Rensselaer Union, Volume 8, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1875 — “PECCADILLE.” [ARTICLE]

“PECCADILLE.”

[From the French.] It was after the events of 1830. The leading question of the day was to persuade Austria to accept the revolution of July and the change of dynasty. To conduct this difticult negotiation the Government had chosen Marshal Maison, a brave old soldier of the Empire, but more used to the tactics of war than to those of diplomacy and politics. The Marshal accepted reluctantly the post confided to him, and, before his departure, he turned his steps toward the hotel of Prince Talleyrand, in order to receive from the Machiavel of the Rue St. Florentin his last secret instructions. When the Marshal was announced the Prince was at work in his library. When he heard the name of his visitor his sly little face assumed an expression of malicious glee, like that which is visible on the features of a naughty child when he sees a chance of tormenting a dog or a bird. He hastened to change his dressinggown of wadded brown silk for a more appropriate garb, and he then limped to the salon where the Marshal awaited him. The latter was standing, clad in the uniform of his grade. His stern, manly face, framed in long, white hair, gave him, in spite of his rather ordinary aspect, an appearance of simple, rough dimity. The Prince opened the conversation. It was. at first unimportant, as are all conversations. The Marshal tried to lead the talk gradually toward politics, but then the Prince instantly changed the subject. The Marshal’s eftorts to accomplish the aim of his visit were utterly vain. The more serious he was the more frivolous became his adversary. There was a sort of struggle between them, a struggle in which, as may be imagined, M. de Tab leyrand had all the advantage. If the Marshal attempted to speak of alliances to conclude, or of treaties to sign, the Prince talked of the corps de ballet of the opera, or of other things of the same diplomatic importance. “ How shall I open the question with M. de Metternich ?” said the Marshal, at last out of patience. “ Come and see my cabinet of Chinese curiosities,” answered Talleyrand, coolly. The Prince had really a very fine collection. Poor Marshal! he was obliged to endure all the pagodas, to admire all the teapots, and go into ecstacies before all the screens. Talleyrand watched maliciously the illdisguised impatience of the old soldier, who silently but heartily cursed all the lacquered waiters and mandarins past, present and to coffin t “That said the Prince. “At last! Heaven Upraised!” thought the Marshal, and his face beamed with satisfaction. Talleyrand saw this gleam of joy, and he hastened to add: “Ah! 1 think that I have forgotten the most curious thing in my collection, the right slipper of the Princess Fo-Aio, the daughter «f the Emperor Ton-Kang. I forgot also the little sailing-vessel, which is an exact model in miniature of those that navigate the Yellow River.” And Talleyrand related the history of the slipper, and then entered into a long dissertation upon the progress t)f navigation in China. The Marshal, who could no longer restrain his impatience, fidgeted nervously from one leg to the other. “ You are tired,” said the Prince, bringing forward a chair. “ Will you not take & seat?” At this the Marshal lost all patience, i “ Sacreblue!” heffied; “ for more than an hour you nave been telling me stories that do not concern me, and showing me toys that I despise! And whenever I try to talk of my mission you instantly beat a retreat. Do you know that I strongly suspect you, M. le Prince, of making a tool of me?”

