merchant ships trading from the West Indies, never more made its appearance on the French coast. Be this as it may, I know that the prince does not like to talk of this little episode in his life, and the other day, when questioned rather closely upon the subject, he answered, ‘Laissons cela, c’est un de mes péchés de jeunesse.’
“One of the most curious documents in the world, and which I hope will be preserved in the prince’s memoirs, must be his answer to the letter of Pope Benedict XIV. His holiness had thought fit to pass censure upon the warlike demonstration of the Abbé de Perigord, and the Abbé de Perigord had excused himself in a reply so full of wit and eloquence, so full of instances taken from the history of every country, that the good-natured prelate fairly owned himself vanquished, and withdrew, with much grace and frankness, from the contest. This I think is the first action by which the Abbé de Perigord publicly displayed his adherence to the new principles, and separated himself in opinion from the haute clergé and the haute noblesse, who all, with scarcely an exception, were loud in their disapprobation of the unjust and unjustifiable interference of France in the quarrel between Great Britain and her rebellious colony. The step was considered in the light of a secession from the society of which he was a member, both by his lofty birth and holy profession; and many and many a prognostic was now beginning to be drawn of his future eminence or his approaching degradation, according to the mind which judged him.
“It was during the few years which elapsed between this period, and the events of 1789, that M. de Talleyrand first became acquainted with the Abbé Cerutti, the friend and colleague of Mirabeau, and that, together with them, he laid the foundation of the very first popular journal ever published in France. The design was spirited and bold; it was addressed to the inhabitants of the distant provinces of the kingdom; and, immediately on its appearance, obtained a success hitherto unrivalled in this species of literature.
“It has been falsely accused of having excited many of the atrocities of the Revolution. It did not appear until the flames had spread, and could no longer be repressed, and he who now turns to the Feuille Villageoise, will recognise at once, amid the burning columns from the pen of Mirabeau, and the cold, bitter irony of Cerutti, the calm reflective genius of Talleyrand, in those articles on the Division of Church Property—on the Improvements in National Education—on the Abuse of Power—on the Unity of Weights and Measures—which served to act as soothing balsam to the irritation produced by the fiery appeals of his more impassioned colleagues.