M. le Duc d'Orléans concluded his visit by trying to make me feel that M. de Talleyrand was under an imperative obligation to attach himself in a public manner to the Government. I replied by a reference to the state of his legs. We parted on the best of terms.
When I came down again I found the Entresol crowded. There was Frederick Lamb, Pozzo, Mollien, Bertin de Veaux, and General Baudrand. In spite of the great variety of opinions represented they talked as freely of everything as if they had been in the street. The most animated was Pozzo, who poured scorn inconceivable on the French Ministry, pitying the King and speaking very well of him, bemoaning the embarrassment of his Ambassadors in foreign countries which is caused by what is going on here, and much annoyed by certain passages in a speech delivered last night by M. Thiers.
Later on we dined with Count Mollien, where there were M. Pasquier, Baron Louis, Bertin de Veaux and M. de Rigny, who came late and brought news of the vote of the Chamber, which is favourable if you like, but which will cost the Ministry dear, and from which, as M. de Rigny at least has the sense to see, nothing can be predicted as to the course of the Session.
It appears that after a speech by M. Sauzet, which is said to have been admirable, the House wavered and the Ministry gave themselves up for lost. M. Thiers feared to put it to the touch, but finally did so almost in despair. He spoke, it is said, miraculously, and sent everybody on the other tack. His speech the night before had been a fiasco, and the English were furious with him on account of his strange, and, indeed, inexcusable phrase about England. Yesterday, however, he seems to have triumphed completely.
Here is a curious fact of which I am quite certain. M. Dupin had promised the King three days ago to support the order of the day. The day before yesterday he voted against it; yesterday again he spoke against it but voted for it. Why? Because after M. Sauzet's speech the Ministers thought they were lost, and said to M. Dupin: "M. le Président, prepare yourself to go to the King and have your Cabinet ready, for, in an hour from now, we shall have resigned." M. Dupin, much upset, said: "but I didn't think that all this would be so serious; I have no wish to see you fall, for I do not at all desire that the burden should again fall on my shoulders." With these words he tried to escape and leave the Vice-President in his place, when Thiers taking him by the arm said: "No, M. le Président, you shall not go till the question is settled; if it goes against us you will go nowhere else but to the King where you will be condemned to be Minister."
This, no doubt, is very interesting, but what an atmosphere! What people!
Paris, December 8, 1834.—Yesterday, when I got back at four, I was astonished to see the Duc d'Orléans, whom I supposed to be already on his way to Brussels. He was not to leave, however, for another hour, and he came to tell me that Sir Robert Peel had passed through Paris, and had sent his brother to him (the Duc d'Orléans) as an intimate friend, to beg him to make his excuses to the King for not requesting the honour of an audience. His Majesty would, however, easily understand that in the circumstances hours were centuries. We drew two conclusions from this: first, that Sir Robert Peel had decided to accept the Premiership, for an ordinary private individual would not have considered himself of sufficient importance to send such a message; secondly, that the courtesy of his language proved a feeling rather friendly to France than the reverse.
Speaking of Sir Robert Peel, I had a letter from him yesterday, written from Rome, about the Bassano Ministry, very civil and kind in its terms, in which he says that what alarms him most in this combination is that it may prevent M. de Talleyrand from returning to London.
Paris, December 9, 1834.—Frederick Lamb, who came to see me yesterday morning, told me several curious things. He gave me a worse idea than ever of Lord Palmerston; incredible details, for instance, on his conduct with regard to the Eastern Question, and many other matters of which in London we could only form a superficial opinion. He told me that at the time of the quarrel between England and Russia about Sir Stratford Canning, Madame de Lieven had wanted the matter to be arranged so that Frederick Lamb should go to St. Petersburg and Sir Stratford Canning to Vienna. This was proposed to Prince Metternich, who replied: "This arrangement will arrange nothing, for the one ambassador whom we will never agree to accept is Sir Stratford Canning."
He told me also that M. de Metternich said of Lord Palmerston: "He is a tyrant, and the age of tyrants is over."
Frederick Lamb detests Lord Granville, but he does not believe that the Tory Cabinet will succeed, though he does not think that the Radicals will necessarily be their successors. He thinks Lord Grey will come back, and is looking for means to extrude Lord Palmerston and Lord Holland. Like Pozzo and M. Molé, he says extraordinary things of M. de Broglie. If we may believe them, no one ever made such blunders.
When I got back yesterday, at four, I received M. Molé. It all passed off as if we had parted only yesterday. He spoke to me, as he used to do, of himself, his affections, friends, attitude of mind—all with the charm which is peculiar to him. He told me that I was much more amiable even than I was four years ago, and he stayed nearly an hour. I have always thought that nobody's conversation is so good, so rapid, or so agreeable as his. He is in very good taste in an age in which good taste is unknown. Perhaps he is not high-souled enough to rule, but he is high-minded enough to refuse to be degraded, and that is already much.
Many names, many facts and deeds, were passed in review during that hour, and I was much pleased with the natural manner in which he approached every topic. He told me that my mind was so just that even those who feared my enmity were reassured; and, in fact, all went off excellently. I am not sure that this will be so between M. de Talleyrand and him. I have undertaken to arrange a meeting, and both parties have begged me to be present at this first interview, which is rather amusing.
M. Molé told me that he yesterday refused an invitation to dine with M. Dupin on the ground that the latter had given a distorted version in the tribune of the purely unofficial relations between them a fortnight ago. M. Molé added that he had no thoughts of the English Embassy—as some people were saying—for he did not wish to accept anything from the present Ministry.
He never sees the Duc de Broglie at all now. He thinks Rayneval is the only possible Ambassador for London just now, and intends to speak about it to the King, with whom he says he is on very good terms. He is scarcely on bowing terms with Guizot, and his relations with Thiers are very cold.
Paris, December 10, 1834.—Yesterday evening M. de Talleyrand was overwhelmed with a procession of visitors. A great many things were said, of which the following seemed to me the best.
