Since his deposition from the chamberlainship in 1809 Talleyrand had spent a large proportion of his time in the country. He had never been a saving man. He liked to surround himself with things of great beauty, to entertain lavishly, and to be extremely generous to servants and friends. Until 1809 he had granted a pension of 60,000 a year to his mother,[48] and greatly helped other members of his family. He had now only the income from his savings, and his salary as Vice-Grand Elector. His establishment in Paris, the huge Hotel Monaco, was very exacting; Valençay was maintained by the Emperor for his Spanish “guests.” Savary tells us that Talleyrand’s affairs were somewhat straitened from 1810 onwards, and he had often to appeal for the payments for Valençay. In the general depression of 1812 a house failed in which he was interested, and he lost fourteen million francs. Savary says that he appealed through him to the Emperor, who sent his architect to value the Hotel Monaco with all its furniture, and paid him 2,100,000 francs for it. The act was a very generous one in the circumstances, though it is perhaps not ungracious to recall that Napoleon’s plans were responsible for the deep commercial depression of the time. Talleyrand happened to have a debt owing from the former Spanish ambassador, and he now accepted that nobleman’s mansion, the Hotel St. Florentin, in discharge of it.[49] This hotel now became the centre of discontent, while the salon of the Duchess de Bassano was the centre of Napoleonism.
The following year, 1813, saw considerable movement in the political barometers at Paris. Napoleon had returned from Moscow about the middle of December, and the remnants of the grand army were beginning to reach France when he called a special council in January to discuss the situation. He told those present—chiefly the heads of the foreign office and retired foreign ministers—that he desired peace, but was in a position still to wage successful war. Should he await overtures from Russia, or open negotiations himself, either directly or through Austria? Maret, the actual Foreign Minister, even less competent than Champagny, advocated negotiations through Austria. Talleyrand knew that Austria was seeking to detach itself from Napoleon, and to pose as armed mediator. He therefore gave the loyal counsel to open serious negotiations for peace directly with Russia. To do this with any profit, however, it would be necessary now to sacrifice some of France’s outlying conquests, and Napoleon would not give up even the duchy of Warsaw, and would not withdraw from Spain unless England withdrew from Sicily. As Talleyrand happily expressed it a little later, the only hope of safety for Napoleon was for him “to become King of France.” This was impossible for him. Talleyrand retired to his hotel, to play whist with Louis, Dalberg, and de Pradt, and to keep his eyes open.
TALLEYRAND
(In middle age).
Within a few weeks the whist-players hear that the people of Prussia have arisen and forced their ruler to take up the war against Napoleon, and that Austria had concluded a truce with Russia and withdrawn its troops. In April they see Napoleon set out for Metz, with no word from his Austrian ally. In May the Napoleonists illuminate—somewhat hastily. The Emperor has won Lutzen and Bautzen, at a terrible cost, and concluded a forty days’ armistice. In June the Bassano Hotel darkens again, when the news comes that England has allied itself with Sweden, Russia, and Prussia, and that Wellington is sweeping the French out of the Peninsula. In August it is reported that Napoleon has rejected the terms offered by Austria as armed mediator, and she has joined with the continent against France. There is a momentary flutter when a victory is claimed for the Emperor at Dresden, but before the end of October comes the news of Leipzig, and the tea-tables and whist-tables buzz with excited whispers. For the second time in twelve months the Emperor is flying towards France with the remnant of a grand army.
