EXTRACTS FROM THE MANUSCRIPTS, SPEECHES, AND POLITICAL WRITINGS OF PRINCE TALLEYRAND.

PRINCE TALLEYRAND’S MAXIMS FOR SEASONING CONVERSATION.

Our welcome of a stranger depends upon the name he bears,—upon the coat he wears: our farewell upon the spirit he has displayed in the interview.

There is so great a charm in friendship, that there is even a kind of pleasure in acknowledging oneself duped by the sentiment it inspires.

Unbounded modesty is nothing more than unavowed vanity: the too humble obeisance is sometimes a disguised impertinence.

The reputation of a man is like his shadow—gigantic when it precedes him, and pigmy in its proportions when it follows.

The “point of honour” can often be made to produce, by means of vanity, as many good deeds as virtue.

More evil truths are discovered by the corruption of the heart than by the penetration of the mind.

Beauty, devoid of grace, is a mere hook without the bait.

Schismatic wranglers are like a child’s top, noisy and agitated when whipped, quiet and motionless when left alone.

He who cannot feel friendship is alike incapable of love. Let a woman beware of the man who owns that he loves no one but herself.

The rich man despises those who flatter him too much, and hates those who do not flatter him at all.

The spirit and enterprise of a courtier are all expended in the search after place and preferment; nothing remains for the fulfilment of the duties to which success compels him.

The Count de Coigny possesses wit and talent, but his conversation is fatiguing, because his memory is equally exact in quoting the date of the death of Alexander the Great and that of the Princess de Guéménée’s poodle.

My passion for Madame de Talleyrand was soon extinguished, because she was merely possessed of beauty. The influence of personal charms is limited: curiosity forms the great ingredient of this kind of love; but add the fascination of intellect to those attractions which habit and possession diminish each day, you will find them multiplied tenfold; and if, besides intellect and beauty, you discover in your mistress caprice, singularity, and inequality of temper, close your eyes and seek no further—you are in love for life.

The imagination of men is often the refuge of their prejudices.

To contradict and argue with a total stranger, is like knocking at a gate to ascertain if there is any one within.

That sovereign has a little mind who seeks to go down to posterity by means of great public buildings. It is to confide to masons and bricklayers the task of writing History.

Love is a reality which is born in the fairy region of romance.

The love of glory can only create a hero; the contempt of it creates a great man.

The mind of the Duc de Laval is like a dark lanthorn, only capable of lighting his own path.

The errors of great men, and the good deeds of reprobates, should not be reckoned in our estimates of their respective characters.

A court is an assemblage of noble and distinguished beggars.

Theologians resemble dogs, that gnaw large bones for the sake of a very little meat.

The stream of vice will flow as naturally into palaces, as the common sewer flows into the river, and the river flows onward to the sea.

It is sometimes quite enough for a man to feign ignorance of that which he knows, to gain the reputation of knowing that of which he is ignorant.

A long continuance of wise administration is the best and surest means of arriving at despotism. Our present government gives us no alarm.

Both erudition and agriculture ought to be encouraged by government; wit and manufactures will come of themselves.

The endeavour to convince a bel esprit by the force of reason, is as mad an undertaking as the attempt to silence an echo by raising the voice.

Metaphysics always remind me of the caravanserais in the desert. They stand solitary and unsupported, and are therefore always ready to crumble into ruin.

A man should make his début in the world as though he were about to enter a hostile country; he must send out scouts, establish sentinels, and ever be upon the watch himself.

Too much sensibility creates unhappiness; too much insensibility creates crime.

What I have been taught, I have forgotten; what I know, I have guessed.

An elderly coxcomb may be compared to a butterfly deprived of wings—he becomes a caterpillar once more.

Certain acts may be rendered legal; but can never be made legitimate.

Human life is like a game at chess; each piece holds its place upon the chess-board—king, queen, bishop, and pawn. Death comes, the game is up, and all are thrown, without distinction, pell-mell into the same bag.

The bold defiance of a woman is the certain sign of her shame—when she has once ceased to blush, it is because she has too much to blush for.

Life, to a young man, is like a new acquaintance, of whom he grows disgusted as he advances in years.

When certain absurd opinions become too generally adopted, they must be replaced by less noxious errors—that is the best way of arriving at Truth.

It is an attribute of true philosophy, never to force the progress of Truth and Reason, but to wait till the dawn of Light; meanwhile, the philosopher may wander into hidden paths, but he will never depart far from the main track.

Prudence in a woman should be an instinct, not a virtue.

Churchmen and men of letters have peculiar difficulties in the world,—the first are continually divided between scandal and hypocrisy, the second between pride and baseness.

The thought of death throws upon life a lurid glow, resembling that of a conflagration, lighting up that which it is about to devour.

In love we grow acquainted, because we are already attached—in friendship we must know each other before we love.

A great capitalist is like a vast lake, upon whose bosom ships can navigate, but which is useless to the country, because no stream issues thence to fertilize the land.

With a great seigneur, there is more to be gained by flattering his vices than by improving his estates.

Truth and virtue can do less good in the world than their false, well-acted semblance can do evil.

A generous man will place the benefits he confers beneath his feet,—those he receives, nearest his heart.

A narrow-minded man can never possess real and true generosity—he can never go beyond mere benevolence.

General maxims applied to every-day life are like routine applied to the arts, good only for mediocre intellects.

If you wish to appear agreeable in society, you must consent to be taught many things which you know already.

We must learn to submit with grace to commit the follies which depend upon character.

There are many vices which do not deprive us of friends,—there are many virtues which prevent our having any.

In reading over the memoirs of the reign of Louis Quatorze, we find many things in the worst manners of that day, which are wanting in the very best society of our own.

I remember having, in my youth, been amused at the resolution of one of my friends to give up the society of the demoiselles de l’opéra, to which he was much addicted, in consequence of his having made the discovery that there existed among these girls as much falsehood and hypocrisy as amongst honest women.

Certain women can find buyers for their charms, who would find no one to take them were they to be had for nothing.

I remember having often been told in my youth that the love of glory was a virtue. Strange must be that virtue which requires the aid of every vice.

There are two things to which we never grow accustomed,—the ravages of time, and the injustice of our fellow men.

The written memoirs which a man leaves after him pour servir à l’histoire de sa vie, and above all, pour servir à l’histoire of his vanity, always remind me of the story of that saint, who left by will a hundred thousand crowns to the Church, to pay for his canonization.

To succeed in the world, it is much more necessary to possess the penetration to discover who is a fool than to discover who is a clever man.

PRINCE TALLEYRAND’S OPINION OF FOX.

(A Fragment from the Prince’s Memoirs.)

January 15th, 1807.

I have just heard of the death of Mr. Fox. It is now fifteen years since I was introduced to him by Mr. Ogilvie, the husband of his aunt, the Duchess of Leinster. It was at his own house, in South-street, and, I think, in June, 1791.

Shortly before his death, false reports led him to form an unjust opinion of me; yet my regret for his loss is not the less deep and sincere, and I feel a firm conviction that, had his life been spared, he would have rendered me justice.

Mr. Fox united in his own character the apparently incompatible qualities of the mildest of men, and the most vehement of orators. In private life he was gentle, modest, kind-hearted, and remarkably simple in his manners. His dislike of ostentation, and of any approach to dogmatism, sometimes gave to his conversation an air of listlessness; his superiority was manifested only by the information he diffused around him, and by the generous feeling which always prompted him to direct the greatest share of his attention to the most obscure members of the company in which he happened to be. The simplicity of his manners did not, in the least, detract from that urbanity, and perfect politeness, which resulted more from the gentleness of his nature, than from his familiar intercourse with the most polished society of Europe. His conversation, when not restrained by the languor arising from fatigue, or by his delicacy towards others, was truly charming. It may, perhaps, be said, that never was the pleasantry of a man of wit so perfectly natural, as that of Mr. Fox; it seemed more like the outpouring, than the creation, of his fancy. He had lived on terms of close intimacy with all those of his contemporaries most distinguished for talent, learning, and political eminence. For the space of thirty years, he maintained intercourse with almost every man in Europe whose conversation and correspondence were of a nature to fortify, enrich, or polish the intellectual faculties. His own literary attainments were varied and profound. In classical erudition, which in England is specially understood by the term learning, he was not inferior to some of the most distinguished scholars of his day. Like all men of genius, he was passionately fond of poetry; the study and cultivation of that branch of literature, formed his favourite source of recreation, amidst the fatigues and annoyances of public life. His own poetic effusions were easy and agreeable, and deserving of a high place in that class of writing which the French call vers de société. The character of his mind was manifested in his predilection for the poetry of the two most poetic nations (or at least most poetic languages) of eastern Europe, viz., the ancient Greek and the modern Italian. Fox did not like political discussions in conversation, and he never voluntarily took part in them.

