Joseph McCabe

A DIPLOMATIC ROMANCE

Talleyrand and his party arrived at Vienna on September 23rd. He immediately saw the representatives of the other great Powers, found that his anticipation of their resolve to restrict his action was correct, and opened his campaign. It was not a difficult task to induce the ministers of the secondary Powers to make common cause with the ablest diplomatist at the Congress. The Spanish Minister, Labrador, was urged to press the disputable claim of his country to be considered a first-class Power, and support Talleyrand in his manoeuvres. The smaller States were fully disposed to have their feeble voices swelled into a respectable protest by fitting them into Talleyrand’s scheme. The representatives of Prussia (Prince Hardenberg and Baron Humboldt), of Russia (Nesselrode, Stakelberg and Rassoumoffsky), of Austria (Metternich), and of England (Castlereagh and Stewart), were in constant correspondence. Talleyrand waited and watched. At last he inquired of Metternich why there was no indication of the opening of the Congress, which had been fixed for October 1st. After some discussion between the four Powers, Metternich and Nesselrode obtained that Talleyrand and the Spanish Minister should be invited to assist at a preliminary conference on September 30th, and the diplomatic struggle begins.

Talleyrand at once sees Labrador and arranges the reply to Metternich’s note. He himself replies that he will be pleased to meet the other Powers, in which he carefully includes Spain; Labrador, in accepting, puts France at the head of the Powers he is prepared to discuss with. When Talleyrand reached the Foreign Chancellery he finds all the chief ministers seated at a long table, and he drops into a vacant chair between Castlereagh, who presided, and Metternich. He immediately throws in the apple of discord by asking why he alone of the French legation is invited. When he is told that only the chiefs of the various legations are summoned, he asks why Baron von Humboldt represents Prussia as well as Prince Hardenberg. They point out delicately that Hardenberg is rather deaf, and he smilingly refers to his own lameness. “We all have our infirmities, and have the same right to profit by them.” But this is only a trivial point raised in order to induce nervousness; as is also his support of the Portuguese Minister’s claim (inspired by himself) to be admitted. Castlereagh opens the proceedings, and says they have first to inform Talleyrand and Labrador what has been done. The protocol (minutes) of the previous conferences is handed to Talleyrand. He raised his eyebrows in artistic astonishment when he finds that it contains the word “Allies” in every paragraph. Who are these “Allies?” Are we “still at Chaumont?” He had supposed that the war was over. They hastily—much too hastily—assure him that it is a mere form or phrase, and he continues to read about treaties and agreements that had been concealed or were supposed to be concealed from him. “I don’t understand it,” he says, returning the papers. “I don’t know of anything being done on these dates.” The only date he knows anything of is October 1st, when the Congress is to begin. The other ministers, thrown off their guard by his unforeseen tactics, abandon their protocol as unimportant, and it is not seen again. They then produce a document regulating the procedure of the Congress, and invite him and Labrador to sign it. He reads it, hesitates, and says it needs leisurely consideration. It may be that only the Congress itself can give the representatives of the four Powers the faculties they have assumed. Castlereagh and himself, he points out, are responsible to their nations, and must proceed cautiously. Castlereagh rather assents, and the Prussians fume. Something is said of “the King of Naples.” “Who is he?” asks Talleyrand. Humboldt ventures to say that the Powers have guaranteed Murat his territory. “But they could not, and, therefore, they did not,” insists Talleyrand.

The conference broke up amid a general air of embarrassment. I have taken the account of it from Talleyrand’s memoirs and his report to the King. But the Secretary of the Congress, Gentz, who soon formed a profound admiration of Talleyrand, describes it as a scene he could never forget, and says that all the intrigues of the ministers were defeated. Like Napoleon, Talleyrand believed in setting ajar the nerves of his diplomatic opponents, but he had also made a substantial attack on the plot to exclude France. The minutes of the previous meetings were destroyed, and no more meetings were held to which the French Minister was not invited.

