CHAPTER III
1838
_Rochecotte, January 1, 1838._--In spite of my weakness I remained
until midnight in the drawing-room, to embrace M. de Talleyrand, my
children, and my sister as the new year came in. I am to go out in the
carriage to-day, to come down to dinner, and, in short, to return to
life by degrees.
_Rochecotte, January 2, 1838._--The whole countryside passed this way
yesterday; people were still here in the evening. I am no worse this
morning, but the contrary, and if this marvellous weather will last a
few days longer I hope that I shall soon be quite myself again. M. de
Talleyrand, unfortunately, already speaks of returning to Paris.
_Rochecotte, January 5, 1838._--I have no good opinion of the year
upon which we have entered, from a political point of view. My mind is
despondent, my soul sad, my nerves are weak, my heart is full, and, to
use the language of the chambermaid, I wouldn't give twopence for
anything. We have been plunged in fog for the last few days, but none
the less I have been to pay my farewell calls in the immediate
neighbourhood.
_Rochecotte, January 6, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand and Pauline have just
started for Paris. No one is left in the house except my sister, my
son Alexandre, and myself. I must make up my accounts and prepare for
departure, as we are all three going the day after to-morrow.
Notwithstanding the sad recollections of the illness which darkened my
last weeks here, I shall leave this pleasant little spot with regret.
_Paris, January 11, 1838._--I arrived here yesterday at ten o'clock in
the evening after a journey which nine degrees of frost and constant
snow made extremely unpleasant. However, we had no accident, and the
change of air, sudden as it has been, has rather strengthened me and
given me a little appetite.
Yesterday I dined at Versailles with Madame de Balbi, whom I thought
had grown very old. My sister at the same time was eating fowl with
Madame de Trogoff, whom she knew very well long ago.
We found M. de Talleyrand in good health, but anxious about our
journey. He told me that the Ministry was absorbed in work upon the
Address, so that none of the members are visible for the moment.
_Paris, January 12, 1838._--Yesterday I was very busy with my sister's
dresses, my own, and those of Pauline. We have all three arrived in
rags. Then I went to see Madame de Laval, who is greatly changed. In
the evening I took my sister to hear _The Puritans_, in the same box
at the _Théâtre Italien_ as I had last year. Rubini has certainly lost
something of his voice, and Madame Grisi has begun to shriek.
I believe there is great agitation in the political world, but I ask
no questions, do not even read a newspaper, and preserve my beloved
state of ignorance, partly through idleness and partly as a
precaution.
_Paris, January 13, 1838._--My sister wished to go for once to the
Chamber of Deputies, which is a new sight for her. The Russian
Ambassador gave us his tickets, and we spent our morning yesterday at
the Palais Bourbon. M. Molé surpassed my expectations. He delighted my
sister and charmed myself. There could be nothing more dignified,
nothing clearer, better thought or better expressed than his speech.
His success was quite complete. I saw Madame de Lieven at the Chamber;
my sister and she will not look at one another; they detest one
another, though they do not know one another. This is inconvenient
for me.[84] M. Guizot came up into our seat, and I thought him greatly
changed.
[84] A book recently published by M. Jean Hanotau, _Letters of
Prince Metternich to the Comtesse de Lieven_ (1818-1819), shows
that it was Prince Metternich who set these two ladies against
one another.
I am quite overcome by so different a mode of life from that of the
last six months.
_Paris, January 14, 1838._--Yesterday I had a very long and very kind
visit from the Prince Royal, who was quite calm and in a placid frame
of mind.
I then called upon the Princesse de Lieven, who gave me full details
of her domestic situation, which excluded conversation upon any other
topic and reduced me to the position of audience. She thinks she will
certainly be able to stay here _ad vitam æternam_ without molestation.
I hope she may. In the evening I went to the Tuileries, to pay my
respects to the Queen.
_Paris, January 15, 1838._--Great fires are becoming quite
fashionable. The burning of the London Stock Exchange will form a
counterpart to the destruction of the Winter Palace at St. Petersburg,
with the difference that a hundred persons perished in Russia, while
no loss of life took place in England. Paul Medem told me that the
Winter Palace was three times as large as the Louvre, and that six
thousand persons lived there; that the Imperial pharmacy was situated
in the middle of the castle, and that an explosion resulting from a
chemical experiment had caused the conflagration.
I did not go out yesterday. M. de Sainte-Aulaire came to lunch with my
sister and myself, after which I had a call from M. Royer-Collard, who
is much better this year. I saw MM. Thiers and Guizot with M. de
Talleyrand. We had a long and tiresome family dinner, after which my
sister and myself found nothing better to do than to go to bed at
half-past nine. I have not entirely recovered my strength. A
conversation with Dr. Cruveilhier, only too similar to that which I
had at Tours with Dr. Bretonneau, has done much to bring back my
despondency and listlessness.
_Paris, January 16, 1838._--Yesterday when I was writing I had heard
nothing of the conflagration which destroyed the _Théâtre Italien_ the
preceding night. The under-manager and four firemen lost their lives.
It is a great catastrophe, and disastrous for poor people like myself
whose only pleasure was the Italian Opera. I feel it quite deeply.
Lady Clanricarde came to lunch with me yesterday, and it was a great
pleasure to see her again. She is very nice, and we talked over "dear,
ever dear England," an inexhaustible subject for me.
In the evening I took Pauline to a ball given by the Duc d'Orléans; it
was charming and delightfully arranged. We went away after supper at
two o'clock in the morning, which was late for me. However, apart from
a bad headache I need not complain of the way in which I got through
my task. Unfortunately there are many others of the kind, and the
prospect of their multiplicity frightens me. I saw nothing noticeable
at the ball except the delicate appearance of the Duchesse d'Orléans,
which unfortunately is not to be explained by any prospect of a child.
I think our excellent Queen looks older, and the Duc de Nemours is
terribly thin. He has grown a beard in the modern style, but so fair
that it is frightful to behold.
_Paris, January 17, 1838._--Yesterday I spent the morning with my
sister in doing what I detest more than anything else--making a full
round of indispensable calls. In the evening I took her to the
Tuileries. The arrangements were most noble and magnificent. She was a
little astonished at the forms of presentation here, and I was more
than usually struck by them.
_Paris, January 23, 1838._--I have caught a cold as a result of
sitting in a draught which blew straight upon my back at a concert
yesterday at the residence of the Duc d'Orléans; this was the only
thing of which to complain at an evening's entertainment where there
was no crowd and where the music was delightful, well chosen, and not
too long.
M. de Talleyrand is very well, except for his legs; their weakness
does not matter so much, but they are becoming painful, especially
the toes of one foot, which are not always their natural colour. This
is an ominous sign. I am very anxious, and so is he; in short, I am
greatly depressed, and everything weighs heavily upon my mind.
_Paris, January 28, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is not ill, but his mania
for dining out has not agreed with him. Yesterday at Lord Granville's,
when giving his arm to the Princesse de Lieven, he trod upon the folds
of her dress and nearly fell; he did not actually fall, but his knee
gave way, his weak foot turned, and he twisted his big toe. I was
deeply anxious when I saw him come back in this state. What a sad year
it is! The fact is that since last April nothing has gone right, and
if I did not regard all this as a trial and preparation for a better
world, I should be quite disgusted with this one.
_Paris, January 30, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand's foot gives him pain,
and the worst of it is the difficulty of finding out whether the pain
is the result of the sprain or the general weakness of the foot;
otherwise he is calm, with people always about him, and plays his game
of whist every evening.
I was with the Queen this evening, who had received the sad news that
morning of the burning of the palace in Gotha in which her daughter,
Princesse Marie, was living. Princesse Marie nearly lost her life, and
has lost much valuable property, albums, portraits, books, her
diaries, in fact everything. Her diamonds are melted out of the
settings, which are mere lumps of metal; the large stones alone
resisted the heat, and these must be repolished. And then many
precious objects which money cannot replace have gone. This first
cloud which overshadows her young happiness is especially cruel,
because it raises distrust and destroys the sense of future security.
It is a real grief to the Queen, the more so as the shock might have
done the Princess some harm, as she is with child.
_Paris, February 1, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is anxious about the
state of his leg and the consequent change necessitated in his mode of
life. I wish his foot would get strong enough to allow him to get
into a carriage, but he cannot yet put enough weight upon it to mount.
Want of fresh air and exercise, if this continues, may have serious
consequences. Meanwhile he is not alone for a single moment from ten
o'clock in the morning till after midnight.
Lady Clanricarde came to lunch with me yesterday. In a few days she is
returning to her dear England, of which I think daily with deep
regret. I knew all that I was losing when I left it, and I have at any
rate counted the cost.
_Paris, February 2, 1838._--The state of M. de Talleyrand's leg is
pretty much the same, though it was slightly less swollen yesterday.
He is rather despondent, and, I think, too far-sighted not to realise
all the possible ill-results. I cannot say how despondent I feel and
what a weight is upon my mind.
_Paris, February 3, 1838._--Yesterday was M. de Talleyrand's birthday,
and he is now eighty-four. Fortunately his leg has seemed much better
during the last day or two. This fact was the best birthday present he
could have, or I either.
_Paris, February 5, 1838._--My sister collected some Austrians and
Italians yesterday evening at her house, and engaged a band of
Neapolitan musicians who are here. She got them to sing some of their
national airs, which are very pretty. M. de Talleyrand was carried up
to my sister's rooms, and played his game there. His leg improves in
appearance, but the sprained foot is weak and painful. I do not know
if he will ever be able to walk again. If he could only get into a
carriage! His inability to get fresh air makes me anxious.
