IX80
“Gentlemen,—
“I was in America when I was named a member of the Institute, and placed in the department of moral and political sciences, to which I have had the honour of being attached ever since it was first established.
“On my return to France, I made it my principal object to attend its meetings, and to express to my new colleagues, many of whom we now so justly regret, the pleasure it gave me to find myself one of their number. At the first sitting I attended, the bureau was being renewed, and I had the honour of being named secretary. During six months, I drew up, to the best of my ability, the minutes of the proceedings, but my labours betrayed perhaps a little too plainly my diffidence, for I had to report on a work, the subject of which was new to me. That work, which had cost one of our most learned colleagues many researches, many sleepless nights, was ‘A Dissertation on the Riparian Laws.’ It was about the same period that I read at our public meetings several papers, which were received with such indulgence as to be thought worthy of being inserted in the memoirs of the Institute. But forty years have now elapsed, during which I have been a stranger to this tribune; first, in consequence of frequent absence; then from duties, to which I felt bound to devote my whole time and attention; I must also add, from that discretion, which, in times of difficulty, is required of a man employed in public affairs; and finally, at a later period, from the infirmities, usually brought on, or at least aggravated, by age.
“At the present moment, I feel myself called upon to perform a duty, and to make a last appearance before this Assembly, in order that the memory of a man, known to the whole of Europe;—of a man whom I loved, and who, from the very foundation of the Institute, has been our colleague, should receive here a public testimony of our esteem and regret. His position with respect to my own furnishes me with the means of speaking with authority of several of his merits. His principal, but I do not say his only, claim to distinction, consists of a correspondence of forty years, necessarily unknown to the public, and likely to remain so for ever. I asked myself, ‘Who will mention this fact within these walls? who, especially, will consider himself under the obligation of directing your attention to it, if the task be not undertaken by me, to whom the greater part of this correspondence was addressed, to whom it always gave so much pleasure, and often so much assistance in those ministerial duties, which I had to perform during three reigns … so very different in character?’
“The first time I saw M. Reinhard, he was thirty, and I thirty-seven, years of age. He entered public life with the advantage of a large stock of acquired knowledge. He knew thoroughly five or six languages, and was familiar with their literature. He could have made himself remarkable as an historian, as a poet, or as a geographer; and it was in this last capacity that he became a member of the Institute, from the day it was founded.
“Already at this time he was a member of the Academy of Sciences of Göttingen. Born and educated in Germany, he had published in his youth several pieces of poetry, which had brought him under the notice of Gesner, Wieland, and Schiller. He was obliged at a later period to take the waters of Carlsbad, where he was so fortunate as to find himself frequently in the society of the celebrated Goethe, who appreciated his taste and acquirements sufficiently to request to be informed by him of everything that was creating a sensation in the French literary world. M. Reinhard promised to do so; engagements of this kind between men of a superior order are always reciprocal, and soon become ties of friendship; those formed between M. Reinhard and Goethe gave rise to a correspondence, which is now published in Germany.
“We learn from these letters that when he had arrived at that time of life, when it is necessary to select definitively the profession for which one feels most aptitude, M. Reinhard, before making his final decision, reflected seriously upon his natural disposition, his tastes, his own circumstances and those of his family; and then made a choice singular at that time, for instead of choosing a career that promised independence, he gave the preference to one in which it is impossible to secure it. The diplomatic career was selected by him, nor is it possible to blame him; qualified for all the duties of this profession, he has successively fulfilled them all, and each with distinction.
“And I would here venture to assert that he had been successfully prepared for the course he adopted by his early studies. He had been remarked as a proficient in theology at the Seminary of Denkendorf, and at that of the Protestant faculty of Tübingen, and it was to this science especially that he owed the power, and at the same time the subtlety, of reasoning, that abounds in all his writings. And to divest myself of the fear of yielding to an idea which might appear paradoxical, I feel obliged to bring before you the names of several of our greatest diplomatists, who were at once theologians and celebrated in history for having conducted the most important political negotiations of their day. There was the chancellor, Cardinal Duprat, equally skilled in canon and civil law, who established with Leo X. the basis of the Concordat, of which several articles are still retained. Cardinal d’Ossat, who, in spite of the efforts made by several great powers, succeeded in effecting a reconciliation between Henry IV. and the Court of Rome. The study of his letters is still recommended at the present day to young men who are destined for political life. Cardinal de Polignac, a theologian, poet and diplomatist, who, after so many disastrous campaigns, was able to preserve, by the treaty of Utrecht, the conquests of Louis XIV. for France.