Napoleon arrived in Paris on November 9th. His spies and supporters could bring no allegation against Talleyrand, who had become a very quiet spectator. Though Napoleon’s outlying empire was virtually lost, the allies disclaimed any intention of deposing him. If he had been content to retire within the natural frontiers of France, the Alps, the Rhine, and the Pyrenees, the divisions amongst the allies would have at this juncture sufficed to give him peace. Sick of the mediocrity of Champagny and Maret, he now offered the foreign ministry again to Talleyrand, who refused it, saying later to Savary that he “did not care to bury himself in ruins.” As he writes in his memoirs, Napoleon was only ruined in the sense that he could not forego his conquests and become “King of France.” Talleyrand had no intention of flattering his hope that a fresh co-operation of the two would again break up the coalition and restore the empire. It must be firmly remembered that there was at this time no question of restoring the Bourbons. Talleyrand was well in the counsels of Austria and Russia, and knew that the declaration of the Allies was sincere. His refusal meant a fresh protest against the incurable megalomania of the Emperor. Lytton, who proves that Talleyrand was at the time trying to inspire the Emperor with thoughts of peace and moderation (and we know from Pasquier that he even sent word to Napoleon of the impending desertion of Bavaria), says that the foreign ministry was offered to him on condition that he gave up his other office and its salary. This, he points out, would have made him entirely dependent on a co-operation with Napoleon’s policy.
From another and well-informed source, Mme. de Rémusat, we learn that Talleyrand and Napoleon were discussing the Spanish situation in a friendly way. “You consult me as if we were not on bad terms,” said Talleyrand. “Circumstances, circumstances,” replied the Emperor; “let us leave the past and the future and come to the present.” “Very well,” said Talleyrand, “you have no choice. You have made a mistake, and you must say so, and, as far as possible, say it with dignity.” He advised the Emperor to declare that his object had been “to free the Spanish people from the yoke of a detested minister,” and that he was now willing to restore the dynasty and withdraw his troops. The tone of the conversation, as given in Mme. Rémusat, is quite inconsistent with the notion that Talleyrand had urged the invasion of Spain. The Duc de Bassano (Maret) declares that he persuaded the Emperor to make Ferdinand’s return conditional on the consent of the Spanish Regency, and so delayed the return for some months, and threw away the Emperor’s chance of peace. We must remember how Maret had smarted under Talleyrand’s criticisms. “I never saw a greater donkey than Maret—unless it was the Duc de Bassano,” he once said. We know from a private letter to the Duchess of Courland that Talleyrand foresaw and forewarned Napoleon of the reluctance of the Regency. We also know from Roederer that he urged in December the unconditional return of Ferdinand to Spain. Napoleon wanted to release his armies from the Peninsula, but at the same time to keep the English from passing on to France. It was his own vacillation between his hopes and fears that prevented him from making definite terms. Over and over again at this period he falls back on Talleyrand’s advice, a month or so after the situation has changed against him, and the Allies will no longer entertain it[50].
The Spanish princes left Valençay on March 3rd. Castellane says that there was not a piece of furniture or china intact in the chateau after their six years’ stay. They left a memorial in the shape of their medieval chariot, which declined to move towards its ancestral home, and was long exhibited at Valençay. Talleyrand writes a singularly bitter passage on the English in describing Ferdinand’s return. He complains that, while they boasted of being “the saviours of Spain,” they failed to secure proper guarantees that the unamiable Ferdinand should not abuse his power on returning. “They only hate tyranny abroad when, as under Napoleon, it threatens their existence, and they love to make the subjection of peoples turn to the profit of their pride and their prosperity.” One would like to know the state of his health when he wrote this very exceptional sentence.
The last interview with Napoleon was tempestuous. In January (1814), a few days before he rejoined the army, the Emperor again chose a public occasion to abuse him, and threatened to punish him severely on the first complaint. “You are a coward, a traitor, a thief. You don’t even believe in God. You have betrayed and deceived everybody. You would sell your own father.” Talleyrand stood quietly by the fire; not a muscle of his face or body was seen to move. One of the witnesses told Lytton that he seemed to be the last person in the room interested in what the Emperor said. His critics enlarge here again on his “lack of self-respect.” There could not be a more perverse and malevolent interpretation of an admirable bearing. On this occasion, however, Talleyrand immediately wrote to the Emperor offering to resign his place on the Council. It was not accepted. Napoleon had told him some time before that if anything happened to himself he would see that Talleyrand did not survive him. Within a few months he used language which almost implied a regret that he had not had Talleyrand shot. They never saw each other again. In less than three months the Empire was at an end.