Sagan, December 16, 1849.—A letter from Berlin of yesterday's date says: "The German question is more confused than ever, and no one can foresee the issue. The only decided point seems to be that of the elections for Erfurt, in spite of Austria, whose language, though moderate, none the less shows a strong determination not to give way. From this you may deduce the probable consequences, none of which I should care to guarantee."
My perusal of the sixth volume of the Mémoires d'outre-tombe brings on a succession of nervous shocks. M. de Talleyrand appears at every moment, and is treated with a fury which of itself counterbalances the author's malicious tendencies, though of these a good proportion survive; in any case in which M. de Talleyrand really acted, the author is silent: where his influence was small, he attacks him with furious invective, and all this because he is trying to prove that his pamphlet, Bonaparte and the Bourbons, brought about the restoration of 1814. For instance, when he is driven into a corner a cry of grief escapes him, and he says: "My poor pamphlet was crushed by the foul intrigues of the Rue de Florentin." In this outcry we see the true explanation of his furious rage. Vanity of vanities! I trust for the sake of this hero of vanity that he seriously asked pardon from God before he was taken to the rock of St. Malo, which his vanity again has chosen as his last resting-place. As he could not choose his cradle, for which he would doubtless have selected an eagle's nest, he has been careful to ensure that his tomb should be a picturesque point of pilgrimage. But who will say that while tied to this rock he is not devoured by the vulture of conscience? I would not deny that my poor uncle has been a great sinner, but I would prefer to stand with his feeble conscience before the Throne than with this mind full of anger, malice, gall and enmity, the revelation of which now permits us all to judge and to condemn him.
Salvandy has paid a visit to Claremont, and reports that some words of wisdom were spoken. Apparently the inhabitants have learned by experience and now recognise the value of right. Young and old say that they are ready to lower their flag to this principle, and to serve it. I fear that those at Eisenach are by no means so advanced as yet, for I have had a letter from Madame de Chabannes; on leaving Eisenach she went through Brussels and spent two days there to see the Queen. When at length she returned to Versailles, she found her husband was also returning from Claremont. She writes to me as follows: "To my great regret I found the Queen of the Belgians extremely anxious for coalition. England wishes to maintain the status quo in France in order that this poor country may plunge deeper in the mire. Hence Lord Palmerston is intriguing in every possible way to avoid the possibility of regeneration. King Leopold simply echoes Downing Street[ [211] upon French but not upon German questions, and Queen Louise is of her husband's opinion. A snare has been spread for the Duchesse d'Orléans by inviting her to consider a new combination—a proposal to induce the Duc de Bordeaux to abdicate, to which he will certainly never consent. In this you may recognise the punic faith of the modern Carthage. My husband has been commissioned by Claremont to give the password to our leaders here, and I know that the Legitimists have been informed of Louis Philippe's conciliatory attitude; but parties are broken in the numberless factions. The Legitimists are no longer drilled as they were, and some would prefer the Comte de Montemolin to the Comte de Paris. I often think of your prophetic words at Eisenach, to the effect that this desirable coalition, which might have produced such great results six months ago, has now missed its opportunity, and that every day's delay diminishes its possible importance and utility. But how is one to destroy such inveterate prejudices, in which self-esteem is so powerful a factor and petty subordinate ambition so energetic?"
The following is an extract from a letter which I have written to the Duc de Noailles to thank him for his speech before the Academy: "My dear Duc, you have gained a brilliant success before a great and sensitive audience. I propose to offer you one less brilliant and more remarkable from the depths of my solitude. I was busy reading d'Outre-tombe when the Journal des Débats brought me a report of your magnificent speech; I admired it, although it contains nothing but praise of a man against whom my instinct has always revolted, and who has become the object of my deep aversion on account of the persistent jealousy manifested in his acrimonious confessions. But as I read your speech I had only to consider yourself, and I understood that you were not allowed to be a judge, but were forced to be a eulogist. I can therefore honestly say that my applause is the greatest triumph that your words can have gained, and perhaps also the greatest proof of my friendship. I am also convinced that precisely because you were thinking of me, it must have been difficult for you to draw a portrait without shadow, and to deprive it of truth precisely as you have added to its lustre. Disregarding the question of truth, I have been keenly delighted by the purity, simplicity, and taste—unfortunately now so rare—of your language which has given me infinite pleasure. The elevation of thought corresponds to the delicacy of feeling; political prudence has nowhere infringed literary dignity, while supporting it with a tactfulness alike clever and felicitous."
Sagan, December 21, 1849.—A letter from Paris, which I received yesterday, contains the following passage: "Political conditions are calmer for the moment, but the majority of the Assembly are divided by several class divisions, and apparently the dangers of the street alone can force them to unite. This is no great guarantee of security, and gives a touch of bitterness and sadness to all conversations. The best of friends entertain opposite ideas, and argue vehemently, so that social relations become difficult and unpleasant. Madame de Lieven alone seems perfectly contented, and quite delighted with her stay in Paris; she continues to make as many new acquaintances as she can, and is especially attentive to people in power, and sorry that she cannot go to the Elysée."
Sagan, December 26, 1849.—An incident which I regard as very vexatious has struck me—the discussion proceeding in the daily Press concerning the advantages, the inconveniences, the forms and conditions of the coalition, so long desired by all the true friends of France. It seems to me that nothing could be more fatal to the chance of a successful issue than thus to bring discussion before a public which is partial, prejudiced, ill-informed and often both malicious and ignorant. I fear I was correct at Eisenach, when I said that I feared it might be already too late to take a step which should have been burst upon the public unexpectedly, and have made the impression of an accomplished fact. Such a step would then have produced its full effect—would have decided waverers, gathered together all right-minded people, united the recalcitrants, and apart from a few courageous spirits, a vast number of timid minds would have been soon gathering round this one standard. Now, if it should be unfurled, it will appear shattered and torn by the missiles of journalists and the invectives of the wretched subordinate intriguers whom I was sorry to see about the Duchesse d'Orléans.
Apparently Vienna wishes to make some social effort to please the young Emperor. Last year the Emperor was greatly attracted at Olmütz by his cousin, the Archduchess Elizabeth, who has just lost her husband: though the Emperor consoled himself, it is said that some sparks of his early ardour remain to him and that very possibly the young Archduchess, who can easily be consoled, might become Empress when her mourning is over. She is nineteen years of age, is pretty and has one child.[ [212]
Sagan, December 30, 1849.—In France the conflict of opinion is obvious. One party are confident that they will secure the empire within a month; the other party are equally certain that the principle of legitimacy is immutable and universally recognised, so that their triumph is assured; the merchants say that they would prefer the family of Orléans, while the Socialists mock at all these dreams and regard their own accession to power as certain. As the parties would only unite in order to combat the Socialists, these last may very well find a favourable opportunity eventually.
In two days we are to begin a new year and to begin also the second half of the nineteenth century. What a half-century this last has been, and what catastrophes have marked the conclusion of this epoch of disturbance and madness! During the first years of this half-century we were emerging from chaos, and in chaos the last years of it have plunged us. Heaven alone knows to what depths we shall fall. May we at least be able to die peacefully in our beds; desires and hopes can go no further than that wish, although to desire even so much may seem excessive.