Any attempt to render justice to his oratorical talents would carry me far beyond the limits of these brief remarks. He was always, and everywhere, natural; and, in public, his manner and appearance were stamped with much of the simplicity which characterized him in private life. When he began to speak, an ordinary observer would have supposed him to be labouring under embarrassment, and even a discriminating listener would only have been struck by the just accuracy of his ideas, and the lucid simplicity of his language; but, after speaking for some time, he was transformed into another being. He forgot himself, and everything around him. His thoughts were wholly absorbed in his subject. His genius warmed as he advanced, and his sentences flashed like rays of light; until at length, in an impetuous and irresistible torrent of eloquence, he earned along with him the feelings and the conviction of his hearers. Fox certainly possessed, beyond any public speaker of modern times, that union of reasoning power, of simplicity, and of vehemence, which characterizes the prince of orators. Next to Demosthenes, he was the most Demosthenian of public speakers. “I knew him,” observes Mr. Burke, in a pamphlet written after their unfortunate difference, “when he was only nineteen years old. From that time he continued rising, by slow degrees, until he has now become the most brilliant and accomplished debater that ever lived.”

The tranquil dignity of mind, (never disturbed but by great causes)—the total absence of vanity—the contempt of ostentation—the hatred of intrigue—the candour, the honesty, and the perfect bonhomie, which were the distinguishing qualities of Fox, would seem to render him the faithful representative of the old national English character—a character which it would be presumptuous to hope can be succeeded by anything better, were it ever to change. The amiability of his disposition inspired confidence—the ardour of his eloquence excited enthusiasm—and the urbanity of his manners invited friendship. Mr. Gibbon has truly observed, that in Fox the highest intellectual powers of man were blended with the engaging gentleness and simplicity of childhood. No human being, he adds, was ever more free from every trace of malignity, vanity, or falsehood. The combination of so many admirable qualities of public and private character, sufficiently accounts for the fact that no English statesman, during so long a period of adverse fortune, retained so many attached friends and zealous adherents, as Charles Fox. The union of great ardour, in the sentiments of the public man, with extreme gentleness in the manners of the social being, would appear to have been an hereditary qualification in Fox, whose father is said to have possessed the same power of winning the attachment of all who knew him. Those who are acquainted with another generation of his descendants, must feel that this engaging quality is not extinct in the family.

Nothing, perhaps, can more forcibly portray the impression produced by this peculiarity in the character of Fox, than a remark made by Burke. In 1797, six years after all intimacy between Burke and Fox had ceased, the former, speaking to an individual honoured by the friendship of the latter, said, “Certainly, Fox is a man formed to be loved;” and these words were uttered with a warmth and emphasis, which precluded all doubt of their cordial sincerity.

The few lines I have here hastily traced, have been written under feelings too sorrowful and serious to admit of any intention to exaggerate; and the affection which I cherished for Mr. Fox will not suffer me to profane his memory by any allusion to the factious contentions of the day. The political conduct of Fox belongs to history. The measures he supported, and those he opposed, may divide the opinions of posterity, as they have those of the present age; but Charles Fox will, assuredly, command the unanimous respect of future generations, by his pure sentiments as a statesman—by his zeal for the civil and religious rights of all mankind—by his advocacy of liberal government, the free exercise of human faculties, and the progressive civilization of the human race—by the ardent love he cherished for his country, whose welfare and happiness can never be disconnected from his glory—and by his profound veneration for that free constitution, which, it will be acknowledged, he understood better than any politician of his time, both in its legal and in its philosophical character.

PRIVATE LETTER FROM PRINCE TALLEYRAND TO MARSHAL SEBASTIANI, ON THE POLICY OF SUFFERING BELGIUM TO BE CREATED AN INDEPENDENT MONARCHY.

London, January 3rd, 1831.

My dear General,—I have read over several times, with the utmost attention, your letter of the 30th ult., and I wish to explain to you confidentially my views relative to its contents. It is evident that, at the present time, France is divided between two parties, whose opinions have their echoes in the council of the king. One of these parties urges us to war, and employs every means, direct and indirect, to bring about that end. The views of this party are directed solely to the attainment of power, and therefore it is necessary to be on one’s guard against the suggestions and speeches which they put forth. The other party, which is so ably headed by yourself, maintains that peace alone can consolidate the new state of things in France, and, consequently, it may be presumed that all its efforts tend to the preservation of peace. It has been truly observed, that a kingdom may rise up amidst the turmoil of war, but that it can only be firmly established in time of peace.

The new line of policy which you suggest in reference to the affairs of Belgium is at variance with all my ideas on the subject, and it would, I am sure, be equally opposed to the views of the English ministers and the members of the conference. Of this fact I have had opportunities of convincing myself in the course of several conversations I have casually entered into for the purpose of sounding opinions on the subject.

We might succeed, but not without difficulty, in obtaining the sovereignty of Belgium for Prince Leopold, on his marriage with a French princess; and I cannot comprehend how the speeches of certain members of the party decidedly favourable to war, should have determined you to renounce the only arrangement by which peace can now be secured.

It must be evident to you, as it is to me, that Prince Leopold is very far from being what is called English. He is attached to England only by the 50,000l. per annum, of which he cannot be deprived, and which gives him the advantage of presenting a civil list, ready settled, to the country he may be called to rule.

Like all great political events, the Belgian revolution appears to me to pass through different phases. The establishment of a monarchical government in Belgium seems a step calculated to relieve that country from the embarrassments in which she is enthralled—viz., the division of the debt between Belgium and Holland; the debt contracted by Belgium to Russia; together with many other matters connected with Belgian independence.

When all these questions shall be adjusted, and Europe shall have approved the adjustment, we may, after the lapse of a few years, entertain with some hope of success, the project of uniting Belgium to France. The very adjustment of the points above referred to, would favour the chance of success, because it would remove difficulties which every one is capable of appreciating. But I am convinced that war would be the inevitable consequence of the proposition now made for annexing Belgium to France.

The present spirit of the members of the conference, and of the English Cabinet, is extremely favourable to us; but, my dear General, I affirm, in the full confidence of being correct, that if we were suspected of entertaining other intentions than those which I have deemed it expedient to express, our position with reference to all the Courts of Europe, including that of England, would be changed much to our disadvantage.

I entreat you, therefore, to reflect maturely before you enter upon so perilous a course. War may compromise so many questions, that it appears to me of all things most to be feared and avoided. The wisdom of the king, who well knows how to resist party clamour, and your prudence, my dear General, must avert this misfortune, and control the turbulent spirits who would drive us to extremities, unmindful that the glory of France now depends on peace. It is easy to commence war,—the difficulty is how to maintain and to terminate it. In short, I am averse to the project of the acquisition of Belgium. The aggrandizement of France by that acquisition would doubtless be flattering to French vanity, but it would in many respects be injurious to French industry. The case is different with respect to the Rhine and Saxony. But, General, your position enables you to judge more accurately than I can, the various questions adverted to in this letter.

FROM PRINCE TALLEYRAND TO MARSHAL SEBASTIANI, ON THE SAME SUBJECT AS THE PRECEDING.

The importance of the crisis at which we have arrived cannot fail frequently to claim your attention. At the present juncture we may, by prompt and honest decision, preserve peace, or by prolonged hesitation we may enable intriguers (too numerous a class both here and in Belgium) to compromise the destinies of Europe, and of the dynasty which the voice of the nation has raised to the throne of France. I await with the utmost anxiety and impatience the reply of the French Cabinet to the various questions proposed by the four Powers; the delay of that reply probably causes indecision in the opinions of the plenipotentiaries assembled here. For Heaven’s sake let not the Belgians, who are so stupid as not to perceive all that has been done for them, and the Dutch, who are stimulated by bitter hatred, draw us into this deplorable contest! Let us not suffer an affair, trivial in itself, to disturb the equilibrium of the world, and to unbridle the fiercest passions. All will be ended, all consummated on the day when France, conjointly with the four other Powers, shall declare that Belgium is to retain her old boundaries, her independence, and her neutrality. On that day the Dutch will be paralysed, the Germanic Confederation will halt, the Belgians will be subdued, the conference will choose Prince Leopold for king, and peace will be secured. If France be so blind as to censure your administration for having saved her in spite of herself—if she be unjust to those who have preserved her—then, sir, you will cease to be minister, and I shall cease to be ambassador. We shall forfeit our posts for having defended and maintained a great principle, for which future ages will honour us. In short, we may be sacrificed, but let it be in the cause of peace, in the cause of civilization and of good order, and in defence of a sovereign whom we love, and whose throne will fall in the general destruction now impending. There is but little time for averting the terrible disaster which my old experience foresees, and of which your quick and accurate discernment must have enabled you to warn the council. But, sir, let your decisions be formed singly with yourself. The powers of the clearest head, and soundest judgment, cannot be freely exercised except when withdrawn from the turbulence of one party, the timidity of another, and unbiassed by the ignorance of outward affairs which is so marked a trait in the French character. The intelligence of the French people, shrewd as it is, scarcely ever extends beyond the frontiers of their own country, and therefore they labour under the singular mistake of supposing that England cannot go to war with us. They do not perceive that the vast concession made by the recent Reform Bill has conferred on the English ministry a temporary popularity, of which they will freely avail themselves to obtain the means of opposing us; and that this means will be much more readily accorded to the present administration than it would have been to that of the Duke of Wellington. Our July revolution is tarnished by circumstances which have greatly obscured its lustre; and it has been justly observed that anarchy and disorder are not very formidable ramparts to be opposed to an enemy. However, there appears to be no disposition to attack us, more especially since the questions of right and law have been entrusted to you. But whenever we give reason to warrant suspicions of our good faith, or of our capability to repress turbulent movements, then, rest assured, that England will, though reluctantly, oppose us with an immensity and a facility of power at which France will be astounded.

