Historical Characters

TO LORD LYTTON

My dear Edward,

The idea of this work, which I dedicate to you in testimony of the affection and friendship which have always united us, was conceived many years ago. I wished to give some general idea of modern history, from the period of the French Revolution of 1789 down to our own times, in a series of personal sketches. In these sketches I was disposed to select types of particular characters, thinking that in this way it is easier to paint with force and clearness both an individual and an epoch. The outlines of Talleyrand, Cobbett, and others, were then imperfectly traced; and Canning and Mackintosh have been little altered.

The manuscript, however, was laid aside amidst the labours of an active professional career, and only thought of since complete leisure created the wish for some employment. It was then that I resumed my task.

I need not say that the portraits I give here are but a few of those I commenced, but the constant change of residence, rendered necessary by the state of health in which I left Constantinople, interfered with the completion of my design, and added to the defects which, under any circumstances, would have been found in the following pages.

Ever yours affectionately,

H. L. Bulwer.

13, Rue Royale, Paris,

Oct 10, 1867.

PREFACE TO THIS NEW EDITION

The sale which this work has had in its original form has induced my publisher to recommend a cheaper and more popular one; and I myself gladly seize the opportunity of correcting some of the errors in print and expression which, though gradually diminished in preceding editions, left even the last edition imperfect. An author with ordinary modesty must always be conscious of many defects in his own work. I am so in mine. Still I venture to say that the portraits I have drawn have, upon the whole, been thought truthful and impartial; and though I have been often reminded of the difficulty which Sir Walter Raleigh, when writing the History of the World, experienced in ascertaining the real particulars of a tumult that took place under his windows – almost every anecdote one hears on the best authority being certain to find contradiction in some of its particulars – I have not refrained from quoting those anecdotes which came to me from good authority or the general report of the period; since a story which brings into relief the reputed character of the person it is applied to, and which, to use the Italian proverb, ought to be true if it is not so, is far from being indifferent to history.

In conclusion, I cannot but express my thanks, not only to public, but to private and previously unknown critics, whose remarks have always received a willing and grateful attention, and to whose suggestions I am greatly indebted.

Nov. 6, 1869.

TALLEYRAND, THE POLITIC MAN

Part I
FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE REVOLUTION TO THE EXPOSITION OF THE STATE OF THE NATION

Different types of men. – M. de Talleyrand, the politic man. – Character of the eighteenth century, which had formed him. – Birth, personal description, entry into church. – Causes of revolution. – States-General. – Talleyrand’s influence over clergy; over the decision as to the instructions of members, and the drawing up of the rights of man. – Courage in times of danger. – Financial knowledge. – Propositions relative to church property. – Discredit with the Court party. – Popularity with the Assembly. – Charged to draw up its manifesto to the nation. – Project about uniformity of weights and measures.

I

There are many men in all times who employ themselves actively in public affairs; but very few amongst these deserve the title of “Men of action.”

The rare individuals who justly claim this designation, and whose existence exercises so important an influence over the age in which they appear, must possess, in no ordinary degree, intelligence, energy, and judgment; but these qualities are found blended in different degrees in the different classes or types of men who, as soldiers, sovereigns, or statesmen, command the destiny of their times.

They in whom superior intelligence, energy, and judgment are equally united, mount with firm and rapid pace the loftiest steeps of ambition, and establish themselves permanently on the heights to which they have safely ascended. Such men usually pursue some fixed plan or predominant idea with stern caution and indomitable perseverance, adapting their means to their end, but always keeping their end clearly in view, and never, in the pursuit of it, overstepping that line by which difficulties are separated from impossibilities. Cardinal de Richelieu in France, and William III. in England, are types of this heroic race.