He is sad and worried. Strange to say, he has expressed a wish to make
the acquaintance of the Abbé Dupanloup, and has asked me to invite him
to dinner on my birthday. I did so at once. The Abbé at first accepted
and then refused. I suspect the Archbishop's hand in this. I shall see
him to-morrow and get an explanation. When M. de Talleyrand heard that
the Abbé had refused he said: "He has less intelligence than I
thought, for he ought to be anxious to come here for my sake and his
own." These words have impressed me and increased my vexation with the
Abbé's refusal.
_Paris, February 7, 1838._--Yesterday, in spite of the keen cold, I
went to the Archbishop, who was very gracious. He gave me, for St.
Dorothea's Day, my birthday, which was yesterday, a splendid copy of
the _Imitation of Jesus Christ_, and another for M. de Talleyrand; for
my sister a portrait of Leo XII., the Pope who had received his
renunciation, and for Pauline a handsome religious work. He was
greatly surprised and vexed that the Abbé Dupanloup had refused to
dine with us; in short, I came away quite satisfied.
I was still more pleased at the way in which M. de Talleyrand accepted
the Archbishop's present and listened to my account of our
conversation. He would like the Archbishop to use his authority to
induce the Abbé Dupanloup to come here. I cannot help ascribing his
excellent frame of mind to my own feelings in my last illness, and to
the words which I was then able to speak to him. I bless God for the
sign that He has been pleased to send me by His hidden and always
admirable means of working and if to complete this great task I should
have to make a yet greater sacrifice I shall readily do so.
_Paris, February 9, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand went out yesterday for
the first time for a drive, which did him good, or, more correctly,
pleased him. The effects of his sprain are rapidly passing away, but
the same is not true of the general condition of his foot, which is
unsatisfactory. He was carried into the carriage and helped out again,
which was not so difficult as I thought, but this obvious infirmity is
painful to look at--more painful than I can say. Rumours are believed
that the Duchesse d'Orléans is with child; however, I think we shall
have to wait a little before the story can be confirmed.
_Paris, February 10, 1838._--It is said that the quarrel between the
Flahauts and General Baudrand will be settled, but I do not think
permanently.[85] Madame de Flahaut comes to see M. de Talleyrand in
the evenings, and her husband every morning; they are kind and
gracious, as threatened people are.
[85] M. de Flahaut and General Baudrand were in constant rivalry
with one another. They were continually quarrelling about their
official duties in attendance upon the Duc d'Orléans, and in
February 1838 they were intriguing to be sent to the coronation
of Queen Victoria.
M. Royer-Collard, whom I saw yesterday for a moment, was delighted to
find that his speeches the other day had shattered the position which
people wished the Deputies to resume. There was some friction between
us on this occasion. There is too strong a strain of bitterness in his
nature, which sometimes makes him quite mischievous, though he does
not know it.
_Paris, February 11, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand was able to visit Madame
Adélaïde yesterday, the chief event of his day, and therefore of mine.
The event of to-day is the snow, which is falling heavily and
incessantly, and brings us back to the middle of the winter.
The Abbé Dupanloup came to see me yesterday, and paid a long call. I
was quite satisfied with the result, and he will dine with us in a
week.
We also had some people to dinner; the whole of the Albuféra family,
the Thiers, the Flahauts; and some people come in every evening.
_Paris, February 15, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is very busy with a
small laudatory speech upon M. Reinhard which he proposes to deliver
at the Academy of Moral and Political Science at the beginning of next
month. He is taking trouble with it, and spent several hours over it
yesterday.
The Baudrand and Flahaut business is not yet concluded. Claims,
hesitations, and equivocations have been forthcoming from either side,
with the result that the two rivals have become ridiculously bitter,
and, what is worse, the Prince Royal has been involved.
_Paris, February 23, 1838._--We are still in the midst of cold and
snow.
The Duc de Nemours has had a sore throat, which threatened to become
quinsy, but his indisposition has not postponed any of the Court
festivities, and the day before yesterday he was present at the
Queen's ball.
M. de Talleyrand has a cold and his legs are weak. These are his two
weak points. The former is only a transitory trouble; the other,
though its remote consequences may be serious, is not threatening at
present. Such is the true state of affairs.
_Paris, February 25, 1838._--I was informed early this morning that M.
de Talleyrand was suffering from a kind of suffocation. This was
purely due to outward circumstances, for he had slipped down in his
bed and was practically buried by his vast bedclothes, with the result
that a kind of nightmare was the consequence. I have just left him
sleeping peaceably in an armchair. What I do not like is the fact that
for the last two days he has been more or less feverish, and that he
will eat nothing or very little for fear of increasing the fever. He
is very weak. The absence of Dr. Cruveilhier, who is at Limoges, is
also a trouble, and though I feel no immediate anxiety, I am far from
confident concerning the result of this invalid condition, which seems
to point to a general break-up.
_Paris, March 3, 1838._--In two hours M. de Talleyrand is going to the
Academy in cold and most unpleasant rain; I also fear the effect of
the excitement upon him. There will be a large audience, but no women,
as this Academy will not admit them. I hope that to-day will go off
well, but I wish it were to-morrow.
_Paris, March 4, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand is very agitated and very
weak this morning. He made a great effort, and whatever his success, I
fear he will have to pay dearly for it. His success was beyond my
expectation; the accounts of some fifty people who besieged my room
after the session leave me no doubt upon that point. He had recovered
his vocal powers, read excellently well, walked about, seemed younger
and entirely himself, and two hours afterwards he was overthrown and
incapable of making an effort. I do not know what the newspapers will
have to say of the speech, but if anything can disarm them I think it
should be the fact that a man at such an age and with so full a past
should display such energy in delivering in public farewells so noble
and so full of justice and good teaching.[86]
[86] For the speech of M. de Talleyrand _see_ Appendix.
_Paris, March 5, 1838._--The day has gone off better than I expected
for M. de Talleyrand. The _Journal Général de France_, which is a
Doctrinaire organ, contained the best, cleverest, and pleasantest
article upon M. de Talleyrand's speech. Some ascribed it to M. Doudan,
others to M. Villemain. The article in the _Débats_ was kind, but
dull; that of the _Journal de Paris_ good; of the _Charte_ stupid and
badly written; the _Gazette de France_ fairly good; the _Siècle_ and
the _Presse_ insignificant; the _National_ of no account. Against my
custom, which has been not to open a single newspaper since my return
from the country, I read them all yesterday, and shall do the same
to-day; then I shall resume my state of ignorance.
_Paris, March 6, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had a fainting fit yesterday
before dinner. I think it was due to the excessively rigorous methods
of his dieting and to the catarrh of his chest and stomach, which
takes away his appetite. The blister which will be placed upon him
will relieve him, I hope. Yesterday's newspapers were not equally
satisfactory concerning his speech, but he was not disturbed on that
account, for the intelligent and right-minded members of his audience
have been really pleased. The house is constantly full of people
coming to congratulate him. M. Royer-Collard said to me yesterday: "M.
de Talleyrand has solemnly disavowed the unpleasant incidents of his
life and publicly glorified the good and really useful parts of it."
_Paris, March 7, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had no further attacks of
faintness yesterday, but he does not look well, and I think him much
changed. I hear that his brother, the Duc de Talleyrand, my
father-in-law, is also in a very poor state of health; the Vicomtesse
de Laval is feverish with a bad cold and she cannot sleep. This is
all very sad, and these omens of death depress me greatly.
_Paris, March 8, 1838._--M. de Talleyrand had a better day yesterday.
We take great care of him: when I came back from a dinner given to my
sister by the Stackelbergs, and from the Queen, to whom I went
afterwards, I found him surrounded by fair ladies and in pretty good
spirits.
In the morning I took Pauline to ask offerings from the Archbishop. My
sister wished to accompany us, so that I was unable to speak with M.
de Quélen.
The Flahaut party have lost all touch with the Pavillon Marsan, except
the good graces of the Prince Royal, which they seem to be
monopolising. At the Pavillon de Flore there is a general satisfaction
at their departure, notwithstanding many fine phrases. The Flahauts do
not understand the truth, and throw the blame upon a Doctrinaire
intrigue, to which the Duc de Coigny is said to have lent his help.
They are soon starting for England, where I think they will make a
pretty long stay.
_Paris, March 10, 1838._--The Abbé Dupanloup came to see me yesterday.
He then asked to see M. de Talleyrand, to thank him for the copy of
his speech which he had sent him. Pauline took him there. He stayed
alone for twenty minutes with M. de Talleyrand, who did not open the
subject directly, but let some kind words fall, and when the Abbé came
back to my room he seemed to feel some hope. In any case, he has shown
great discretion and perfect tact, and I think he is entirely right.
He was the first to suggest that he should take his leave, and was
told that he would gladly be seen again. This is all excellent,
provided we are given time. It is not so much a case of illness as of
general depression and an obvious alteration in his features; but with
such a mind one cannot be hasty. What a task it is, and how terrified
I should be of it if I did not tell myself that the most unworthy
instrument which God is pleased to choose can become more powerful
than the greatest saint, if God's providence is not pleased to make
use of him!
_Paris, March 11, 1838._--The English Ministry has triumphantly
survived the crisis which was thought likely to become its overthrow.
Will ours pass equally well through next week's crisis, the question
of the secret service funds? Many batteries have been laid in position
against it, and a silent agitation is proceeding on all sides. It is
said that either extremity of the Chamber will direct a converging
fire upon the Ministerial benches, I suppose with the object of
afterwards shooting one another down upon the field of battle. It is
all very distressing.
_Paris, March 14, 1838._--I spent two hours yesterday with the
Archbishop. I was better pleased with his sentiments than with his
decisions. However, everything has been left for his meditation. He
asked me to write and tell him what I thought, and I hope, with the
grace of God, Who will cast light here and there, to reach some
satisfactory conclusion, both for those who are to leave us and for
those destined to continue their pilgrimage.
