While Bonaparte retired to Malmaison with the Empire in its death throes, we left Ghent with the revitalised monarchy. Pozzo, who knew how little the Legitimacy mattered in high places, hastened to write to Louis XVIII telling him to depart and arrive quickly, if he wanted to reign, before his place was taken: it is to this note that Louis XVIII owed his crown in 1815.

At Mons, I lost my first chance of success in my political career; I was my own worst enemy, and found myself as always to be an obstacle in my way. This time my good qualities did me a worse turn than my faults could have done.

Monsieur de Talleyrand, in all the pride of a negotiation which had enriched him, claimed to have rendered the Legitimacy the greatest of services, and returned as master. Astonished that no one has as yet followed the route he had traced in returning to Paris, he was even more discontented at finding Monsieur de Blacas with the King. He regarded Monsieur de Blacas as a scourge of the monarchy; but that was not the real reason for his aversion; he considered Monsieur de Blacas as a favourite, and in consequence a rival; he also feared Monsieur and had been annoyed when, fifteen days earlier, Monsieur had offered him his house by the Lys. Nothing was more natural than for him to ask that Monsieur de Blacas take himself off; to demand it was to recall Bonaparte only too well.

Monsieur de Talleyrand entered Mons at about six in the evening, accompanied by the Abbé Louis: Monsieur de Riccé, Monsieur de Jaucourt and several other table-companions of his flew to meet him. In a mood not seen in him before, the mood of a king who thinks his authority flouted, he refused at first to go to Louis XVIII’s residence, replying to those who urged him to do so with this ostentatious comment: ‘I am never urged; there will be time tomorrow.’ I went to see him; he came out with all those cajoleries with which he seduced ambitious nobodies and important fools. He took me by the arm, leaning on me while speaking to me: familiarities of high favour, calculated to turn my head, which were absolutely lost on me; I did not even understand them. I invited him to come with me to see the King.

Louis XVIII was in a state of deep sorrow: he was troubled by the separation from Monsieur de Blacas; the latter could not return to France; opinion was aroused against him; even though I had reason to complain of that favourite in Paris, I had not shown any resentment towards him in Ghent. The king was grateful for my conduct; in his tender state he treated me marvellously well. Monsieur de Talleyrand’s proposals had already been reported to him: ‘He boasts,’ he said, ‘of having placed the crown on my head for a second time, and threatens me with taking the road to Germany again: what do you think of that, Monsieur de Chateaubriand?’ I replied: ‘Your Majesty has been badly informed; Monsieur de Talleyrand is only tired. If the King consents, I will return to the Minister.’ The King appeared quite relieved; what he liked least was bother; he desired his peace and quiet even at the expense of his affections.

In the midst of his sycophants Monsieur de Talleyrand was worse than ever. I made representation to him that at such a critical moment he could not think of going away. Pozzo preached the same: even though he had not the least inclination towards him, he preferred at that time to see him involved as a former acquaintance; moreover he thought he was in close favour with the Tsar. I gained no sway over Monsieur de Talleyrand’s mind, the Prince’s habitués prevented me; Monsieur Mounier even thought that Monsieur de Talleyrand ought to retire. The Abbé Louis, who snapped at everyone, said to me, shaking his muzzle three times: ‘If I were the Prince, I wouldn’t remain in Mons a quarter of an hour.’ I replied: ‘Monsieur l’Abbé, you and I can go wherever we wish; no one will notice; it is not the same for Monsieur de Talleyrand.’ I persisted and said to the Prince: ‘Are you aware that the King is continuing his journey?’ Monsieur de Talleyrand appeared surprised then he said to me proudly, as the Balafré did to those who had wished to alert him to Henri II’s designs: ‘He would not dare!’

I returned to the King’s residence where I found Monsieur de Blacas. I said to His Majesty, as an excuse for his Minister’s absence, that he was ill, but that he would assuredly have the honour of paying his court to the King the following day. ‘As he wishes,’ Louis XVIII replied: ‘I am leaving at three’; and then he added these words affectionately; ‘I am to be separated from Monsieur de Blacas, the position will be vacant, Monsieur de Chateaubriand.’

The King’s Household was at my feet. No longer burdening himself with Monsieur de Talleyrand, a wise politician would have hitched his horses to the carriage in order to follow or precede the King: I remained stupidly at my inn.