On the other hand, they in whom the judgment, however great, is not sufficient to curb the energy and govern the intellect which over-stimulates their nature, blaze out, meteor-like, in history, but rather excite temporary admiration than leave behind them permanent results. Their exploits far surpass those of other men, and assume for a moment an almost supernatural appearance: but, as their rise is usually sudden and prodigious, their ruin is also frequently abrupt and total. Carried on by a force over which they gradually lose all control, from one act of audacity to another more daring, their genius sails before the wind, like a vessel with overcrowded canvas, and perishes at last in some violent and sudden squall. Charles XII. of Sweden was an example of this kind in the last century, and Napoleon Bonaparte, if we regard him merely as a conqueror, a more striking one in our own days.

Thirdly, there are men whose energy though constant is never violent, and whose intellect, rather subtle than bold, is attracted by the useful, and careless of the sublime. Shrewd and wary, these men rather take advantage of circumstances than make them. To turn an obstacle, to foresee an event, to seize an opportunity, is their peculiar talent. They are without passions, but self-interest and sagacity combined give them a force like that of passion. The success they obtain is procured by efforts no greater than those of other candidates for public honours, who with an appearance of equal talent vainly struggle after fortune; but all their exertions are made at the most fitting moment, and in the happiest manner.

A nice tact and a far-sighted judgment are the predominant qualities of these “politic” persons. They think rarely of what is right in the abstract: they do usually what is best at the moment. They never play the greatest part amongst their contemporaries: they almost always play a great one; and, without arriving at those extraordinary positions to which a more adventurous race aspires, generally retain considerable importance, even during the most changeful circumstances, and most commonly preserve in retirement or disgrace much of the consideration they acquired in power. During the intriguing and agitated years which preceded the fall of the Stuarts, there was seen in England a remarkable statesman of the character I have just been describing; and a comparison might not inappropriately be drawn between the plausible and trimming Halifax and the adroit and accomplished personage whose name is inscribed on these pages.

But although these two renowned advocates of expediency had many qualities in common – the temper, the wit, the knowledge, the acuteness which distinguished the one equally distinguishing the other – nevertheless the Englishman, although a more dexterous debater in public assemblies, had not in action the calm courage, nor in council the prompt decision, for which the Frenchman was remarkable; neither is his name stamped on the annals of his country in such indelible characters, nor connected with such great and marvellous events.

And yet, notwithstanding the vastness of the stage on which M. de Talleyrand acted, and the importance of the parts which for more than half a century he played, I venture to doubt whether his character has ever been fairly given, or is at this moment justly appreciated; nor is this altogether surprising. In a life so long, brilliant, and varied, we must expect to find a diversity of impressions succeeding and effacing each other; and not a few who admired the captivating companion, and reverenced the skilful minister of foreign affairs, were ignorant that the celebrated wit and sagacious diplomatist had exhibited an exquisite taste in letters, and a profound knowledge in legislation and finance. Moreover, though it may appear singular, it will be found true, that it is precisely those public men who are the most tolerant to adverse opinions, and the least prone to personal enmities, who oftentimes gather round their own reputation, at least during a time, the darkest obloquy and the most terrible reproaches. The reason for this is simple: such men are themselves neither subject to any predominant affection, nor devoted to any favourite theory. Calm and impartial, they are lenient and forgiving. On the other hand, men who love things passionately, or venerate things deeply, despise those who forsake – and detest those who oppose – the objects of their adoration or respect. Thus, the royalist, ready to lay down his life for his legitimate sovereign; the republican, bent upon glorious imitations of old Rome and Greece; the soldier, devoted to the chief who had led him from victory to victory, could not but speak with bitterness and indignation of one who commenced the Revolution against Louis XVI., aided in the overthrow of the French Republic, and dictated the proscription of the great captain whose armies had marched for a while triumphant over Europe.

The most ardent and violent of the men of M. de Talleyrand’s time were consequently the most ardent and violent condemners of his conduct; and he who turns over the various works in which that conduct is spoken of by insignificant critics,¹ will be tempted to coincide with the remark of the great wit of the eighteenth century: “C’est un terrible avantage de n’avoir rien fait; mais il ne faut pas en abuser.”²

How far such writers were justified will be seen more or less in the following pages, which are written with no intention to paint a character deserving of eulogy or inviting to imitation, but simply with the view of illustrating a remarkable class of men by a very remarkable man, who happened to live at a period which will never cease to occupy and interest posterity.