On leaving the Archbishop I went to the Vicomtesse de Laval, who is
weak and shaken in health, but alert in heart and mind.
On my return I found M. de Talleyrand depressed and uneasy; he
recovered his spirits after a talk with me. The last few days he has
eaten a little better. In the evening he was not so weak, and I have
just heard that he had a quiet night. I am swayed incessantly between
hope and despair, but supported by the sense that I am useful, and
perhaps even necessary. If my strength is to fail me, I trust that it
may last to the end of my task, after which the sacrifice will have
been made, as I made it during my illness at Rochecotte.
_Paris, March 15, 1838._--Yesterday I accompanied my sister, who
wished to go once more before her departure to the Chamber of
Deputies. I felt greatly bored. M. Molé spoke very well; M. Barthe was
unbearably superficial; M. Guizot gave us the most wearisome of all
his sermons; M. Passy was coarse without being clever; M. Odilon
Barrot was very clever and witty, and left neither Thiers nor Berryer
anything to say, but his delivery is so oratorical and so badly
sustained that it is hard work to listen to him. On the whole the
honours of the session remained with M. Molé; or, to speak more
accurately, if the Ministry gained nothing its adversary lost a great
deal, which amounts to the same thing at the present moment.
_Paris, March 16, 1838._--I took Pauline yesterday to mass, to the
sermon, and to the salutation, after which she made her collection.
Two funerals interrupted the collection, preventing any one from
coming out, and they were also delayed by a driving rain, so that we
remained standing at the church door for an interminable time.
However, the sermon of the Abbé de Ravignan,[87] concerning
indifference in religion and its various causes, pleased me greatly,
and if it is not one of the best sermons I have read, it is at any
rate one of the best that I have ever heard.
[87] The Abbé de Ravignan had taken the place of Lacordaire in
the pulpit of Notre-Dame.
M. Molé, who was dining here, said that this morning in the Chamber,
during the formation of the official bodies, the alliance between men
who were enemies a few months ago was notorious.
_Paris, March 17, 1838._--I spent a long time yesterday morning at the
Seminary of Saint-Nicolas-du-Chardonnet, of which the Abbé Dupanloup
is the superior. The good Abbé pleased me greatly, and also expressed
his satisfaction with the little document which I showed him.[88]
[88] The reference is to the letter which the Prince de
Talleyrand wrote to Rome retracting the errors of his life, which
had incurred the censure of the Church.
In another month we shall have a new poem by M. de Lamartine, called
_L'Ange déchu_,[89] then the _Mélanges littéraires_, by M. Villemain,
and a work by M. de Chateaubriand on the Congress of Verona; in short,
enough reading for the whole summer.
[89] Better known under the title of _La Chute d'un Ange_ (_The
Fallen Angel_), the opening of the poem called _Jocelyn_.
M. de Talleyrand says that on May 1 he will go to his estate of Pont
de Sains, in Flanders, stay there for the summer, travel to Nice by
easy stages, starting on September 1, and return to Valençay in the
month of May 1839. Such extensive projects are decidedly rash, and it
is unreasonable for him to expose himself to the damp of Flanders
after May 1. I tell him so and trust to Providence.
The motto, or rather the conclusion of a letter, which I find in an
old book seems to me very pretty: "Be with God." I have adopted it.
_Paris, March 22, 1838._--Princesse Marie, who has been here since the
19th, nearly had a miscarriage yesterday, as the result of too long a
drive; while the Duchesse d'Orléans can only avoid one by remaining in
her long chair.
M. de Rumigny, our ambassador at Turin, has brought a foolish dispute
upon himself--a personal quarrel with the King over a matter of
etiquette. Complaints concerning him have come to hand. It is the most
foolish business conceivable, as it is all about the black or white
headdresses worn by the women. Sardinian etiquette allows the Queen
alone to wear them. How absurd it all is!
A coalition between MM. Thiers and Guizot seems likely, but there is
such an outcry against this combination that either party is
embarrassed, and it will probably come to nothing. M. Guizot in
particular is experiencing the evil results of it, because his
reputation is suffering greatly, and upon that, rather than upon his
talent, he regarded his importance to be based. The fact is that
notwithstanding all that has been said on either side in the speeches
which closed last session and the discussions that have filled the
interval there is something too abrupt in this alliance, which M.
Royer-Collard calls an impious coalition.
There is much talk of a journey to be made by the King to Nantes and
Bordeaux for the month of June, which would bring us back to Berry and
towards Touraine. Hitherto M. de Talleyrand contemplated only Pont de
Sains, a calamitous idea.
_Paris, March 25, 1838._--Yesterday I defied an equinoctial storm to
go and see the Archbishop. By degrees we came to an agreement, in the
terms of the letter, and I hope that we shall arrive at some useful
result, but we require time and the help of outward circumstances
which do not depend on us and must be asked from a greater Power than
ourselves. In any case, if heaven can be importuned by the prayers of
earth, the petitions sent up on this subject should be efficacious.
_Paris, March 28, 1838._--Yesterday I had a most important
conversation with M. de Talleyrand, and found him in a state of
open-mindedness which seemed miraculous. I now hope to be able to push
steadily forward, and though the goal is still far away I trust that
no precipice will form an obstacle to my progress.
Death comes upon people here in a terrifying way; M. Alexis de Rougé
was carried off in twelve hours by a sudden stroke of apoplexy. His
loss has thrown many people into great grief.
I have called upon Madame Adélaïde, where I heard all the nice things
that the Duchess of Würtemberg is saying about Germany. The Duchesse
d'Orléans feels that her child has quickened, and I think that her
condition will be publicly announced in a few days.
They say that the young Queen of England gallops down the streets of
London through all the omnibuses and cabs. Her old aunts think this is
very shocking, and so it is.
In the English Parliament there is a coalition no less astounding than
that of MM. Thiers and Guizot; Lord Brougham and Lord Lyndhurst have
joined hands.
_Paris, April 1, 1838._--Yesterday I went with my sister to the court
of the Louvre to see the bronze statue which is to be sent off in a
few days to Turin and is on exhibition for the moment. It is a statue
of Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy after the battle of Saint-Quentin,
pulling up his horse and putting his sword into its sheath. It is the
work of Marochetti, a delightful thing, full of grace, nobility, and
life. I was very pleased with it, and it seems to have met with the
general approval.
_Paris, April 3, 1838._--Yesterday I gave M. de Talleyrand the little
document which I had drawn up for him. The incident passed over
without a storm. I suppose that he will have read and digested it
yesterday evening, and I shall see to-day whether the horizon is
clouded.
_Paris, April 4, 1838._--The little document was entirely successful.
Yesterday I took my sister to Saint-Roch to hear the Abbé de Ravignan,
who pleased her greatly. He has a fine face, a beautiful voice, an
excellent delivery, faith, conviction, warmth, authority, a close and
vigorous style of argument, couched in clear and noble language, with
a precise choice of words. He is not prolix and never diffuse. He
lacks unction and his teaching is therefore rather doctrinal than
evangelical, so that his talent had full scope as he was preaching on
the infallibility of the Church.
M. de Pimodan, a great Legitimist, who was giving his arm to one of
the lady collectors, insolently blocked the Queen's passage; the
vicar, the Abbé Olivier, who was accompanying her to the door, and who
is a little thick-set man, strong as a Turk, vigorously elbowed M. de
Pimodan to move him out of the way; he flew into a rage, and rudely
asked the _curé_ what he meant by shoving him. The Abbé calmly
replied: "I meant, sir, to make room for the Queen"; upon which the
gentleman muttered some very insolent remarks, which passed unnoticed.
The Princesse de Bauffremont, who was to be one of the lady
collectors, heard the evening before that Madame de Vatry was also to
perform this duty. There were six of these ladies, chosen from
different circles of Parisian society, in order to untie as many
purse-strings as possible. The Princess then said that she would not
be seen in company with the daughter of M. Hamguerlot, and withdrew.
Was ever such false pride or want of charity?
_Paris, April 8, 1838._--The general attention was occupied by the
session in the Chamber of Peers yesterday. The speech of M. de Brigode
which was delivered the evening before had made every one alert, and
the active part taken by the Duc de Broglie in this discussion seems
to be an event, and is connected with the hostile movement and the
impious alliance in the Chamber of Deputies. The Ministry made an
excellent reply to the attacks of MM. de Broglie and Villemain. M.
Pasquier, who is angry at an attempt to limit his powers, made a very
bad President. The Ministry is anxious concerning Easter week.
* * * * *
The Duc de Talleyrand, younger brother of the Prince de Talleyrand,
died on April 28, 1838. The Duc and Duchesse de Dino then inherited
his title, which they afterwards bore. The following 17th of May the
Prince de Talleyrand died in his turn, after four days' illness.
* * * * *
The following letter was written on May 10, 1838, but was placed at
this point of the Memoirs by the author herself.
_A letter addressed by the Duchesse de Talleyrand to the Abbé
Dupanloup with reference to the latter's account of the last
moments of the Prince de Talleyrand._
"I have read with profound emotion, M. l'Abbé, as you may be sure, the
valuable manuscript which I now beg to return to you.[90]
[90] The manuscript in question was an account of the last
moments of the Prince de Talleyrand, written by the Abbé
Dupanloup, afterwards Bishop of Orleans. The author never printed
it, and bequeathed it, with all his papers concerning the Prince
de Talleyrand, to M. Hilaire de Lacombe, who sent them to the
Abbé Lagrange, afterwards Bishop of Chartres. He only used them
for purposes of frequent quotation in the life of the Bishop
Dupanloup, which he wrote some years ago, and two chapters of
which are devoted to M. de Talleyrand. These papers are now in
the possession of M. Bernard de Lacombe. The letter of the
Duchesse de Talleyrand, transcribed in this volume, is reproduced
here, although I have already published it in _Le Temps_ of April
30, 1908.