The next morning he followed up his advantage by submitting a note on the procedure of the Congress. He claimed, plausibly enough, that the representatives of the eight Powers who had signed the Treaty of Paris (where the Congress was decided on) should appoint a commission to prepare its programme. This would let in Portugal and Sweden, as well as France and Spain. Baron Humboldt described it as “a torch flung amongst us.” Metternich and Castlereagh beg him to withdraw his note. Talleyrand explains that this is impossible as it has somehow leaked out, and the Spanish Minister has unfortunately (but at Talleyrand’s secret suggestion) sent a copy of it to his Court. Metternich threatens that the four Powers will act by themselves. Talleyrand amiably replies that in that event he will not feel called upon to attend the Congress. Nesselrode bluntly protests that the Tsar must leave Austria by the 29th, and Talleyrand suavely assures him he “is very sorry, as in that case the Tsar is not likely to see the end of the Congress.” Castlereagh endeavours to talk over Talleyrand with British common sense. The objects of France can be secured, he is explaining, when Talleyrand interrupts him with an expression of lofty amazement, and says France is there to represent principles, not to secure objects. They have to answer to Europe, which has suffered so much from the neglect of good maxims of conduct. Von Gagern, representing Bavaria, said: “Is it not extraordinary that, when the French speak of principles for the first time since the world began no one will listen to them?” Gentz admitted to Talleyrand at dinner that night that the other Powers knew he was right, but did not like to retreat. He wished Talleyrand had arrived earlier.

From an engraving, after the picture by Sir Thomas Lawrence.

PRINCE METTERNICH.

The Tsar had already granted him the interview he had asked on arriving at Vienna. In answer to Alexander’s inquiry as to the state of France he gave a very cheerful (and totally untrue) account. He had just received pitiable reports from FouchÉ and D’Hauterive. When the Tsar spoke of needs or interests deciding what was to be done in Europe, Talleyrand reminded him that right came before interest. “The interests of Europe constitute right,” said the Tsar. Talleyrand raised his head and dropped his arms, ejaculating: “Poor Europe!” When he remonstrated with Alexander for using the word “Allies,” the Emperor explained it away as being due to force of habit. A few days afterwards he saw Metternich, and humorously alluded to “the Allies.” “There are none now,” said Metternich. When Metternich tried to smile at his affectation of disinterestedness, Talleyrand offered to sign a note to the effect that France wanted nothing and would not accept anything from the Congress. Metternich mentioned Naples, and Talleyrand at once said it was a question of principle.

The Congress was now a week overdue, and the irritated ministers saw all their preparations for it thwarted. The Prussian party had been strengthened by their minister from London, one of the “eagles of their diplomacy,” but they could make no headway. On October 8th there was another conference. Talleyrand delivered to Castlereagh another note on the Congress, and wanted it stated that it would be held “in conformity with the principles of public right.” Hardenberg jumped up, and, with his fists clenched on the table, snapped out that “that went without saying.” “It will be all the easier to insert it,” replied Talleyrand. Baron Humboldt then took up the quarrel, and wanted to know “what they had to do with public right.” “It is in virtue of public right that you are here,” retorted Talleyrand quietly. The phrase did eventually appear in the Declaration. In the middle of the Conference Castlereagh drew Talleyrand aside, and asked him if he would be “easier” if they gave him his point. “What will you do about Naples if I promise?” immediately asked the moralist. Castlereagh promised his assistance.

Thus the opening stages of the diplomatic campaign went entirely in Talleyrand’s favour. He had advised the King to publish his instructions in the Parisian press, and all Vienna now read the edifying principles on which the French legation proceeded. Russia and Prussia were being gradually forced into a minority, and their covetous designs on Poland and Saxony were being cleverly represented as the real obstacles to progress. Their mortification was profound. Neither social coldness nor the refusal of information disturbed Talleyrand’s equanimity. The one design was defeated by the attractiveness of his establishment, the other was a stratagem he had too often encountered. Gagern and Castlereagh alone used to visit the Hotel Kaunitz in the first week or two, but the amiable countess soon saw her dinners well attended. Early in December the Austrian papers described her as the first lady in the quadrille at a ball of the utmost brilliance and importance. And Talleyrand’s tongue counted for something in the cosmopolitan society at Vienna. “His biting sarcasm ranged all the thinkers and all the laughers on his side,” said Metternich. His quips on the quaint manners of the Tsar, the heavy sullenness of the Prussians, the political innocence of the English, and the “niaiseries” of Metternich, circulated at every ball and dinner.