On the other hand all that is required of us is to be firm at home and moderate abroad. There is no intention to take anything from us; on the contrary, many concessions on the part of neighbouring powers have been assented to. But it is wished to preserve general peace and security, and not to grant to nations, whose independence has been recognised in spite of old treaties, the right of conquest over countries which have never belonged to them, and which are the guaranteed property of others. For our own sake, sir, as well as for the general good, it were to be wished that every individual composing the French cabinet could comprehend the principle of non-intervention in the way in which it was understood by M. de Rigny at Navarino.

LETTER FROM PRINCE TALLEYRAND TO COUNT SEBASTIANI, ON THE AFFAIRS OF BELGIUM.

London, January 25th, 1831.

Monsieur le Comte,—Count Flahaut arrived here the day before yesterday, and delivered to me the letter which you entrusted to his charge. I thank you for having chosen him as the bearer of it.

The raising of the siege of Antwerp, and the irritation of the King of Holland, prove that the conference was sufficiently rigorous towards both parties to obtain the wished-for result.

My conversation with M. de Flahaut has furnished me with some valuable information respecting the ideas and intentions of the king’s government relative to the affairs which I am directed to manage here, and also respecting the state of public opinion in France. I, however, regret that Count Flahaut had left France before my despatch of the 21st reached you. The intelligence it contained of the resolution adopted by the conference must necessarily influence the views of the king and his council, as well as the line of policy to be pursued towards Belgium. I congratulate myself on the declaration of neutrality, which has been received with great satisfaction by the statesmen of this country. All, to whatsoever party they belong, regard it as a measure of wise policy, honourable to modern civilization, and calculated to ensure the maintenance of peace by the facility it affords for conciliating, if not all claims, at least all essential interests. I must add, however, that whilst acceding to the measure, they regard it as wholly tending to the advantage of France.

I am aware that, in the juncture at which affairs have arrived in Belgium, and amidst the embarrassment which this state of things entails on France and Europe, the public mind has been agitated by schemes of the most opposite character. The avowed neutrality has now rendered most of these plans utterly impracticable, and has enabled me to revive, with advantage, the question of the Prince of Naples, to which, at first, so much opposition was manifested. I even think that we shall completely succeed in rendering the city of Antwerp a free port, or rather in making it one of the Hanse Towns; and I am not quite certain but that we may arrive at this result without Antwerp ceasing to belong, as a free port, to Belgium. From the day on which the protocol was signed, such is the line of policy I have pursued, and I shall continue to follow it up, unless I receive contrary instructions from you.

This plan has the advantage of showing how utterly useless would be any concession made to England on the continent. I will even acknowledge that it was with the view of banishing any idea of that nature that I adopted the system I am now pursuing. I should have deeply regretted to see the king’s name and yours attached to a clause which, in my opinion, would render our government liable to the charge of being indifferent to the judgment of posterity.

History bears evidence to the difficulties entailed by the prolonged occupation of Calais by the English, and it records the favours lavished on the Guises, when they relieved France from that disgrace. These lessons ought not to be thrown away upon us. The same mistakes may be followed by the same results, and may obliterate the stamp of independence which is attached to all the acts of the king’s government. I am certain that his majesty is too high-minded to dwell long on the idea of a plan which, without having any direct effect on our own country, would cause us to be reproached for the manner in which we have exercised our continental power.

No one will go so far as to deny that the annexation of Belgium to France would be an advantage, though an aggrandizement of territory on the bank of the Rhine would be more in accordance with my notions of French policy. I admit that the annexation of Belgium would render popular, for a time, the government that might bring it about, notwithstanding its injurious effects on French industry. But you may rely on it, Count, that that popularity would be exceedingly transient, if purchased at the price that is proposed to be paid for it. There is no reputation, however solid, that would not be shaken by a measure of such a nature. Does not every one blame the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, for having brought the Russians into Europe? What a heavy judgment would fall on those who should bring the English back on the continent! It is best not to throw ourselves into contact with those whom we cannot reach on their own ground.

I am convinced, Monsieur le Comte, if you were plenipotentiary here, you would never affix your name to an act which not even the most protracted and most disastrous war would justify.

Note of M. Colmache.—The Minister for Foreign Affairs (Count Sebastiani) made no reply to the above severe, but just comments on the unworthy proposition which Count Flahaut had undertaken to communicate to the French embassy.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE TRIAL OF PEERS BY THE CHAMBER OF PEERS, AND THE REASONS ON WHICH TALLEYRAND GROUNDED HIS VOTE IN THE AFFAIR OF LIEUTENANTS-GENERAL GUILLEMINOT AND BORDESOULLE.

Our political laws have existed only during the space of a few years. We have witnessed their creation and their birth. As yet they are scarcely anything more than theories. Time alone will convert them into practical laws. In other words, we possess laws, but we do not yet possess jurisprudence.

Amidst all the uncertainties necessarily arising out of such a state of things, it has appeared to me that my duty, as a Peer of France, was to seek, in reflection, for that light and knowledge which experience cannot afford. The following chain of ideas has aided me in the accomplishment of this duty.

The first question I put to myself was, What is the Court of Peers? The answer is, An extraordinary tribunal, instituted by the Charter, for judging certain affairs which that Charter has withdrawn from the ordinary tribunals, either on account of the serious nature of the crimes, or by reason of the rank of the individuals accused. Such, it appears to me, are the meaning and the spirit of Articles 33 and 34 of our fundamental law.

Is this a wise institution? Is it beneficial to the country? I would answer in the affirmative. But these points are not for me to determine. The Charter has decreed, and that is sufficient.

Now, in what does this extraordinary tribunal resemble the ordinary tribunals? Can it be tied down to the same forms of procedure? I find that the law—the faithful guardian of the interests of society, whilst it declares that crime must not escape punishment, is, nevertheless, more watchful in protecting the innocent than in punishing the guilty. It has therefore wisely established hierarchical degrees in the judiciary organization. It separates the accusation from the judgment, and even after judgment the condemned is empowered to appeal for its annulment, if, in the long course of proceedings, a single one of the prescribed tutelary forms shall have been violated or disavowed.

But in the Court of Peers there are no hierarchic degrees; there is not, and cannot be, a chamber of accusation distinct from the court of judgment, where the accusers are themselves the judges. When the Court of Peers has pronounced, the condemned party has no appeal, either on the score of form or fact. The mercy of the king alone can save him. The justice of the Court of Peers is one and indivisible; its action is prompt and irreformable, and against its decisions there is no appeal. It must not be supposed that public feeling rises in alarm against a tribunal which, by its inflexible rapidity, promptly terminates the most important affairs. On the contrary, innocence will always appeal for its protection, and guilt itself will seek refuge in the august sanctuary. The reason is, that the guarantee afforded by the tardy forms of the ordinary courts, is abundantly atoned for by the vast number of the judges in the Court of Peers—by the importance attached to their elevated position—and by the sort of religious awe which takes possession of them, when, at distant intervals, the law calls them from the peaceful habits of their lives, and arms them with the sword of justice.

Thus it is shown that ordinary justice is hierarchical and successive, whilst, that of the Peers is indivisible and instantaneous. Ordinary justice, by reason of its hierarchical character, is susceptible of change both in its nature and in its forms; the justice of the Peers, inasmuch as it is indivisible, is incapable of change.

But this is not the only difference existing between ordinary justice and that which the Charter has confided to our administration. The course of ordinary justice commences in secrecy and ends in publicity. Over the proceedings of the Court of Peers publicity presides, from their commencement to their close.

When ordinary justice conceives suspicions against a private individual, it silently takes measures for repressing the crime or the offence. Even in cases in which it is deemed necessary to deprive the accused of his liberty, the accusation may remain a secret between the magistrate and the accused. Should the suspicion prove unfounded, and the accused be restored to liberty by the Chamber of Accusation, (the first degree in the judicial hierarchy,) that liberation sufficiently repairs the injury sustained by personal honour in the sphere of society to which the accused belongs. But, gentlemen, is it so when the Peers are called upon to render justice in the case of any one of those accused persons whom the law consigns to their judgment? Is not a discussion in the Chamber of Peers an important event in itself? Does not the matter to which it refers immediately become the subject of general conversation? and, if the names compromised should include those of men whose services to the State have long rendered them objects of public esteem, or even of national pride, what a sensation is excited! what conjectures are afloat! what a fine field is opened for calumny, for the outpourings of envy, hatred, and every vile passion! And, in the face of all this, are we to acquit clandestinely and without publicity, our colleagues, so injuriously compromised; and, by a silent absolution, to deprive them of the atonement they are entitled to expect from your courageous and just impartiality?