"Everything is related with a truth and simplicity which must, I
think, touch the hearts of the most indifferent and convince the most
sceptical. I have nothing to add to your account, which perfectly
describes all the incidents of the sad event unfortunately
accomplished before our eyes. But perhaps I alone am able to point out
the course of mental development which for some years had certainly
begun to modify M. de Talleyrand's feelings. It was a gradual process,
and there is a certain interest in following its slow but sincere
growth, as it eventually led him in so consoling a manner to his goal.
"I will therefore try to retrace my recollections of this matter, and
I think I shall not go back too far if I begin with my daughter's
first communion, which took place at London on March 31, 1834. On that
day she came to ask for the blessing of M. de Talleyrand, whom she
called her good uncle. He gave it her tenderly, and then said to me:
'How touching is the piety of a young girl, and how unnatural is
unbelief, especially in women.' However, a short time after our return
to France M. de Talleyrand was alarmed by the strength of my
daughter's feelings. He was afraid that she might be taught to
mistrust him, or to form unfavourable opinions of him, and even asked
me to find out from what point of view Pauline's confessor treated the
subject. I put the question directly to my daughter, who replied with
that candour which you yourself know, that as her uncle did not
involve her in any sin she never spoke of him to her confessor, who
only mentioned him in advising her to pray to God earnestly for him.
M. de Talleyrand was touched by this answer, and said to me: 'Such
conduct is that of an intelligent and deserving man.'
"From that time he was anxious that Pauline should have more
opportunities for attending church, and even go some distance from
home to receive the benefit of your wise direction; he used to offer
her the use of his carriage, and I have sometimes seen him go to
personal inconvenience for the advantage of his 'little girl.'
"Eventually he derived a certain self-esteem on account of Pauline's
religious earnestness, and seemed to be flattered that she should have
been so well brought up under his own eyes; he would often say, in
speaking of Pauline, 'She is the angel of the house.' He took great
pleasure, as all good minds do, in declaring the merits of others. No
one could give praise more gracefully, with greater moderation,
advantage, and propriety; any one who was mentioned or criticised by
him received all the credit that could be his due. Upon occasions he
would certainly utter words of blame, but only at rare intervals, and
never with such direct force as when he praised. He was especially
lenient towards ecclesiastics, and if he disapproved of them it was
only for political reasons, and never on account of their religious
ministrations, while he always expressed himself with great
moderation. He both respected and admired the ancient Church of
France, of which he spoke as a great, a fine, and a magnificent
institution. In his house I have seen cardinals, bishops, and simple
village pastors; all were received with infinite respect, and became
the objects of tactful attention. An inappropriate word was never
uttered before them; M. de Talleyrand would never have allowed
anything of the kind. I have seen the Bishop of Rennes (the Abbé
Mannay) spend months at Valençay and the Bishop of Evreux (the Abbé
Bourlier) stay at M. de Talleyrand's residence in Paris with the same
purity and freedom of conduct and enjoying the same respect as in
their dioceses. Towards his uncle, the late Cardinal of Périgord, M.
de Talleyrand was a tender, attentive, and deferential nephew. He was
often to be seen at the Archbishop's house, where he was especially
fond of a talk with the Abbé Desjardins, whom he liked for the
gentleness and the wide range and tact of his conversation.
"I have often been astonished at the unconstraint of my uncle's
bearing in the society of ecclesiastics, which I can only explain by
supposing that he was under a delusion, strange, but real and
long-lasting, concerning his actual position with reference to the
Church. He was quite aware that he had dealt the Church a blow, but he
thought that the process of secularisation which he had unduly
stimulated had been one of simplification rather than of
destruction.[91] As his position thus seemed to him pretty clearly
defined, he regarded it as easy. This mistake lasted as long as his
political life, and only after his retirement did he think of defining
more exactly his relations with the Papacy. But before this time a
vague instinct made him feel that if, in his opinion, he did not
exactly owe any reparation, he owed at least some consolation to those
whom he had saddened. He therefore was ready to support the interests
of the clergy upon every occasion, and never refused an alms either to
a priest in distress or to a beggar, but tacitly recognised the claims
of both upon him. His charity was great, and I gave him much pleasure
by repeating to him a remark made by a most estimable person, which
was as follows: 'You may set your mind at rest; M. de Talleyrand will
come to a good end, for he is charitable.' I was able to remind him of
this saying at the most solemn hour of his life, as you, M. l'Abbé,
may remember, and remember, also, what consolation he derived from it.
He was always deeply grateful to those in retirement from the world
and in convents who prayed for him. He never forgot it, and used to
say: 'I have some friends among the good souls.' His heart was touched
because he was a good man, a very good man indeed; he felt this
himself when he used to ask me: 'Am I not really better than I am
thought to be?' Certainly he was better than he was thought; only his
neighbours, his friends, and his servants could appreciate the extent
of his simple kindness, his attention, his love, and his loyalty. You
have seen our tears. The good-hearted alone are thus lamented.
[91] M. de Talleyrand had spoken strongly in favour of the
Concordat. The Pope was aware of the fact, and on March 10, 1802,
addressed a Papal letter to him which authorised him to re-enter
civil life, though expressed in somewhat vague terms.
"After his return from England he was twice strongly impressed with
salutary effect by the Christian death of the Duc de Dalberg and by
the religious habits which characterised the latter part of the life
of Dr. Bourdois, his contemporary, his friend, and his doctor. He was
grateful to Dr. Bourdois for entrusting him to the clever hands of M.
Cruveilhier; he had confidence in his skill, and felt himself honoured
to be so well attended by so religious a man. The earnestness of his
doctor seemed to be regarded by him as an additional guarantee.
"Pope Pius VII. was always the object of his veneration; he devoted
several pages of his memoirs to the struggle between this Pope and the
Emperor Napoleon, and his view of the matter was entirely to the
advantage of the Pope. He had a strong admiration for the policy of
the Papacy as clever, quiet, gentle, and always uniform, which
qualities he regarded as of first-rate importance in the conduct of
business.
"Throughout the pontificate of Pius VII. my uncle thought himself in
fairly good odour at Rome. In support of this conviction he often
quoted to me a remark by the holy Father with reference to himself.
The Pope was then at Fontainebleau, and was speaking to the Marquise
de Brignole, a friend of M. de Talleyrand, and said, referring to my
uncle: 'May God rest his soul; for my part, I have a great affection
for him.'
"M. de Talleyrand was well aware that I often had the honour of seeing
the Archbishop of Paris, and he had guessed that our intercourse was
actuated by one principal idea as far as M. de Quélen was
concerned--the desire to preserve his relations with my uncle. M. de
Talleyrand was never worried by him; on the contrary; and though
several letters addressed by the Archbishop of Paris to M. de
Talleyrand at different times failed to achieve their object, he was
none the less touched by the enduring interest he had inspired in a
prelate whose character he honoured and whose sincere zeal and
open-mindedness he appreciated. He also showed much interest in M. de
Quélen and his political position, which he would like to have been
able to render easier. Upon several occasions I have seen him attempt
to do him some service, by advice which he thought useful, or by
speaking warmly in his favour at any other time. This he did not
merely from love of truth, but also as a testimony to the memory of
the late Cardinal Périgord. He often said: 'I look upon M. de Quélen
as a legacy from my uncle, the Cardinal. He likes us and our name and
everything connected with the Cardinal.' On New Year's Day he used to
instruct me to leave his card at the Archbishop's house, saying, 'We
should always treat him as a grandparent.' He never saw me start upon
a visit to Saint-Michel or to the Sacré Cœur[92] without asking me
to give his respects to the Archbishop. When I came back he used to
ask me for news of him and whether his own name had been mentioned,
and what M. de Quélen had said of him. He would listen attentively to
my answers, smile, and say at length: 'Yes, yes, I know that he is
very anxious to win my soul and to offer it to the Cardinal.' Up to
his last year these remarks were never uttered very seriously, but
with great kindliness.
[92] The Archbishop de Quélen, who was out of sympathy with the
Government of 1830, was threatened in 1831 by an insurrection
which pillaged the Archbishop's residence in Paris. As he then
had no official residence, he took refuge first in the Convent of
the Ladies of St. Michel of Paris, and then in that of the Ladies
of the Sacré Cœur at Conflans, a short distance outside the
town.
"On December 10, 1838, I received very early notice of the death of
the Princesse de Talleyrand. I was obliged to announce the news to my
uncle, and I was most reluctant to do so, for it was just at this time
that he was attacked by violent palpitations which made us fear a
sudden death. Excitement above all was to be avoided, and I was afraid
that this news might cause him some agitation. But it was not so, and
he immediately replied calmly in words which much surprised me: 'That
greatly simplifies my position.' At the same moment from the pocket of
his dressing-jacket he drew out some letters and told me to read them.
The first was written by a religious lady at the Sacré Cœur; M. de
Talleyrand had known her well in past years, had done her some
service, and always called her his old friend; she was Madame de
Marbœuf. In this letter she spoke to him of God, and sent him a
medal, which he always used to wear, and which to-day becomes yours.
"The second letter was sent to him by a clergyman near Gap, who was
entirely unknown to him, and who spoke of God with admirable and
touching simplicity.
"Finally, the third letter, inspired by the warmest faith,
open-mindedness, reason, and sincere interest, boldly touched upon my
uncle's religious position. He wrote a few lines to the Duchesse
Mathieu de Montmorency to thank her for it, and constantly carried
this letter about with him in a little pocket-book, where I found it
after his death. He often spoke of it, and of the noble and
unfortunate lady who had written it, and always with warmth and
respect.
