My notes have recorded in their proper sequence the visit of M. le Duc d'Orléans to Valençay, the drama (as I may well call it) of M. de Talleyrand's resignation of his Embassy to London; the change of Ministry at Paris, which only lasted three days; that of the English Cabinet, which after three months retired on meeting a Parliament which they had imprudently renewed. How much these events displeased those about me, how a many-sided intrigue made Sébastiani Ambassador at London, a post to which M. de Rigny secretly aspired—all this is well known, and I shall say no more about it.
At Maintenon, where I spent some hours with the Duc de Noailles, I had the pleasure of hearing a long account of the visit of Charles X. in 1830, when he left Rambouillet to embark at Cherbourg. The Duc de Noailles describes this dramatic scene with emotion, and consequently with talent. Unfortunately, I did not write it all down the very day he told it me, and now I fear that I should spoil it if I tried to recollect it. Some day or other I shall go to Maintenon again, and instead of the story, which I shall not hear again, I shall be able to tell what has become of this venerable and curious old house in the hands of the Duc de Noailles, who has undertaken many improvements.
Our quiet stay at Rochecotte might also have furnished several pages which would have contained the piquant anecdotes of M. de la Besnardière; the frequently agitated correspondence of Madame Adélaïde during the re-entry last March of the doctrinaire Ministry, and some characteristic traits of M. de Talleyrand grappling with his comparative solitude, almost continually trying to put other people in the wrong in order to manufacture emotions for himself, sometimes putting himself in the wrong, and thus conducting a solitary warfare in the midst of a profound peace.
I should have set down, during the days which Madame de Balbi spent with me, some account of the many-sided vivacity which is so characteristic of her age and type of mind. Her conversation was full of it, and what she says is almost always connected with scenes and persons and situations which prevent it from being trivial and make it material for serious history. If I had been in form at that time I should certainly not have passed over in silence the loquacious and pompous figure of the Comte Alexis de Saint-Priest, a malicious, and indeed a grotesque person, though not without wit and animation, and a striking contrast to the restraint, good taste, and incisiveness of Madame de Balbi. M. de Saint-Priest's total want of manners is his most unpleasant feature. He thinks he is a born diplomatist, but his temperament is certainly anything but diplomatic. He is also a man of letters, and is writing historical memoirs, for which he thought himself entitled to request Madame de Balbi, on the very first day they met at Rochecotte, to communicate to him her letters from Louis XVIII., of which no doubt she must have a great many. This was too much not to cast a shade of gravity over Madame de Balbi's habitual gaiety; and she said, very drily, that she would be wanting in every sentiment of the respect and gratitude which she entertained towards the late King if a single one of these letters was published or even shown to any one during her lifetime.
During the month of June which I spent at Paris the King very graciously showed us Versailles, which should have impelled me to record here the profound impression made upon me by the first plan and the actual restoration. Fast as one forgets everything at Paris, Versailles remains dazzlingly clear in my recollection; all I feared was to have too much to say. I doubt if I could have revisited the Palace under more curious circumstances. On one side was M. de Talleyrand who reconstructed for us the Versailles of Louis XV., Louis XVI. and the Constituent Assembly, and on the other King Louis-Philippe. In the middle of the hall of 1792 the King was carried back to the earliest memories of his youth and made them live again by his words no less than by the fine portraits and interesting pictures he has collected. I had visited Versailles in April 1812 with the Emperor Napoleon who then dreamed of establishing his court there, and had gone to inspect the works which he had put in hand and which first extricated the palace from the ruin and disorder caused by the Revolution. The second visit I paid to Versailles might well recall the first! M. Fontaine, the clever architect, and I were the only people who could compare both restorations.
Berne, August 19, 1835.—The month of June which I spent in Paris was full of incident of all kinds. I am really ashamed that I have allowed the impressions of these to become so feeble that hardly a trace remains. I assisted at several conversations between the King and Madame Adélaïde. There were the little intrigues of the doctrinaires diffidently developing around me under the auspices of M. Guizot, in whom I have often remarked an easy hypocrisy which seems to me quite a new variety of charlatanism. All these, the alternations of exaltation and despondency through which M. Thiers kept passing, and a thousand other things which gave each day a character of its own, would have been well worthy of a few notes. I should have said something of a dinner at the Villa Orsini given by M. Thiers, where a motley collection of fifteen people gave the party a stamp of bad taste which embarrassed me and made M. de Talleyrand observe, "We have been to a Directoire dinner party."