A serious affair has been submitted to our deliberation by the crown. Our duty is to judge it as a Court of Peers. In this chamber accusations have been uttered, more or less grave. We cannot forget that the names of several noble Peers have, from base motives, been compromised in this affair. It is our duty to render them full and complete justice. By what means shall we do so?

In my endeavours to solve this question, I had almost arrived at the conclusion, that the proper course would be to arraign the accused before the court, to hear the sentence pronounced on them. But further consideration soon convinced me that we had entered on a mistaken and perilous course, and that our first duty is to end the scandalous controversy, in which virtue and honour have been exposed to the vilest attacks. What, in reality, is the question at issue? Great errors have been committed. French treasure has been improvidently wasted. But improvidence cannot be made amenable to the law. On looking over the list of the accused, I perceive only the names of men more or less obscure, suspected of acts more or less mean and contemptible—acts for the commission of which war ever has and ever will afford ample opportunity.

Three hundred millions have been expended in the Spanish war. Of that enormous sum scarcely the sixth part has been absorbed by the victorious army; and yet, inconceivable as it may appear, that army has been made to bear the whole responsibility.

However painful the recollection, it is nevertheless necessary to bear in mind the dismay which prevailed throughout Paris when, shortly after the departure of the Prince Generalissimo, the Moniteur officially announced the existence of a military conspiracy. The nucleus of that conspiracy was alleged to be in the Staff of His Royal Highness. But the descendant of Henry IV. was not intimidated; he showed that he could trust to the honour of French officers, and victory was the reward of his confidence. Thus were the intrigues of the past defeated; and in like manner will be thwarted the intrigues of the present. All has been intrigue throughout this affair. It has already occupied too much of our attention; and it were to be wished that we should never hear more of it either in the Chamber of Peers or in any other court. I can vote only for the full and complete acquittal of all the accused, and I recommend that the verdict be accompanied by the declaration that our colleagues have forfeited none of our esteem.

ANOTHER FRAGMENT FROM PRINCE TALLEYRAND’S MEMOIRS.

The king insisted that the favourable opinion entertained of the services I had rendered him, required that he should instal me in one of the high offices of the crown. The post of grand ecuyer could not be said to be either vacant or filled, as M. de L—— had not tendered his resignation. The king, who still had a leaning to old usages, thought he could not dispose of the post, though the conduct of M. de L——, since the Restoration, had not been congenial with French feeling, but altogether in unison with Austrian ideas. The office of grand chamberlain seemed to be suited to me, though I had filled it under Bonaparte, who deprived me of it to mark his dissatisfaction at the attentions I showed the Spanish princes at Valençay, and at the manner in which I had expressed myself concerning the war against Spain. I lost my post of grand chamberlain, with a salary of 100,000 francs, because I had rendered some assistance, and offered some little solace, to the princes of Spain, during their sojourn at Valençay; and subsequently, the Restoration took from me the post of vice-chamberlain, with a salary of 333,000 francs. Yet I never expressed the least disquietude respecting my fortune, or any desire to seek the means of enlarging my income.

The king restored me to the post of grand chamberlain, with the emolument of 100,000 francs. This post, owing to the pretensions of the gentlemen of the bedchamber, had become a mere sinecure. It conferred rank, dignity, and emolument, without requiring the performance of any duties. The gentlemen of the bedchamber had returned to their places, with all their old pretensions; vanity prompted them to encroach on the highest and most honourable services, whilst courtly meanness made them ready to perform the most annoying and undignified duties. In the circumstances in which I was placed, I felt that my proper course of conduct was to avoid all expression of disapprobation towards the ministers who had succeeded me, and to take no part in the numerous reproaches vented on their administration. My old-fashioned notions of decorum suggested to me the delicacy due from the ministers who had gone out of office, to the ministers who had come in; and I determined to confine myself completely within the sphere of my post of grand chamberlain. Accordingly, I presented myself to the king once a week: the rest of my time I spent among my old books, and in narrating the events I have witnessed in my life-time, or in which I have taken part. I never spoke in the Chamber of Peers, because I wished to avoid alike the expression of censure or approval. I rarely voted; and, in short, I endeavoured, as much as possible, to maintain the character of indifference;—a most essential qualification in a grand chamberlain. I imagined that, in observing this line of conduct towards my successors, I should secure, on their part, respect, or, at all events, their silence in reference to the administration of my colleagues and myself. I was, consequently, not a little astonished, when I found, in the journals under the control of their censorship, that all the mean adulation lavished on the existing ministers, was accompanied by comparisons prejudicial to the ministers who had preceded them. Certain comments on the treaty I had refused to sign, and to which they had affixed their signature, appeared to me at once exceedingly unfair and maladroit; for future generations will not fail to compare the truly French feeling of the men who quitted office because they would not sign, and the pliant principles of the men who signed, in order to keep office. The fact is, that the interests of France were completely disregarded in this matter. The Allies took advantage of the inexperience of the Duke de Richelieu’s administration; and that circumstance cost France the loss of some portion of her territory, at the same time entailing so many other sacrifices, that I have sometimes reproached myself for my resignation at that particular juncture. Certainly, had I been in office, France would not have been subject to the humiliations she has suffered, and which no power should have presumed to inflict on her. It is for me alone to reproach myself. In the estimation of others, I stand in that position in which it was more noble to have resigned office, because I would not sign, than to have signed for the sake of keeping my place. After all, there is some grace in knowing when to resign. The position in which I stood ought not to have exposed me to the insults of journalists. Silence would have been more becoming; but it is difficult for people of mean spirit to restrain themselves by silence. At first I considered these attacks unworthy of notice, and it was only by their daily renewal that I was enabled to perceive they were the result of a settled plan. It was only when they were perseveringly forced on my attention, that I found it necessary to adopt means to repress them. Public credulity readily imbibes erroneous impressions. I tried the effect of absence. I went into the country, and remained there for some time; but all in vain! Unpopularity rendered my successors dissatisfied with themselves. It is the nature of man to blame others, and not himself, for his own errors; accordingly, I was still the individual against whom censure was directed. But for my influence, it was alleged, certain things would have been done, and certain measures would have succeeded—a more decided course would have been taken, &c. &c. Little-minded people always assign their failures to causes in which they themselves have no part. I now thought it time to show less forbearance, and I openly avowed, to my friends and others, whom I casually saw, that I did not approve the line of policy adopted by the ministers, nor indeed of any of the means resorted to for establishing the government of the Restoration. The ministerial interference with the elections, (an example which has been followed in latter times, with such disastrous results,) afforded me an opportunity of declaring my sentiments.

The first person to whom I spoke on this subject was Baron Pasquier, with whom I dined one day at the English Ambassador’s. We were each waiting for his carriage, and consequently our conversation was but short. Nevertheless, it would appear that enough passed to afford grounds for misrepresentation, and the king was pleased to think that the best mode of supporting his ministry, was to show his disapproval of me. In a letter, written by the first gentleman of the bedchamber, his majesty forbade my appearing at court, without the royal permission. Thus, in the same fauteuil in which I had twice installed him, did Louis XVIII. sign, without any previous explanation, and on the report of a man whom he scarcely knew, an order prohibiting me from going to the Tuileries.

Whilst I was suffering under this species of disgrace, I had many visitors. The marshals, and other persons to whom I had never rendered any service, came to see me more frequently than those on whom I had conferred obligations. These latter were prudent; they feared lest they might themselves incur courtly disfavour. I have remarked the proneness to this kind of ingratitude at the present day. The false position in which every one has been placed since the Restoration has doubtless helped to create it. That sort of police which society itself exercises, for repressing the wrongs of society, having ceased to exist, the evil passions of human nature show themselves more openly. The emigration has largely contributed to bring about this state of things.

My disgrace did not tend to raise the king in public estimation, either abroad or at home; and his majesty was therefore desirous of bringing the matter to an end. The same Gentleman of the Chamber who wrote the letter forbidding my appearance at court, now wrote to acquaint me that the king would receive me again with pleasure. I went, and, to spare the king embarrassment, I did not attempt to enter into any explanation. I was aware that he would not acknowledge he had been in the wrong, and yet that acknowledgment was the only great and gracious thing he could have uttered.