The opening of November saw little advance in the negotiations. Talleyrand fought resolutely for the preservation of Saxony, against the cession of Poland to Russia, and for the restoration of Naples to the Bourbons. He admitted that Prussia should be indemnified, but “the sacred principle of legitimacy” forbade the sacrifice of Saxony to them. When the Prussians retorted that they would be satisfied in conscience if the Powers assigned it to them, he replied that the Powers could not give what did not belong to them. When Russia tried to seize his weapon of “legitimacy” for the defence of their design to re-establish Poland (under the Russian crown), he blandly assented, if they would re-erect the whole of Poland and make it completely independent. And whenever a minister approached him with a quiet suggestion of “making a bargain,” he drew himself up with haughty moral dignity. He was determined to get both Saxony and Naples. Throughout October he was writing that the English ruled the Congress, and they had “no principles.” They were ready to give Saxony to Prussia—Castlereagh complaining bitterly of the “treachery” of its king—and generally to strengthen Prussia and Austria against France; but they joined Talleyrand and Austria in regard to Poland, and were ready to be accommodating as regarded Naples.

On November 5th Metternich invited Talleyrand to meet himself and Castlereagh. They wanted his confidence and assistance to make some progress. The French Minister threw up his arms. How could he help them when he knew nothing that they did not know, whereas they were perpetually withholding their deliberations from him? Let them open the Congress. He was told that the Prussians—Castlereagh told him privately how they dreaded him—would not hear of it until the Powers were agreed. On the same day the King of Prussia had a private interview with the Tsar, and they decided to support each other. Prussia was to have Saxony, and Russia to set up a kingdom of Poland. Talleyrand met the agreement by impressing its inacceptable features on Austria and England, and drawing closer to them. By the insertion of articles in the Parisian papers and the publication of pamphlets he was bringing public opinion to his view as regarded Saxony. The Austrian generals were openly in favour of it, and there was a strong feeling for it in England. By the beginning of December Metternich sent Talleyrand a copy of a letter in which he protested to Prussia against the annexation of Saxony, and “rejoiced to find himself in line with the French Cabinet on an object so worthy of defence.” The Tsar was losing ground daily. In spite of his excessive amiability—he danced or took tea with every lady in Vienna—his ambition was alarming people. The Prussian ambassadors were seen nowhere. They were shedding fruitless perspiration in their cabinets. By the end of November Talleyrand reported to Louis that France was now not only not excluded from the settlement of questions that interested her, but was sharing in the redistribution of Italy, Switzerland, and Germany. Austria and England now needed her. The perspicacious Louis solemnly accepted Talleyrand’s assurance that it was his (the King’s) lofty enunciation of principles which had changed the atmosphere of Vienna. His brief letters are full of unconscious humour.

By the middle of December Talleyrand heard that Austria, Russia, and Prussia had come to an agreement about Poland. The Tsar relinquished his larger pretensions, granted parts of Poland to Prussia and Austria, and was then allowed to give the remainder a constitution. Prussia appealed to Austria to help her to get her much laboured compensation, and Metternich offered her part of Poland and only a fifth part of Saxony. This note was delivered to Talleyrand, and at once inspired him with a fresh flow of that “noble phraseology” which he had promised Mme. de StaËl to employ at Vienna. He ceased to speak of Poland, and concentrated on Saxony. The King of Saxony must be invited to say what part of his territory he would surrender (it was now clear the whole could not be preserved). Civilised nations know no such process as confiscation. Castlereagh was now directed to come to an understanding with Talleyrand. The French Minister responded with a proposal that England, France, and Austria should sign a convention to protect Saxony, and in the early days of January a secret treaty between the three was signed. Military preparations were quietly made, and it transpired in Vienna that they had urged the Turks to make a diversion against Russia in case of war. A number of the secondary Powers joined them.