Monsieur de Talleyrand, unable to convince himself that the King would set out, was asleep: at three they woke him to tell him that the King was leaving; he could not believe his ears: ‘Tricked! Betrayed!’ he cried. He got up, and there he was, for the first time in his life, in the street at three in the morning, leaning on Monsieur de Riccé’s arm. He arrived in front of the King’s residence: the two front horses of the team were already half-way through the carriage entrance. A wave of the hand to the coachman to stop; the King asked what was happening; someone called out: ‘Sire, it is Monsieur de Talleyrand. – He is asleep’, said Louis XVIII. – ‘Here he is, Sire. – Go on!’ the King replied. The horses and carriage backed up; the door was opened, the King descended, and returned dragging his feet to his apartment, followed by the limping Minister. There Monsieur de Talleyrand began an angry explanation. His Majesty listened and replied: ‘Prince de Benevento, are you leaving us? The waters will do you good: you can send us your news.’ The King left the Prince dumbfounded, had himself led back to his Berlin, and departed.

Monsieur de Talleyrand was foaming with anger’ Louis XVIII’s sang-froid had unseated him: he, Monsieur de Talleyrand, who so often stung others with his calmness, had been beaten on his home ground, dumped in a square in Mons, like the most insignificant of men: he couldn’t get over it! He remained silent, watching the departing coach, then grasping the Duc de Lévis by his coat-button: ‘Go, Monsieur the Duke, go and tell them how I am treated! I have placed the crown on the King’s head once more (he always returned to that crown), and I am going to Germany to begin a fresh emigration.’

Monsieur de Lévis listening distractedly, dancing on tip-toe, said; ‘Prince, I am leaving, there ought to be at least one nobleman with the King.’

Monsieur de Lévis threw himself into a hired cart carrying the Chancellor of France: the two grandees of the Capetian monarchy went off side by side to rejoin it, half-frozen, in a Merovingian wagon.

I begged Monsieur de Duras to work at reconciliation, and send me news at the earliest. ‘What!’ Monsieur de Duras, replied, ‘you are staying behind after what the King has said to you?’ Monsieur de Blacas, leaving Mons at his side, thanked me for the interest I had shown towards him.

I found Monsieur de Talleyrand again, embarrassed; he regretted not having followed my advice, and like a muddle-headed sub-lieutenant having refused to go to the King that evening; he feared that agreements would be reached without him, that he would be unable to share political power and profit from the financial conniving which was planned. I told him that, though I disagreed with his views, I would remain no less loyal to him, as an ambassador should to his Minister; that in addition I had friends close to the King, and that I soon hoped to hear some good tidings. Monsieur de Talleyrand felt truly tender, he leant on my shoulder: certainly he thought me a very great man at that instant.

I did not have to wait long to receive a letter from Monsieur de Duras; he wrote to me from Cambrai that everything was arranged, and that Monsieur de Talleyrand would receive the order to set out: this time the Prince did not fail to obey.

What devil possessed me? I had not followed the King who had, so to speak, offered me or rather granted me the Ministry of his Household and who was offended by my obstinacy in staying at Mons: I stuck out my neck for Monsieur de Talleyrand whom I scarcely knew, whom I did not esteem, whom I did not admire; for Monsieur de Talleyrand who would be involved in schemes that were by no means mine, who lived in an atmosphere of corruption in which I could scarcely breathe!

It was from Mons too that the Prince of Benevento, in the midst of all his difficulties, had sent Monsieur de Perray to Naples to get the millions from one of his deals in Vienna. Monsieur de Blacas was travelling at the some moment with the Naples Embassy in his pocket, and other millions which the generous exile of Ghent had given to him at Mons. I was held in good odour by Monsieur de Blacas precisely because everyone detested him; I had incurred Monsieur de Talleyrand’s friendship by my loyalty in his moment of moody caprice; the King had positively summoned me to his side; and I preferred the turpitude of a faithless individual to His Majesty’s favour: it was only right that I should receive, as the reward for my stupidity, being abandoned by everyone, for having wished to be of service to everyone. I returned to France having nothing with which to pay for my journey, while riches poured over the disgraced: I deserved the punishment. It’s a fine thing to wear oneself out as a poor knight when everyone else is armoured in gold; yet it is still not necessary to commit enormous errors: if I had remained with the King, the ministerial combination of Talleyrand and Fouché would have been rendered almost impossible; the Restoration would have begun with a moral and honourable ministry, all future options would have been altered. The thoughtlessness that exists in my character deceived me as to the importance of events: most men have the fault of thinking too much of themselves; my fault is in not thinking of myself enough; I cloaked myself in my usual disdain for my own good fortune; I ought to have seen that the fortunes of France were bound up at that instant with those of my little destiny: such historical tangles are very common.