I felt that what passed between the king and myself entitled me to censure or disapprove measures which appeared to me injurious to France; and I began occasionally to deliver my opinion in the Chamber of Peers on the questions discussed in that assembly. I endeavoured to show that the government would gain strength by taking an honest and constitutional course, and disavowing all falsehood and evasion; that sincerity in the management of public affairs would simplify everything, and consolidate at once the position of the king and of the country. The French people are too shrewd to be imposed on for any length of time, and when once they find themselves deceived they are ever afterwards distrustful. In the interval between the sessions I made two excursions into the provinces. The aspect of nature has a wonderful effect on the mind, especially when one has just escaped from the strife and agitation of public affairs. Matters which fret and weary us in the active business of life, dwindle into insignificance in the retirement of the country. On the summit of a mountain we feel alike beyond the reach of towering ambition and grovelling malice. There all the annoying phantoms of life vanish.

At the beginning of winter I returned to Paris. My associations were limited to persons whose opinions coincided with my own, and I took part in no public business except the discussions on the liberty of the press, which were maintained during two or three years successively. I observed the course of events in all parts of Europe, and watched the contest that was maintained between despotism and constitutional government. The first decided outbreaks of this contest were manifested at Naples and at Venice. Speedily the revolution in Spain spread agitation throughout France, and brought to light the work in which the Jesuits had been secretly engaged since the Restoration. The ministry, which was composed of emigrants, or of persons whose minds were tainted with the prejudice and bigotry which the emigration had brought back to France, conferred all government appointments on persons of their own way of thinking, or on those who, from interested motives, affected to coincide in their views. Then followed congress upon congress, intrigue upon intrigue; and the Emperor Alexander showed his feebleness of character by seeking refuge in that Holy Alliance which too plainly demonstrated that sovereigns had interests apart from those of their subjects. I often think of what must be the result of the existing conflict between intelligence and despotism. I reflect on the great change that will be wrought by new compacts between subjects and sovereigns. It is only by this means that social order can be established. We are told that this or that particular country requires more stringent measures of government than others; but all nations have rights, which vary according to the greater or less degree of civilization they may have reached. The recognition of these rights is at once the security of thrones and the guarantee of public freedom. These rights may and can be enforced without popular convulsions; but, in proportion as the rights of mankind are disavowed or withheld, the more violent will be the struggles to recover them, and in the end these struggles will prove triumphant. This is my opinion, and it will remain unaltered to the latest day of my life.

LETTER TO HIS MAJESTY KING WILLIAM IV., FROM PRINCE TALLEYRAND, ON HIS BEING APPOINTED AMBASSADOR FROM FRANCE.

“Sire,—His Majesty the King of the French has been pleased to make me the interpreter of the sentiments he cherishes for your Majesty.

“I have joyfully accepted a mission which gives so noble a direction to the last steps of my long public career.

“Sire, amidst all the vicissitudes through which I have passed during my long life—amidst all the changes of good and ill fortune I have undergone during the last forty years, no circumstance has afforded me such perfect gratification as the appointment which brings me back to this happy country. But how great is the change between the period when I was formerly here and the present time! The jealousies and prejudices which so long divided France and England have given place to enlightened sentiments of esteem and affection. Unity of feeling rivets the bonds of amity between the two countries. England, like France, repudiates the principle of intervention in the internal affairs of neighbouring states; and the ambassador of a sovereign unanimously chosen by a great nation, feels himself at home in a land of freedom, as the missionary to a descendant of the illustrious house of Brunswick.

“I feel that I may with confidence implore your Majesty’s kind consideration of the subjects which I am commanded to submit to your attention, and I beg, Sire, to offer the homage of my profound respect.”

OPINION OF PRINCE TALLEYRAND ON THE PLAN OF LAW RELATIVE TO JOURNALS AND PERIODICAL PUBLICATIONS.

Delivered in the Chamber of Peers, in the sitting of Tuesday, July 24, 1821.

“Gentlemen,—In presenting myself before this assembly, I experience the embarrassment of feeling the utter inutility of the observations I am about to make, but to which, nevertheless, I consider it my duty to give utterance. By a deplorable fatality, the causes of which it is not my purpose at present to inquire into, the questions in appearance submitted to our consideration, are already resolved—irrevocably resolved. We discuss, as though our discussions were affairs of some import; whilst, in reality, we are but the instruments of imperious necessity. Laws and budgets are laid before us, and they who would naturally be our opponents in discussing them, are not here; their absence operates as a sort of command upon us. The Chamber of Peers, by the position in which it is placed, will soon degenerate into a Court of Registration, a mere semblance of the constitutional hierarchy. Hence, it follows, that those who absolutely desire to see in France a real Chamber of Peers—that those who regard it as essential to the monarchy—seeing it annihilated for the present, look forward to the future. In their inability to remedy the present evil, they indulge in prophetic warnings, which it is easy to turn into ridicule; or they offer advice which levity despises and weakness rejects.

“I apply, gentlemen, these considerations to the law now submitted to your attention. Is it the work of the Ministry? No; for, on the one hand, it is more limited in its duration than the primitive law, a circumstance of which I am certainly not disposed to complain; and, on the other hand, its restrictions extend to literature, science, and the arts, (heretofore exempt from the coercion of the censorship:) and at these restrictions I am assuredly not disposed to rejoice. Is it certain that these various modifications meet the concurrence of the majority of this Chamber? Possibly they do not; and yet, what can we do? Are we free to amend, in our turn, the amendments of the all-powerful Chamber of Deputies? No, gentlemen; and I say so, not with the view of reflecting blame on the Chamber of Deputies, (which has merely exercised its constitutional privileges in a very constitutional manner,) but to complain that the Chamber of Peers is stripped of all its privileges by tardy presentations, which leave it neither time to deliberate nor power to resist.

“Convinced as I am that the fate of the present law is determined beforehand; that a discussion, however warm, will not influence its rejection, or even tend to modify its effects; I present myself here, less for the purpose of opposing it, than to prevent its reappearance, when it shall have lived through its legal period of existence. I speak for the interest of the future session, and not for the interest of the present one. I do not hope, gentlemen, to convince you now; my object is to pave the way for a more free and more profound discussion at a future time.

“The liberty of the press, applied to politics, is, as has already been stated, neither more nor less than the liberty of the journals.

“We are all desirous to enjoy the blessings of representative government; it is the government which the king has granted to us.

“Representative government cannot exist without the liberty of the press, which is one of its essential instruments; indeed, its principal instrument. Every government has its own machinery; and it must always be borne in mind that institutions which are salutary to one government, may be injurious to another. It has been proved to demonstration by several members of this Chamber, who, during the present and preceding sessions, have spoken on the subject now under consideration, that, without the liberty of the press, there can be no representative government. I will not, therefore, weary you by repeating that which you must all have heard or read, and which must frequently have been the subject of your own meditations.

“But there are two points of view in which it appears to me that the question has not been adequately considered, and which I will reduce to the two following propositions—

“I. The liberty of the press is a necessity of the age.

“II. A government endangers its stability when it obstinately refuses to grant that which the age proclaims to be necessary.

“The human mind is never completely stationary. The discovery of yesterday is but the medium for arriving at a new discovery to-morrow. Nevertheless it is true that human intelligence would seem to advance by crises; there are periods when that intelligence is urged forward by the desire of creating and producing; and there are times when, satisfied with its acquisitions, it appears to repose within itself, and to be occupied in arranging and setting in order the riches it possesses, rather than in earning new wealth. The seventeenth century was one of these fortunate epochs. The human mind, amazed at the vast treasures of which it had become possessed through the invention of printing, seemed to stop short in its onward movement, as if eager to rest in the enjoyment of its magnificent heritage. Revelling in the luxuries of literature, science, and the arts, it set its glory on the production of master-pieces. The great men of the age of Louis XIV. vied one with another in embellishing a state of society, beyond which they could see nothing or wish for nothing, and which seemed destined to endure as long as the glory of the great king who engrossed all their respect and enthusiasm. But the fertile mine of antiquity being exhausted, the activity of the human mind was turned, as it were by force, into another channel, and it found novelty in those speculative studies which embrace the whole future, and whose limits are indefinable. Such were the circumstances which ushered in the commencement of the eighteenth century, destined to prove so dissimilar to the century that had preceded it. The poetic lessons of Telemachus were succeeded by the theories of the Esprit des Lois; and the Port-Royal was superseded by the Encyclopedia.

“I beg you to observe, gentlemen, that I am neither concurring nor approving, but merely narrating.

“On looking back to the disasters which befel France during the Revolution, we should guard against being wholly unjust to those master spirits whose writings gave the first impulse to that great event. We must not forget that if those writers did not always steer clear of error, yet that we owe to them the revelation of many great truths. We must bear in mind that those men are in no way responsible for the inconsiderate precipitancy with which France, almost unanimously, rushed into the career which they had merely traced out in perspective. Views which had been only theoretically developed were suddenly carried into practical effect; and the result has shown the awful consequences which ensue when man, prompted by insane self-confidence, ventures to go beyond the necessities of the age—the gulf of misfortune then yawns before him. But in merely working such changes as are dictated by the wants of the age, we are certain not to diverge very far from the right course.