They come from Frederick Lamb, who came first, and with whom we were for some time alone. He talked a great deal of M. de Metternich and of his remark made four months ago about King Louis-Philippe: "I thought he was an intriguer, but now I see quite well he is a King." He also told us that on the day of the fall of the last English Ministry Lord Palmerston sent the news to the British chargé d'affaires at Vienna, and asked him to acquaint M. de Metternich, adding: "You will never be in a position to make to M. de Metternich a communication which will give him more pleasure." The chargé d'affaires took the despatch to the Prince, and for some unknown reason read the whole of it to him, including even this last phrase. M. de Metternich made the following reply, which, I think, is in very good taste: "Here is another proof of Lord Palmerston's ignorance of men and things. I cannot be pleased at an event the consequences of which I cannot yet measure. Tell him that I receive the news not with joy but with hope."
Paris, December 12, 1834.—I dined yesterday at the Tuileries; besides M. de Talleyrand, there were the Molliens, the Valençays, and Baron de Montmorency. I sat between the King and the Duc de Nemours; the last-named has conquered his shyness a little, but he is still very timid. He is as white and blonde and pink and slim and transparent as a young girl, and not pretty in my opinion.
No conversation could be more interesting than the King's, especially when, deserting politics, he plunges into the innumerable memories of his extraordinary life. I was struck by two anecdotes which he told extremely well, and though I fear I may spoil them in the repetition, I will put them down. There was in the room a portrait of M. de Biron, Duc de Lauzun, which the King has just had copied from one lent him by M. de Talleyrand. This naturally led the talk to the original of the portrait, and the King told how, when he came back to Paris in 1814, he saw at his first reception an old man, who approached him and asked for a few minutes private conversation away from the crowd. The King placed himself in the embrasure of a window, and then the unknown drew from his pocket a ring mounted with the portrait of the Duc d'Orléans, the King's father, and said: "When the Duc de Lauzun was condemned to death I was at the Revolutionary Tribunal, and as he was going out M. de Biron, whom I had met several times, stopped before me, and said: 'Monsieur, take this ring and promise me that if ever occasion offers you will give it to the children of M. le Duc d'Orléans, assuring them that I die a faithful friend of their father and a devoted servant of their House.'" The King was naturally touched by the scrupulous fidelity with which after so many years the commission had been discharged, and asked the unknown his name. The latter refused, however, saying: "My name will not interest you, and might even awake painful memories. I have carried out the promise I made to a man about to die. You will never see or hear of me again;" and, in fact, he never reappeared.
This is the second anecdote. When the present King was still in England with Louis XVIII. and the Comte d'Artois, the last-named insisted absolutely on his cousin wearing the uniform of the French emigrés, and especially the white cockade. This the Duc d'Orléans persistently refused, and said he would never do. He appeared always in civil dress, which gave rise to many bitter discussions. In 1814, the Duc d'Orléans, following the whole of France, adopted the white cockade, and the Comte d'Artois took the uniform of Colonel-General of the National Guard. The first day on which the Duc d'Orléans appeared at the Comte d'Artois', the latter said to him, "Give me your hat." He took it, turned it over, and, playing with the white cockade, said: "Ah, ah! my dear cousin, what is this cockade? I thought you were never going to wear it?" "I thought so too, Monsieur; and I thought also that you were never destined to wear the coat I see you in to-day. I am very sorry you have not adopted the cockade, which suits it best." "My dear fellow," replied Monsieur, "do not deceive yourself. A coat matters nothing. You may take it or leave it; it is all the same. But a cockade is a different thing; it is a party symbol, a rallying point; and the symbol which you adopt must never be withdrawn." What I liked in the King, as he was pleased to recount this scene, was that he hastened to add: "Well, Madame, Charles X. was right, and what he said was cleverer than might have been expected." "What the King says is true," I replied. "Charles X.'s explanation was that of a man of honour and a gentleman, and it is certain that in him there was much of both." "Assuredly there was," added the King; "and besides that he has a very good heart." I was very much pleased to see justice done to him in that quarter.
At nine I went with Madame Mollien to the Comtesse de Boigne's. She had been to see me first, and had caused me to be told at Madame Mollien's that she would be much flattered if I would come and see her sometimes in the evening. Hers is the leading salon at present; the one good house which belongs, I will not say to the Court, but to the Ministry, as that of Madame de Flahaut belongs to the Duc d'Orléans, and that of Madame de Massa to the Court proper. There is no fourth. At Madame de Boigne's there is a reception every evening; politics is the leading subject, and they talk of nothing else. The conversation seemed to me strained and rather embarrassing owing to the direct questions which the speakers rather indiscreetly hurled at each other. "Will the Duke of Wellington be able to go on?"—"Do you think that Mr. Stanley will join Sir Robert Peel?"—"Do you believe that a reconciliation between Lord Grey and Lord Brougham is possible?" These are specimens of the interrogations with which I was naïvely assailed. I escaped by pleading absolute ignorance, concluding with a laugh by saying that I did not expect to have to solve questions of conscience on a festive occasion. The matter ended there, but I got a disagreeable impression in spite of the excessive graciousness of our hostess, and I was glad to get away.
Paris, December 14, 1834.—Lady Clanricarde came to breakfast yesterday, and at half-past eleven we left for the Académie française. M. Thiers, who was being received, had secured the best places for us, which I was grateful to observe were far from those occupied by his family, who were with the Duchesse de Massa in an elevated gallery. In our neighbourhood there were only Madame de Boigne, M. and Madame de Rambuteau, Marshal Gérard, M. Molé, M. de Celles, and Madame de Castellane. The last-named has got stouter, heavier, and thicker, but she retains her pleasant face, the mobility of whose lower parts is so attractive. She seemed so delighted, so moved, and so touched on seeing me (I used to be intimate with her and knew all about her affairs, so much that the imprudence of her subsequent quarrel with me was incredible) that I was quite touched too, and we shook hands. She said, "May I come and see you again?" and I answered, "Yes, with all my heart."
Here is the story. When the Tuileries were against me under the Restoration, Madame de Castellane turned against me, and, without thinking of the injury it was in my power to inflict on her, she broke with me. I was deeply hurt, because I was very fond of her; but to revenge myself would have been mean, and, in spite of all my faults, I am incapable of doing anything so low as that would have been. I think that at the bottom of her heart she was grateful to me for having spared her.
M. de Talleyrand, as a member of the Institute, came into the hall leaning on the arm of M. de Valençay. The effect of his entry was unbelievable. Every one rose with one accord in the galleries, as well as on the floor of the house, and this, no doubt, with a certain stirring of curiosity, but also with an impulse of respect, of which he was deeply sensible. I know that in spite of the crowd which obstructed the approaches every one made way for him.
