#meanwhile fouché wins

[histoireettralala]

Plot twists and dramatic scenes

" Paris makes fun for years of this stubborn hostility between the two rivals, Fouché and Talleyrand.People witness, as in a scene from Molière, the tireless variations of this comedy performed at the foot of the throne, and they laugh seeing the sovereign's two servants continually tricking each other and throw at each other hurtful flashes of wit, while their master, on his olympian peak, watches from above this fight which benefits him so much. But, while Napoleon and all the others expect from these two characters to keep up this amusing game of dog and cat, the two subtle actors suddenly change role, and start to seriously get along. For the first time, their common dissatisfaction toward the master becomes stronger than their rivalry. It is 1808 and Napoleon starts a new war, the most useless and senseless of all, the campaign against Spain [..] Fouché as well as Talleyrand disapprove this war which has no reason to be [..] but since the Emperor listens to neither, they get imperceptibly closer. Their letters, their advice, they know it, the emperor sweeps them away with irritation [..] So they try to publically protest, and they decide, since speaking has been taken away from them, to engage in a political pantomime, in a true dramatic twist, which is to ostensibly unite.

We don't know if it is Fouché or Talleyrand who organized this scene with such a perfect dramatic flair. In any case, here is what happens: while Napoleon fights in Spain, Paris is continually animated with feasts and worldly receptions; people are already used to have a war every year, like snow in winter and storms in summer. And, one evening of December 1808, Rue Saint-Florentin, in the house of the Grand-Chandelier, a thousand torches sparkle and melodious music is played, while Napoleon, in his dirty dwelling in Valladolid, drafts orders for his armies. Beautiful women- Talleyrand loves them so-, a dazzling society, high State councillors, and foreign ambassadors are gathered. People chat in a lively way, they dance, they have fun. Suddenly from all sides arise slight murmurs and whispers; the guests form astonished groups: a man just came in, the one among all one would have least expected to see here, this skinny Cassius, Fouché, whom, as everyone knows, Talleyrand hates and fiercely despises, and who never had set a foot in this house. But, look: with a studied politeness, the Minister of Foreign Affairs limps toward the Police Minister, kindly greets him as a guest and very dear friend, and graciously holds his arm. With conspicuous compliments, he leads him through the salon; then both enter a neighboring room, sit on a couch and have a quiet talk, causing in the whole audience a boundless curiosity. The following morning all of Paris is aware of this great event. Everywhere all that's talked about is this sudden reconciliation, so emphatically advertised, and everybody understands what it means. If cat and dog unite so ardently, it can only be the ministers' public disapproval of their master, of Napoleon. Instantly all the spies are at work to try and figure out what this plot means. In every ambassy immediate reports are busily redacted; Metternich announces to Vienna via special mail that "this union answers the wishes of an exhausted nation"; but Napoleon's brothers and sisters also sound the alarm, and in turn announce the emperor this stunning news with the utmost urgency.

The news flies speedily to Spain, and, even faster if it is possible, Napoleon, as if stricken by a whiplash, comes to Paris [..] This understanding between Talleyrand and Fouché affects him more than a lost battle [...] He answers Talleyrand's witty comedy with an equally dramatic scene. The whole gold-laden troop of courtiers, ministers and generals are carefully gathered here like accomplices: the way the emperor crushes the slightest rebellion against his will must be publically shown. The day before, he had Fouché come and, behind closed doors, harshly admonished him, and Fouché, used to such storms, kept quiet, excusing himself with clever, suggestive words, and disposing of some weight with apropos. The emperor thinks that, for this servile man, a quick kick will be enough; but Talleyrand, precisely because he seems to be the stronger, the most powerful one, will have to bear the brunt of this rebuke. The scene was often described, and the dramaturgy of History hardly knows a better one. First the emperor restricts himself to criticizing, in a general sort of way, the deceitfulness of some during his absence; but then, irritated by Talleyrand's cold indifference, he abruptly turns toward the man who, calmly, nonchalantly, leans on the marble fireplace, his arm against the mantle. And henceforth the lesson, previously rehearsed like a comedy, morphs in front of the whole court into a true fit of fury; the emperor heaps the foulest insults on his mature, experienced elder; he calls him a thief, perjurer, apostate, a venal creature who would sell his own father for money; he makes him responsible for the murder of the Duke of Enghien and the war in Spain. There is no washerwoman who would insult her neighbor in a more unbridled way than Napoleon insulting the duke of Périgord, the Revolution veteran, the first diplomat of France.

The audience is frozen. Everybody feels uncomfortable. Everybody finds that right now the Emperor looks bad. Talleyrand, so armoured against attacks that he once fell asleep, it is said, while was read a pamphlet against him, is the only one not to wince, much too proud to be offended by such insults. Once the storm has passed, he silently limps across the glossy floor and then, in the anteroom, drops one of these poisonous little words which wound more letally than the most resounding punches: " What a pity for such a great man to be so ill-mannered !" he quietly says, while the lackey puts his coat on him.

The very same evening, Talleyrand is removed from his dignity as a chamberlain, and with curiosity all jealous people probe Le Moniteur on the following days, to read also, among the official informations, the news of Fouché's dismissal. But they are wrong, Fouché stays. "

Stefan Zweig - Fouché

Note: Talleyrand's original remark calls Napoléon "mal élevé", which was surprisingly annoying to translate. It sounds fairly benign, but it's full of contempt- typical of Talleyrand. Unsurprisingly it's one of his most famous sentences.