Personal matters also have not been uninteresting. There was the death of young Marie Suchet and her mother's grief, the confirmation of my daughter Pauline on the occasion of which I met the Archbishop of Paris after five years of separation. All these events, so to speak, marked out one day from another and kept them from being confused one with another.
I was the more struck with my interview with M. de Quélen, as it was the occasion of a conversation which I do not wish to go unrecorded. The Archbishop returned to a subject which has always much concerned him, namely, the conversion of M. de Talleyrand, and spoke of it with the same vivacity as in the days of M. le Cardinal de Périgord. He repeated how eagerly he wished for this event, assured me that he had gladly accepted all the tribulations of his episcopal life in the hope that God would vouchsafe as a recompense for his own sufferings the return of M. de Talleyrand into the bosom of the Church. He exhorted me vehemently to co-operate by my own efforts in so meritorious a work, and added that, knowing how trustworthy I was, and, moreover, believing that it was well that I should know what he intended to do, he would confide to me that he had thought that in the last phrase of M. de Talleyrand's letter of resignation of November 13 last there was a return to serious thoughts, and that he had become convinced that the moment had come to act energetically. He had therefore written straight to the Pope at Rome to inquire what line the Holy Father thought he should follow. "The Holy Father's answer was not long in coming," said M. de Quélen; "it refers to M. de Talleyrand in kindly and affectionate terms. It gives me the right to absolve and reconcile him, and it extends my powers so far as to permit me to delegate them to the prelates of the various dioceses in which M. de Talleyrand might be attacked by his last illness, in particular to the Archbishops of Bourges and Tours. Finally, the Pope even showed a willingness to write personally to M. de Talleyrand." In my replies to M. de Quélen I necessarily temporised. I made it clear in the most precise terms that any direct overture would probably produce an effect the very opposite of that which was desired. For my own part I could never take other than a purely passive part in the matter. Assuredly I should be equally averse from any action contrary to the object desired by the Church, as from any which might disturb one for whose peace I am responsible, without securing the desired effect, which, if it ever is secured, will be due to a voice more mighty and more powerful than any human one.
The Archbishop also spoke to me of his own tribulations, of those he has experienced since 1830; they have been both strange and sad. I regret that latterly he has not been able to forget them a little more, and that when he returned to the Tuileries after the attempt of July 28,[50] and reopened Notre Dame to the King, he did not accompany what he did with more frank and more definitely pacific words. He would then have avoided the reproach of speaking to two addresses, one at Prague, the other at Paris. The Archbishop's misfortune is that he has not quite the intellectual grasp which is necessary to play the difficult part which circumstances have imposed upon him. Neither has he the intense energy which redeems, and sometimes more than redeems, intellectual shortcomings. No doubt his sentiments are excellent, and his intentions admirable. He is kind, charitable, affectionate, grateful, sincerely attached to his duties, and always ready to face martyrdom, but he is too ready to receive impressions of every kind. It is easy to gain his confidence and to abuse it by pushing him into a path the end of which he does not perceive in time. He is afraid of criticism and is always provoking it by a hesitancy and a want of balance which arise from a vacillating intelligence, and the scruples of a conscience which is never certain whether what was good yesterday is good to-day. He would have been a good pastor in ordinary times; but in our day, in which no one seems suited to the place he occupies, the attitude he has taken up has made neither for his reputation with the public nor the peace of his private life. However, as he has many noble and good qualities, and as he has the deepest interest in all who bear the name of Talleyrand, which is much to his credit as it arises from gratitude to the Cardinal de Périgord, I wish with all my heart that his life may be made more tranquil than it has been in these recent years, and that his troubles may come to an end. Another man might have known how to turn them to his advantage; he can do nothing but succumb.
I have enjoyed the four weeks which I have lately been spending at Baden-Baden. I found many old acquaintances and had some agreeable meetings. There, too, I ought to have fixed my recollections by putting down a few lines about Madame la Princesse d'Orange, that pattern of all that education should make a Princess, about the King of Würtemberg and his daughters the Princesses Sophie and Marie, about the ill-concealed hostility of Mesdames de Lieven and de Nesselrode, about the genial philosophy of M. de Falk, about the fine talk of M. and Madame de Zea, in fact about everything good and bad which struck me in this gathering, of which each member had a distinction of his own.