The sitting began at one. M. Thiers is so small that he entered without being seen, being surrounded by Villemain, Cousin, and some others. No one noticed him till he stood up alone to begin his speech. He spoke with the best possible accent, and pronounced everything distinctly. His voice was sustained, and his gestures rare. He was not over voluble, and for the first few moments he was as pale as death and trembling from head to foot. This made a much better impression than if he had displayed the insolence with which he is often reproached. In spite of the disagreeable tone of his voice, he never offended the ear; he was neither monotonous nor shrill; and, in fact, Lady Clanricarde went so far as to think him splendid!
M. de Talleyrand and M. Royer-Collard were opposite to him, and he seemed to speak only for them. His discourse was brilliant. I do not know whether it was precisely academic, though it was full of wit, of good taste, and fine language in certain places, but there is no doubt that it was political, and he spoke it much more as if it was an improvisation than as if it was a lecture. Certain of his movements, too, recalled the tribune, and on the audience the effect produced was much more parliamentary than literary, but always favourable and sometimes even enthusiastic. M. de Talleyrand was quite moved, and M. Royer-Collard moved his wig up and down in a way that signified the most lively approbation! The passage on calumny was spoken with a conviction and an intimacy which was contagious, and was received with a salvo of applause.
The discourse is in the highest degree anti-revolutionary. He is orthodox in his literary principles, he is—and this is what I like in him above all—he is penetrated through and through with a sentiment of honesty which greatly pleased me, and which should be useful to M. Thiers throughout the remainder of his career. This fine speech did not require the tedious reply of M. Viennet to bring out its excellence; no one listened to him, and he only succeeded in drawing attention to the fact that the hour was very late and that it was dreadfully hot.
It is said that during M. Thiers' speech M. de Broglie was making merry jests. M. Guizot was cross, and not very well satisfied, I think, to see his rival make a double success—political and literary—in the same week.
Paris, December 16, 1834.—Yesterday I paid several calls, and found Madame de Castellane in. She had missed me when she came to see me. She insisted on my hearing her history during the past twelve years; and she tells it so well that I thought she must have had some practice in pouring it into the ears of others than myself in these cooing tones. She has lost all her youth, and is a large, short, squat person. Except for her smile, she is no longer the same person that I once knew—physically, that is. Morally, I thought she had made up her mind to be grave, rather than that she had become serious. She is witty and caressing as ever, and she talked a great deal; I very little. My heart was full of many old memories; and though she was kind I could not recover my old confidence in her. However, I received all she said well, and I am not sorry to be on good terms with her again.
Paris, December 17, 1834.—Yesterday I allowed myself to be persuaded to go with her to the Court of Peers. We sat, not in a conspicuous box, but in that of the Duchesse Decazes, which is in a retired position, and from which one can see and hear without being seen. I had never been there, the sittings not having been public till 1830. The proceedings of yesterday had been very much advertised and excited general curiosity, so the House was full.
Whenever one comes to Paris one is always sure of finding some scandalous drama in progress for the amusement of the public. Yesterday it was the case against Armand Carrel of the National.
M. Carrel did not at all correspond to my expectations. No doubt he was impertinent, but not with that kind of bold and energetic insolence, that verve and talent which impress you even while you are offended with the man himself. The effect of the speech he had written was very feeble, and he made an impression which was positively painful when he tried to speak extempore. It was General Exelmans who vociferated about the assassination of Marshal Ney, and scandalised every one. His manner was that of a drunken man, and was all the more ridiculous as no one could help remembering the platitudes he used to utter during the Restoration; which, I understand, were very cruelly cast up against him last night at the Minister of Marine's party. In the morning in the House of Peers he was supported only by M. de Flahaut, who was in a great state of excitement, and whose behaviour was most improper.
He disgusted everybody by his cries of "Go on! Go on!" addressed to Carrel when the President wished to bring him to an end. It was this encouragement which made Carrel resist M. Pasquier and argue that he had no right to stop him when a member of the Chamber and, in fact, one of his judges, pressed him to continue.
On this occasion I learned from every one that M. de Flahaut was universally detested for his arrogance, ill-temper, acrimony, and ignorance. He will soon become as unpopular as his wife.
M. Pasquier presided with firmness, moderation, dignity, and coolness. I confess, however, that I agree with those who would have preferred him to stop M. Carrel when he spoke of "the young men who had fought gloriously in the troubles of last April," and not when he referred to the case of Marshal Ney. The first question dealt with—material interests—would have found more sympathy both inside and outside the House.
We had a dinner yesterday—a dozen people, my daughter Pauline being the twelfth. It is not a bad thing that she should learn to listen to serious conversation without being bored. She has a good manner in society, where her open countenance and kindly manners seem to please. After dinner people came to pay visits just as if we were Ministers. The fact is that it was Thursday, the reception day at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of Marine, and I suppose that people took us on the way going or coming.
Paris, December 19, 1834.—M. le Duc d'Orléans is returned from Brussels; he came to see me yesterday, and invited me to a ball he is giving on the 29th. He stayed only a moment, when he was sent for by the King; the reason for which I learned later.
M. Guizot was the next visitor. He seemed less at his ease than usual, and tried to compose himself by prosing about England, France, and all sorts of things, but he must have found me a very unworthy listener. As a matter of fact, I listened without enthusiasm, for he was extremely tedious, and soon departed.
Madame de Castellane then came, quite out of breath, from M. Molé, in order that I might warn M. de Talleyrand of what was going on. M. le Duc d'Orléans, carried away by the deplorable Flahaut influence, proposed at the opening of the sitting of the House of Peers to-day and the reading of the minutes of last meeting, to protest along with his group against the assassination of Marshal Ney, and to demand the revision of the case. Fortunately, M. Decazes was warned, and went and told M. Pasquier. He rushed to M. Molé, who is one of the twenty-three survivors of the peers who tried the Marshal. There was a great and well-justified tumult in the camp. They went to Thiers, who hastened to the King, who knew nothing of the affair, and was very angry. He sent after his son everywhere, and after a very lively scene he forbade him to do anything. His great argument was as follows: "If you demand that Marshal Ney's case shall be re-opened, what will you say to any Carlist peer who comes (as some one very well may) and asks that the verdict against Louis XVI.—which was assassination if you like!—shall be reversed?" I heard the last part of the affair from M. Thiers, who came to see M. de Talleyrand quite at the end of the morning. Bertin de Veaux, who had got wind of the thing, also arrived quite out of breath.