For a time the situation seemed dangerous, and the exasperation of Prussia was great. But the defensive character of the new alliance was discreetly emphasised, fresh concessions of territory were made to Prussia, and the Tsar urged a peaceful and speedy settlement. Talleyrand wrote in glowing language to France, and he was assured from the capital that his prestige had risen considerably. He made a last adroit use of his indirect diplomatic machinery before the close of the Congress. The anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI occurred on January 21st, and arrangements were made for an impressive ceremony in the cathedral at Vienna, at which few of the rulers and statesmen could decline the invitation to assist. Every detail of it was directed to further Talleyrand’s aims. The sermon delivered had been prepared by the Count de Noailles—Louis said that nothing so fine had been heard at Paris—and Talleyrand induced Gentz to write a special account of the ceremony in the Vienna Beobachter. A huge crowd of princes and politicians dined that night at the Hotel Kaunitz. Vienna was subtly impregnated with sympathy.

The last stages of the Congress passed more swiftly and smoothly. Prussia had to withdraw her protest against the admission of Talleyrand to the commission on territorial redistribution, so that the great aim of his policy as regarded procedure was fully attained. That he should secure the literal acceptance of his programme in the redistribution itself was not to be expected, but the final arrangement was widely different from what the other Powers had intended. The kingdom of Saxony was preserved, though greatly reduced. On the other hand Prussia obtained the Rhine districts, which Talleyrand had tried to prevent her from getting on the ground that she was “a quarrelsome neighbour.” The other Powers were not unwilling to see her mount guard against France on the Rhine. The smaller German kingdoms were left in existence. Some of them had bespoken Talleyrand’s interest. Austria obtained Venice in spite of him, but he eventually got his way as regarded Naples. Wellington (who replaced Castlereagh in February) supported the French demand for the expulsion of Murat, Russia was driven to the same conclusion in the design of weakening Austria, and Murat finally played into their hands by declaring for Napoleon. Thus the two chief details of his programme, the maintenance of a kingdom of Saxony and the restoration of Naples to the Bourbons, were secured. His dignified refusal to compromise had the full empirical justification which he had expected. In other matters he was less rigid in his cult of “principle.” He raised no protest to Bernadotte retaining Sweden, and maintained the act of mediation in Switzerland.

The Congress of Vienna is the greatest of Talleyrand’s diplomatic achievements, and I have endeavoured to give an outline of his methods of action there. The results are familiar in general history. Apart from the distinguished talent that he exhibited, and that is easily appreciated, it only remains to say a word about his motives. It is needless to point out that his inexorable insistence on principle was a carefully calculated expedient. It would be misleading to recall here his saying that “the best principle is to have none at all.” He had principles; but they were ultimate principles. Peace, justice, France and humanity were ideals at which he never scoffed. There his idealism ended. It was one of the chief grounds of the exasperation of his opponents that they knew how little he really cared about principles of “legitimacy” and the like. His action was inspired and controlled by a variety of motives—the interest of France, the cause of European peace, the family interests of Louis XVIII, some sense of chivalry for the smaller States, the picturesqueness and humour of posing as the champion of virtue amongst the partitioning Powers, and the expectation of gratitude from such men as the King of Saxony. He is said to have received two, and even three, million francs from Saxony. As usual, the statement is quite unauthoritative, and the rumours are conflicting. The Congress of Vienna probably brought him a very large sum. I have pointed out before that there was no pretence of stealth about his receiving money, though the sums mentioned by various writers seem generally to be guesses. Not a single instance is alleged in which he was “bought.” Presents of money changed hands very freely at Vienna. As it had been Talleyrand’s deliberate policy to stand between the larger Powers and the smaller—to prevent, as far as possible, the growth of the former by the absorption of the latter— he would be in the end an exceptional recipient of gratitude.55 He would have smiled at the notion that this gratitude should only have been embodied in diamonds or china, especially if it is true that at that very moment his splendid library was being dispatched to Sotheby’s.