“The names I have just mentioned appear to me sufficient to justify my opinion that M. Reinhard’s habits of thought were considerably influenced by the early studies to which his education had been directed by his father.
“On account of his solid, and, at the same time, various acquirements, he was called to Bordeaux, in order to discharge the honourable but modest duties of a tutor in a Protestant family of that city. There he naturally became acquainted with several of those men whose talents, errors, and death have given so much celebrity to our first legislative assembly. M. Reinhard was easily persuaded by them to devote himself to the service of France.
“It is not necessary to follow him step by step through all the vicissitudes of his long career. In the succession of offices confided to him, now of a higher, now of a lower order, there seems to be a sort of inconsistency and absence of regularity, which, at the present day, we should have some difficulty in conceiving. But, at that time, people were as free from prejudice with respect to places as to persons. At other periods, favour, and sometimes discernment, used to confer situations of importance. But, in the days of which I speak, every place had to be won. Such a state of things very quickly leads to confusion.
“Thus, we find M. Reinhard first secretary of legation at London; occupying the same post at Naples; minister plenipotentiary to the Hanseatic towns of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck; chief clerk of the third division in the department of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary at Florence; minister of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary to the Helvetian Republic; consul-general at Milan; minister plenipotentiary to the Circle of Lower Saxony; president in the Turkish provinces beyond the Danube, and commissary-general of commercial relations in Moldavia; minister plenipotentiary to the King of Westphalia; director of the Chancellerie in the department of foreign affairs; minister plenipotentiary to the Germanic Diet and the free city of Frankfort; and, finally, minister plenipotentiary at Dresden.
“What a number of places, of charges, and of interests, all confided to one man, and this at a time when it seemed likely that his civil talents would be less justly appreciated, inasmuch as that war appeared to decide every question.
“You do not expect me, gentlemen, to give here a detailed account of all M. Reinhard’s labours in the various employments, which I have just enumerated. This would require a volume.
“I have only to call your attention to the manner in which he regarded the duties he had to perform, whether as chief clerk, minister, or consul.
“Although M. Reinhard did not possess at that time the advantage which he might have had a few years later of being able to study excellent examples, he was already perfectly aware of the numerous and various qualities that ought to distinguish a chief clerk in the foreign office. A delicate tact had made him feel that the habits of a chief clerk ought to be simple, regular, and retired; that, a stranger to the bustle of the world, he ought to live solely for his duty, and devote to it an impenetrable secrecy; that, always prepared to give an answer respecting facts or men, he must have every treaty fresh in his memory, know its historical date, appreciate its strong and weak points, its antecedents and consequences, and finally be acquainted with the names of its principal negotiators, and even with their family connections; that, in making use of this knowledge, he ought, at the same time, to be cautious not to offend a minister’s self-esteem, always so sensitive, and, even when he should have influenced the opinion of his chief, to leave his success in the shade; for he knew that he was to shine only by a reflected light. Still, he was aware that much consideration would be the reward of so pure and modest a life.
“M. Reinhard’s power of observation did not stop here; it had taught him to understand how rare is the union of qualities necessary to make a minister of foreign affairs. Indeed, a minister of foreign affairs ought to be gifted with a sort of instinct, which should be always prompting him, and thus guarding him, when entering into any discussion, from the danger of committing himself. It is requisite that he should possess the faculty of appearing open, while remaining impenetrable; of masking reserve with the manner of frankness; of showing talent even in the choice of his amusements. His conversation should be simple, varied, unexpected, always natural, and at times naïve; in a word, he should never cease for an instant during the twenty-four hours to be a minister of foreign affairs.
“Yet all these qualities, however rare, might not suffice, if they did not find in sincerity a guarantee which they almost always require. I must not omit to notice here this fact, in order to destroy a prejudice, into which people are very apt to fall. No! diplomacy is not a science of craft and duplicity. If sincerity be anywhere requisite, it is especially so in political transactions; for it is that which makes them solid and durable. It has pleased people to confound reserve with cunning. Sincerity never authorizes cunning, but it admits of reserve; and reserve has this peculiarity, that it increases confidence.
“If he be governed by the honour and interests of his country, by the honour and interests of his sovereign, by the love of a liberty based upon order and the rights of all men, a minister of foreign affairs, who knows how to fill his post, finds himself thus in the noblest position to which a superior mind can aspire.