Finally, the King's good sense prevailed and put a stop to this nice business. But that it should ever have entered any one's head to propose such a thing is one of the extraordinary features of this age!
Paris, December 20, 1834.—Yesterday I got a letter from London, dated the 18th, and took it at once to M. de Talleyrand. I read him a passage about the terror caused by the suggestion that M. de Broglie might be sent as Ambassador to England, and the necessity of nominating M. de Talleyrand's successor. He quite saw the point, and at once wrote that he wished to see the King. At this very moment M. de Rigny arrived, bringing him another private letter to see. M. de Talleyrand has been urging the choice of Rayneval, which, I think, has not pleased M. de Rigny, if I may judge by what he said to me at dinner: "There is a very strong reason for not sending M. de Rayneval to London, but that is the secret of the Minister of Foreign Affairs; if it was the Admiral's secret I would tell you." I did not insist.
I know that at five o'clock it was arranged with the King that Rigny should write a letter, confidential but producible, to London, in which he should say that the King would choose Molé, Sainte-Aulaire, or Rayneval, and that they would be glad to know which of the three would be most agreeable to the Duke of Wellington. I went so far as to say to M. de Talleyrand that this seemed to me a very maladroit proceeding, as if the Duke chooses Rayneval it will be very difficult not to appoint him, and if he wants Molé, Molé will refuse, and they will, in fact, have to take Sainte-Aulaire, who is not wanted either by the King or by the Council, or by the Duke. How badly everything is directed and managed here! There is no common sense or simplicity, or elevation of mind anywhere, and yet they pretend to govern not only thirty-two millions of subjects, but also all Europe!
Paris, December 21, 1834.—I heard the following facts on excellent authority: (1) They don't want to send Rayneval to London as ambassador; (2) it is Broglie's doctrinaire group who are opposing it; (3) London was yesterday offered formally and officially to Molé, who formally and officially declined it; (4) this morning they had got to Sébastiani but nothing was settled.
Paris, December 24, 1834.—Sébastiani was being talked of yesterday as if his appointment would be in the Moniteur of to-morrow, but the more public his name is made the greater clamour it excites. M. de Rigny is dying to resign his Ministry and ask for the London Embassy, but they are afraid that the machine might go to pieces under the difficulties caused by the resignation of an important member of the Cabinet. It seems that it is the condition of Rayneval's financial affairs which prevents his being appointed. He is said to be over head and ears in debt and almost bankrupt.
Paris, December 28, 1834.—I heard through M. Molé that M. de Broglie had an astonishing influence on the present Ministry, which was unsuspected by the King, that M. Decazes used to go every morning and tell him all that went on; that M. de Rigny and M. Guizot allowed themselves to be much influenced by him, and that no choice was made without being previously submitted to him.
Will it be believed that in the Journal des Débats they translate all Sir Robert Peel's speech and leave out—what? The complimentary passage about the Duke of Wellington which certainly contained nothing offensive to France. And this when the Duke is Foreign Secretary, and is extremely well disposed to France, and when the Débats is reputed the semi-official organ of the Government. Truly people here are extraordinarily maladroit in spite of the French wit!
Paris, December 29, 1834.—Poor little Madame de Chalais died last night. She was such a happy person; with that good and regular happiness which it is given only to some women to experience. Life forsakes those who are weary of their pilgrimage all too slowly; it always goes too quickly from those who are enjoying the journey. In whatever way one importunes Providence, whether one fatigues one's self with prayers or allows one's wishes to be divined in discreet silence, the answer is almost always no, and the sentence usually irrevocable.
What grief at Saint-Aignan! There she was the darling of all the inhabitants. I seem to hear the cries of all these old servants whom I know and for whom she represented the third generation they had served. The poor, the sick, the well-to-do—all idolised her. She was so helpful, so kindly, and so gracious! It is more than a death; it is the destruction of a young happiness and of an ancient and illustrious race. I am profoundly shaken by it.
Paris, December 31, 1834.—Yesterday morning I had a good long visit from M. Royer-Collard. He told me the whole history of his professorship, and gave me a glimpse of his system of philosophy; then he talked a great deal about Port Royal. The hours he gives me are really precious, but too rare and too short for all that there is to learn from a mind like his.
Madame de Castellane came afterwards; if I were to allow it for an instant she would constitute herself my sick nurse! She told me that M. Molé was writing his Memoirs, and that there were already five volumes.
Then came M. le Duc d'Orléans; he told me a great deal about his Ball of the night before, of which the following, among the rest, remains with me. The greatest elegance was blended with the utmost originality. The company was brilliant, the supper superb; there were flowers, artistically grouped statues, lights enough to blind you, white and gold everywhere, new liveries, grooms-of-the-chambers in full dress with swords by their sides, clad in velvet and powdered. The women were covered with diamonds; the Queen was charmed and Madame Adélaïde jealous, saying, "This is pure Louis Quinze." All the men were in uniform, but in boots and trousers, while M. le Duc de Nemours, who wore the coat of a general officer covered with gold lace, and came in short breeches, stockings, and shoes, was voted by every one extremely distinguished and good-looking. M. le Duc d'Orléans asked me whether I did not prefer boots and trousers for a soldier, and I replied, "The Emperor Napoleon, who gained a few battles, when he dined alone with the Empress wore silk stockings and buckled shoes every evening."—"Really?"—"Yes, Monseigneur."—"Ah, that is different." Here is the reverse of the medal. The Deputies invited (invited I mean as Deputies only, for there were others who were asked as Ministers and Generals), of whom there were only: MM. Odillon Barrot, Bignon, and Etienne, came in ordinary evening dress in order to be more conspicuous.
The Prince Royal is full of singular contrasts. There are, for instance, his aristocratic tastes and pretensions, and his detestable politics. Yesterday we had a crow to pluck for the first time on the subject of the Duke of Wellington. "How like the King you are," said the Prince. "My father knows you are always talking to me on his side, and so he likes you very much."—"Monseigneur, I never talk except on my own side and on the side of your interests: but all the same I am very proud of the approbation of the King." It all ended very kindly, for he asked leave to add his portrait to those which I have collected at Rochecotte.