“Now, gentlemen, let us see what were the real necessities of the age in the year 1789. The changes which were suggested by the mature reflection of enlightened men may be fairly regarded as necessities. The Constituent Assembly was merely the interpreter of those necessities when it proclaimed the liberty of religious worship, equality in the eye of the law, the free right of jurisdiction, (every one being amenable to his natural judges,) and the liberty of the press.

“But the Constituent Assembly was not in accordance with the spirit of the age when it instituted a single Chamber; when it destroyed the royal sanction; when it tortured consciences, &c. Yet, notwithstanding the errors of that Assembly, (errors of which I have named only a few, and which were followed by great calamities,) it will enjoy, in the judgment of posterity, the glory of having established the bases of our new public law. The august author of the charter—the monarch who is worthy of France, as France is worthy of him—has consecrated in his noble work the only great principles furnished by the Constituent Assembly.

“Let us take it for granted that laws which are wished for—which are proclaimed to be good and salutary by the most enlightened men of a country, and which have been so proclaimed during a series of years—are necessities of the age. One of these laws, gentlemen, is the liberty of the press. I appeal to all those among you who are most especially my contemporaries—was not the liberty of the press an object ardently desired by all those excellent men whom we have admired in our youth—the Malesherbes, the d’Estignys, and the Trudaines?—who, to say the least, were not inferior to any of the statesmen who have flourished since their time. The place which the men I have just named occupy in our recollections, sufficiently proves that the liberty of the press consolidates legitimate renown, and if it ruins usurped reputations, where is the evil?

“If I have said enough to prove that the liberty of the press is, in France, the necessary result of the present state of society, it now only remains for me to establish my second proposition—viz., that a government endangers its stability when it obstinately refuses to grant that which the age proclaims to be a necessity.

“In the most tranquil and happy conditions of society there is always a certain number of men who aspire to gain, by the help of disorder, the wealth which they possess not, and the importance which they ought not to possess. Is it wise to place in the hands of these enemies of social order, weapons of discontent, without which their perversity would ever remain powerless? Why give them the privilege of continually claiming the fulfilment of a promise? They will but abuse that privilege, and in this instance they are not, as in some others, seeking merely a chimerical good.

“Society, in its progressive advance, is destined to feel new necessities. I readily admit that governments ought not rashly to acknowledge them or to convert them into laws. But when these necessities have once been acknowledged, to take back what has been granted, or (which amounts to the same thing) to withhold that which has been granted, or to suspend it unceasingly, is a dangerous course, of which I earnestly hope those who have put it in practice may not have reason to repent. A government should never compromise its own good faith. In the present age, it is not easy to carry on deception for any lengthened period of time. There is a power whose wisdom is superior to that of Voltaire, whose intelligence is greater than that of Bonaparte—a power, in short, superior to the directors or to any of the ministers, past, present, or to come—that power is the great mass of mankind. To engage, or at least to persist, in a conflict on any question on which the majority of the world conceive their interests to be at stake, is an error, and all political errors are dangerous.

“When the freedom of the press exists, when people know that their interests will be defended, they trust that time will render them justice, however tardily that justice may come. They rely on hope, and with reason, for even hope cannot be long deceived. But when the liberty of the press is restricted, when no complaint is permitted to be heard, discontent forces a government either into too much weakness or too much severity.

“But these reflections are carrying me too far, and I must conclude. For the interest of the King and of France, I demand a repressive law, and I vote against the censorship.”

OPINION OF THE BISHOP OF AUTUN ON THE SUBJECT OF ECCLESIASTICAL PROPERTY, DELIVERED IN THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY IN THE YEAR 1789.

[The following extracts comprise the principal points of this address.]

“I have stated, gentlemen, the reasons which lead me to believe that ecclesiastical property is national property. If those reasons, which nothing has for an instant shaken in my own mind, appear to you of some weight in themselves, how much more weighty, how much more decisive must they not appear under all the circumstances of the present juncture? Let us only look around us; the public fortune is tottering—its approaching fall threatens all other fortunes, and in this universal disaster who would have greater cause to fear than the clergy? Invidious comparisons have long been made between the public indigence and the private opulence of many among us; let us silence in one moment these unpleasant murmurs, so offensive to our patriotism. Let us deliver up to the nation both our persons and our fortunes;—the nation will never forget the act.

“Let us not say that the clergy, merely from being no longer landed proprietors, will on that account become less worthy of public consideration. No! the clergy will not be the less revered by the people from their being paid by the nation; for the heads of offices, ministers, and even kings themselves, receive salaries without being the less honoured on that account. No! the clergy will not become odious to the people, for it is not from the individual hands of the citizens that the minister of religion will seek his tribute, but from the public treasury, like all the other mandatories of the government. Do we not constantly see the people consenting to forget that the functionaries of the state are in their pay, and uniting with their generous tributes the personal homage of respect for men whose duties are often opposed to their passions, and sometimes even to their interests? Who shall persuade us to believe that the French people, whose sense of justice is greater than their calumniators would lead us to suppose, would withdraw their grateful esteem from those who ought not, who will not, who cannot inspire them with any but virtuous sentiments; who would pour into their bosoms the consolations of charity, and discharge towards them at all times the most paternal duties?

“Say not that the cause of religion is bound up with this question;—say rather, what we all know, say that the greatest act of religion which would redound to our own honour, would be to hasten the arrival of that period when a better order of things will sweep away the abuses of corruption, and will prevent the occurrence of that multitude of open crimes and secret offences which are the fruits of great public calamities. Say that the noblest homage that can be paid to religion, is to contribute to the formation of a state of social order which should foster and protect the virtues religion ordains and rewards, and which, in the perfection of society, should constantly remind men of the benefactor of nature. The people, brought back to religion by the feeling of their own happiness, will remember, not without gratitude, the sacrifices which the ministers of religion will have made for the general good. Everything unites in demanding it. Public opinion everywhere proclaims the law of justice, united to that of necessity. A few moments longer, and we shall lose, in an unequal and degrading struggle, the honour of a generous resignation. Let us meet necessity, and we shall seem not to fear it, or rather, to use a form of expression more worthy of you, we shall in reality not fear it. We should not then be dragged to the altar of the country; we should be bearing to it a voluntary offering. Of what use is it to defer the moment? What troubles, what misfortunes might not have been prevented, if the sacrifices consummated here for three months past had been made in proper time a gift of patriotism? Let us show that we wish to be citizens, and citizens only, and that we really desire to join in the national unity which France so ardently longs for. Finally, in ceasing to form a body which is a constant object of envy, the clergy will become an assemblage of citizens, and objects of national gratitude.

“In conclusion, then, I would recommend that the principle involving the proprietorship of the ecclesiastical revenues should be at once determined; and, to avoid all appearance of equivocation, I would recommend it should be decreed by the National Assembly that the nation is the real proprietor, and can dispose of them for the public good. The nation must at the same time pledge itself to preserve for each incumbent that which really belongs to him, and to provide for the due settlement (in such manner as may be deemed most fitting) of the real obligations with which those properties are burthened.”

EXTRACTS FROM THE SPEECH OF THE BISHOP OF AUTUN, ON THE OCCASION OF HIS MOTION ON THE SUBJECT OF ECCLESIASTICAL REFORM, ON THE 10TH OF OCTOBER, 1789.

“The state has for a long time had to struggle with the greatest difficulties: none of us are ignorant of this fact, and therefore powerful means must be employed to meet them. Ordinary measures have been exhausted; the people are hard-pressed on every side, and the slightest additional burden would naturally be felt insupportable. In fact, it is not to be thought of. Extraordinary resources have just been tried, but they are principally destined for the extraordinary necessities of the present year. We want provision for the future—we want provision for the entire restoration of order. There exists one immense and decided resource, and one which in my opinion (for otherwise I should repel the idea) may be combined with a rigid respect for property. This resource appears to me to lie entirely in the ecclesiastical revenues.

* * * * *

“I do not mean a contribution towards maintaining the burthens of the state proportional to that arising from other kinds of property; this could never be viewed in the light of a sacrifice. The operation I point at is one of far greater importance to the nation.

* * * * *

“It appears evident to me that the clergy are not in the position of other landed proprietors, because the property they enjoy (and which they cannot dispose of) has been given, not for personal interest, but for the performance of certain duties.

“It would also appear that the nation, in virtue of the extensive powers it possesses over all the bodies contained within it, has a right to destroy, if not the whole, at all events, portions of the ecclesiastical body, if they are considered hurtful, or even useless, and that this right over their existence necessarily carries with it an extensive right over the disposal of its property.

“It is moreover certain that the nation, precisely because it is the protector of the wishes of the founders, can, and even ought to suppress those livings which have become sinecures.

“Thus far there is no difficulty; but the question is, Can the nation also reduce the revenue of the actual incumbents, and dispose of a portion of that revenue? There appears to me one very simple answer to the arguments of those who deny this right.