These words were uttered still more energetically than we have written them. “Your mission V* replied Talleyrand, calmly. “Ah! of course, my dear Marshal, let us talk of it. Why did you not mention it sooner?” “ How sooner? For more than an hour ” “ I did not understand. I was afraid of boring you by talking business. What I did was lor your sake, for you know that business is my element. You were about to remark ” , t “ That I am about to leave for Austria, and that ” “Austria—a fine country! a very fine country!” . “ And that in Vienna ” “ Vienna, a charming city! lam confident that you will like it!” -n» “I will see M. de Mettemich “An excellent fellow, though perhaps a little ceremonious. Wailed a very joyous life together. That reminds me of an adventure ” “Allow me to observe, M. le Prince, that we are talking of my mission.” “Well!” “ What am I to «ay to M. de Metternich?” \ “ What are you fd'sfty to him?” “Yes.” \T “ I really do not knayvJ’ “ What! you do not khdsv?” “ I had not reflected when I told you that. You will say to him ” “Well?” “ Only one word.” “ And that is ?” . “ Peccadille!" / “Peccadille?’ * “ Yes." “ Permit me to take my leave of you, M. le Prince,” said the Marshal, perfectly beside himself, taking up his hat and going toward the door as he spoke. “I wish you a pleasant journey. Above all, do not forget to say ‘ Peccadille’ to Mettemich, and to say it from me.” The Marshal departed in a tremendous rage, and Prince Talleyrand returned to his library, rubbing his hands gayly. Arrived in the Austrian capital, the French envoy was extremely well received ; he was loaded with all sorts of attentions, and entertainments without end were given to him, but of any interview with the Minister there was not the slightest question. More than once already he had solicited an audience, and his request had always been refused under one pretext or another.

The old Marshal cursed diplomacy, and loaded it with all the insulting epithets of which he had made a rich collection in the course of his military career. Driven out of all patience by these delays, he solicited an audience in such a pressing manner that it at last accorded to him. The day was fixed as well as the hour. “At last,” thought the Marshal, “I shall be able to explain myself.” At the moment he entered the Minister’s cabinet. Prince Mettemich was in the act of crushing a dispatch between his fingers. On seeing the Marshal enter he glanced at the clock and said: “ Marshal, I regret deeply that I am able to give you but very little time. His Majesty the-Emperor has sent me an order which summons me to him in a few moments ; I can only devote half an hour to you to-day. Another time I may be more fortunate.”" “A great many things can be said in half an hour,” thought the Marshal. A great many tilings may be sard in half an hour, it is true, and, above all, a great many things foreign to the subject under discussion. Talleyrand had already proved that to the Marshal, and Metternich proved it to him anew. It was impossible for him to introduce a single word of politics during the thirty minutes that the interview lasted. “ I am obliged to leave you, sir,’’ said the Minister; ‘ 1 the half-hour is past, 1 ! “ The die is cast,” thought the Marshal. “ I have nothing more to do but to return to France.” — ———•.— Suddenly a thought struck him. M. de Mettemich was on the point of leaving the room. “ I have a message for you from M. de Talleyrand.” “ What is it?” _1 The Marshal hesitated. v “ What is it?” repeated the Minister. “Peccadille.” said the Marshal, in desperation. At these words M. de Mettemich let go the door-knob, which he had alreaaj" grasped, and quickly retraced his steps. “ Peccadille, did you say?” “ Yes, M. le Prince, from M. de Talleyrand.” “ Oh, then, that is very different. Why did you not say so before V To-day it is impossible for me to remain with you, because, as I have already told you, the Emperor is waiting for me, but to-morrow I will receive you, and we will converse long and seriously ; and believe me, sir, I will do all that is in my power to aid the success of your negotiation.” The Marshal remained utterly bewildered by the mysterious effect of the name he had pronounced. That evening there was a ball at the court. M. de Metternich approached the Marshal, humming as he did so an old opera air:

Peccadille 8i gentille, etc. He seemed in a high good-humor, and conversed for a long time with the French envoy. The next day the promised interview took place. Shortly afterward the Marshal returned to France, having accomplished his mission in the most satisfactory manner possible. _ It now only remains to us to solve this riddle, which is what we are about to do. In 1814 three statesmen, namely, MM. de Talleyrand, de Metternich and de Nesselrode, were met together in Paris and were engaged in settlinsr Ihe grave,Questions which had arisen out of the fall of Napoleon and the entrance of the allied powers into France. Those grave interests took up nearly all their time, and yet they occasionally found means to escape from the preoccupations of diplomacy, saying among each other: “Let us put off serious matters till tomorrow.” One day the three diplomats were assembled at a gay dinner. Toward the end ot the repast they dismissed the servants in order to talk more freely; and certainly no one couJd have recognized in the jolly comrades, saying merrily all the foolish things that were inspired by the funfes of wine, the grave men who that very morning had been occupied by the affairs of a part of the world. The conversation, after roving from one frivolous subject to another, finally turned upon women. “Oh,’’said Prince Talleyrand, “ I know a marvel of beauty to whom nothing is comparable.” “I," said M. de Metternich, “ know a woman who is fairer than the fairest!” “Audi,” said. M. de Nesselrode, the envoys of Russia, “can cite a person who certainly has no rival!” “ There exist apparently three incom-

