Many have attacked his honour because, being a noble and a churchman, he sided against the two orders he belonged to; but in reality he rather wished to make ancient things live amongst new ideas than to sweep ancient things away. Others have denied his sagacity in promoting a revolution which drove him from affluence and power into poverty and exile. But, in spite of what has been said to the contrary, I by no means believe that the end of the Revolution of 1789 was the natural consequence of its commencement. The more we examine the history of that period, the more we are struck by the incessant and unaccountable follies of those who wished to arrest it. There was no want of occasions when the most ordinary courage and good sense on the part of the King and his friends would have given the one all the power it was advisable he should exercise, and preserved the other in as influential a position as was compatible with the abolition of intolerable abuses. No man can calculate with accuracy on all the faults that may be committed by his opponents. It is probable that M. de Talleyrand did not calculate on the utter subversion of the society he undertook to reform; but it appears that at each crisis he foresaw the dangers that were approaching, and counselled the measures most likely to prevent their marring his country’s prospects and his own fortunes.
At the actual moment, he perceived that the new legislature would be a new world, which could neither have the same notions, nor belong to the same society, nor be subject to the same influences, as the last; and that the wisest thing to do was to withdraw himself from the Paris horizon until the clouds that obscured it had, in some direction or other, passed away.
In England, he was sufficiently near not to be forgotten, and sufficiently distant not to be compromised. England, moreover, was the natural field of observation at that moment for a French statesman. To England, therefore, he went, accompanied by M. de Biron, and arrived in London on the 25th of January, 1792.
Part III.
FROM CLOSE OF NATIONAL ASSEMBLY TO CONSULATE.
M. de Talleyrand in London.—Manner and appearance.—Witticisms.—Visit to England.—Lord Grenville refuses to discuss business with him.—Goes to Paris; returns with letter from King.—State of affairs in France prevents success of any mission in England.—Arrives in Paris just prior to the 10th of August.—Escapes and returns to England, the 16th of September, 1792.—Writes to Lord Grenville, declaring he has no mission.—Sent away the 28th of January, 1794.—Goes to America.—Waits until the death of Robespierre.—Gets then permission to return to France.—Chénier declares that he was employed by Provisional Government in 1792, when he had told Lord Grenville he was not.—Successful reception.—Description of Directory and of society at that time.—Chosen Secretary of Institute, and read two remarkable memoirs to it.—Named Minister of Foreign Affairs.—Sides with Barras and Executive against the Assemblies.—Negotiations at Lille broken off.—Address to diplomatic agents.—Peace of Campo Formio.—Bonaparte goes to Egypt.—Democrats triumph in the Directory.—M. de Talleyrand quits office, and publishes an answer to accusations made against him.—Paris tired with the Directory.—Bonaparte returns from Egypt.—Talleyrand unites with Sieyès to overturn the Government, and place power in Bonaparte’s hands.
I.
When M. de Talleyrand made his first appearance in our country, many persons in it still continued favourable to the French Revolution, and viewed with esteem those who had rather sought to destroy crying abuses than to put fantastical theories into practice. Thus, although naturally preceded by the calumnies which were certain to be circulated about a man who had played so remarkable a part on so eventful a scene as that which he had just quitted, the ex-Bishop of Autun was, on the whole, well received by a large portion of our aristocracy, and became particularly intimate at Lansdowne House. The father of the late marquis mentioned to me that he remembered him dining there frequently, and being particularly silent and particularly pale. A contemporary, indeed, describes M. de Talleyrand at this time as aiming to impose on the world by an air of extreme reserve:—
“His manner was cold, he spoke little, his countenance, which in early youth had been distinguished for its grace and delicacy, had become somewhat puffed and rounded, and to a certain degree effeminate, being in singular contrast with a deep and serious voice which no one expected to accompany such a physiognomy. Rather avoiding than making advances, neither indiscreet, nor gay, nor familiar, but sententious, formal, and scrutinizing,—the English hardly knew what to make of a Frenchman who so little represented the national character.