“However inviolable may be the possession of a property which is guaranteed by law, it is clear that the law cannot change the nature of the property by guaranteeing it; and that, in the case of ecclesiastical property, it can only ensure to each actual incumbent the enjoyment of what has really been granted to him by the act of his foundation. Now, it is well known that all the foundation-titles of ecclesiastical property, as well as the various laws of the church explanatory of the sense and the spirit of those titles, show that only that portion of the property which is necessary for the decent maintenance of the incumbent really belongs to him—that he is merely the administrator of the remainder, which remainder is really destined for the relief of the poor, or the repair of the temples of God. If, then, the nation carefully ensures to each incumbent (whatever may be the nature of his living) that respectable maintenance, it will not be encroaching upon his individual property. If, at the same time, it takes upon itself, as it has the undoubted right to do, the administration of the rest; if it undertakes the other obligations attached to these properties, such as the maintenance of hospitals and charitable institutions, the repairs of churches, the expenses of public education, &c.; if, above all, these resources are drawn upon only at the moment of a general calamity, it appears to me that all the intentions of the founders will be fulfilled, and full justice will have been rigidly accomplished.

“Thus, in brief recapitulation, I would state my belief, that the nation may, without injustice, in a period of general distress, 1st, dispose of the properties of the different religious communities which it may be desirable to suppress, ensuring, at the same time, means of subsistence to the incumbents; 2ndly, turn to immediate account (always carrying out the general spirit of the founders) the revenues of all the sinecure livings which may be vacant, and secure those of all similar livings as they become vacant; and 3rdly, reduce, according to a certain proportion, the present revenues of the incumbents, whenever they shall exceed a certain given sum, the nation taking upon itself a portion of the obligations with which those properties were originally charged.”

* * * * *

EXTRACTS FROM THE ADDRESS OF THE BISHOP OF AUTUN ON THE SUBJECT OF BANKS, AND ON THE RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF ORDER IN THE FRENCH FINANCES.

Delivered in the National Assembly, on Friday, Dec. 4th, 1789.

“As a member of the committee whose report you have just heard, I consider myself entitled to address you, both for the purpose of submitting to you some ideas of my own on the subject of the caisse d’escompte, and more especially with the view of bringing to bear upon this subject some important questions, inseparable from it, and essentially connected with the great interests which now so urgently engage your attention.

“The idea of the establishment of a national bank in France, is one which has excited great attention, and which has gained great favour in public opinion.

“Many persons who entertain sound views on the subject of credit, consider such an establishment as indispensable, whilst even those who are least acquainted with the subject—those who scarcely know what a bank is, and who are totally ignorant of the organization suitable to a national bank, seem to derive confidence, amidst the present want of credit, simply from understanding that the National Assembly contemplates the establishment of a national bank. It would indeed seem as if the mere name of a bank were alone sufficient to settle everything; but we must be careful to observe that it is only a well-constituted bank that ought to be established, and not a national bank of any sort. Banks are by no means simple institutions; their object is indeed everywhere the same—to facilitate the circulation of exchanges, and to lower the interest of money; but the means they employ must vary extremely. Banks may be likened to highly-tempered instruments, which must be managed with caution and skill, because either great good or great evil may result from their use. Here, above all, you must be upon your guard against the various systems suggested by cupidity, by superficial knowledge, or by that half-acquaintance with the subject which is so common and so dangerous. It cannot, therefore, be entirely useless to recall to your attention, for the purpose of refuting them, the different ideas which have been promulgated on the creation of a national bank in France, particularly as some of these views have neither been opposed nor discussed, and are, perhaps, of a nature to mislead the well-intentioned. Let us take a cursory view of them.

“The creation of a national bank has been proposed. My opinion is, that a well-constituted bank ought not to be a national bank, whether by that title we understand simply the responsibility of the nation, or that the nation should have established the bank on its own account.

“People are led to believe that, because the nation is about to render itself responsible for the public debt, it might also be answerable for the funds of a bank; but it is very important that these two things should not be confounded.

“The nation ought undoubtedly to become responsible for the public debt, inasmuch as the sums which compose that debt have been lent to the nation, have been employed by the nation, and have been entrusted to the only recognised representative of the nation. In fact, properly speaking, the nation cannot be said to be security for the debt, for the nation is the debtor itself.

“The guarantee which the nation would grant to the bank should be of a totally different nature.

“So far from this national guarantee imparting credit to a bank, such an arrangement would have the effect of depriving of all credit the nation capable of adopting it. Who would place confidence in a nation which should be imprudent enough to entrust to a small number of individuals the management of a bank whose operations would necessarily be unlimited, and whereby all the national property would become mortgaged?

“It may readily be imagined that every possible precaution would be taken to prevent the managers of the bank from being unfaithful to their trust; but still the possibility will always remain, that, should a misfortune befal the bank, it would be necessary either to levy enormous contributions on the property of the country, or to declare the nation itself bankrupt. Would any prudent nation incur the risk of reducing itself to such an alternative? Would any honest nation, valuing a character for integrity, offer a responsibility which might prove illusory?

“The nation, then, cannot, ought not, to become guarantee for the bank.

“Still less ought the nation to establish the bank on its own account; for, to all the inconveniences resulting from responsibility, there would be added many others. The nation would have only two methods to choose between, either to entrust the administration of the bank to salaried officials, or to personally interested managers. In the first case, there would be too much reason to fear that the management of the bank would not receive due attention; while, in the second case, there would be an equal risk of the directors seeking immoderate profits, under the pretence of serving the interests of the nation with which they would be associated. In either case, should any misfortune befal the bank, the representatives of the country would, with much less freedom, deliver their opinion on events in which the interest of the whole nation would be compromised, than if they had merely to judge the conduct of private directors. And, finally, in both cases the annual expenses of management would be increased, and the portion of profits which the nation might directly claim from the operations of the bank, would certainly not indemnify it for the incalculable loss resulting from the diminished interest of money in the kingdom.

“The nation, therefore, cannot become guarantee for the bank, nor can the bank be established on account of the nation.”

“It has been proposed to establish banks of discount (caisses d’escompte) in different towns of the kingdom, and this plan certainly looks somewhat plausible; for it would seem at first sight that if banks of discount are useful, they cannot be too much multiplied, and that if they are favourable to commerce, they ought, above all, to be established in commercial towns.

“But it is easy to perceive that a single bank of discount, or bank of aid (banque de secours), placed in the capital, in the centre of circulation, would not only animate the commerce of the place in which it is established, but would necessarily extend its influence throughout the whole of the kingdom.

“Now, a number of banks of discount, or banks of aid, would not produce the same advantages; for by mutually increasing their credit, they would infallibly injure each other.

“In the first place, the multiplicity of these banks would oblige every individual to examine all the different bank-notes presented to him, whilst at present a great portion of the confidence with which these notes are received, proceeds from the circumstance of their requiring no examination, being recognisable at first sight, almost as readily as pieces of coin.

“This observation is, perhaps, more important than it may appear. There can be no doubt that a degree of credit would be attached to the notes of a single bank applicable to the whole kingdom, which would never be accorded to the notes of a number of banks, dispersed among the provinces; for, as each of these several banks would enjoy a different degree of credit, the notes of each would require previous examination, before being taken in payment.

“But, independently of this consideration, another very grave inconvenience would arise. The embarrassments of any one of these banks would inevitably operate prejudicially on the credit of the rest, from the correspondence which would exist among them. To multiply the places where these embarrassments might ensue, would be to multiply their probability, and it is, doubtless, important not to augment the chances which may compromise the trade and the monetary circulation of the kingdom.

“A plan has been proposed for supplying the place of this multiplicity of banks, by admitting the existence of one general bank alone, having in most of the provincial towns branch establishments, where the notes of the bank would be paid on presentation. This idea is the most impracticable of all. With the inconveniences of the preceding plan, it combines a still greater inconvenience of its own; for it is evident that the bank, instead of merely holding in its principal treasury such portion of its capital as prudence might show to be necessary, would at the same time require to hold a similar portion in each of its branch establishments. But for this precaution, it would be in the power of evil-disposed persons to convey a considerable number of notes into any particular town in which there was a branch bank; even chance, or some circumstance impossible to foresee, might draw a great quantity of notes at one time into some particular branch bank, which might not be in a condition to honour them. If there were but fifty of these branch offices dispersed in different towns of the kingdom, the probability is, that there would be a failure of the bank in different places almost every day of the year, though the sums it held in cash, distributed among its different treasuries, might, in the aggregate, be very much beyond the whole demands made upon it.”

* * * * *

“As to the banking plan which has been proposed to you by the Minister of Finance, and which, on that account, merits your deepest attention, I shall add little to the observations which have already been made in opposition to it. I shall confine myself to a single remark, which, however, I must confess, appears to me decisive. This plan is founded on the creation of a paper circulation not convertible into money at will, consequently, on the creation of a paper-money. Now, there do not exist, at least in my opinion, two ideas more opposed to each other than the existence of paper-money and of a bank: the one bears the character of constraint and authority, whilst the other, on the contrary, can be maintained only by the most free and unlimited confidence.