Before the Tsar left Vienna Talleyrand was compelled to impair still more their earlier friendship. Alexander had shown much coolness in regard to him in September and October. To disappointment in the development in France was added the consciousness that Talleyrand was strenuously opposing his Polish plans. As time wore on, and Talleyrand’s campaign succeeded, there was a change. By the end of November Alexander was looking out everywhere for Talleyrand, who avoided him. The settlement of the Polish question left them tolerably friendly. Then came an incident which Talleyrand must have faced with great reluctance. He had earlier favoured the idea of a marriage between the Archduchess Anna and the Duc de Berry. He now felt that a Franco-Russian alliance was undesirable, and wrote to dissuade Louis XVIII from entertaining the project. The Tsar approached him directly on the matter at Vienna, and he had to suggest difficulties and have recourse to the very transparent device of postponing the subject. The Tsar had not forgotten how Talleyrand and he had secretly agreed at Erfurt to deceive Napoleon in regard to the same archduchess. It considerably widened the breach between them.

Had Talleyrand foreseen the events of the coming March he might have used more diplomacy. In the evening of March 6th the various ministers were urgently summoned by Metternich. Talleyrand was the first to arrive and to hear that Napoleon had sailed from Elba. There was excitement enough, but it is a great exaggeration to speak of dismay. The news had the good effect of quickening the pace at Vienna, and there was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the Powers as to the steps to be taken. Napoleon was a common enemy, a common outlaw. Talleyrand did not believe at first that he would land in France, but he could hardly have been unprepared for the account of his victorious advance on Paris. For weeks he had been receiving letters on the mutinous condition of the army, the criminal expenditure on gold-laced household troops, the incessant attacks on the holders of nationalised property, and the other abuses and follies of the returned party. Within a fortnight Napoleon was at Paris, and the pompous and misguided Louis was flying towards Belgium. The Powers became “allies” once more, and set their forces in motion to arrest “the bandit.”

Lytton, who has done so much to clear the character of Talleyrand from calumny, is here betrayed into an unfortunate error. He says that Talleyrand recollected that the first duty of a diplomatist after a congress is to see to his liver, and departed for Carlsbad. Sainte Beuve and others have eagerly reproduced this picture of the wily politician retiring into inactivity on Napoleon’s reappearance, and waiting to see which side would win in the struggle. The picture is totally false. The Congress was not completed—its act was not signed—until June 9th. Talleyrand left Vienna the very next day for Belgium, and was in Brussels on June 21st. Further, we have the correspondence he wrote to Louis from Vienna, and from this it is clear, not only that he remained at Vienna, but that he rendered most important and loyal service to Louis throughout the Hundred Days. There is never more than an interval of a few days between his letters, and they are all dated from Vienna. It is true that Von Gagern speaks of him as asking an asylum in Wiesbaden, but there is no room whatever to admit an absence from duty at any time of more than a day or two. Finally, we know that he formally rejected the advances made by Napoleon.

In the first few days he clearly felt no serious concern about the movements of Napoleon. The event might be turned to good account, he observed. He went at once with Metternich and Wellington to see the King of Saxony at Pressburg on behalf of the Congress. It was left to Talleyrand chiefly to persuade the king that he must submit, and the mission was quickly discharged. He found an old friend of his, the Countess de Brionne, dying at Pressburg, and interrupts his account of the Congress to describe his touching farewell. He could weep like a woman on such occasions. He was back in Vienna on March 13th, and signed on behalf of France the manifesto of the Powers against Napoleon. It is impossible that he should have had any serious doubt about the final issue of Napoleon’s raid. He heard Alexander offer the whole resources of his country, and saw the absolute unanimity and resolution of Europe. The Treaty of Chaumont was revived, and every State in Europe was invited to join the grand coalition. Talleyrand secured that the French king should now be included in the allied forces against Napoleon.

