“When the press is free—when each one knows that his interests are or will be defended—all wait with patience a justice more or less tardy. Hope supports, and with reason, for this hope cannot be deceived for long; but when the press is enslaved, when no voice can be raised, discontent will soon exact, on the part of the government, either too much concession or too much repression.”

On the 26th of February, 1822, M. de Talleyrand spoke on the same subject, commenting on the rights accorded by, and the intentions which had presided over, the charter. Such efforts on such subjects preserved for his name a national character, and connected the most memorable acts of his own career with the most ardent aspirations of his country.

IV.

Still, notwithstanding these occasional appearances on the public stage, it is certain that the easy though momentary triumph of a cause of which he had somewhat solemnly announced the almost certain defeat, disgusted him from further meddling in affairs, and much of his time was afterwards passed out of Paris, at Valençay, the estate which he meant should be ancestral, in Touraine. His fortune, moreover, was much affected by the bankruptcy of a commercial house in which he had engaged himself as what we call a “sleeping partner.” Nevertheless he held, when in the capital, a great existence:—his drawing-room becoming to the Restoration what it had been to the best days of the Empire—a rival court, and a court which gathered to itself all the eminences of the old times, and all the rising young men of the new.

There, from his easy-chair, drawn up to the window which looks upon the Tuileries, and surrounded by those who had acted in the past with him, or who might make a future for him, he read with pleased composure the fall of ministry after ministry on the flushed countenance of the eager deputy rushing to or from the fatal vote; until, at the nomination of M. de Polignac, he repeated calmly to those about him, the phrase he is said to have pronounced after the Russian campaign: “C’est le commencement de la fin.” Indeed, ever since the dismissal of the National Guard, and the failure of M. de Martignac’s ministry, which, tried as it was and at the time it was, could not but fail, he spoke without reserve, though always with expressions of regret, to those in his intimacy, of the extreme peril to which the legitimate monarchy was hurrying; and he could do this with the more certainty, from the knowledge he possessed of Charles X.’s character, the good and bad qualities of which he considered equally dangerous.

V.

The following account of the share which M. de Talleyrand took in the new Revolution, that, after many ominous preludes, at last took place, was given me by an actor in the history he relates.

For the first two days of the insurrection, viz., the 27th and 28th of July, M. de Talleyrand said little or nothing, remaining quietly at home and refusing himself to all inquirers. On the third day he called to him his private secretary, and with that winning manner he knew so well how to adopt when he had any object to gain, said to him: “M. C——, I have a favour to request of you; go for me to St. Cloud” (the service was one of some danger and difficulty), “see if the royal family are still there, or what they are doing.” The secretary went and found Charles X. just departing for Rambouillet. M. de Talleyrand, who had during his messenger’s absence seen General Sebastiani, General Gerard, and two or three other influential persons of the same party and opinions, on hearing that the King had quitted St. Cloud, retired to his room and remained there alone for about two hours, when he again sent for the same gentleman, and this time his manners were, if possible, more persuasive than before. “I have yet another and greater favour to ask, M. C——. Go for me to Neuilly; get by some means or other to Madame Adelaide;[77] give her this piece of paper, and when she has read it, either see it burnt or bring it back to me.” The piece of paper contained merely these words: “Madame peut avoir toute confiance dans le porteur, qui est mon secrétaire.” “When madame has read this, you will tell her that there is not a moment to lose. The Duc d’Orléans must be here to-morrow; he must take no other title than that of Lieutenant-general of the Kingdom, which has been accorded to him—‘le reste viendra.’”

With this confidential message, M. C—— started. With great difficulty—for the gates of Neuilly were closed to every one—he got to the château and to Madame. On saying that he brought a message from M. de Talleyrand, “Ah, ce bon prince, j’étais sûre qu’il ne nous oublierait pas!”[78] The messenger then delivered his credentials and his message. “Tell the prince that I will pledge my word for my brother’s following his advice. He shall be in Paris to-morrow,” was the reply; after which M. C—— had the courage to ask, though with some hesitation, that the piece of paper should be destroyed or returned. It was given back to him, and he restored it to M. de Talleyrand, who did not, by the way, forget to ask for it. It only remains to say that the Duc d’Orléans did come to Paris the following day; did only take the title of Lieutenant-general; and that the rest did, as M. de Talleyrand had predicted, follow. Thus ended the last Revolution with which this singular man was blended.

When the message he sent arrived, the future king of the French was concealed, the conduct he seemed likely to pursue uncertain; and those who know anything of revolutions will be aware of the value of a day and an hour. Moreover, this prince got to the throne by the very door which M. de Talleyrand had warned Louis XVIII. to close, viz., a constitution proceeding from the people.