II

Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Périgord was born February 2, 1754.³ The House of Périgord was one of the noblest in France, and in the earliest ages of the French monarchy possessed sovereign power. The principality of Chalais, the only one which existed, I believe, in the time of Louis XIV. (for the other personages called princes at the French court took their titles as princes of the Roman States or the German Empire, and ranked after French dukes), is said to have been eight centuries in this family. Talleyrand, a name usually attached to that of Périgord, and anciently written Tailleran, is supposed to have been a sort of sobriquet, or nickname, and derived from the words, “tailler les rangs” (cut through the ranks). It was borne by Helie V., one of the sovereign counts of Périgord, who lived in 1118; and from this prince (Helie V.) descended two branches of the Talleyrand-Périgords; the one was extinct before the time of Louis XVI., the other, being the younger branch, was then represented by a Comte de Périgord, Captain of the Guards, and Governor of the States of Languedoc. A brother of this Comte de Périgord was the father of Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Périgord (the subject of this memoir), whose mother, Eléonore de Damas, daughter of the Marquis de Damas, was also of a highly noble family, and a lady alike remarkable for her beauty and her virtue.⁴

III

The seal which marks our destiny has usually been stamped on our childhood; and most men, as they look back to their early youth, can remember the accident, the book, the conversation, which gave that shape to their character which events have subsequently developed.

M. de Talleyrand was in infancy an exile from his home; the fortune of his parents did not correspond with their rank: his father,⁵ a soldier, was always at the court or the camp; his mother held a situation in the household at Versailles. To both a child was an incumbrance, and Maurice immediately at his birth was put out to nurse (as was indeed at that time frequently the custom) in the country, where, either by chance or neglect, he met with a fall which occasioned lameness. This infirmity, when the almost forgotten child at the age of twelve or thirteen was brought up to Paris for the purpose of receiving rather a tardy education, had become incurable; and by a conseil de famille, it was decided that the younger brother, the Comte d’Archambaud – subsequently known as one of the handsomest and most elegant of the courtiers of Louis XVI., and whom I can remember under the title of Duc de Périgord – (a title given by Louis XVIII.), should be considered the elder brother, and enter the army, whilst the elder son should be pronounced the younger son, and devoted to the clerical profession, into which the Périgords knew they had sufficient influence to procure his admission, notwithstanding the infirmity which, under ordinary circumstances, would have been a reason for excluding him from the service of the church. From this moment the boy – hitherto lively, idle, and reckless – became taciturn, studious, and calculating. His early propensities remained, for nature admits of no radical change; but they were coloured by disappointment, or combated by ambition. We see traces of gaiety in the companion who, though rarely smiling himself, could always elicit a laugh from others; we see traces of indolence in the statesman who, though always occupied, never did more than the necessity of the case exacted; we see traces of recklessness in the gambler and politician who, after a shrewd glance at the chances, was often disposed to risk his fortune, or his career, on a speculation for money or power: but the mind had been darkened and the heart hardened; and the youth who might easily and carelessly have accepted a prosperous fate, was ushered into the world with a determination to wrestle with an adverse one.

Nor did any paternal advice or maternal care regulate or soften the dispositions which were thus being formed. From the nurse in the country, the lame young Périgord – for Périgord was the name which at this time he bore – was transplanted to the “Collége d’Harcourt,” since called that of St. Louis. He entered it more ignorant, perhaps, than any boy of his years; but he soon gained its first prizes, and became one of its most distinguished scholars.

At the “Séminaire de St. Sulpice,” to which he was removed in 1770, his talent for disputation attracted attention, and even some of his compositions were long remembered and quoted by contemporaries. Whilst at the Sorbonne, where he subsequently completed his studies, this scion of one of the most illustrious French houses was often pointed out as a remarkably clever, silent, and profligate young man: who made no secret of his dislike to the profession that had been chosen for him, but was certain to arrive at its highest honours.