"He also knew that one of my cousins, Madame de Chabannes, a nun of
the Grandes Carmélites at Paris, constantly prayed for him; he was
touched by the fact, and would say to me, when speaking of these pious
people: 'The good souls will not despair of me.' I know nothing so
gentle or so loving as this saying of his, which showed that he had no
fear that God would abandon him.
"In the case of any one who knew him as well as I did, attempts to
urge him too rapidly along this path would have been tactless. It was,
indeed, necessary to give these various impressions time to develop,
and with him nothing was done quickly; his trust in time was infinite,
and it was faithful to him unto death.
"Whenever I spoke to my uncle of his marriage, as I often did, I was
not afraid so show him my surprise at a mistake as inexplicable as it
was fatal in the eyes of God. He then replied: 'The truth is that I
cannot give you a satisfactory explanation of it; it was done at a
time of general disturbance, when people attached no great importance
to anything, to themselves, or to others; there was no society and no
family, and every one acted with complete carelessness in the midst of
wars and the fall of empires. You do not know how far astray men may
wander in periods of great social upheaval.' The same idea may be
found in his proposed declaration to the Pope, the original of which
is in my hands, when he wrote: 'This revolution which has swept
everything away and has continued for the last fifty years.'
"Thus you may see that not only did he make no attempt to justify his
marriage, but that he did not even try to explain it. His domestic
life had been very unhappy under the Empire and the Restoration, and
since that time I have always seen him embarrassed and ashamed of this
strange bond which he no longer wished to bear, but the painful chain
of which he could not entirely break; and when death broke it for him
he realised his deliverance to the full.
"Some time afterwards, in March 1836, one of his servants was attacked
by an illness which was soon declared mortal. My daughter induced the
man to see a priest and to receive the sacraments. M. de Talleyrand
knew of it, and expressed his satisfaction. On this occasion he said
to me: 'Any other procedure in our house would have been a scandal
which would certainly have caused unpleasant talk; I am delighted that
Pauline should have prevented it.' The same evening he related the
incident to Madame de Laval, and enlarged with satisfaction upon the
influence which Pauline exerted upon the whole house by her firm and
modest earnestness.
"In the spring of 1837 my uncle desired to leave Fontainebleau,
whither he had come for the marriage of the Duc d'Orléans, before the
Court had finished its stay. He told me to remain and to be present at
the great festival which the King gave at Versailles a few days later.
I rejoined him afterwards at Berry, where he had been anxious to go in
time to meet the Archbishop of Bourges at Valençay, who was passing
that way while making a tour of his diocese. I heard from Pauline that
M. de Talleyrand had shown special attention to the prelate, even to
the point of changing his personal customs. On Friday and Saturday he
had declined to have meat upon his table, and all the meals were
served as for a fast day.
"During the summer of the same year, 1837, the superior of the Sisters
of Saint-André, who were established at Valençay by the care of M. de
Talleyrand, came to inspect this community. He called at the Castle,
where he was asked to dinner. As we left the table M. de Talleyrand
said to me: 'I have an idea that the Abbé Taury is a member of the
community of Saint-Sulpice; go and ask him.' I brought back a reply in
the affirmative. 'I was sure of it,' he returned with satisfaction;
'there is a gentleness and reserve and a sense of propriety in the
members of that community which is quite unmistakable.'
"On Sundays and great festivals M. de Talleyrand was always present at
mass when he was at Valençay; on his two patron saints' days, St.
Charles and St. Maurice, he was also present, and would have felt hurt
if the vicar had not come to say mass at the Château. His behaviour in
chapel was entirely proper, and notwithstanding his infirmity he
would always kneel down at the right moment. If there was no mass, if
people came late or made a noise, he noticed it as being improper.
During mass he read attentively either the _Funeral Orations_ of
Bossuet or his _Discourse upon Universal History_. One Sunday,
however, in November 1837 he had forgotten his book, and took one of
the two which Pauline had brought for herself. It was the _Imitation
of Jesus Christ_. As he gave it back to her he turned to me and asked
me to give him a copy of this admirable book. I offered him mine,
which he afterwards took to mass in preference to any other.
"He regarded it as important that the officiating priest should
perform the service in full, and often quoted the Archbishop of Paris
as the ecclesiastic whose conduct of the service was most to his taste
and most dignified. One Sunday I ventured to tell him that during mass
my thoughts had wandered in his direction. He wished to know them, and
I ventured to tell him that I had been wondering what his thoughts
could be when he remembered that he too had held the same distinction
as the priest officiating before him. His reply seemed to me to be an
obvious proof of the delusion under which he was concerning his true
ecclesiastical position. He said: 'Why do you think it strange to see
me at mass? I go there as you do, or any one else. You are constantly
forgetting that I have resigned my orders, which fact makes my
position very simple.' At that time he wished to show me the letters
granting his resignation, but they were at Paris. After his death I
found them, with all the papers relating to this business, and very
curious they are. I examined them carefully; they showed me that his
marriage alone had been the great obstacle to his reconciliation with
the Church; his other offences had been pardoned and the
ecclesiastical censure removed at Paris by Cardinal Caprara in the
name of the Pope.
"I referred just now to the attention with which M. de Talleyrand used
to read Bossuet's _Discourse on Universal History_; this fact recalls
to my mind an incident which seemed to me remarkable. One day at
Valençay, I think in the year 1835, he asked me to come into his room.
I found him there reading. 'Come,' he said, 'I wish to show you how
mysteries should be spoken of; read aloud and read slowly.' I read the
following: "In the year 4000 of the world's history, Jesus Christ the
son of Abraham in time, the Son of God in eternity, was born of a
virgin.' 'Learn the passage by heart,' he said to me, 'and see with
what authority and what simplicity all mysteries may be concentrated
in these few lines. Thus and thus only it is proper to speak of holy
things. They are imposed upon us, but not explained to us. That fact
alone secures their acceptance; in other forms they are worthless, for
doubt begins when authority ends, and authority, tradition, and
dominion are only revealed sufficiently in a Catholic church.' He
always had something unpleasant to say about Protestantism; he had
seen it at close quarters in America, and had preserved a disagreeable
memory of it.
"In the month of December 1837 I felt seriously ill. We were then at
my house at Rochecotte, where, unfortunately, spiritual resources are
few. However, as I felt in some danger I wished to send for the local
clergyman. My uncle heard of it, and as I was getting well he showed
some surprise. 'So you have reached that point,' he said to me; 'and
how did you get there?' I told him as simply as I could, and he
listened with much interest. In conclusion I added that, among many
other serious considerations, I had not forgotten that of my social
position, which I was the more bound to remember in view of its
importance. He then interrupted me quickly and said: 'In truth there
is nothing less aristocratic than unbelief.' Two days afterwards he
re-opened a similar conversation of his own accord, made me go through
the same details, then looked at me steadily and said: 'You believe,
then?' 'Yes, sir,' I replied, 'firmly.'
"During our last stay together at Rochecotte he heard of the arrest of
the Archbishop of Cologne; he seemed to regard it as an important
event. 'This may give us back the line of the Rhine,' he said
immediately. 'In any case, it is a grain of Catholicism sown in
Europe; you will see it rise and grow vigorously.'
"At that time I came across a passage dealing with the limits of the
spiritual and temporal powers, which is to be found in the discourse
delivered by Fénelon at the consecration of the Archbishop of Cologne.
I showed this fine passage to my uncle, who was delighted with it, and
said: 'That should be copied and sent to the King of Prussia.'
"When we returned to Paris in the month of January 1838 M. de
Talleyrand was soon deprived of the little exercise which he had been
able hitherto to take. He sprained his foot at the English Embassy,
where he was dining, on January 27. The winter was very cold, and the
douching which was ordered for his sprained foot to restore its
strength gave him a cold. The cold became bronchitis, and he could not
sleep or eat. Every morning he used to complain of his harassing
insomnia. 'When one cannot sleep,' he said, 'one thinks terribly.'
Once he added: 'During these long nights I recall many events of my
life.' 'Can you give yourself reasons for them all?' I asked him.
'No,' he said; 'in truth there are some I do not understand in the
least; others that I can explain and excuse; and others, too, for
which I blame myself the more severely as they were performed with
extreme carelessness, though they have since been my chief cause of
self-reproach. If I had acted according to any system or principle,
then I should certainly understand them, but my actions were performed
without consideration and with the carelessness of that age, as was
almost everything done in our youth.' I told him that it was
preferable, in my opinion, to have acted thus than as a result of
false doctrine. He admitted that I was right.
"It was at the end of one of these conversations that your letter
arrived, M. l'Abbé, the letter that you quote in your interesting
narrative. He handed it to me to read, and said somewhat abruptly: 'If
I were to fall seriously ill, I should ask for a priest. Do you think
the Abbé Dupanloup would come?' 'I have no doubt of it,' I replied;
'but he could only be of any use to you if you re-entered the
communion from which you have unfortunately departed.' 'Yes,' he
replied, 'I owe something to Rome, I know well, and have thought of it
for a long time.' 'For how long?' I asked him, surprised, I admit, at
this unexpected beginning. 'Since the last visit of the Archbishop of
Bourges to Valençay, and afterwards when the Abbé Taury came there. I
then wondered why the Archbishop, who at that time was more directly
my spiritual pastor, did not open the subject. Why did the apostle of
Saint-Sulpice never speak to me?' 'Unfortunately,' I replied, 'they
would not have dared.' 'Yet,' he said, 'I would have welcomed anything
of the kind.' Deeply moved by such satisfactory words, I took his
hand, and, standing before him with tears in my eyes, I said: 'Why
wait for any one to open the question? Why not take for yourself
spontaneously, freely, and nobly the step that is at once most
honourable to yourself, most consoling to the Church and to all
right-minded people? I am sure that you would find Rome well disposed,
while the Archbishop of Paris is deeply attached to you; so make the
trial.' He did not interrupt me, and I was able to go further into
this delicate and even thorny question, though it was a question that
I thoroughly understood, as it had been repeatedly explained to me by
M. de Quélen, who had been anxious to make me realise all its
bearings. We were interrupted before I had been able to say all I
wished, but on going to my room I wrote M. de Talleyrand a long letter
under stress of my deep devotion. He read it with that trustfulness
with which he was accustomed to rely upon my instinct when his
reputation and his real interest was at stake. So my letter made an
impression upon him, though he did not tell me so until later, when he
gave me a paper for M. de Quélen, of which I will speak afterwards.
