M. de Talleyrand gave a proof of his sagacity when he foresaw that, with the violent Royalists entering into power under a minister named by the Autocrat of the North, a state of things was preparing that would lead to a war of opinion throughout Europe, and unite the governments that could not support liberal institutions with that party in the French nation which repudiated them. He was equally sagacious in retiring voluntarily from affairs, and doing so on national and not on party grounds. But at the same time he could not long have remained at the head of a parliamentary government, even had he been free from the peculiar difficulty which then surrounded him. To direct affairs with such a government, in critical times, one must have some of the passions of those times. M. de Talleyrand, as I have said at the beginning of this sketch, had no passions.
He represented the power of reason; but that power, which predominates at the end of every crisis, has its voice drowned at the commencement. His administration then was necessarily doomed: but he had at least the credit of having endeavoured, first to prevent and then to moderate those acts of vengeance which a minority that obtains the supremacy always wishes to inflict on an adverse majority: for he furnished passports and even money (the budget of foreign affairs was charged with four hundred and fifty-nine thousand francs for this purpose) to all who felt desirous to quit France—Ney, though he did not profit by the indulgence, might have done so. The list of proscriptions at first contained one hundred persons, M. de Talleyrand reduced that number to fifty-seven.[74] Labédoyère—and this owing entirely to his own imprudence, in obliging the government either to release him publicly or to bring him to trial—was the only victim of an administration which wished to be moderate when every one was violent.
A most memorable epoch in French history now commenced—the constitutional education of the French nation. It went through a variety of vicissitudes. For a time the Royalist reaction, headed by the Comte d’Artois, prevailed. It was then for a moment stopped by the jealousy of Louis XVIII., who felt that France was in reality being governed by his brother, who could ride on horseback. After a short struggle the conflict between the two princes ceased, and M. de Villelle with more or less adroitness governed them both. The elder at last was deprived by death of the sceptre he had ceased to wield independently, and with the ardent desire he had ever felt to be loved by his countrymen, Charles X. legitimately commenced his right of ruling them. But a hesitating policy of conciliation producing after a short effort but a doubtful result, another policy was resolved upon. The King would show that he was king, and he selected a ministry ready to be his soldiers in a battle against popular ideas. The battle was fought: the King was vanquished. So passed the time from 1815 to 1830.
Within this epoch of fifteen years, during which it must be said that France, however agitated and divided, made an immense progress under the institutions that she owed in no small degree to M. de Talleyrand, that statesman was little more than a spectator of passing events. The new patriots, orators, journalists, generals of the day, occupied public attention, and he ceased to be considered except as one of those characters of history that have been too interesting in their day to be consigned quietly to posterity. Moreover, the judgment passed on him from time to time by contemporaneous writers was usually superficial and sometimes supercilious.
As to the deputies whom local influence and the zeal of parties returned to the lower chamber, they were for the most part unknown to him by their antecedents, and not worth knowing for their merits.
In the upper chamber, where men of high rank and intellectual eminence were certainly to be found, his personal influence was not great; the sympathies and recollections of that chamber, whether amongst the old Royalists or most distinguished Bonapartists, were against him. There was no one consequently to press him to take part in its debates, nor were there many subjects of discussion sufficiently important to arouse his indolence, and call forth with dignity the exertions of a statesman who had played so great a part amidst the great events of that marvellous period through which his career had run.
On one memorable occasion, however, he stepped boldly forward to claim—if affairs took the course which many thought most probable—the first place in a new system: this was when war, in 1823, was declared against Spain.
II.
That war was commenced by M. de Châteaubriand, who had always been M. de Talleyrand’s antipathy, not merely as a war against the Spanish people, or in support of the Spanish monarch, but as a war which was to be considered an armed declaration in favour of ultra-monarchical principles, thus justifying all the previsions with which M. de Talleyrand had quitted office. A victory was certain to deliver France into the hands of the ultra-Royalist party; defeat or difficulty was as certain to give power to more moderate men and more moderate opinions. In the one case, M. de Talleyrand had nothing to hope; in the other, it was necessary to fix attention on the fact that he had predicated misfortune. The struggle in Spain, moreover, depended greatly on the state of public opinion; and this alone made it advisable to endeavour to create as strong a belief as possible that men of weight and consideration looked upon it with apprehension and disfavour. It was under these circumstances that M. de Talleyrand expressed the following opinion:[75]
“Messieurs,” this impressive discourse commences, “il y a aujourd’hui seize ans qu’appellé par celui qui gouvernait alors le monde à lui dire mon avis sur une lutte à engager avec le peuple espagnol, j’eus le malheur de lui déplaire, en lui dévoilant l’avenir, en révélant tous les dangers qui allaient naître en foule d’une aggression non moins injuste que téméraire. La disgrâce fut le prix de ma sincérité. Etrange destinée, que celle qui me ramène après ce long espace de temps à renouveler auprès du souverain légitime les mêmes efforts, les mêmes conseils. Le discours de la couronne a fait disparaître les dernières espérances de amis de la paix, et, menaçant pour l’Espagne, il est, je dois le dire, alarmant pour la France.… Oui, j’aurai le courage de dire toute la vérité. Ces mêmes sentiments chevaleresques qui, en 1789, entraînaient les cœurs généreux, n’ont pu sauver la monarchie légitime, ils peuvent encore la perdre en 1823.”