With such prospects and such dispositions, M. de Talleyrand entered, in 1773, the Gallican Church.

IV

At this time we have to fancy the young ecclesiastic – a gentleman about twenty years of age, very smart in his clerical attire, and with a countenance which, without being handsome, was singularly attractive from the triple expression of softness, impudence, and wit. If we are to credit the chronicles of that day, his first advance in his profession was owing to one of those bon mots by which so many of the subsequent steps of his varied career were distinguished.

There were assembled at Madame Dubarry’s a number of young gentlemen, rather free in their conversation and prodigal in their boasts: no beauty had been veiled to their desires, no virtue had been able to resist their attacks. The subject of this memoir alone said nothing. “And what makes you so sad and silent?” asked the hostess. “Hélas! madame, je faisais une réflexion bien triste.” “Et laquelle?” “Ah, madame, que Paris est une ville dans laquelle il est bien plus aisé d’avoir des femmes que des abbayes.”

The saying, so goes the story, was considered charming, and being reported to Louis XV., was rewarded by that monarch with the benefice desired. The Abbé de Périgord’s career, thus commenced, did not long linger. Within a few years after entering the church, aided by his birth and abilities, he obtained (in 1780) the distinguished position of “Agent-General” of the French clergy – this title designating an important personage who administered the ecclesiastical revenues, which were then immense, under the control of regular assemblies.

It is a curious trait in the manners of these times that, whilst holding this high post as a priest, the Abbé de Périgord fitted out a vessel as a privateer; and, it being his intention to plunder the English, received from the French government the cannon he required for so pious a purpose.⁶

I am unable to say what success attended M. de Talleyrand’s naval enterprise; but when, in 1785, he had to give an account of his clerical administration, the very clear and statesmanlike manner in which he did so, raised him, in the opinion of the public, from the position of a clever man, into that of an able one. Nor was this all. The peculiar nature of the first public duties which he thus exercised, directed his mind towards those questions which the increasing deficit in the French treasury, and the acknowledged necessity of supplying it, made the fashion: for every one at that time in Paris – ladies, philosophers, wits, and men of fashion – talked finance. Few, however, troubled themselves with acquiring any real insight into so dry a subject. But M. de Talleyrand, although constitutionally averse to hard or continued study, supplied this defect by always seeking and living with men who were the best informed on those subjects with which he wished to become acquainted. In this manner his own information became essentially practical, and the knowledge he obtained of details (furnishing him with a variety of facts, which he always knew how to quote opportunely), attracted the attention and patronage of M. de Calonne, then at the head of the French government, and who, being himself as much addicted to pleasure as to affairs, was not sorry to sanction the doctrine that a man of the world might also be a man of business.

Still, though thus early marked out as a person who, after the example of his great ecclesiastical predecessors, might rise to the highest dignities in the Church and State, the Abbé de Périgord showed an almost ostentatious disregard for the duties and decorum of the profession which he had been forced to embrace. Indeed, he seemed to make in this sort of conduct a kind of protest against the decree by which his birthright had been set aside, and almost to glory in the publication of profane epigrams and amorous adventures which amused the world but scandalised the Church. Thus, each year, which increased his reputation for ability, added to the stories by which public rumour exaggerated his immorality; and in 1788, when the bishopric of Autun, to which he had for some time been looking forward, became vacant, Louis XVI. was unwilling to confer the dignity of prelate on so irregular an ecclesiastic. For four months the appointment was not filled up. But the Abbé de Périgord’s father lay at that time on his death-bed: he was visited by the kind-hearted Louis in this condition, and he begged the monarch, as the last request of a dying and faithful servant, to grant the bishopric in question to his son. The King could not withstand such a prayer at such a moment, and the Abbé de Périgord was consecrated Bishop of Autun on the 17th of January, 1789 – four months before the assembling of the States-General.