Here, then, I end this year 1834, memorable in my life because it closes the English period. The four years which I have just passed in that country have placed me in a new frame, given me a new point of departure, and directed me towards a new series of ideas. They have modified the view taken of me by the world. What I owe to England will, I hope, never leave me, and will remain with me till the end of my life. Now let us lay up a provision of strength for the evil days, which probably will not fail to come, and for which it is well to be prepared.
CHAPTER V
1835
Paris, January 3, 1835.—I yesterday received the Duc de Noailles, who had written me a charming letter to ask leave to call. He came to talk to me about his wife's niece, Madame de Chalais, whom he loved as his own child and whom he knew I deeply regretted. We mourned together; then he spoke a little of politics with good sense and good taste, a little of society, and much of Maintenon. He stayed a long time and seemed at his ease and very happy. He expressed the desire to see me often and to become a little intimate with us. He is one of the men whom M. Royer-Collard esteems, is very ugly, and older in appearance than in reality. He is studious, and his manners are excellent and very distinguished. I saw a great deal of his wife when she was Mlle. Alicia de Mortemart, and was living with her sister the Duchesse de Beauvilliers, with whom she went to Saint-Aignan. We are, moreover, nearly related to the Mortemarts. The old Princesse de Chalais, who brought up M. de Talleyrand, was a Mortemart, and the daughter of M. de Vivonne, the brother of Madame de Montespan.
Yesterday I was at the great evening reception at the Tuileries, the Queen having sent word to me by Madame Mollien that I might come and go by the private apartments, and so not have to wait for my carriage. It was the last Court of the season, and I took my daughter-in-law, Madame de Valençay. The palace, when lit up, is really superb, and many things look very well—in contrast to many others. This applies to the black coats scattered here and there among the uniforms, the elaborate dresses of some women, and the bourgeois caps of others. There was nothing like disorder, but there was no distinction of rooms or places. There is no procession; the Court makes its entry when all the company is assembled and makes a tour of the ladies, after which the men present file past by themselves. A little man in uniform precedes their Majesties and asks each lady her name, a proceeding which in the case of three quarters of them seems absolutely necessary.
They were very gracious to me, and I think they were pleased that I went on the day of one of the great receptions which may well be called "public." They feared that I would restrict myself to special audiences. That, I think, would have been bad taste. I might perhaps prefer not to go at all, but when one is pleased to see people in private it does not do to hide one's self and repudiate them in public. Whenever she saw me, the Queen herself told me I might go; they opened the little door and I escaped delighted to be relieved of the burden.
Paris, January 7, 1835.—M. Molé came to see me and said many curious things—among others, that he "had a mission to purge the Government of doctrinaire influences." He has a terrible hatred of doctrinaires, and he is a good hater. He quite startled me on this subject, and I asked myself if he was equally good at loving. The answer to this embarrassed me and I went no further.
Paris, January 8, 1835.—Madame Adélaïde having asked me to bring Pauline to see her, I did so yesterday. The King told me to wait for him at his sister's which kept me for three hours. The King had just heard of the strange scene among the Mont Saint-Michel people who were amnestied. On the very day of their liberation the Republicans among them (the Carlists said their prayers and went quietly back to La Vendée) sang the most horrible songs and ended by swearing on their table knives to compass the death of the King. His Majesty had the police reports before him and gave us all the details.
He talked for a long time and on all subjects—I must say with much good sense, ability, clearness, and prudence. He perfectly understood the destiny of England, judged the European situation very acutely, and spoke of his son in a most reasonable way. He said two things in particular to me which struck me very much. The first was that, without having been carried away so far as his son, he had himself fallen into several errors of which experience had cured him. He returned to the subject of the Revolution of July, and was careful to show that in principle he disapproved of it. Thus he told me that his Ministers had wished him to wear the July decoration and that he had refused, saying that he had taken no part in the Revolution except to put a stop to its disastrous consequences. He added, "You never saw me wearing that decoration, Madame!"
He is more and more embarrassed in the choice of his Ambassador in London, for the news received yesterday from Naples proves that Sébastiani is no longer capable of undertaking the post. I think the King would like M. de Latour-Maubourg, but he is ill and talks of nothing but retiring to the country. M. de Sainte-Aulaire will be here in two or three days, and I imagine that the lot will fall on him. The King and I discussed the possibility of sending Rigny to London, but the King said, "Rigny's only possible successor at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would be Molé, but Guizot would never dare to stay in office with him because Broglie would be furious, and they think they can't do without Guizot in the Chamber." The objection to Sainte-Aulaire is the influence M. Decazes has over him, which is bad in itself and justly displeasing to the King.
M. de Talleyrand's letter of November 13 was at last read to the Council yesterday. It will appear in to-day's Moniteur, and there will also be published a reply from M. de Rigny in the politest terms. They only asked that one word should be changed, and this was agreed to, as it made the sense clearer without altering it. They asked M. de Talleyrand to allow them to say "this propagandist spirit" instead of "certain doctrines."
Yesterday evening I was at the great ball at the Tuileries. M. le Duc d'Orléans attacked me again on the subject of the English elections. He is curiously afraid that they may turn out to the advantage of the Tory Cabinet. This is the second time we have had it out on this question. Yesterday I tried to avoid the discussion, but he insisted, saying that "perhaps I should convert him," to which I replied, "I should indeed be proud, Monseigneur, to convert you to your own side."
He had just been re-reading M. de Talleyrand's letter of resignation. He said it was a masterpiece, a real historic document, which would attract a great deal of attention abroad. Nothing, he thought, could be so noble or so simple, and it was the more kind to the King as no one here had the courage to praise him. M. de Talleyrand had, however, showed himself to be terribly conservative, and this would give rise to a great controversy in the press. I answered: "Perhaps, Monseigneur, but what does it matter? Whether M. de Talleyrand speaks or is silent, he is always attacked by ill-disposed papers. At his age, when one is taking leave of the public, one may well take the opportunity of pleasing one's self and showing one's self in one's true colours to be an honest man as one has always been, the friend of one's country and of social order, and, what is more, a man of one's own class, which does not necessarily mean a prejudiced person. You say that M. de Talleyrand alone has the courage here to praise the King—and why? Because he is a gentleman, a great personage, and therefore a Conservative. A monarchy, believe me, must always come back to people like that." He went on, "Oh, yes, the letter will be much admired abroad."—"Yes, Monseigneur, it will be admired abroad, but it will also be admired by every honest man at home, and your Royal Highness will permit me to neglect the rest." Here is another specimen of my conversations with this young Prince, who lacks neither intelligence nor courage nor grace, but whose judgment is still greatly wanting in prudence and balance.