"In the month of March 1838 he read a eulogy upon M. Reinhard at the
Academy of Moral and Political Science. His doctor feared the effect
upon him of such an enterprise. Our attempts to dissuade him were in
vain. 'This is my last appearance in public,' he said, 'and nothing
shall keep me back.' He was anxious to use the opportunity for
explaining his political doctrines and for showing that they were
those of an honest man. He even hoped that he would be thus of some
use to those who proposed to follow a diplomatic career. The evening
before the meeting he went over his speech with me, and said: 'The
religion of duty; that will please the Abbé Dupanloup.' When we
reached the passage concerning theological study I interrupted him to
say: 'Admit that that is intended much rather for yourself than for
good M. Reinhard.' 'Why, certainly,' he replied, 'there is no harm in
letting the public see my point of departure.' 'I am delighted,' I
said, 'to see you overshadowing the end of your life with the
recollections and traditions of your early youth.' 'I was sure you
would be pleased with it,' was his kindly reply.
"M. de Talleyrand bore the strain of this fatiguing meeting, where he
was successful in every way, remarkably well. From the point of view
of literature and politics he was successful, and also as a nobleman
and an honest man. When he returned home he at once sent the first
proofs of his speech to M. de Quélen and to you. He expected your
approval, and was touched by it.
"Then his health seemed to improve; he recovered his strength, made
plans for travel, and talked of Nice for the following winter; he felt
his powers reviving, and noticed it with pleasure. On April 28,
however, when he heard of his brother's death, who was eight years
younger than himself, he put his hands before his eyes and said:
'Another warning, my dear child. Do you know whether my brother
recovered his memory before death?' 'Unfortunately not, sir,' I said.
He then resumed with extreme sadness: 'How dreadful it is thus to fall
from the most worldly life into dotage, and from dotage into death!'
"This painful shock did not check the improvement in his health, and
we were able to think that he had been restored to life. I am the more
careful to observe that this was the moment, when all idea of an
approaching death was far away, when he chose to undertake seriously
the project of submission to the Pope. He drew up a form of
declaration without saying anything to me of it, a kind of pleasant
surprise which he wished to keep for me. One day, when he saw me ready
to go to Conflans to M. de Quélen, he drew from the drawer of his
desk, the desk at which I am now writing, a sheet of paper covered on
both sides, with erasures at several points. 'Here,' he said, 'is
something which will secure you a hearty reception where you are
going. You shall tell me what the Archbishop thinks of it.' On my
return I told him that M. de Quélen deeply appreciated the paper, but
wished the statements there expressed to be presented in a more
canonical form, and intended to send him the ecclesiastical formula in
a few days.
"You know better than any one, sir, that thus the matter was actually
carried out. M. de Talleyrand also spoke to me on the same day of his
intention to write an explanatory letter to the Pope when sending him
the declaration. He went into full details, and insisted upon his
willingness to speak of Pauline in this letter. He ended by a saying
which seems to me of considerable importance: 'What I am to do should
be dated during the week of my speech to the Academy. I do not wish
people to be able to say that I was in my dotage.' This idea was
carried out upon his deathbed, and was performed as he wished.
"But here I must stop. Attractive as the subject may be, your
narrative contains full details. Moreover, during my uncle's illness I
was nothing more than his nurse, and my actions were confined to
summoning the consolations of your presence and to obeying my uncle by
reading to him the two addresses to Rome before he signed them. I
forced myself to read them slowly and seriously, because I neither
would nor could diminish in any way the merit of his action; it was
necessary that he should thoroughly understand what he was about to
do. His faculties were too clear, heaven be praised, and his attention
too concentrated, for any hurried or confused reading to have
satisfied him. It was for me to justify his touching confidence which
had induced him to wish this important reading to be performed by
myself, and only the firmness and clearness of my pronunciation could
satisfy this condition. He was to be left to the last moment in full
consciousness of his act and full freedom of his will. From this
difficult task I have derived the complete indifference with which I
have afterwards faced any doubts, attacks, or calumnies of which I
have been the object.
"I can say in the sight of God that there was no ignorance or weakness
on the part of M. de Talleyrand; there was no delusion and no abuse of
confidence on my part. His generous nature, the recollections of his
early youth, his family traditions, the wide experience of a long
career, the example of Pauline, some explanations which I was
instructed to give him, the confidence with which you were able to
inspire him, the revelation that comes to every man at the gate of the
tomb, and above all the infinite mercy of a gracious Providence--such
are the reasons which allow us to honour him as sincerely in his death
as we loved him in his life.
"Carried away by a subject which is near to my heart, I have
overstepped the limits which I had at first laid down, but I have no
fear that I have wearied you by recalling your attention to details
which I know you will value, and which for me have the special
advantage that they have established, M. l'Abbé, between us, a bond
which nothing can weaken or break.
"DUCHESSE DE TALLEYRAND,"
"PRINCESSE DE COURLANDE."
_Heidelberg, August 27, 1838._--I have been here with my daughter
since yesterday evening. My sister, the Duchesse de Sagan, arrived the
previous evening. This morning, at six o'clock, faithful to my habits
at Baden, I went out while my sister and daughter were still asleep,
and while recalling memories of the place I found the bridge and
stopped before the statue of the Elector Charles Theodore; I then
crossed the river and walked upon the banks of the Neckar for
three-quarters of an hour, with the town upon my left, dominated by
the old castle. The pretty landscape, with the river valley, the
position of the town, and even the style of the agriculture, reminded
me of the hillsides of Amboise and my dear Loire, and was pleasantly
lighted by the broken rays of a sun struggling through light clouds.
I now know who wrote the article upon M. de Talleyrand which appeared
in the _Gazette_ of Augsburg. My sister read it in manuscript. The
writer was the Minister Schulenburg, a clever man, who had seen a
great deal of M. de Talleyrand in past times. He is a friend of the
Vicomtesse de Laval, and saw M. de Talleyrand at her house once more
when he came to Paris eighteen months ago. He is anxious not to be
known as the author of this article.
_Paris, September 6, 1838._--I arrived here the day before yesterday,
and found a letter which told me that as M. Molé had refused to make
an alliance with M. Guizot, the latter had formed a coalition with M.
Thiers. M. Guizot will become President of the Chamber of Deputies and
M. Thiers Prime Minister. All this is to be revealed and settled
during the discussion upon the Address. I cannot guarantee this story.
The King is at Eu, and I shall not see the Court until I return.
I am just finishing the last work of Villemain.[93] The first chapter
of the second volume deals with Montesquieu; the second is a detailed
analysis of the _Esprit des Lois_, which is much too deep for me. The
following chapters summarise the bad philosophy of the eighteenth
century, as it appears in the mouths of its prophets, its votaries,
and its adversaries. The last part of the volume is devoted to
Rousseau, by whose charms Villemain seems too obviously to have been
overcome. I have no kindly feelings for Rousseau, for he was a
hypocrite, and Voltaire's cynicism is perhaps less disgusting; at any
rate, Voltaire was not guilty of so many positively bad actions as
Rousseau, and mere talent in itself is no justification for either
man.
[93] _The Eighteenth Century._
My children write from Valençay saying that the crowd at the funeral
ceremony was enormous.[94] Starting from Blois, the procession was
joined by the people of all the neighbouring settlements on foot, in
great sadness, while at night they came with torches. On the carriage
which bore the coffin of M. de Talleyrand and that of my
granddaughter, Yolande, were Hélie and Péan;[95] in the carriage which
followed was my son Alexandre. All the clergy of the district offered
their services. My son Valençay also sends me the programme of the
ceremony, which seems very well arranged; I especially approve of a
large distribution of charity to the poor, who should never be
forgotten, neither in joy nor sorrow.
[94] The funerals of the Prince de Talleyrand, of his brother,
the Duc de Talleyrand, and of the little Yolande de Périgord,
daughter of the Duc and Duchesse de Valençay, who died in
childhood, took place on September 6, 1838, at Valençay. The
three coffins were placed in a vault which the Prince de
Talleyrand had constructed during his lifetime.
[95] The Prince de Talleyrand's footmen.
Before starting, the coffin of M. de Talleyrand was covered with black
velvet, with silver nails, and bore an escutcheon with his arms, his
name and distinctions; the coffin of Yolande was covered with white
velvet. The arrival of the funeral procession in the Castle court at
Valençay, at ten o'clock at night in the most beautiful moonlight, is
said to have been extremely imposing; there was deep silence, broken
only by the sound of the hearse as it slowly passed the draw-bridge.
The bodies were placed for the night in the church, and watched by the
clergy in prayer. The coffin of the Duc de Talleyrand, accompanied by
the doctor who had attended him, arrived two hours later.
_Paris, September 7, 1838._--The Princesse de Lieven, whom I saw
yesterday, told me that she no longer receives any letters from her
husband. She examined me closely as to any information I might have
gained in Germany concerning her Emperor, whom I think she really
hates as much as the inhabitants of Warsaw can hate him. If, however,
she was once more within his grasp, or merely out of France, her
patriotism would be equal to that of any old Muscovite. She told me
that at Munich the Emperor Nicholas had displayed great exasperation
with the Russian Minister at the enormous expense to which he had gone
for the reception of the Empress, saying, "Do you wish, then, to
increase our unpopularity?" She spoke a great deal of the father's
carelessness with respect to his son's well-being. Apart from the
rapidity of their journey, and the scanty food which the father gave
him in the course of it, he made the Grand Duke continually hold his
legs outside the carriage, no matter what the weather might be, in
order that they should not be in his father's way.
