You know too much of our national character and of my own veracity to think it improbable, when I assure you that most of our great men in place are as vain as presumptuous, and that sometimes vanity and presumption get the better of their discretion and prudence.  What I am going to tell you I did not hear myself, but it was reported to me by a female friend, as estimable for her virtues as admired for her accomplishments.  She is often honoured with invitations to Talleyrand’s familiar parties, composed chiefly of persons whose fortunes are as independent as their principles, who, though not approving the Revolution, neither joined its opposers nor opposed its adherents, preferring tranquillity and obscurity to agitation and celebrity.  Their number is not much above half a dozen, and the Minister calls them the only honest people in France with whom he thinks himself safe.

When it was reported here that two hundred persons of Brune’s suite had embarked at Marseilles and eighty-four at Genoa, and when it was besides known that nearly fifty individuals accompanied him in his outset, this unusual occurrence caused much conversation and many speculations in all our coteries and fashionable circles.  About that time my friend dined with Talleyrand, and, by chance, also mentioned this grand embassy, observing, at the same time, that it was too much honour done to the Ottoman Porte, and too much money thrown away upon splendour, to honour such an imbecile and tottering Government.

“How people talk,” interrupted Talleyrand, “about what they do not comprehend.  Generous as Bonaparte is, he does not throw away his expenses; perhaps within twelve months all these renegadoes or adventurers, whom you all consider as valets of Brune, will be three-tailed Pachas or Beys, leading friends of liberty, who shall have gloriously broken their fetters as slaves of a Selim to become the subjects of a Napoleon.  The Eastern Empire has, indeed, long expired, but it may suddenly be revived.”

“Austria and Russia,” replied my friend, “would never suffer it, and England would sooner ruin her navy and exhaust her Treasury than permit such a revolution.”

“So they have tried to do,” retorted Talleyrand, “to bring about a counter revolution in France.  But though only a moment is requisite to erect the standard of revolt, ages often are necessary to conquer and seize it.  Turkey has long been ripe for a revolution.  It wanted only chiefs and directors.  In time of war, ten thousand Frenchmen landed in the Dardanelles would be masters of Constantinople, and perhaps of the Empire.  In time of peace, four hundred bold and well-informed men may produce the same effect.  Besides, with some temporary cession of a couple of provinces to each of the Imperial Courts, and with the temporary present of an island to Great Britain, everything may be settled ‘pro tempore’, and a Joseph Bonaparte be permitted to reign at Constantinople, as a Napoleon does at Paris.”