As to the King, he is prudent above all things, and what is more, he is very gracious to me. He came up to me and said, with a smile, "Have you given M. de Talleyrand an account of our long conversation?"—"Of course, Sire, it was too full of interest not to make me anxious to give him that pleasure."—"Ah, then I am sure you will not have forgotten my story about the July decoration."—"It was the first thing I told M. de Talleyrand, and I am going to tell my son and my grandson. I wish my descendants to remember it in order that they may in the future repeat what I now say every day, which is that the King has a great understanding." It was said long ago that when flattery did not succeed it was the fault of the flatterer, not of the flattery. I think that yesterday the flatterer was quite efficient!
Rochecotte, March 12, 1835.—Our letters from Paris announce that M. Thiers' refusal to remain in the Ministry with the Duc de Broglie as President of the Council and Minister of Foreign affairs (a refusal which the King, who does not wish to be entirely delivered up to the doctrinaires, will not hear of) is again stopping the machine. The Chamber of Deputies is beginning to get excited, and it is impossible to see clearly what the result of all this will be.
There is to be a collection at Saint-Roch for the Asylums directed by Madame Adélaïde who accordingly has the choice of collectors. She has chosen Mesdames de Flahaut and Thiers. The former, who is said to be furious at the choice of her partner, has refused, and this little difficulty has contrived to attract some attention among the many more important and insoluble problems of the moment.
Rochecotte, March 14, 1835.—Yesterday's letters leave no doubt as to the dénouement of the Ministerial crisis.
It is practically the crisis of last November over again. Then Marshal Gérard was replaced by Marshal Mortier; now M. de Broglie replaces Mortier in the Presidency and Rigny gives up to him Foreign Affairs and takes War until the arrival of Maison, to whom a courier has been sent. If the latter accepts, the Embassy at St. Petersburg will be vacant, but it is thought that he will refuse. In that case will Rigny remain definitely as Minister of War or will he go to Naples, giving place to some secondary general? No one knows yet. Thus, with the addition of Broglie and Maison, and the subtraction of Rigny, practically every one remains at his post. It was hardly worth making such a fuss about!
This is what I hear as to M. Thiers, who at first refused to take office with M. de Broglie. He was harried and worried in every direction, Mignet and Cousin trying to dissuade him, Salvandy to make him accept. During this period a numerously attended meeting of deputies assembled at M. Fulchiron's. Thiers, hearing of this, said that if this meeting asked him he would accept office. Salvandy hurried with a deputation to obtain Thiers' consent, which was given in order that he might not be accused of ruining the only possible combination, and because he is backed by a solemn expression of opinion from a parliamentary majority. It is thought, however, that he will soon repent of having yielded. The balance is no longer even. They will be two to one against him in the Council, and conditions are quite against the present arrangement lasting.
I have a letter from M. Molé which says, "You have left a gap here which nothing could fill; no one has felt this more than I have in the last few days. I hope, I may say I am sure, that you would have approved of me. You are one of the very few people of whose approval I think before I act. We have not been fighting about individuals but for the Amnesty. A complete general Amnesty was my condition. Those who resigned in order to get their way provoked a demonstration against it in the Chamber. I alone maintained that facts were on our side. However, some who, like me, were for the Amnesty lost courage, and the result is that the old Ministry is being reconstructed under M. de Broglie. Several of its members are by no means proud of this, but they are all accepting a position on which the future will pronounce judgment as well as on many other things."
Rochecotte, March 16, 1835.—M. Royer-Collard writes to me as follows about the late Ministerial crisis: "It was on Tuesday the 10th that the King asked Guizot to summon M. de Broglie. No doubt you expect to hear of the insolence of the conqueror. Nothing of the sort. M. de Broglie, coached by Guizot, had laid aside not only his arrogance, but even his personal dignity which should not be surrendered even in exchange for the Presidency of the Council. He expressed regret in humble terms for the past and promised to be good in the future. You may take this for certain—the Necker pride, which is the same type as the Broglie pride, has given way."
Further on, à propos of the paper signed by the so-called Fulchiron meeting about Thiers, M. Royer-Collard says: "It is certain that Thiers has capitulated. He accepts, but is separated and disengaged from the doctrinaires whom he has humiliated. He returns whereas Guizot stays. No one, I think, gains by this patch work."
Still further on there is this. "When M. Molé came to see me yesterday, I embraced him as I would the survivor of a shipwreck. He comes out of the matter best of all, and he has surpassed himself."
Rochecotte, March 23, 1835.—Yesterday evening I had a very gracious reply from the Duchesse de Broglie to the letter of congratulation I had addressed to her. She dissembles her political triumph by the use of humble Biblical quotations. The note of her letter is kindliness, and in fact I am pleased with her; she is a deserving person.
I had also written to M. Guizot on the occasion of his brother's death. He did not reply before the period of mourning was over; he did finally answer however, and yesterday there came from him a very cajoling letter. The only phrase dealing with politics is: "I am one of those who should say that the crisis is over, but I am also one of those who know that nothing is ever finished in this world, and that one has to begin again every day. Our life consists of a continual effort to secure a success which is always incomplete. I accept this without illusions, and without discouragement."
I shall add an extract from a letter from M. Royer-Collard which also came yesterday evening. "All that has happened, the dénouement as well as the crisis, is very sad. The King and Thiers have, as you see, been conquered by Guizot, and, as a result, M. de Talleyrand as well, in what remains to him of public life. It is true that this victory bears no resemblance to a triumph, and makes none of the noise in the world which a triumph causes. It is obscured by the uncertainty of things in the Chamber. Guizot however is a skilled intriguer, and his obstinacy is in proportion to his presumption and to his burning thirst for personal predominance. He will never stop till he is conquered by the force of circumstances. I doubt whether there exists anywhere at present a force which would be sufficient to conquer him. Thiers had the satisfaction of making them wait thirty-six hours for him and of going his own way in the tribune, but the fact remains that he gave in, and that it was the fear of Guizot and the little doctrinaires that prevented him from entering the Gérard-Molé Ministry, much as he would have liked to do so. Till something else turns up he is absorbed in the general submission. From this chaos M. Molé has emerged with an increased reputation of which you may rest assured that he owes part to you. You came into his life more than once and brought succour. He likes you very much and feels the need of your approbation. I owe his friendship to his belief that I helped to bring you and him together."