V

The period which had elapsed between the time at which M. de Talleyrand had entered the Church, and that at which he attained the episcopal dignity, is, perhaps, the most interesting in modern civilization. At no epoch did society ever present so bright and polished a surface as it did in the French capital during these fourteen or fifteen years. The still great fortunes of the grand seigneur, the profuse expenditure of the financier, the splendour of a court embellished by that love for the arts and for letters which the Medici had imported from Italy, and which Louis XIV. had made a part of his royal magnificence, all contributed to surround life with a taste in luxury which has never been surpassed. Rich manufactures of silk, exquisite chiseling in bronze, china equally beautiful in form and decoration, and paintings somewhat effeminate, but graceful, and which still give celebrity to the names of Watteau, Boucher, and Greuze, mark the elegant refinement that presided over those days.

Nothing, however, in those courtly times had been carried to such perfection as the art of living, and the habits of social intercourse. People did not then shut up their houses from their friends if they were poor, nor merely open them in order to give gorgeous and pompous entertainments if they were rich. Persons who suited and sympathised, assembled in small circles, which permitted the access of new members cautiously, but received all who had once been admitted without preference or distinction.

In these circles, the courtier, though confident of the fixed superiority of his birth, paid homage to the accident of genius in the man of letters; and the literary man, however proud of his works, or conscious of his talents, rendered the customary tribute of respect to high rank and station.

Thus poets and princes, ministers of state, and members of learned academies – men of wit, and men of the world – met on a footing of apparent equality, and real familiarity, on a stage where Beauty, ambitious of universal admiration, cultivated her mind as much as her person, and established one presiding theory – “that all had to make themselves agreeable.”

The evening parties of Madame de Brignole, and of Madame du Deffand, the little suppers of Madame Geoffrin, the dinners of Baron Holbach and Helvetius, the musical receptions of the Abbé Morelet, and the breakfasts of Madame Necker, were only specimens of the sort of assemblies which existed amongst different classes, and throughout every street and corner of Paris and Versailles.

Here, all orders mingled with suitable deference towards each other. But beneath this brilliant show of actual gaiety and apparent unity there lay brooding a spirit of dissatisfaction and expectation, which a variety of peculiar circumstances tended, at that time, to exaggerate in France, but which is in fact the usual characteristic of every intellectual community, when neither over-enervated by luxury and peace, nor over-wearied by war and civil commotion. Its natural consequence was a desire for change, which diffused its influence over all things – great and small. Léonard revolutionized the head-dress of the French lady: Diderot and Beaumarchais, the principles of the French stage: Turgot and Necker, the political economy and financial system of the French state: and just at this moment, when the imagination was on the stretch for novelty, as if Providence designed for some mysterious end to encourage the aspiring genius of the epoch, the balloon of Montgolfier took its flight from the Tuileries, and the most romantic dreams were surpassed by a reality.

It was not, however, a mere discontent with the present, a mere hope in the future, a mere passion after things new, however violent that passion might be, which constituted the peril, nor, indeed, the peculiarity of the hour.

In other seasons of this kind, the wishes and views of men have frequently taken some fixed form – have had some fixed tendency – and in this way their progress has been regulated, and their result, even from a distance, foreseen.

But at the period to which I am referring, there was no general conception or aim which cast a decisive shadow over coming events, and promised any specific future in exchange for the present, evidently passing away.

There still lived, though on the verge of the tomb, an individual to whom this distinguishing misfortune of the eighteenth century was in no small degree attributable. The keen sagacity of Voltaire, his piercing raillery, his brilliant and epigrammatic eloquence, had ridiculed and destroyed all faith in old abuses, but had never attempted to give even a sketch of what was to come in their room. “Magis habuit quod fugeret quam quod sequeretur.” The effect of his genius, therefore, had been to create around him a sort of luminous mist, produced by the blending of curiosity and doubt; an atmosphere favourable to scepticism, favourable to credulity; and, above all things, generative of enthusiasts and empirics. St. Germain the alchymist, Cagliostro the conjurer, Condorcet the publicist, Marat the politician, were the successive produce of this marvellous and singular epoch. And thus it was, – amidst a general possession of privileges, and a general equality of customs and ideas – amidst a great generosity of sentiment, and an almost entire absence of principle in a society unequalled in its charms, unbounded in its hopes, and altogether ignorant of its destiny, – that the flower of M. de Talleyrand’s manhood was passed.