parable beauties, then,” said M. de Talleyrand, who had spoken first; “ but I do not doubt that mine is the handsomest of the three.” r “ No; it is mine.” “No; mine.” “ It is easy to see that you do not know the person of whom I speak.” “ Nor you tl(0 one whom I mean.” “If you had seen mine you would not talk so enthusiastically of the beauty of the others.” Thus commenced, the conversation gradually grew animated and finally degenerated into a quarrel. “We are absurd,gentlemen,” said at length M. de Talleyrand;” there is a very simple means of solving the difficulty; let us bring these three mysterious beauties together.” “ An excellent idea, but difficult of execution.” “ Not in the least. This is opera-night; 1 offer you my box. Each of us will write to his goddess, and when the three are met together there, we will arrive.” “Bravo!” -- - Talleyrand rang, and sent for pen, ink and paper. Each of the men wrote a note and gave it to a footman, ordering him to take a circuitous route when he left the hotel, in order to baffle the curious in case he was followed. Another hour passed, and then the three guests set off tor the opera. Arrived at the door of the box, M. de Talleyrand motioned to M. de Mettemich to enter first, who in turn went through the same ceremony with M. de Nesselrode. Each: of them repeated: “ After you, sir.” “ M. le Prince, I could not think of it.” At last Prince Mettemich entered. In an arm-chair at the front of the box sat a solitary lady, but one, we must say, of the most dazzling beauty. “ What does this pleasantry mean, sir?” asked M. de Mettemich, brusquely, of Prince Talleyrand, who followed him. “ I was about to ask you the same question,” said, at the same time, M. de Nesselrode. “ And I was about to address it to you, gentlemen,” replied Talleyrand. “ Why did you send off my note only ?” “ It was mine.” “ You mean mine.” ‘ ‘ Frankly, gentlemen, I do not understand the situation.” “ Here is the explanation,” then said the fair unknown; and, drawing from her glove three little, folded papers, she presented one to each of the three statesmen. All the notes bore the same address." That address was “Peccadille.” When MM. de Mettemich and de Nesselrode were about to leave France they met for a last conference with Prince Talleyrand. “We are about to separate, ” said the latter. “Do you not think that it would be as well to establish a means of understanding each other from afar as we do when we are to gether ?” “We can write.” “A letter may be losjt, and that is compromising.” “ We might establish a correspondence in cipher.” “ That has the same drawback. There are keys to all known ciphers.” “ Let us invent a new alphabet.” “ That is not much more certain.” ■ “Then what can we do?” “ Might we not, as is the custom during war, fix upon a common watchword and accord all credit to the envoy who shall repeat to any one of us this word from one of the others?” “ Let us choose a word, then. But what shall it be?” “ Let us see.” “ Patriotism?” “ Bad.” “ Fraternity?” “ No.” “ Loyalty?” --." “ Impossible.” “ Then what can we take ?’’ “ A proper name would be best.” “ Very w T ell, then, let it be a proper name—but there are so many. Could not a mistake arise through a lapse of memory ?” “ I have it, gentlemen—l have it!” said Prince Talleyrand, at that moment. V I will give you a name which neither of us three will ever forget, I am certain.” “What name is that ?’ ’ “ Peccadille!”— AppleCons' Journal.