Rochecotte, May 10, 1835.—Yesterday I had a curious account of what passed at the secret committee of the House of Peers on the form of judgment.[49] Several Peers declared that they could not get rid of the matter by sentencing the accused in default, that is to say by sentencing empty benches. Of this opinion were MM. Barthè, Sainte-Aulaire, Séguier and, it is believed, de Bastard. M. Decazes and some others contended that the cases should be taken separately. M. Cousin reproached M. Pasquier in the most violent manner for not having heard counsel for the defence, and the Chamber for being weak enough to uphold the decision of its President. M. Pasquier in his reply was sentimental and pathetic, but the most serious incident was the declaration of M. Molé who said in so many words that if they passed sentence on the accused in his absence he would protest. This declaration had a great effect, and several Peers, among them the Duc de Noailles, adopted M. Molé's view. It is added: "You can easily see that this declaration is the nucleus of a new Molé Ministry if the impossibility of carrying on the case should force the present Ministers to resign. On the other hand it would be so dangerous to be weak in the presence of such accused that the necessity of standing fast will override all other considerations. It remains to be seen how it is to be done. This case is a hydra!"
Langenau (Switzerland), August 18, 1835.—This little chronicle has been interrupted for some time. I have often been ill, and found any kind of application impossible. In this way I became more and more indolent, and got tired of writing down my own thoughts after having so long dealt with those of others. Then came removals and travels and all sorts of things which have combined to interrupt my old habits. My mind has been distracted by too many new scenes; I have had no time for the reflection and steady work necessary for writing, and my inspiration was at an end. I had lived prodigally for four years and my small stock of provisions was exhausted. In short, I may repeat the rather unfilial remark of M. Cousin, who in speaking of his father, who had become imbecile, observed, "only the animal survives."
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.
They all group themselves more or less about Madame de Lieven, whose former glories and recent misfortune (the deaths of her two youngest sons in the same week), excited sympathy or imposed duties. I was very sorry for her, and her position seemed to me to contain a great lesson. She has lost her way and wanders at large. She is not resigned, and finds no pleasure in her regrets. She finds nothing but a cruel void in the distraction which she demands of every one. She finds no pleasure in occupation; she lives in the street, in public places, talks inconsequently, and never listens, laughs, cries and acts at a venture, asks questions without interest in the answers. This misery is the worse, as four months of sorrow have not taught her patience. She is already astonished that her regrets have lasted so long; but, as she will not submit herself to trouble, it will not wear itself out; she prolongs it by struggling against it. In the combat sorrow triumphs and the victim cries out, but the sound is discordant and awakes no sympathetic echo in the hearts of others. I have seen people, one after another, cease to pity her and care for her: she saw it too and was humiliated. She seemed grateful to me for continuing to be kind to her. She left me with the conviction that, if I had not been a consolation to her, I was at least a resource, and I am very glad of it.
It was a pleasure to me to see the lovely Lake of Constance again a few days ago. Three years ago I dreamed of taking a small château which was there. It has been burned down. I am now thinking of a cottage; I should be sorry not to have some shelter on this promontory from which the view is so rich, so varied, and so tranquil, and where it would be so pleasant to rest.
From Wolfsberg where I lived I several times went to Arenenberg to see the Duchesse de Saint-Leu; she seemed to me rather more tranquil than three years ago. Madame Campan's pretentious pupil, the Tragedy Queen, has given place to a good stout Swiss house-wife who talks with freedom, receives hospitably, and is pleased to see any one who comes to divert her in her solitude. Her little house is picturesque, but intended only for summer weather, though she lives there almost all the year round. The interior is small and narrow, and seems to have been made only for flowers, reeds, matting, and divans—it is in fact no more than a summer-house. The relics of imperial magnificence which are heaped together there are not altogether in keeping. Canova's marble statue of the Empress Josephine requires a larger setting. I should have liked with the stroke of an enchanter's wand to have transported to the Versailles Museum the portrait of the Emperor as General Bonaparte by Gros, which is certainly the finest modern portrait that I know. It ought to be the property of the nation, for the military and political history as well as all the glories and destinies of France are embodied in this perfect picture. In a little cabinet in a looking-glass case there are some precious relics mixed with a number of insignificant trifles. The cashmere scarf worn by General Bonaparte at the Battle of the Pyramids, the portrait of the Empress Marie-Louise and her son on which the dying eyes of the exile of St. Helena were fixed, and several other interesting relics lie there side by side with wretched little scarabs and a thousand trifling things without interest or value. Thus an eyeglass left by the Emperor Alexander at Malmaison, and a fan given by Citizen Talleyrand to Mlle. Hortense de Beauharnais, preserved in the midst of the memories of the Empire, show great freedom of thought and a certain amount of indifference, or else a remarkable facility of humour and character.
True I saw the Empress Josephine and Madame de Saint-Leu ask to be received by Louis XVIII. a fortnight after the fall of Napoleon. In London I saw Lucien Bonaparte make Lady Aldborough introduce him to the Duke of Wellington, and at the Congress of Vienna Eugène de Beauharnais sang to oblige the company. Ancient dynasties may be wanting in ability; new ones are always lacking in dignity.
Fribourg, August 20, 1835.—It would be, if not dignified, at any rate well bred, on Madame de Saint-Leu's part if she restored to the town of Aix-la-Chapelle the magnificent reliquary worn by Charlemagne, and found on his neck when his tomb was opened. This reliquary, which contains a piece of the True Cross under a great sapphire, was given to the Empress Josephine by the Chapter of the Cathedral in order to conciliate her favour. It must have been a painful sacrifice for them to part with this relic, to which it would have been a piece of delicacy and good breeding to put an end. What might be an appropriate possession for the successor of Charlemagne is a most unsuitable one for the mistress of the Arenenberg.