VI

I have dwelt at some length upon the characteristics —

 
“Of those gay times of elegance and ease,
When Pleasure learnt so gracefully to please:
When wits and courtiers held the same resorts,
The courtiers wits, and all wits fit for courts:
When woman, perfect in her siren art,
Subdued the mind, and trifled with the heart;
When Wisdom’s lights in fanes fantastic shone,
And Taste had principles, and Virtue none:
When schools disdained the morals understood,
And sceptics boasted of some better good:
When all was Fairyland which met the view,
No truth untheorized, and no theory true.”
 

I have dwelt, I say, at some length upon the characteristics of those times; because it is never to be forgotten that the personage I have to speak of was their child. To the latest hour of his existence he fondly cherished their memory; to them he owed many of those graces which his friends still delight to recall: to them, most of those faults which his enemies have so frequently portrayed.

The great test of his understanding was that he totally escaped all their grosser delusions. Of this I am able to give a striking proof. It has been said that M. de Talleyrand was raised to the episcopal dignity in January, 1789, four months previous to the assembling of the States-General. To that great Assembly he was immediately named by the baillage of his own diocese; and perhaps there is hardly to be found on record a more remarkable example of human sagacity and foresight than in the new bishop’s address to the body which had chosen him its representative.

In this address, which I have now before me, he separates all the reforms which were practicable and expedient, from all the schemes which were visionary and dangerous – the one and the other being at that time confused and jumbled together in the half-frenzied brains of his countrymen: he omits none of those advantages in government, legislation, finance – for he embraces all these – which fifty years have gradually given to France: he mentions none of those projects of which time, experience, and reason have shown the absurdity and futility.

A charter giving to all equal rights: a great code embodying and simplifying all existing and necessary laws: a due provision for prompt justice: the abolition of arbitrary arrest: the mitigation of the laws between debtor and creditor: the institution of trial by jury: the liberty of the press, and the inviolability of private correspondence: the destruction of those interior imposts which cut up France into provinces, and of those restrictions by which all but members of guilds were excluded from particular trades: the introduction of order into the finances under a well-regulated system of public accounts: the suppression of all feudal privileges: and the organization of a well-considered general plan of taxation: such were the changes which the Bishop of Autun suggested in the year 1789. He said nothing of the perfectibility of the human race: of a total reorganization of society under a new system of capital and labour: he did not promise an eternal peace, nor preach a general fraternity amongst all races and creeds. The ameliorations he proposed were plain and simple; they affiliated with ideas already received, and could be grafted on the roots of a society already existing. They have stood the test of eighty years – now advanced by fortunate events, now retarded by adverse ones – some of them have been disdained by demagogues, others denounced by despots; – they have passed through the ordeal of successive revolutions; and they furnish at this instant the foundations on which all wise and enlightened Frenchmen desire to establish the condition of government and society in their great and noble country. Let us do honour to an intelligence that could trace these limits for a rising generation; to a discretion that resisted the temptation to stray beyond them!

VII

About the time of the assembling of the States-General, there appeared a work which it is now curious to refer to – it was by the pen of Laclos – entitled Galerie des États-Généraux. This work gave a sketch under assumed names of the principal personages likely to figure in the States-General. Amongst a variety of portraits, are to be found those of General Lafayette and the Bishop of Autun; the first under the name of Philarète, the second under that of Amène; and, assuredly, the author startles us by his nice perception of the character and by his prophetic sagacity as to the career of these two men. It is well, however, to remember that Laclos frequented the Palais Royal, which the moral and punctilious soldier of Washington scrupulously avoided. The criticism I give, therefore, is not an impartial one. For, if General Lafayette was neither a hero nor a statesman, he was, take him all in all, one of the most eminent personages of his time, and occupied, at two or three periods, one of the most prominent positions in his country.