Rochecotte, December 9, 1840.—Madame Mollien informs me that, as the Address is now voted, men's minds are beginning to turn to the ceremony of the Remains, as the people of Paris call it. The expenses of the ceremony will amount to a million; thousands of workmen are busy day and night with preparations, and thousands of loafers spend their time looking on until nightfall. What foolishness all this comedy is, coming at such a time and in such circumstances! I think that the rock of St. Helena would have been a more fitting sepulchre, and perhaps a safer resting-place, than Paris, with its storms and revolutions.
Rochecotte, December 10, 1840.—M. Raullin writes to say that the Stock Exchange gambling was discussed at the session of the Chamber, and M. Thiers actually wept. He also says that the hatred and acrimony which embroil all these people is quite unparalleled, and that it is impossible to talk with any one unless you share their particular form of madness. Thiers wished to fight a duel with M. de Givré, which was prevented by Rémusat. M. Jaubert is also slightly infected by the disease. Madame Dosne is in bed, a result of the effects of the last session of the Chamber at which she was present. The revelations made upon the subject of the Stock Exchange gambling have overwhelmed her.
M. de Saint-Aulaire writes from Vienna saying that he is going to stand for election to the French Academy; he displays great disgust with public affairs, and there is every probability that this feeling will become general.
Rochecotte, December 13, 1840.—Yesterday, as my solitude was more complete than usual, I returned, as I constantly do, to my recollections of the past. It occurred to me to write a few lines upon certain mental characteristics of M. de Talleyrand, as follows:
His mind was strong, but his conscience was weak, for it needed enlightenment. The age in which he lived, his education, and the position into which he was forced were all incompatible with that reflection which can illuminate the soul. His natural want of sensitiveness also disinclined him for the serious work of self-examination and left him in darkness. Thus his unusual mental powers were entirely devoted to political interests. He was swept away by the terrible movement of his age, and threw the whole of his energies into it. If stress was required his energy was great; he could live without repose and rest, and deprived others of it as well as himself, but when he had attained his object he would relapse into a lengthy indifference, upon which he cleverly prevented any encroachment. He could be idle so gracefully that no one could disturb him without self-reproach, but he had a keen and accurate eye for a situation and a penetrating perception of its possibilities, while his mind was tempered with excellent common sense. When he took action he worked but slowly at first, but with rapidity and precipitation as the crisis approached. The attitude of carelessness, which he abandoned as little as possible, was most disastrous to him in private life, for he carried it to excess. His door was always open, his rooms were constantly invaded, while his indifference to the reliability and moral worth of the men who made their way to him was deplorable. At the same time he saw everything through his half-closed eyes, but he took little trouble to judge men, and even less to avoid those of whom he thought least. In conversation, if he felt no need of opposition, he allowed people to talk or act as they would, but if he felt himself attacked he was immediately aroused, and the answer was a crushing blow; he overthrew his opponent on the spot, though he never retained any bitterness of feeling for him. He speedily relapsed into his indifference, and as easily forgot an impropriety as he sincerely pardoned an insult. In any case, he was rarely called upon to defend himself. His dignity was natural and simple, so well protected by his reputation, his great past, and by the apparent indolence which was known to be only a mask, that I have rarely seen even the worst characters venture to show their true nature with him. I have often heard him say with real satisfaction: "I was a Minister under the Directory; all the hobnailed boots of the Revolution have tramped through my room, but no one ever ventured upon familiarity with me." He spoke the truth; even his nearest and dearest addressed him only with respectful deference. I am, moreover, convinced that his overpowering dignity was supported by a natural characteristic which could be felt even beneath his indolence. This was a cool courage and presence of mind, a bold temperament and instinctive bravery which inspires an irresistible taste for danger in any form, which makes risk attractive and hazard delightful. Beneath the nobility of his features, the slowness of his movements, and his luxurious habits there was a depth of audacious boldness which sometimes peeped out, revealed a wholly different order of capacities, and made him by force of contrast one of the most original and most attractive characters.
Rochecotte, December 14, 1840.—Among the letters which I received yesterday I had one from Berlin from M. Bresson, who says: "Frankfort is by no means a misfortune for Herr von Bülow; he has long desired it for private reasons; the post ranks as at least equal to that of London. The strange outcome of Eastern events has restored the credit of those responsible for the negotiations. The men who made the loudest outcry against Bülow are to-day warmest in his praises. We are so indulgent to those who show daring that I am myself inclined to regard them as correct. Humboldt has no political influence over the King of Prussia; no one has any as yet, and it is impossible to say exactly at present what attitude he will adopt. Some recent nominations of members of the Pietists have slightly damaged his popularity; his liking for them is not shared by the country. Lord William Russell extends the area of his amusements more and more; he is now divided between three ladies, one of whom attracts him with some frequency to Mecklenburg. Prince Wittgenstein no longer takes any share in public business; he has had several attacks and will not live long. I need not tell you what I felt concerning the discussion upon the Address; existing conditions make life abroad most unpleasant. Is it true that Flahaut is going to Vienna to replace Saint-Aulaire? If so, I shall certainly be left here. The wind of favour does not blow in my direction. A certain street and house very well known to you are not so well disposed to me as they were." This last passage alludes to Talleyrand's residence in the Rue Saint-Florentin, where Madame de Lieven now lives.
I am informed of the death of the young Marie de La Rochefoucauld, daughter of Sosthène and granddaughter of the Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency. This poor woman has survived her contemporaries, her children, and her grandchildren. Heaven has severely tried the high courage and profound faith with which she is endowed.
I am also informed that at the much-talked-of ceremony of the Remains the Queen and the Princesses will be in mourning as for Louis XVIII. It seems that everybody is mad; the newspapers only speak of the funeral, or rather of the triumphal procession and of the religious honours which will everywhere be paid to the remains of Napoleon. After all, Napoleon, twice in forty years, will have performed the same service for the French. He will have reconciled them to religion, for it seems that it is quite curious to see the crowds upon their knees surrounding the clergy who bless these remains. Curious, too, is the general wish that their hero should have the benediction of the Church. Strange are the people who accept order personified in the midst of actual anarchy for the sake of a revolutionary idea, for it seems clear to me that there is no other motive for all these honours, which are paid, not to the legislator, but to the usurper and to the conqueror.
Rochecotte, December 15, 1840.—Yesterday I had some news from Madame de Lieven, the chief points of which I will copy: "Egypt is now done for. Napier was rather violent, contrary to his instructions, but at the same time he has succeeded. Napier wished to show his learning, and is asking the Pasha to restore the reign of the Ptolemys, a strange position for a vassal, but there it is. At Constantinople the principle of hereditary succession will be recognised for his family, and he will afterwards surrender the fleet. At London delight is great and Lord Palmerston cannot contain himself. Relations between the two countries remain very strained; it is not war, but cannot be called peace. The discussion upon the Address has been forgotten in view of the funeral of Napoleon; this will be a superb ceremony, and I hope it will be nothing else.
"Queen Christina has gone, after making a conquest of your King. She will go to Rome, but not to Naples, where her daughter has not been recognised. The whole of Russian female society is here; five of the palace ladies are at Paris and only four left at St. Petersburg. The ambassadors have declared that they will not be present at the funeral. Most of them have adopted this idea independently, but Lord Granville asked for instructions; after some hesitation he was told to do as the others did. The confinement of the Queen of England was perfectly easy."