Memoirs of the Duchesse de Dino (Afterwards Duchesse de Talleyrand et de Sagan), 1836-1840
what authority and what simplicity all mysteries may be concentrated
in these few lines. Thus and thus only it is proper to speak of holy
things. They are imposed upon us, but not explained to us. That fact
alone secures their acceptance; in other forms they are worthless, for
doubt begins when authority ends, and authority, tradition, and
dominion are only revealed sufficiently in a Catholic church.' He
always had something unpleasant to say about Protestantism; he had
seen it at close quarters in America, and had preserved a disagreeable
memory of it.
"In the month of December 1837 I felt seriously ill. We were then at
my house at Rochecotte, where, unfortunately, spiritual resources are
few. However, as I felt in some danger I wished to send for the local
clergyman. My uncle heard of it, and as I was getting well he showed
some surprise. 'So you have reached that point,' he said to me; 'and
how did you get there?' I told him as simply as I could, and he
listened with much interest. In conclusion I added that, among many
other serious considerations, I had not forgotten that of my social
position, which I was the more bound to remember in view of its
importance. He then interrupted me quickly and said: 'In truth there
is nothing less aristocratic than unbelief.' Two days afterwards he
re-opened a similar conversation of his own accord, made me go through
the same details, then looked at me steadily and said: 'You believe,
then?' 'Yes, sir,' I replied, 'firmly.'
"During our last stay together at Rochecotte he heard of the arrest of
the Archbishop of Cologne; he seemed to regard it as an important
event. 'This may give us back the line of the Rhine,' he said
immediately. 'In any case, it is a grain of Catholicism sown in
Europe; you will see it rise and grow vigorously.'
"At that time I came across a passage dealing with the limits of the
spiritual and temporal powers, which is to be found in the discourse
delivered by Fénelon at the consecration of the Archbishop of Cologne.
I showed this fine passage to my uncle, who was delighted with it, and
said: 'That should be copied and sent to the King of Prussia.'
"When we returned to Paris in the month of January 1838 M. de
Talleyrand was soon deprived of the little exercise which he had been
able hitherto to take. He sprained his foot at the English Embassy,
where he was dining, on January 27. The winter was very cold, and the
douching which was ordered for his sprained foot to restore its
strength gave him a cold. The cold became bronchitis, and he could not
sleep or eat. Every morning he used to complain of his harassing
insomnia. 'When one cannot sleep,' he said, 'one thinks terribly.'
Once he added: 'During these long nights I recall many events of my
life.' 'Can you give yourself reasons for them all?' I asked him.
'No,' he said; 'in truth there are some I do not understand in the
least; others that I can explain and excuse; and others, too, for
which I blame myself the more severely as they were performed with
extreme carelessness, though they have since been my chief cause of
self-reproach. If I had acted according to any system or principle,
then I should certainly understand them, but my actions were performed
without consideration and with the carelessness of that age, as was
almost everything done in our youth.' I told him that it was
preferable, in my opinion, to have acted thus than as a result of
false doctrine. He admitted that I was right.
"It was at the end of one of these conversations that your letter
arrived, M. l'Abbé, the letter that you quote in your interesting
narrative. He handed it to me to read, and said somewhat abruptly: 'If
I were to fall seriously ill, I should ask for a priest. Do you think
the Abbé Dupanloup would come?' 'I have no doubt of it,' I replied;
'but he could only be of any use to you if you re-entered the
communion from which you have unfortunately departed.' 'Yes,' he
replied, 'I owe something to Rome, I know well, and have thought of it
for a long time.' 'For how long?' I asked him, surprised, I admit, at
this unexpected beginning. 'Since the last visit of the Archbishop of
Bourges to Valençay, and afterwards when the Abbé Taury came there. I
then wondered why the Archbishop, who at that time was more directly
my spiritual pastor, did not open the subject. Why did the apostle of
Saint-Sulpice never speak to me?' 'Unfortunately,' I replied, 'they
would not have dared.' 'Yet,' he said, 'I would have welcomed anything
of the kind.' Deeply moved by such satisfactory words, I took his
hand, and, standing before him with tears in my eyes, I said: 'Why
wait for any one to open the question? Why not take for yourself
spontaneously, freely, and nobly the step that is at once most
honourable to yourself, most consoling to the Church and to all
right-minded people? I am sure that you would find Rome well disposed,
while the Archbishop of Paris is deeply attached to you; so make the
trial.' He did not interrupt me, and I was able to go further into
this delicate and even thorny question, though it was a question that
I thoroughly understood, as it had been repeatedly explained to me by
M. de Quélen, who had been anxious to make me realise all its
bearings. We were interrupted before I had been able to say all I
wished, but on going to my room I wrote M. de Talleyrand a long letter
under stress of my deep devotion. He read it with that trustfulness
with which he was accustomed to rely upon my instinct when his
reputation and his real interest was at stake. So my letter made an
impression upon him, though he did not tell me so until later, when he
gave me a paper for M. de Quélen, of which I will speak afterwards.