Unfortunately, four days afterwards came the news that the King had crossed the frontier with a slender regiment of followers. Talleyrand had urged that he should remain in one of the fortresses in the north of France. He had written to the King on April 23rd to tell him of the firm attitude of the Powers against Napoleon, but had added, “with infinite regret,” that they were less definite in their attitude towards Louis. This was really not the case at that time, but it seemed a good opportunity to bring the King to reason. He followed up his point with a strong plea for reform and Liberalism, and said he would join the King as soon as the interests of France permitted him to leave Vienna. A few days later he wrote that there had been an intrigue to prevent the signature of the Act of the Congress, and he must remain to defeat it. Then came the very unwelcome news that Louis had fled from the country. Talleyrand wrote to express his regret, and hoped that the Court had brought away from Paris all his letters from Vienna. Amongst them was a copy of the secret treaty with Austria and England against Russia and Prussia. Napoleon would not fail to make use of this. Louis’s courtiers had brought away the crown jewels and left the documents behind.

The Act of the Congress was not signed until June 9th, and Talleyrand resisted all entreaties to come to Belgium until this was done. Chateaubriand wrote him that it was “absolutely necessary” for him to come. Talleyrand’s decision to remain at or near Vienna until the fruits of his diplomacy were fully secured is not open to criticism or misinterpretation. There was a real danger in the postponement and re-opening of the Congress. It is quite true that he was approached by an emissary of Napoleon during April. Montrond, an old friend of Talleyrand’s, came to Vienna to ascertain the attitude of the Powers and make overtures to Talleyrand. Napoleon, who had at first proscribed him, was now anxious to secure him. Michaud declares, with the customary absolute lack of authority, that Talleyrand offered to negotiate for him the return of the Empress and her son. Napoleon himself admits that one of the objects of Montrond was to “win Talleyrand,” and claims that “all his objects were achieved.” The claim is frivolous. We have not a very distinct picture of Talleyrand’s occupation during April and May, but there is no ground whatever for doubting the truth of his statement that he refused to treat with Montrond. At the most we may merely smile at his explanation that it would have “prostituted his politics.” He saw that Europe was determined to remove Napoleon. No doubt he had a momentary anxiety when he learned that Napoleon had given the Russians a copy of his secret treaty of January 3rd, but he laughed it off to Nesselrode, and soon learned that Alexander was unmoved by it. Once that danger was over, the alliance against Napoleon was irresistible.

On the other hand there was an increasing disinclination among the Allies to pledge themselves to support Louis, and other alternatives were freely discussed. We may very well admit that Talleyrand kept an open mind on these, and would much rather be in Austria than Belgium. But he acted loyally on behalf of the King. It was he who induced the reluctant Allies to send representatives to the Court at Ghent. The most serious alternative to Louis was the Duke of OrlÉans, who was at London, and in regard to whom Talleyrand seems to have been entirely passive. It is not unlikely that, apart from his real concern to see the Act of the Congress signed, he wanted to see the ultra faction entirely discredited at Ghent, and a more definite leaning to his own liberal policy before proceeding there. He knew how things were going on at Ghent. The distracted King was wavering between the courtiers, who threw the whole blame of the revolution on the Radicals, and the Liberal statesmen who returned it to the shoulders of the returned emigrants. The Allies were throwing their weight in the latter side of the scale, and were discussing the advisability of superseding Louis. The Tsar openly favoured the Duke of OrlÉans. Louis was forced to press for the return of Talleyrand, and the signing of the act of the Congress on June 9th left him no reason for delay in Vienna. He departed on the following day, and arrived at Brussels on the 21st.

