Well, then, must I confess it? I do not believe them to be in any way curious. People talk a great deal about these pretended revelations, but I still repeat that they are few in number. Talleyrand only wrote what he pleased, he only committed public transactions to paper; and it is well known that, in reading these memoirs, he used to dwell with pleasure on the mischievous pranks of the young abbé. Was it the reminiscence of his youth that he enjoyed? I am inclined to think so, for I have always observed that this feeling is very strong among statesmen. Would you wish to awaken in the mind of Pozzo di Borgo all the vigour of his intellectual powers?—speak to him of Corsica and Paoli; would you bring a ray of delight and unreserve to unbend the brow of Metternich?—talk to him of his embassy to Paris in the beginning of the Empire, those days of pleasure and dissipation.
My idea is, that the memoirs of the man who played so conspicuous a part in the political history of the world will consist principally of two parts—emotions and justifications: emotions, because people always remember them, they filter through the whole tenour of their lives, they dwell in the brain of man, and rule over his thoughts; and justifications will undoubtedly be required for the several fatal deeds committed during the life of Prince Talleyrand.
In the course of that long life too much regard was shewn to customs and ceremonies, which are merely the trappings of life, and too little to duty and conscience, which are its foundation and object. He attended too much to the outward matters of existence—to riches, to honour, to decency of behaviour, but he thought nothing of the delicacy of mind, which is the strongest pledge of an honest man employed in public affairs. I am not fonder of simpletons in politics than other people, but, for the honour of mankind, I am willing to believe men may be clever and still retain perfect probity and good faith. It would be too dreadful to suppose that one cannot be a statesman without a complete abdication of the government of one's heart. Surely a strong head and powerful abilities are not the sole requisites for regulating the affairs of a government.
[COUNT POZZO DI BORGO.]
There is no county in Europe whose national character is so ancient, so thoroughly peculiar, as the Island of Corsica. Imagine a vast landscape of Salvator Rosa's, with all the features which he alone was capable of depicting, and whose type he has sought in Calabria and the Abruzzi; add to this a people whose disposition is hardy and obstinate; whose affections, love, hatred, or jealousy, are perpetuated from one generation to another; whose proud and patriotic attachment to their native soil forms part of their earliest existence, and terminates only with their life; also cities cheerful as those of Tuscany, and wild, uncultivated, mountainous districts; you will still have but a feeble representation of Corsica, that picturesque and fertile island of the Mediterranean.
The population is divided into two distinct races; the one comprehending the old aboriginal families, the other composed of foreign colonists, the greater part descended from refugees who were compelled to fly from revolutions in Piémont, Genoa, and Tuscany, and were successively deposited in the island, like the layers of lava around a volcano. To the first of these races belong the Paolis and the Pozzo di Borgos; to the second, the Buonapartes and the Salicettis. According to the usual custom among primitive nations, each family forms a clan, and each village a community; sentiments are inherited like the patrimony of the family—it is like ancient Rome suckled by a wolf in the time of the companions of Romulus.
The family of the Pozzo di Borgos, as I have already stated, belongs to the aboriginal races; its antiquity may be ascertained by consulting the book of the statutes of Corsica, and also the history of the feudal war between the Castellans of Montechi and the city of Ajaccio, of which they even disputed the sovereignty. One of the family is mentioned in the charters as orator of the people, and at the time the island was under the dominion of Genoa, the illustrious Pozzo di Borgo is described as attorney-general for the provinces of Ajaccio and Sartene; his name, like that of the Paolis, was Pascal. His opponents, even at that period, were from the family of the Bacciochi, then merely merchants of Ajaccio; and his notary was Jerome Buonaparte, who certifies the mission of Captain Secondos Pozzo di Borgo, deputy to the republic of Genoa.[16] There is some pleasure in relating these circumstances, because the life of Count Pozzo di Borgo, during its whole course, appeared to be connected with ancient times. Nothing is forgotten on that burning soil, and we shall again meet with the Paolis, the Buonapartes, the Pozzos, the Bacciochis, and the Salicettis, engaged in the most important conflicts on the theatre of the great world, as they had formerly been in the little town of Ajaccio.