I am assured that Queen Victoria, who showed herself so anxious to
escape from the maternal yoke, is now trying to avoid the influence of
her uncle, King Leopold.
The Flahaut family have been saying the most horrible things at London
about the Tuileries, and the Tuileries are aware of the fact.
France has abandoned Belgium in the course of the negotiations in
progress at London, and forces her to yield upon all questions of
territory, but supports her pecuniary claim; between the figures of
Leopold and King William there is a difference of 16,000,000. The
Powers wish to compromise, but Leopold objects, and refuses to relax
his grasp of Limburg until the crowns are paid.
In Spain Queen Christina is trying to make money out of everything,
and demands a price for every nomination that she makes. She thinks
only of amassing money and spending it quietly out of Spain, for which
she may speedily have an opportunity. Her sister, whose practical mind
has already gained her a certain influence here, and who might be able
to marry her prettiest daughter to the Duc de Nemours, is intriguing
vigorously against her.
M. Thiers spent three hours with Count Metternich near Como, and
showed anything but sympathy for Spain during the conversation.
However, people have not been taken in and prejudice remains
unaltered.
_Bonnétable, September 17, 1838._--I reached this strange place an
hour before dinner-time. The country is very pretty, but the castle
stands at the end of a little town, and the only view is the high-road
which runs along the moat. It is an old manor-house, with heavy
turrets, thick walls, and the windows few and narrow. There is little
in the way of furniture or decoration, but it is solid and clean, and
the necessaries of life of every kind are at hand, from an almorne to
a warming-pan. The mistress of the house, an active, bustling,
good-tempered lady, is largely occupied in most charitable work, in
which she shows great insight, and really leads the life of a
Christian widow, on the principles laid down by St. Jerome. In short,
one is inclined to think oneself in a country far away from France and
in a century quite remote from the nineteenth. Evening prayers are
said all together at nine o'clock in the chapel, and are read by the
Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency herself. They moved me deeply,
especially the prayer for the rest of the departed, repeated by one
who has survived all her relatives, whether older, of her own age, or
younger than herself. This prayer in the mouth of one who is thus
alone, without forefathers or posterity, was strangely sad. The other
isolated being, poor Zoé,[96] who repeated the responses, completed
the picture and the impression, which went to my heart. All the
servants were present. No more edifying spectacle could be seen than
that of this great and ancient house. The Duchesse is very highly
connected, and came to her title through the Luynes, who had inherited
it by marriage from the Duchesse de Nemours, one of whom had married
the niece.
[96] Zoé was a negress in the service of the Vicomtesse de Laval,
to whom she showed the greatest devotion. In 1838, after the
death of the Vicomtesse, Zoé was taken into service by the
Duchesse Mathieu de Montmorency, daughter-in-law of Madame de
Laval, who lived upon the estate of Bonnétable, where Zoé ended
her days in peace.
_Bonnétable, September 18, 1838._--If the weather were not so damp I
should find much interest in this place, which is quite unique. Mass
brings the household together every morning at ten o'clock; we do not
lunch until eleven o'clock, and have then half an hour for walking in
the moats, which are dry and have been turned into gardens by the care
of the Duchesse; she also took us for a walk around her kitchen garden
and the whole of her strange household. After lunch we worked round a
table at an altar-cloth, while the prior read his newspapers aloud. At
one o'clock we went to visit the fine hospital and the schools founded
by the Duchesse; everything is perfectly arranged, and much better
cared for than the castle. There are six beds for men and six for
women, a kind of boarding-school for twelve girls, and classes for
day scholars and the poor, together with a large dispensary. This is
all in one place, with the necessary outbuildings. Eight sisters do
the work of the establishment, which is really very fine. The Duchesse
then made us get into an old carriage with worm-eaten lining, but
drawn by four handsome horses, driven very cleverly four-in-hand by
one of the coachmen of Charles X. With Madame de Montmorency
everything is in contrast. She inherited her taste for horses from her
mother, and indulges herself in that respect; she has no taste for
carriages, and does not care if the one makes the other look shabby.
Thus drawn over shocking roads, we reached a magnificent forest of
full-grown timber, where the fine trees are only cut every hundred
years. It is really beautiful. In the centre of this forest, where six
roads meet, is a vast clearing; there the Duchesse has built a china
factory, with all the necessary outbuildings, which is almost a
village. She has spent a great deal of money on it, and admits herself
that it is not a lucrative investment, but it gives occupation to
sixty-eight people, is a reason for a pretty walk, and an additional
interest for herself. I made a few purchases, and Pauline was
interested in seeing the pottery moulded, fired, painted, and
enamelled.
After dinner one of the local clergy called while we spent our time in
embroidery, as after lunch, and talked of matters of local interest.
Then came prayers, good-night, and sleep.
_Bonnétable, September 19, 1838._--Yesterday it rained all day. No one
went out except the clergy, who were going to a retreat at Mans, and
stopped here to pay their respects to the Duchesse. The sisters also
came in for their orders. The Duchesse is in very good spirits. She
has the gift of narrative, and kept the conversation going very well
throughout a long day, without the smallest appearance of ill-nature.
When I went down to my room she lent me a manuscript book of her
thoughts. She writes wonderfully, and her writing displays a wealth
and variety of astonishing description. The outpourings of her heart
since her husband's death are especially touching, and display a
tenderness of feeling which would hardly be guessed from her outward
appearance. I shall leave her entirely overcome by the warmth of her
reception, her fine qualities, and the admirable example which she
sets here.
_Rochecotte, September 27, 1838._--Yesterday I had a most unexpected
piece of news which grieved me deeply: Madame de Broglie is dead of
brain fever, though she was so young, at any rate for death--a year
younger than myself--though she was so happy, healthy, beautiful,
useful, distinguished, and beloved. In one short week she was carried
off, though prepared for death by her constant goodness. It has been
no surprise to her.
Almost the same day, but after a longer illness, amid the dissipations
of too worldly a life, died Lady Elizabeth Harcourt. She was of the
same age, and also handsome, but I think in no way prepared for the
dread passage.
With the death of my brother-in-law, the Prince of
Hohenzollern-Hechingen, I have heard of three deaths during the last
week. Last month Anatole de Talleyrand died; in the month of July
Madame de Laval; on May 17 M. de Talleyrand; on April 28 my
father-in-law; in March my uncle Medem. In less than seven months
eight persons have disappeared who were bound to me by ties of blood,
friendship, or intercourse. Death surrounds me on every hand, and I
can no longer trust either to the freshness of my daughter or to the
cares of others; only the goodness of God can be infallibly trusted,
and on His infinite mercy I must rely, and confide my loved ones to
His care.
During the last two days of her life Madame de Broglie was delirious,
and chanted the Psalms so loudly that one could hear her from one end
of her residence to the other. When she was not singing she talked to
her brother and her daughter who had died years before.
_Valençay, October 3, 1838._--I am again in this beautiful spot, so
rich in memories and so deprived of life and movement. I reached here
yesterday in the moonlight, which suits the place so well, and which
M. de Talleyrand always pointed out to us with such admiration. It was
an unpleasant journey: broken carriages, tired horses, bad
postillions, torn harness, and abominable roads, as they are being
repaired or constructed afresh; in short, a series of petty obstacles,
which troubled and vexed us, and made us late. M. de Talleyrand's old
dog, Carlos, was strangely excited at our arrival, and pulled Mlle.
Henriette by her dress, as if he would say, "Come and help me to look
for the missing one."
_Paris, October 9, 1838._--I am now again in Paris, though I cannot
conceal the fact that a stay in this town makes me sadder than ever.
How I long for my workmen, my garden, the soft skies of Touraine, the
quiet of the country, the restfulness of the fields, time to think and
to reflect, of which I am here deprived by constant business and
worry!
_Paris, October 12, 1838._--Yesterday I went to the Convent of the
Sacré Cœur, where I stayed a long time with the Archbishop of Paris.
He gave me an exact translation of the letter of secularisation sent
by Pius VII. to M. de Talleyrand. It is a curious document, and shows
that even though M. de Talleyrand, with his habitual carelessness, had
mistaken the text, the general sense had been known to him, and that
he had every reason to say that Rome could not be too exacting without
self-contradiction. As, however, the letter had preceded the marriage
of M. de Talleyrand, and as that marriage was not authorised by the
Church, it was actually necessary for him to retract. This was done
_in verba generalia_, as Rome admitted, and so every one should be
satisfied.
When I returned home I gave orders that I should not be disturbed
during the evening, and busied myself in putting the papers that I had
found at M. de Talleyrand's house into some order. I shall complete
this work only by degrees, for it causes me keen emotion. For
instance, I came upon a note which M. de Talleyrand sent to me from
his room to mine on February 6, 1837,[97] in which he told me that at
his supreme hour his only anxiety would be my future and my
happiness. I cannot say how this scrap of paper has agitated me.
[97] February 6 is St. Dorothea's Day, the patron saint of the
Duchesse de Talleyrand.
_Paris, October 13, 1838._--M. de Montrond came to see me yesterday.
