Monday, February 2, 2009

This Day in French History (Birth of Talleyrand, Machiavellian Statesman)

February 2, 1754—Observers of the Continental diplomatic scene believed, watching his machinations, that he had nine lives, but Charles Maurice Talleyrand-Perigord began the only one actually allotted to human beings as the scion of a family of nobles. 

Physically lame, he had demonstrated, by the time he breathed his last 84 years later, perhaps the most remarkable political and moral nimbleness of any politician of his time.

Somewhere, I heard it said in a spate of dark jesting, that the only creature that would survive a nuclear apocalypse would be the cockroach. Well, in his amazing survival instincts, Talleyrand might have been the closest human equivalent of the cockroach.

At first, I thought that Talleyrand’s longevity might have been surpassed by the Soviet Union’s V.M. Molotov, who lived to age 96. 

But most of the Communist diplomat’s career was spent in the service of Joseph Stalin, and once removed from power by Nikita Khrushchev, he had the good sense to live quietly in retirement as something of a U.S.S.R. “nonperson.”

Consider the following different masters Talleyrand served:

* His aristocratic parents sloughed him off on the Catholic Church once they became convinced he was not made for their life.

* Rising from priest to bishop, he was among the clergy at the Estates-General called by King Louis XVI to consider what to do about the worsening domestic situation in 1789.

* He ingratiated himself with the revolutionaries by a) proposing that the French assembly assume ecclesiastical lands, and b) accepting the Civil Constitution of the Clergy. For his pains, Talleyrand was excommunicated. (Over a decade later, the Church rescinded the excommunication—though Talleyrand remained laicized).

* While in England in 1792, negotiating on behalf of the young republic, the French monarchy was overthrown. When matters became too hot in France, Talleyrand journeyed to England as a private citizen. He wasn’t out of France long when he was branded an émigré—a designation that, at the time, was often assigned to monarchists. It wasn’t a comfortable class to which to belong, and the former aristocrat decided to bide his time.

* The English, not trusting him, forced him out in 1794, compelling Talleyrand to journey across the ocean to the U.S. There he remained for more than a year.

* With the Reign of Terror over, Talleyrand managed to work his way back into the good graces of the five-member Directory, which, in need of an experienced foreign-policy hand (even if that experience had been only for a few years), appointed the returned diplomat as foreign minister.

* Later in 1799, Talleyrand resigned his post—but his shrewd recognition of the coming power in the land, Napoleon Bonaparte, and the latter’s coup resulted in Talleyrand resuming his old ministerial portfolio.

* Talleyrand plied his arts with Napoleon, and for awhile they got along because they needed each other. But a very public reconciliation between Talleyrand and an old enemy led the man who, by now, had gotten himself named Emperor, to wonder if the two might be conspiring against him. In 1809, at a meeting of the privy council, Napoleon launched into a half-hour harangue, climaxing with a denunciation of Talleyrand as “dung in a silk stocking.” Talleyrand didn’t say a peep, before or afterward. The emperor continued to consult with him, but for all intents and purposes Talleyrand had lost much of his influence.

* At the Congress of Vienna, with Napoleon overthrown, Talleyrand represented post-imperial France in a diplomatic assemblage of reactionaries whose guiding spirit was Prince Metternich.

* Napoleon’s return from Elba resulted in Talleyrand resigning again. The wily old diploat waited, then waited some more. It looked as if his diplomatic career was over.

* Er, not quite yet. In the July Revolution of 1830, Talleyrand persuaded Louis Philippe to accept the offer by that year’s group of radicals to become King of France. The grateful new sovereign tried to get the old diplomatic dog to become foreign minister again, but Talleyrand said that minister to England would do fine. He held that last post for four years before taking leave of government, this time for good, in 1834, four years before his death.

1 comment:

Texpatriate said...

Wonderful potted biography of "The Lame Devil" aka "The Sphinx", as Prince de Talleyrand was called by other diplomats. One small correction: Talleyrand's exile in America lasted 2 years and 2 months.
Most of his biographers appear to believe that Talleyrand did not speak English; but according to Lady Blennerhassett, he spoke very passable English, but concealed this fact once back in France to give himself the advantage of gaining more time to think of replies when seeming to need a translator when dealing with English or Americans who did not speak French. When Foreign Minister, every morning he had English newspapers delivered to his home which he scanned before dealing with the day's business.
He had many English-language books in his 10,000 volume Library at Chateau Valençay; I believe his English copy of Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations" contains his marginalia comments in French.
This appallingly complex man--both stoic and sybaritic constructed a disdainful and cynical mask of deliberate indolence, cynicism and artificiality as the perfect courtier. Unloved and rejected from his family home because he was born with a club-foot, He was left with his nurse until 4, spent two years with his great-grandmother -- the only member of his family who ever showed him affection -- was sent to boarding Schoo, forced into seminary and against his will ordained a priest, then bishop in order to please his aristocratic but impoverished family.
A political genius, the soul of exquisite manners and understated good taste; charismatic, charming and capable of almost inhuman patience, psychological subtility, and cool, calculated courage, Talleyrand was capable of honest affection but was careful to conceal this from his many mistresses; he lent his heart, but until late in life never gave it. Because of his early "insecure attachment" and the hypocrisy of his unwilling clerical career, he appreciated love and affection, but cynically feared to be enslaved by it and so kept people at a distance with his polite reserve. A friend noted: "He treats his friends as if they might one day become enemies; and his enemies as if they might one day become friends."
He seems to have been indifferent to his reputation as a libertine, which is probably exaggerated. Despite his limp, he was a handsome if taciturn youth, and remained notoriously attractive to women into old age they pursued him, rather than otherwise. He never attempted to seduce a lady unless she had made it clear she was "open to his advances". Indeed, he had many virtuous women friends who liked, were even fond of, but did not respect him; they were saddened that a man of his genius and charm did not attain the greatness of his potential.
Talleyrand arranged a