VII
I have said that when M. de Talleyrand created the government of Louis XVIII., he wanted to give it a backbone, consisting of a party of able, practical, and popular men of moderate opinions. But Louis XVIII., as a principle, distrusted all men in proportion to their popularity and ability, his ministers especially. M. de Talleyrand, therefore, was, in his eyes, a person who should be constantly watched, and constantly suspected. Louis XVIII. had also in horror the idea of his cabinet being a ministry, i.e., a compact body agreeing together. His notion as to driving was that horses who were always kicking at each other, were less likely to kick at the carriage; furthermore, he considered that everything which was not as it had been thirty years back was really wrong, though he did not mean to take the trouble of changing it, and that all this new set of persons he had to deal with were coquins—not a gentleman amongst them. That it was proper manners, since they existed, to treat them courteously, and proper policy, since they had a certain power in their hands, to temporise with them; but in his heart of hearts he looked upon them as yahoos, who had got into the stalls of horses, and were to be kicked out directly the horses, strengthened by plentiful feeds of corn, were up to the enterprise. In the meantime nothing was to be risked, so that he sat himself down as comfortably as he could in his arm-chair, received all visitors with an air which an actor, about to play Louis XIV., might have done well to study; wrote pretty billets, said sharp and acute things, and felt that he was every inch—a king.
Such was the sovereign of France; but there was also another demi-sovereign, who was to be found in the Pavillon Marsan, inhabited by the Comte d’Artois.
I esteem that prince, whom it has been the fashion to decry, more in some respects than I do his brother; for though he had not a superior intelligence, he had a heart. He really wished well to his country: he would have laid down his life for it, at least he thought he would: his intentions were excellent; but he relied on his old notions and education for the means of carrying them out.
Louis XVIII. was more cultivated, more cynical, more false: he loved France vaguely, as connected with his own pride and the pride of his race: he thought ill of the world, but was disposed to extract the most he could from it towards his own comfort, dignity, and prosperity. This character was not amiable, but its coldness and hardness rendered its possessor more secure against being duped, though not against being flattered.
The Comte d’Artois was both flattered and duped; but it was by addressing themselves to his better qualities that his flatterers duped him. They depicted the French people as eminently and naturally loyal: full of sympathy and respect for the descendants of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. “Poor children! they had been led away by having bad men placed over them in the different functions of the State: all that was necessary was to place good men, loyal men, men who had served the royal family even in exile—men, in short, who could be relied upon, in the public employments. The church, too—that great instrument of government, and that great source of comfort and contentment to men—that guardian of the mind which prevents its emotions from wandering into the regions of false theories and hopes—had been treated with contempt and indifference. The church and the throne were required to aid each other—the Bourbons had to bring them into harmony. On these conditions, and on these conditions alone—conditions (so said all whom the Comte d’Artois consulted) so clear, so simple, so pious, and so just—the safety and prosperity of the monarchy depended.”
The whole mistake consisted in considering the French a people that they were not, and ignoring what they were, and in fancying that a few prefects and priests could suddenly convert a whole generation from one set of ideas to another. But the Comte d’Artois’ doctrines were pleasing to Louis XVIII., though he did not quite believe in them, and still more pleasing to all the friends or favourites who enjoyed his intimacy.
Thus, though they had not the support of his convictions, they influenced his conduct; which, however, never being altogether what Monsieur and his party required, was always watched by them with suspicion, and frequently opposed with obstinacy.
Where, then, could M. de Talleyrand turn for aid to maintain the government at the head of which he figured? To the King? he had not his confidence. To his colleagues? they did not confide in each other. To the Comte d’Artois? he was in opposition to his brother. To the Royalists? they wanted absolute possession of power. The Imperialists and Republicans were out of the question. Moreover, he was not a man who could create, stimulate, command. To understand a situation and to bring to bear not unwilling assistants on its immediate solution, to collect the scattered influences about him, and direct them to a point at which it was their own interest to arrive; this was his peculiar talent. But to sustain a long and protracted conflict, to overawe and govern opposing parties; this was beyond the colder temperament of his faculties.
His only parliamentary effort then was an exposition in the chamber of peers of the state of the finances, which exposition was as clear and able as his financial statements always were. For the rest, he trusted partly to chance, partly to the ordinary and natural workings of a constitutional system, which was sure in time to produce parties with opinions, and even ministers, who, in their common defence, would be obliged to adopt a common policy and line of conduct. Thus, shrugging up his shoulders at M. de Fontanes’ declaration that he could not feel free where the press was so, and smiling at Madame de Simiane’s notions as to a minister, who, according to her and the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain, should be a grand seigneur, with perfect manners and a great name, who had hard-working men with spectacles under them, called bouleux,68 to do their business—he hastened his preparations for joining the congress at Vienna, which was to have commenced its sittings two months after the treaty of Paris, that is, on the 30th of July, but which had not met in the middle of September.