“Although I have thus shown, or at least mentioned, the inconveniences of most of the banking systems which have been proposed, it is not my intention to submit to you any plan of my own. I will, however, add a few observations bearing on the questions now under consideration. They may perhaps throw some light on principles which seem to me not sufficiently understood.

“The fundamental law of any bank whatever, is to fulfil its engagements when they fall due: I know of no other. If the particular position of the bank is such as to enable it to undertake engagements at sight, and payable at any moment, then this bank should be so regulated as to be at all times fully prepared to pay its engagements on presentation. Such is the rule which common sense would dictate.

“It is a common idea that the direct object of a bank is to throw notes into circulation. Undoubtedly the power of issuing notes is an immediate consequence of the credit of a bank; but we must beware of confounding this result with the real object of the institution of a banque de secours. When we seek a principle, we must of necessity disengage it from its consequences, however clear and direct they may be.

“The object of a bank composed of partners en commandite, like the caisse d’escompte, is to furnish assistance to commerce by bringing together funds to be applied to discounting good bills at a moderate rate of interest. When bills are presented for discount at this bank, the directors, provided they agree to give the accommodation, grant a bon, or order, to receive the cash at their treasury. The bearer of this order proceeds to the treasury, procures the cash, and carries it away. This is the natural course of proceeding, which was pursued at the commencement; but after going through the process of discounting paper repeatedly, and finding that the order on the treasury was always paid on presentation, it was soon perceived that it would be paid with equal punctuality on the following day, and that it was sometimes more convenient to carry home the order, and send for the cash when required. This order was next given in payment to some third party, who, being also aware of the exactness with which it would be paid, was in no hurry to present it; and thus, the knowledge of the punctual payment of the orders furnished by the directors of the bank upon their treasury produced in the end the effect, that everybody felt it to be a matter of indifference whether he held the note, or the cash which it represented.

“The consequence of this has been that those holding an interest in the establishment, finding that many parties abstained from sending for payment of the notes made payable at sight at the treasury, thought they were justified, when good bills were brought to them with dates not too distant, in discounting them with a part of the cash destined to meet their own notes. It is clear, however, that they could not properly employ for this purpose any portion of the cash beyond that which, in the nature of things, would not be demanded of them before the period fixed for the return of the money which had been advanced upon the bills they had discounted.

“So long as bank directors conform, in this respect, to the rules of prudence, their notes obtain such a degree of confidence, on account of the readiness with which they are handled and circulated, that cash is often brought for the purpose of buying notes on their treasury. If, on the contrary, abusing this confidence, and desirous of extending their transactions and their profits, they allow themselves at any time to alienate a portion of their funds, to such an amount as might subject them to the risk of being applied to for more cash than they possess, in that case there is at once an end of confidence. Thenceforward, their notes are looked upon only as paper, of which the payment is uncertain; and, as the business relations of the Banque de Secours connect its directors with all the bankers of the capital, and with almost all the branches of circulation in the kingdom, there arises a feeling of great distrust at home, and still greater abroad, which rapidly turns the exchange to our disadvantage, and leads to a restriction of the currency and all the evils resulting therefrom.

“What, then, should be the conduct of the directors of such an establishment at periods when confidence is shaken? Their course is very simple. They ought to know that at those times they may be applied to for payment of a portion of their notes, perhaps of all. They ought, therefore, to use only an unimportant portion, or even none, of the funds in their treasury destined to redeem their notes.

“It would be absurd, therefore, for the directors of a Banque de Secours to pretend there was nothing wrong in its management so long as they should maintain in their treasury an amount of cash equivalent to the third or fourth part of the amount of their notes in circulation. In this respect, it is impossible to fix any absolute proportion. It is necessary that the directors of a bank should possess a sufficient degree of foresight to provide themselves, not with a fourth or a third, but with a half, or three fourths, or even the whole amount of the funds representing the notes, whenever any corresponding number of notes are likely to be presented for payment.

“But, it may be said, the bank would in that case make no profit. To this I reply, that the chief object of the protection which the government or the nation may grant to a Banque de Secours, is not to enable those holding an interest in the bank to make, under all possible circumstances, considerable and uninterrupted profits. Undoubtedly the nation should desire to see the bank prosper, because it is by profit alone that the interested parties can be induced to maintain an establishment of the sort, and because the existence of such an establishment is useful in a state; but the nation has no interest in desiring more than that the shareholders should make such profits as are sufficient to induce them to carry on the bank.”

* * * * *

“At periods when confidence is shaken, it is necessary for a public bank to restrict its operations. The directors of such an establishment would be very imprudent, or even culpable, if, instead of resigning themselves to bear their portion of the misfortunes of the times, they were to persist, contrary to the natural course of things, in giving always an equal extension to their operations, at the risk of being at length compelled to come to a stop.

“The Caisse d’Escompte seems to have fallen into some of these difficulties, and to have failed to recognise the fundamental principle of all banks, which consists in never failing to meet engagements.”

* * * * *

“The Caisse d’Escompte has undoubtedly transgressed the rules prescribed to it; and yet it is, perhaps, allowable not to weigh its conduct in an ordinary balance. It had furnished money which, doubtless, it had not the right to furnish, because it did not belong to it; but it has given that assistance in a crisis which has baffled all human foresight, and out of deference to a minister in whom the nation has so justly placed confidence. It is not necessary that the Assembly should convert the Caisse d’Escompte into a national bank, but it is unquestionably necessary that it should keep account of its advances with the Caisse.”

“M. Necker’s suggestion on this point does not, I must confess, appear to me to attain the object desired. I can recognise no real payment in paper-money, or, if there is a real payment, I see in it a preference accorded to the Caisse d’Escompte, which may have the appearance of an injustice to the other creditors of the state. Why create a paper-money specially in favour of the Caisse d’Escompte, and leave other parties to suffer whose claims upon the nation are at least as sacred?”

* * * * *

“The claims of the Caisse d’Escompte are not less sacred than those of others, I grant, but neither are they more so. I will not, therefore, recommend you to create paper-money for the other creditors, as well as for the Caisse, but I would conjure you not to create it at all. The inevitable effect of all paper-money is, as you know, the rapid disappearance of cash. The fictitious currency drives away the real; and as the former can never be a perfectly exact representation of the latter, it happens that it drives away far more than it replaces. From that moment the paper no longer maintains an equality with cash; it falls below par, and hence the most fatal consequences. All the creditors who receive payment in notes lose the difference, while, on the other hand, all the debtors to whom cash had been advanced, gain the difference, and hence arise a destruction of property and a general want of faith in payments—a want of faith the more odious as it has the sanction of legality. Moreover, as soon as one set of engagements between individuals is settled, fresh ones will be formed, or there would be an end of all business transactions; and here recommences, in an opposite direction, an operation no less fatal, no less convulsive, by which the creditors, in their turn, will ruin the debtors. Fearing a repayment in notes, and adding by anticipation the present loss upon those notes to the still greater loss which they expect may afterwards be incurred, they swell out their claims to an unreasonable extent. Thus they entail the ruin of their debtors when the time arrives at which there shall be no more notes, or when confidence shall have brought them to an equality with cash. It is evident that this is not a reparation of the injustice first alluded to, but an entirely new species of injustice, inasmuch as there is neither the same proportion, nor the same contracting parties, nor the same engagements.”

* * * * *

“The more we reflect on the true principles of credit, the more are we convinced that there exists in this respect no difference between a nation and a private individual. A nation, like a private person, possesses credit only so long as it is known to have the will and the power to pay. A nation, like an individual, can do nothing better towards its creditors than to pay in ready money its engagements when due. If, through some unfortunate circumstances, the means of payment in cash are wanting, the best—the only course which a nation, like an individual, can then adopt, is to propose to its creditors only such arrangements as are secure of being carried into effect, for nothing destroys confidence like exaggerated promises.”

* * * * *

“Rest assured that every mechanical means of bringing about the re-appearance of specie, such as the melting down of plate, the purchase of materials at a great expense, or other such temporary expedients, though they may afford the appearance of relief, have really nothing substantial or durable in their nature. When once the public feeling leads to the hoarding or the exportation of specie, that which you produce in this way will speedily be withdrawn from the circulation like the rest. It is only by securing public opinion, and by furnishing irresistible motives of confidence, that credit can be ensured; and those who fear that, even after the restoration of order, the specie which seems to have vanished from among us will not re-appear, are mistaken. Gold and silver are necessarily transported, like other articles of merchandize, wherever there exist the will and the power to pay for them; they are even transported more readily by reason of the ease with which they are removed. So long as the nation has a surplus to dispose of, the gold and silver required will always be procured; for it must not be forgotten that, if gold and silver are the purchasing medium for all other things, all other things are equally the purchasing medium for those metals. For a nation which has nothing to give, there can be nothing to obtain; but those nations which have an immense surplus, cannot long want anything which may be purchased, and, least of all, gold and silver.