“After having been a distinguished minister, how many things more must be known to make a good consul! For there is no end to the variety of a consul’s attributions; and they are perfectly distinct from those of the other persons employed in foreign affairs. They demand a vast amount of practical knowledge which can only be acquired by a peculiar education. Consuls are called upon to discharge, for the advantage of their countrymen, and over the extent of their jurisdiction, the functions of judges, arbitrators, and promoters of reconciliation; it frequently happens that they are employed in other civil capacities; they perform the duties of notaries, sometimes those of naval administrators; they examine and pronounce upon sanitary questions; it is they who are enabled, by their numerous professional connections, to give correct and perfect notions respecting the state of commerce or navigation, or of the manufactures peculiar to the country where they reside. Accordingly, as M. Reinhard never neglected anything which might confirm the accuracy of the information required by his government, or the justice of the decisions which he had to pronounce as a political agent, as a consular agent, or as a naval administrator, he made a profound study of international and maritime law. It was owing to this study, that he became persuaded that the day would come when, by skilful political combinations, a universal system of commerce and navigation would be inaugurated, which would respect the interests of all nations, and be established on such foundations that war itself would be powerless to assail its principles, even were it able to suspend some of its effects.
“He had also learned to resolve, with accuracy and promptitude, every question connected with exchange, arbitration, valuation of money, weights and measures; and all this without a single dispute ever having arisen from the information he had supplied, or the judgments he had pronounced. But it is also true that the personal consideration, which accompanied him during his whole career, gave a weight to his interference, in every question that required his assistance, and in all arbitrations where he had to give a decision.
“But, however extensive may be a man’s information, however vast his capacity, there is nothing so rare as a complete diplomatist. We should perhaps have found one in M. Reinhard if he had possessed but one qualification more. He observed well, and understood well; when he took up his pen, he could give an admirable account of what he had seen and heard. His written language was ready, abundant, witty, and pointed. Thus we find that, of all the diplomatic correspondence of my time, none was preferred to that of Count Reinhard by the Emperor Napoleon, who had the right, and was under the necessity, of being difficult to please. But this eloquent writer was embarrassed when he had to speak. To carry out his intentions, his mind required more time than ordinary conversation affords. To express his thoughts with facility, it was necessary for him to be alone, and not interfered with.
“In spite of this serious difficulty, M. Reinhard always succeeded in doing, and doing well, whatever was intrusted to him. How, then, did he find the means of succeeding? whence did he derive his inspirations?
“He received them, gentlemen, from a deep and true feeling, which guided all his actions—from the sense of duty. People are not sufficiently aware of the power derived from this feeling. A life wholly devoted to duty is very easily diverted from ambition; and that of M. Reinhard was entirely taken up by his professional avocations, while he never was influenced in the slightest degree by an interested motive or a pretension to premature advancement.
“This worship of duty, to which M. Reinhard continued faithful to the end of his days, comprised entire acquiescence in the orders of his superiors—indefatigable vigilance, which, joined to much penetration, never suffered them to remain ignorant of anything which it was expedient for them to know—strict truthfulness in all his reports, however unpleasing their contents—impenetrable discretion—regular habits, which inspired esteem and confidence—a style of living suited to his position—and finally, constant attention in giving to the acts of his government the colour and lucidity which their importance demanded.
“Although age seemed to invite M. Reinhard to seek the repose of private life, he would never have asked permission to retire from active employment, so much did he fear to be thought lukewarm in the duties of a profession which had occupied the greater part of his days.
“It was necessary that his Majesty’s ever-thoughtful benevolence should have providently intervened to place this great servant of France in a most honourable position, by calling him to the Chamber of Peers.
“Count Reinhard enjoyed this honour during too short a time. He died suddenly on the 25th of December, 1837.
“M. Reinhard was twice married. By his first wife he has left a son who is now following a political career. For the son of such a man the best wish that we can form is that he may resemble his father.”
The force of nature, which a long life had exhausted in a variety of ways, seemed now unequal to any further struggle.
A disease, which at Prince Talleyrand’s age was almost certain to be fatal, and which had already made its appearance, assumed a more formidable character.
An operation was advised. The prince submitted to it, and bore it with a fortitude that surprised even those who most knew the stoicism which he on all occasions affected and usually practised. Dangerous symptoms, however, soon followed, and his physician judged it an act of duty to warn him that his disorder might be fatal.
He was urged indeed to do so by the noble patient’s relations, who were especially anxious that he should die in peace with the church; and when convinced that he could not recover, he assented to all that was asked of him, in this respect, as a favour that could not hurt himself, and was agreeable to those about him.