He showed himself extremely kind and soothing; but the true nature of
things peeps out invariably, and towards the end of his call, which
had been spent in expressions of regret for M. de Talleyrand's death,
he let fall a phrase to this effect: "Do you propose to become a lady
of the Faubourg Saint-Germain?" I was able to reply that I had no need
to do anything of the kind, that my position was plain: a lady of rank
and independent means, unwilling to sacrifice my opinions here or my
position there; too deeply attached to the memory of M. de Talleyrand
not to be on good terms with the Tuileries, and too good company not
to live happily with my family and my own friends. He replied that I
had not forgotten to speak like M. de Talleyrand himself. Then he
rose, took my hand, and asked me if I would not be kind to him, saying
that he was alone in the world, that he was very anxious for
opportunities to talk of M. de Talleyrand with me sometimes, and then
he began to weep like a child. I told him that he would always find me
ready to listen to him, and to reply, if he spoke of M. de Talleyrand,
a subject of inexhaustible interest to myself. Human nature is
remarkable in its great diversity and its astonishing contrasts.
_Paris, October 17, 1838._--I have only had two satisfactory incidents
since my return: the arrival of my son Valençay, who is so good to me,
and a long conversation with the Abbé Dupanloup, which went on
yesterday for two hours at my house. Our minds are in sympathy, and,
what is better, we are marvellously alert to divine one another's
feelings, and both noticed it, owing to the strange and rapid
coincidence of our expressions. He has a rapidly working mind, and for
that reason pleased M. de Talleyrand, while with him one is never
embarrassed or hampered, and transitional ideas are never clogged; his
clearness of mind is never marked by dryness, because he has a sweet
and most affectionate soul. My long intercourse with M. de Talleyrand
has made it difficult for ordinary people to get on with me; I meet
minds which seem slow, diffuse, and ill-developed; they are always
putting on the brake, like people going downhill; I have spent my life
with my shoulder to the wheel in uphill work. In M. de Talleyrand's
lifetime I took more pleasure in the society of others, because I
fully enjoyed my own society with him; perhaps also because I
sometimes felt the need of rest at some lower elevation. But to-day I
feel that I am being overcome, in a moral sense, by what the English
call creeping paralysis; in short, yesterday I was able to spread my
wings for a moment, and it did me good. I complained to him of the
want of system in my life, of the weariness and oppression which were
the result of overstrain. He spoke of my reading, and told me that he
thought I should be deeply attracted by patristic literature; he
promised to sketch out a little course of reading for me within my
range. He is no inquisitive or indiscreet converter of souls; he is a
good and intelligent man, a pure and lofty soul, discreet and
moderate, whose influence can never be anything but wise, gentle, and
restrained.
_Paris, October 18, 1838._--The Princess Christian of Denmark, who is
at this moment at Carlsruhe, is no longer young; but fifteen years
ago, when she came to Paris, she was very pretty; her complexion,
hair, and shoulders were especially beautiful. Her features were less
striking, and those are the most permanent elements in beauty. I know
that she and her husband have retained a very kindly feeling for the
present royal family of France. Princess Christian is the
granddaughter of the unfortunate Queen Mathilda of Denmark. Prince
Christian's first wife was a mad woman with dreadful manners.[98] She
went to Rome for refuge and to join the Catholic Church, and there she
plunged into the most ridiculous mummeries. Her husband adored her,
and if the King of Denmark had not insisted upon a separation Prince
Christian would have remained under her yoke. He still corresponds
with her, and has never ceased to regret her loss. The present
Princess Christian, though prettier, is quite sensible, but has never
had much influence with her husband, owing, it is said, to the fact
that she has no children. The first wife was the mother of Prince
Frederick, who is an exile in Jutland.
[98] The first wife of Prince Christian of Denmark was Princess
Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Schwerin. Unfaithful to her husband, she
was separated from him in 1809, and divorced by order of the king
in 1810. She died in 1840 at Rome, where she had lived after her
conversion to Catholicism. She was born in 1784, and married in
1806.
_Paris, October 20, 1838._--Yesterday I went with Pauline to the
Comédie-Française to hear Mlle. Rachel, who is now causing so great a
sensation. I was not at all pleased. They all acted very badly, though
Mlle. Rachel is not so bad as the rest. They played _Andromaque_, in
which she took the part of Hermione, the part of irony, scorn, and
disdain. She went through it accurately and intelligently, but there
is no sympathy or attraction in her acting. She has a thin voice, is
neither pretty nor beautiful, but very young, and might become an
excellent actress if she had good training. The rest of the company is
wretched. I was very bored, and returned home benumbed.
_Paris, October 21, 1838._--The Duchesse de Palmella, whom I saw
yesterday, told me a strange thing. She said that the Duke of
Leuchtenberg, the first husband of Queen Doña Maria, had never been
her husband; that on his arrival in Portugal he was attacked with
scurvy, which made him contagious and greatly disgusted his wife, who
adores the little Coburg. She is now expecting her confinement.
With Pauline I called upon the Duchesse d'Orléans, who seemed to have
recovered very well from her confinement. Her child, which she was
kind enough to show us, is really charming. She has every reason to be
as proud of him as she is.
We came home for an audience granted me by the Infanta Carlotta, the
wife of Don Francisco. Like myself, they are both staying in the
Galliffet residence.[99] It was a curious interview. The Infanta is a
much bolder figure than Madame de Zea, and much taller. She is very
fair, with a face which, though washed out, is none the less stern,
with a rough manner of speaking. I felt very ill at ease with her,
although she was very courteous. Her husband is red-haired and ugly,
and the whole tribe of little Infantas, boys and girls, are all
utterly detestable. The eldest of the princesses is well brought up,
inclined to talk, and graciously took notice of Pauline. In my
opinion, this Infanta would be a most unpleasant Sovereign.
[99] After the death of the Prince de Talleyrand the Duchesse de
Talleyrand sold the residence in the Rue Saint-Florentin to the
Rothschilds. This house she had inherited from the Prince. She
then settled in a large suite of rooms in the residence of the
Marquis de Galliffet, Rue de Grenelle.
_Paris, October 31, 1838._--During the last two days I have seen a
great deal of the Comtesse de Castellane. She speaks of only one thing
which she wants, and for which she is working with incredible energy.
I cannot complain, as her efforts show how much she thinks of my
daughter, to whom she wishes to marry the young Henri de Castellane.
Yesterday I went to consult the Archbishop on the point. He, as well
as the Abbé Dupanloup, seems to think that of all the possible
openings that have hitherto appeared Henri de Castellane would offer
the best chance of domestic happiness, by reason of his personal
merits. Both of them say that Pauline ought to choose for herself,
after due examination. Examination requires acquaintanceship; to
become acquainted they must see one another; and to see one another
they must meet. And so I have reached a new phase in my life, when I
am obliged to give a young man the run of my house in order to see
what he is worth. I have known M. de Castellane personally for many
years, but I have lost sight of him for a long time; besides, he is
going to marry Pauline, and not me. He is clever and well-educated,
hard-working, and, I think, ambitious. He is very correct and polite,
lives a retired life, and goes only into the best society; he is a
good son and a good brother, has an excellent name, but no title at
present, and no prospect; has few family ties, and wishes to live in
the same house as myself at Paris, though with a separate
establishment. He is respectful to his mother, but not on confidential
terms with her; wishes to have a religious wife, though he does not
practise the forms of religion himself. He is to have twenty thousand
francs income when he marries, and thirty thousand more from his
grandmother. He has a childless uncle who is worth forty-two millions.
For the moment the uncle will not give or promise or guarantee
anything, but he is very anxious for the marriage, and as he is
eccentricity personified he may come down handsomely some day. The
Abbé Dupanloup advises me to speak to Pauline on the subject without
any constraint, and also to tell her of other proposals made for her
hand. She does not like Jules de Clermont-Tonnerre, and thinks he
looks vulgar; the Duc de Saulx-Tavannes horrifies her--as a matter of
fact he has the figure of an elephant, while there is madness in the
family on both sides. The Duc de Guiche is not yet nineteen years of
age, has no property whatever, a number of brothers and sisters, a
rather foolish mother, while his family are always in extremities. The
Marquis de Biron is very rich and a good fellow; he is a childless
widower, but extremely stupid, and a red-hot Carlist. Pauline has
recently seen M. de Castellane on two occasions, and likes him
greatly; but she says she would like to know more of him, to make
certain of his principles and belief. I tell her that there is no
hurry, that she can very well wait, and that in any case I shall not
consent to any marriage taking place until our business affairs have
been wound up, the will declared, and the anniversary of the 17th of
May over. This is understood, though the parties would like a promise
to be given before that date, without celebrating the marriage. I can
also understand that they would like to make certain of Pauline, but I
do not propose to have our throats cut in that way. Madame Adélaïde,
who is much afraid that Pauline's marriage might prevent her from
going to the Tuileries, is a warm supporter of M. de Castellane. She
let me know that M. de Talleyrand, to her knowledge, had thought of
him. This is true, but he was more inclined to M. de Mérode, though
family arrangements made the proposal impossible; besides, Pauline
likes M. de Castellane much better than M. de Mérode. Another who has
been mentioned to me is Elie de Gontaut, the younger brother of the
Marquis of Saint-Blancard, but he is a young fop, and, though rich,
his position as younger brother is very pronounced, and that would not
please Pauline. In short, there is a perfect crowd of suitors, and I
do not know to whom I should listen. One point is certain, and I shall
make it perfectly clear: that Pauline herself will have to make the
choice.[100]
[100] Mlle. Pauline de Périgord did in fact marry M. de
Castellane, on April 11, 1839. He then assumed the title of
Marquis from his grandfather, who had just died. His father,
General de Castellane, afterwards Marshal of France, yielded the
title to him on the occasion of his marriage and never bore it
himself. From his grandmother, who brought him up, the old
Marchioness de Castellane, _née_ Rohan-Chabot, whose first
husband, the Duc de la Rochefoucauld, had left her a large
fortune, M. de Castellane received as a wedding-gift the property
of Aubijou, in Auvergne, in the department of Cantal, which will
often be mentioned in these memoirs.