"In the month of March 1838 he read a eulogy upon M. Reinhard at the
Academy of Moral and Political Science. His doctor feared the effect
upon him of such an enterprise. Our attempts to dissuade him were in
vain. 'This is my last appearance in public,' he said, 'and nothing
shall keep me back.' He was anxious to use the opportunity for
explaining his political doctrines and for showing that they were
those of an honest man. He even hoped that he would be thus of some
use to those who proposed to follow a diplomatic career. The evening
before the meeting he went over his speech with me, and said: 'The
religion of duty; that will please the Abbé Dupanloup.' When we
reached the passage concerning theological study I interrupted him to
say: 'Admit that that is intended much rather for yourself than for
good M. Reinhard.' 'Why, certainly,' he replied, 'there is no harm in
letting the public see my point of departure.' 'I am delighted,' I
said, 'to see you overshadowing the end of your life with the
recollections and traditions of your early youth.' 'I was sure you
would be pleased with it,' was his kindly reply.
"M. de Talleyrand bore the strain of this fatiguing meeting, where he
was successful in every way, remarkably well. From the point of view
of literature and politics he was successful, and also as a nobleman
and an honest man. When he returned home he at once sent the first
proofs of his speech to M. de Quélen and to you. He expected your
approval, and was touched by it.
"Then his health seemed to improve; he recovered his strength, made
plans for travel, and talked of Nice for the following winter; he felt
his powers reviving, and noticed it with pleasure. On April 28,
however, when he heard of his brother's death, who was eight years
younger than himself, he put his hands before his eyes and said:
'Another warning, my dear child. Do you know whether my brother
recovered his memory before death?' 'Unfortunately not, sir,' I said.
He then resumed with extreme sadness: 'How dreadful it is thus to fall
from the most worldly life into dotage, and from dotage into death!'
"This painful shock did not check the improvement in his health, and
we were able to think that he had been restored to life. I am the more
careful to observe that this was the moment, when all idea of an
approaching death was far away, when he chose to undertake seriously
the project of submission to the Pope. He drew up a form of
declaration without saying anything to me of it, a kind of pleasant
surprise which he wished to keep for me. One day, when he saw me ready
to go to Conflans to M. de Quélen, he drew from the drawer of his
desk, the desk at which I am now writing, a sheet of paper covered on
both sides, with erasures at several points. 'Here,' he said, 'is
something which will secure you a hearty reception where you are
going. You shall tell me what the Archbishop thinks of it.' On my
return I told him that M. de Quélen deeply appreciated the paper, but
wished the statements there expressed to be presented in a more
canonical form, and intended to send him the ecclesiastical formula in
a few days.
"You know better than any one, sir, that thus the matter was actually
carried out. M. de Talleyrand also spoke to me on the same day of his
intention to write an explanatory letter to the Pope when sending him
the declaration. He went into full details, and insisted upon his
willingness to speak of Pauline in this letter. He ended by a saying
which seems to me of considerable importance: 'What I am to do should
be dated during the week of my speech to the Academy. I do not wish
people to be able to say that I was in my dotage.' This idea was
carried out upon his deathbed, and was performed as he wished.
"But here I must stop. Attractive as the subject may be, your
narrative contains full details. Moreover, during my uncle's illness I
was nothing more than his nurse, and my actions were confined to
summoning the consolations of your presence and to obeying my uncle by
reading to him the two addresses to Rome before he signed them. I
forced myself to read them slowly and seriously, because I neither
would nor could diminish in any way the merit of his action; it was
necessary that he should thoroughly understand what he was about to
do. His faculties were too clear, heaven be praised, and his attention
too concentrated, for any hurried or confused reading to have
satisfied him. It was for me to justify his touching confidence which
had induced him to wish this important reading to be performed by
myself, and only the firmness and clearness of my pronunciation could
satisfy this condition. He was to be left to the last moment in full
consciousness of his act and full freedom of his will. From this
difficult task I have derived the complete indifference with which I
have afterwards faced any doubts, attacks, or calumnies of which I
have been the object.
"I can say in the sight of God that there was no ignorance or weakness
on the part of M. de Talleyrand; there was no delusion and no abuse of
confidence on my part. His generous nature, the recollections of his
early youth, his family traditions, the wide experience of a long
career, the example of Pauline, some explanations which I was
instructed to give him, the confidence with which you were able to
inspire him, the revelation that comes to every man at the gate of the
tomb, and above all the infinite mercy of a gracious Providence--such
are the reasons which allow us to honour him as sincerely in his death
as we loved him in his life.
"Carried away by a subject which is near to my heart, I have
overstepped the limits which I had at first laid down, but I have no
fear that I have wearied you by recalling your attention to details
which I know you will value, and which for me have the special
advantage that they have established, M. l'Abbé, between us, a bond
which nothing can weaken or break.
"DUCHESSE DE TALLEYRAND,"
"PRINCESSE DE COURLANDE."
_Heidelberg, August 27, 1838._--I have been here with my daughter