A Morally Ambiguous Man

First of all, “Talleyrand” is not a business (that would be Teledyne), a think tank (that would be the Rand Corporation), nor something that fox hunters shout (“Tally ho!”). He was a living, breathing human being…welcome to the French Revolution.

Our volume today is Talleyrand by Duff Cooper, and it is the biography of Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, Prince of Benevento and later Prince Talleyrand. Born in 1754, died 1838, he was an adult at the time of the French Revolution. Surprisingly for one who was born unimpeachably noble, he was deeply involved in the Revolution and the several governments that followed it…liberté in France took more than one start, as we shall see. His name is far better known these days than his accomplishments, in no small part because society objected to his morals.

Our interest is, of course, piqued. Plus, how often do you get to read a book by someone named “Duff” that isn’t porn?

Talleyrand did not have an enjoyable childhood. He was injured when young, which left him with a pronounced limp that persisted for life. His parents thought his injuries disqualified him from inheriting his father’s titles and fortune, and they settled those on their next younger son. (The French had more latitude in these matters than primogeniture allowed the English.) In one of the worst career moves ever, Talleyrand’s parents enrolled him in an ecclesiastical education and bound him over to a life in the Catholic Church. Which might have worked out better if Talleyrand had been at all fit for the clergy, which he was not.

At the end of his education, our hero emerges as the newly elevated Abbé de Périgord, age 25. He was an abbot with powerful connections…his uncle was Archbishop of Reims, and through whatever combination of talent and family influence, Talleyrand was made Agent-General of the Clergy — essentially one of the Church’s lawyers — a year or so later.

Talleyrand never let his priestly vow of celibacy stand in the way of a sparkling social and sexual life. The eighteenth century was generally licentious, at least as far as the nobility were concerned; but Talleyrand took the form to new heights, bedding so many women that even his (highly) jaded contemporaries disapproved. One of his lovers, a beautiful and well-connected woman, even tried to get Talleyrand appointed a Cardinal, approaching the pope through the king of Sweden. It pays to know people…but in this case the request was denied. Later, however, Talleyrand attained the mitre, if not the Cardinal’s hat, through his father’s connection to the royal family. So the most licentious abbot in Paris became the Bishop of Autun in 1788…over the protests of his own mother, who found his life scandalous.

The causes of the French Revolution are generally outside the scope of Talleyrand, but our author points out that one of them was money: the Crown was broke.

In 1789, Louis XVI was pushed to such financial extremes that he called the States-General. This democratic representation of the whole populace had been called before, but not since 1614…nearly two centuries preceding. The Clergy, the Nobility, and the Third Estate were represented, with each order electing its own members. “Third Estate” was not quite code for “peasants,” as many of the clergy and nobility were elected to the Third Estate, and it was in this capacity that Talleyrand was elected to the States-General. Upon convening, the group had a procedural point to resolve: should the three orders meet as three bodies, with each having a vote, or should they meet as a single body operating by majority rule? The first approach would have allowed the Clergy and Nobility to outvote the Third Estate. In the spirit of democracy, they decided to meet as a single body, which the king had forbidden.

To quote Cooper, “The command of the King was ignored, and the Revolution was a fact.”

Talleyrand would have preferred a constitutional monarchy, and even sent an offer to advise the king on negotiations to that end. But when Louis XVI remained obdurate, Talleyrand realized that monarchy was politically finished, and he threw in with the revolutionaries. In 1789 he introduced a proposal to nationalize the property of the Church, which was enthusiastically accepted by the Assembly (the government was still broke) and deeply resented by the clergy and the faithful. A year later, he introduced a measure reconstituting the Clergy under civil control; significantly, priests had to swear allegiance to the new Clerical Constitution rather than the pope. Only four priests in France were found who would comply — Talleyrand, the Bishop of Autun, being one. Less serious replacements for the conscientious majority were lined up in due course, but there then remained the problem of who could ordain them…and it fell to Talleyrand to do it. Shorly before, he had resigned the clergy to take a political appointment, but he agreed to fill the clerical void on his way out. The pope, predictably, took the entire matter poorly, and excommunicated Talleyrand for his troubles.

Before long, rumors of the past correspondence in which Talleyrand had offered to consult with the king emerged. As we’ve seen, the king declined the offer, but Talleyrand deemed it good for his health to beat feet out of France to England. Kicked out of England (they were skeptical of a revolutionary and regicide) he briefly emigrated to the United States.

Meanwhile in France, the Revolutionary Assembly was replaced by the Directoire. Talleyrand launched a charm offensive and returned to Paris in 1796. He was made Foreign Minister in 1797. Talleyrand saw promise in a young general named Napoleon and entered into correspondence with him. Talleyrand and Napoleon were the architects of the 1799 coup d’état that replaced the Directoire with the Consulate, and which placed Napoleon in political power…Talleyrand wound up once again Minister of Foreign Affairs. Talleyrand and Napoleon ultimately clashed over French expansion, especially Napoleon’s invasion of the Spanish Peninsula. Convinced that Napoleon’s personal drive for power was becoming detrimental to France, Talleyrand now began to engineer his ouster.

Which worked, aided by military defeat. Napoleon was succeeded by the restoration of the monarchy, in the person of Louis XVIII, in 1814. Which was followed by the brief return of Napoleon (1815); his overthrow and second exile, and the second restoration of Louis (all 1815); followed at Louis’ death by the reign of his brother, Charles X (1824) and the July revolution that placed Louis-Phillippe on the throne (1830). Phew. Through all these changes Talleyrand remained in government, usually as Foreign Minister. Napoleon had even created him Grand Chamberlain of the Empire, a position that made him for a time the fourth most powerful man in the nation. In the interregnum between Charles and Louis-Phillippe, Talleyrand served as the head of government.

It’s great to be a survivor…but surviving isn’t always great for your reputation.

Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that the various forms of government Talleyrand served were incompatible with each other. Which means that Talleyrand had to change sides a lot…we’ve seen how he threw off Napoleon, and before him the Revolutionaries and the Church. Both his contemporaries and history have tended to judge him harshly for those pragmatic actions. His personal life was no better, featuring an inappropriate marriage and continued philandering — memorably, in one case, trading a mistress in on her daughter. Ouch. Cooper points out, however, that Talleyrand was remarkably loyal to the principles he actually believed in, notably limitations on French geographic expansion and the need for France and England to remain allied to ensure the peace of Europe. Talleyrand himself said that he never abandoned a man until the man had abandoned himself…certainly that would have been his argument about Napoleon. Talleyrand also claimed that he never conspired, except with the French people. That one is a bit of a stretch. But Cooper takes the long view: if one accepts the turmoil of the period as the French people working out the government they wanted, then Talleyrand could in fact be seen constantly adopting the stance the people demanded…ultimately, their servant.

The true aristocrat and the perfect servant share two attributes: they have no scruples, nor do they care what others think of them. Which, we wonder, was Talleyrand?