Waterloo had been fought and won. Napoleon was now a dead force, but Louis continued to be a very equivocal one. Acting on the unfortunate advice of Wellington, the King was re-entering France in the train of the allied armies. Talleyrand had urged the more politic course of entering France independently, and setting up the government quite apart from their influence. He concluded that the King was again swayed by his incompetent followers, and declined to see him. He had proceeded to Mons, where the King had halted, but angrily rejected the advice of the more moderate ministers to have an interview. In the night, however, he was awakened with the intelligence that Louis was on the point of leaving Mons, and he hurried across. Witnesses who scanned Talleyrand’s countenance after the interview read contradictory expressions into it. Chateaubriand says he was “mad with rage”; Beugnot, a less sentimental observer, says that he was in one of his best moods. Talleyrand probably played the Sphinx, but we know from him that he “made no impression” on the King, although he spoke very plainly to him of the divine right of kings and the human rights of peoples.

He had, apparently, some presentiment of the evil disposition of the King, and had prepared a memorandum to be read at leisure. In this “Report” he gave his official account of his work at Vienna, and added a very straight talk on the situation in France. While the principle of legitimacy was triumphing in Vienna, he said, it was being enfeebled in France itself. He summarises the complaints of constitutionalist people, putting them in the mouth of observers at Vienna. “The source of a power must not be confused with its exercise.” “When religious sentiments were profoundly graven on the hearts and were all-powerful in the minds of the people, men might believe that the power of the sovereign was an emanation of the Divinity. To-day it is the general opinion—and it is useless to seek to enfeeble it—that governments exist solely for the people.” Neglect of these principles had prepared the way for Napoleon. His memoir made no more impression than his conversation.

The King would not be persuaded to follow Talleyrand’s plan of entry into France, and proceeded to Cambrai. Talleyrand ended by asking permission to take the waters at Carlsbad, and the King politely trusted they would do him good. It is useless to seek to discover any plan in Talleyrand’s thoughts on the day after the King left him at Mons. There was probably none. The situation was too changeful and precarious for such designs. He assisted at the dinner given by the Mayor of Mons, and covered his chagrin with more than customary charm and brilliance of conversation. Metternich wrote to confirm him in his attitude; but Wellington was determined to have in France “one man they could trust,” and immediately begged him to rejoin the King. He replied in a long letter to Wellington, accepting his advice and enlarging on the folly of the King in putting himself in the hands of the extreme Royalists. There was still, he said, no guarantee whatever of constitutional procedure, and the whole work of the Allies might again be frustrated. But he joined Louis “amongst the baggage of the English army” at Cambrai, and resumed the struggle with evil influences. Wellington now occupied the predominant position that Alexander had held in the Restoration of 1814. Talleyrand speaks of him at the time with no great respect, but they later formed an intimate friendship.

When Talleyrand arrived at Cambrai a Council was called by the King. A most tactless proclamation had been issued by the Court party, and Talleyrand now submitted a second one to the Council. It contained such phrases as: “My Government may have made mistakes; possibly it has.” The King’s brother objected that such an admission “lowered royalty” and could not be made. When the document went on to describe the King as “carried away by his affections,” Monsieur warmly requested to know if that was a reference to himself. “Yes, it is,” said Talleyrand, “since Monsieur has placed the discussion on that ground. Monsieur has done a great deal of harm.” The Duc de Berry now heatedly interposed that only the presence of the King prevented him from resenting the use of such language to his father. Louis stopped the quarrel, and said that the proclamation would be altered. The substance of it was adopted, however, and it was issued, signed by the King and by Talleyrand.

They entered Paris on July 8th, and another phase of Talleyrand’s difficulties began. Whether the Allies would have been more moderate, or less secure in their ground, if Louis had followed his advice and entered France independently of them, is not quite so clear as he would have us think. In any case the situation was very different from what it had been in 1814. Prussia was more determined than ever to humble France. The Tsar was less disposed than ever to curb BlÜcher, and to protect Louis. Wellington was the only one who was thoroughly in favour of the Restoration; and he was too little acquainted with French affairs and too eager to take independent action to co-operate with Talleyrand’s plans. After two months of exasperating struggle Talleyrand was driven into retirement.