I have little to say of the journey which brought me here. Saint-Gall has a charming situation. The interior of the town is very ugly; the church and the adjoining buildings, which are now the seat of the Cantonal Government, have been restored too recently, and they missed their effect on me. Nothing recalls the strange glories of the ancient Prince Bishops of Saint-Gall. The nave of the church is fine, but there is none of the calmness of antiquity in it. The bridge, which you cross to reach the new road to Heinrichsbad, is a picturesque incident in a wooded country.
Heinrichsbad is quite a new establishment; and the Alpine situation of the isolated hotel affords opportunities for the goats'-milk cure. The part of Appenzell which we crossed on the way to Meynach reminded me more of the Pyrenees than any other part of Switzerland.
I was pleased to see the Lake of Zurich again; but the Lake of Zug, along which I passed the next day, being more shaded and retired, seemed to me even more lovely. There is a view of almost all of it from the Convent of the Nuns of S. Francis, whose house is high above the lake. I arrived as the ladies were saying Mass—not very well it must be confessed, but the organ and voices which come from invisible persons and an unseen place always affect me too deeply to allow me to be critical. The nuns are employed in the education of girls. Sister Seraphina, who showed me over the Convent, speaks French well, and her cell is extremely clean. The rule of the Convent did not seem to me very strict.
The chapel of Kussnach—on the very spot where Gessler was killed by William Tell, has some historic interest no doubt, but as regards situation it is far inferior to that on the Lake of Four Cantons, at the place where Tell leapt out of his persecutor's boat and pushed it back into the raging storm.
The position of Lucerne, which I knew, struck me again as very picturesque. The lion carved in the rock near Lucerne, after Thorwaldsen's design, is an imposing monument—a fine thought well rendered.
Berne, which I reached by way of the Immersthal, a pleasant valley covered with the most beautiful vegetation and ornamented with charming villages, has the aspect of a great city, thanks to its numerous fine streets and buildings. It is a melancholy place, however, and even in summer one feels how cold it must be in winter. The terrace, which is planted with trees and hangs high above the Aar, opposite to the mountains and the glaciers of the Oberland, is a splendid promenade, to which the Hôtel de la Monnaie on one side and the Cathedral on the other make a fine finish.
The road from Berne to this place has no remarkable features. The first view of Fribourg is striking and uncommon. The site is rough and wild; the towers thrown on the surrounding heights, the depth at which the river, or rather the torrent, flows at the foot of the rock on which the town is placed, and the hanging bridge above the houses, all make the scene exceedingly picturesque. The interior of the town, with its numerous convents and its population of Jesuits in long black robes and broad hats, is like a vast monastery, in which there is not wanting, on occasion, a faint flavour of the Inquisition. It is not in this mysterious and cloistered place that one feels oneself drinking in the classic atmosphere of Helvetian liberty. The new Jesuit College is so placed as to dominate the town, and the influence due to its importance is very great. To judge by the little which the traveller is permitted to see, this establishment is on the vastest scale and perfectly managed. There are three hundred and fifty children being educated there, most of them French; the buildings appear to me to be intended for an even larger number. Besides this great boarding-school the Jesuits have their own house adjoining, and in addition a country place about a league from the town.
I went to see the Cathedral, which would be quite unworthy of notice were it not for the organ which was playing as I entered and which seemed to me the most harmonious and the least harsh of any I have heard.
I am very glad to have seen Fribourg. I passed through eleven years ago without examining it. I now understand better the kind of part which this town plays in the religious history of the present time.
Lausanne, August 21, 1835.—The broad and easy road from Fribourg crosses a country partly wooded, partly cultivated, smiling and varied but not exactly picturesque, except at Lussan. The scenery does not become grand until the mountain chain which surrounds Lake Leman appears at the end of a pine wood, which for a long time conceals both the lake and the town of Lausanne.
Like all Swiss towns Lausanne is ugly inside. Its situation is picturesque; the variations of level are inconvenient for the inhabitants, but they provide several terraces from which the view is very fine. Those at the Cathedral and the Castle are the most thought of. I prefer the Montbadon promenade which is not so high, but from which one can see the country better. There are too many roofs in the other views.
Bex, August 23, 1835.—Less of wall and vineyard and a few more trees would make the road from Lausanne to Vevey charming. The country does not quite take my fancy until Vevey is reached. Chillon above all impressed me by its situation and its associations. I should like to have re-read Lord Byron's verses while I was going over the famous dungeons. His name alone which is scrawled in charcoal on one of the pillars of the prison (the same to which François de Bonnivard was chained for six years), is enough to make this dungeon poetic.
At Villeneuve the road leaves Lake Leman and plunges into a wild and narrow gorge. The sharp and curious indentations of the rocks which flank the road supply the only beauty which adorns the four long leagues to Bex. Quite near, on a spur of rock veined with many colours, and half hidden in a clump of trees, you can see the Castle of St. Triphon, which seemed to me very fine.
Bex itself is a village which bears no resemblance to the pretty villages of the Canton of Berne. Everything already suggests the neighbourhood of Piedmont. We are all at the Auberge de l'Union which is the only one in the place and is neither good nor bad. The sulphur baths established here did not succeed; neither did the goat's milk cure. In fact the place is bare of resources and very sombre and dull, though for me it is lighted up by the rosy cheeks of Pauline and the brightness of her blue eyes. I was delighted to get here.
I got a letter on my arrival which had been left for me by Admiral de Rigny on his way to Naples. He tells me that he has found everywhere on his way a definite belief that the Duchesse de Berry was at Chambéry on the 24th, and that on the 30th, Berryer who was going to take the waters at Aix-en-Savoie disappeared a few hours after the attempt on the King's life in Paris, and afterwards reappeared at Aix much upset. Like M. de Rigny I have found this version of the story current everywhere. The Swiss papers also describe Madame la Duchesse de Berry, but nothing is certain.
At Maintenon the Duc de Noailles has just been having a party of clever and intriguing people. M. de Chateaubriand, Madame Récamier, the Vicomtesse de Noailles, M. Ampère, in fact the whole morning congregation of the Abbaye-aux-Bois.[51] I am sorry to hear it: the Duc de Noailles should not forsake the high road for such a byway.