The following account of his last moments is given by a person who was present at them: “When I entered the chamber where reposed the veteran statesman, he had fallen into a profound slumber, from which some amendment was augured by his physicians. The slumber, or rather lethargy, had continued for about an hour after my arrival, when it became curious to observe the uneasiness which was manifested, as time drew on, even by those dearest and nearest, lest this repose, however salutary, should endure beyond the hour fixed for the King’s visit, for the sovereign intended to pay M. de Talleyrand this last homage.
“With some difficulty he was at last aroused and made to comprehend the approaching ceremony, and hardly was he lifted from his reclining position and placed at the edge of the bed, when Louis Philippe, accompanied by Madame Adelaide, entered the apartment. ‘I am sorry, Prince, to see you suffering so much,’ said the King, in a low tremulous voice, rendered almost inaudible by apparent emotion. ‘Sire, you have come to witness the sufferings of a dying man; and those who love him can have but one wish, that of seeing them shortly at an end.’ This was uttered by M. de Talleyrand in that deep strong voice so peculiar to himself, and which the approach of death had not the power to weaken.
“The royal visit, like all royal visits of a disagreeable nature, was of the shortest duration possible. Indeed, the position was to all parties embarrassing and painful. Louis Philippe rose, after an effort and some few words of consolation, to take his leave; and not even at this last moment did the old prince lose his wonted presence of mind, or forget a duty which the etiquette he had been bred in dictated—that of introducing those formally to the sovereign who found themselves in his presence. Slightly raising himself, then, he mentioned by name his physician, his secretary, his principal valet, and his own private doctor, and then observed slowly: ‘Sire, our house has received this day an honour worthy to be inscribed in our annals, and which my successors will remember with pride and gratitude.’ It was shortly afterwards that the first symptoms of dissolution were observed, and a few persons were then admitted to his chamber; but the adjoining room was crowded, and exhibited a strange scene for a room so near the bed of death.
“The flower of the society of Paris was there. On one side old and young politicians, grey-headed statesmen, were gathered round the blazing fire, and engaged in eager conversation; on another was to be seen a coterie of younger gentlemen and ladies, whose sidelong looks and low pleasant whispers formed a sad contrast to the dying groans of the neighbouring sufferer.
“Presently, the conversation stopped; the hum of voices was at an end. There was a solemn pause, and every eye turned towards the slowly opening door of the prince’s chamber. A domestic entered, with downcast looks and swollen eyes, and advancing towards Dr. C——, who like myself had just then sought an instant’s relief in the drawing-room, whispered a few words in his ear. He arose instantly, and entered the prince’s chamber. The natural precipitation with which this movement was executed but too plainly revealed its cause. There was an instantaneous rush to the door of the apartment within which M. de Talleyrand was seated on the side of his bed, supported in the arms of his secretary. It was evident that Death had set his seal upon that marble brow; yet I was struck with the still existing vigour of the countenance. It seemed as if all the life which had once sufficed to furnish the whole being was now contained in the brain. From time to time he raised up his head, throwing back with a sudden movement the long grey locks which impeded his sight, and gazed around; and then, as if satisfied with the result of his examination, a smile would pass across his features, and his head would again fall upon his bosom. He saw the approach of death without shrinking or fear, and also without any affectation of scorn or defiance.
“If there be truth in the assertion, that it is a satisfaction to die amidst friends and relations, then, indeed, must his last feeling towards the world he was for ever quitting have been one of entire approbation and content, for he expired (on the 17th of May, 1838) amidst regal pomp and reverence; and of all those whom he, perhaps, would have himself called together, none were wanting.
“The friend of his maturity, the fair young idol of his age, were gathered on bended knee beside his bed, and if the words of comfort whispered by the murmuring priest failed to reach his ear, it was because the sound was stifled by the wailings of those he had loved so well. Scarcely, however, had those eyes, whose every glance had been watched so long, and with such deep interest, for ever closed, when a sudden change came over the scene.
“One would have thought that a flight of crows had suddenly taken wing, so great was the precipitation with which each one hurried from the hotel, in the hope of being first to spread the news amongst the particular set or coterie of which he or she happened to be the oracle. Ere nightfall, that chamber, which all the day had been crowded to excess, was abandoned to the servants of the tomb; and when I entered in the evening, I found the very arm-chair, whence I had so often heard the prince launch the courtly jest or stinging epigram, occupied by a hired priest, whispering prayers for the repose of the departed soul.”