ssed me with some commonplace words of kindness,
leaving on me the impression of a sensible and liberal mind, outwardly
imposing, shrewd with individuals, careful of appearances, thinking
little, and not profoundly informed, and almost as incapable of the
errors which destroy, as of the great strokes which establish the future
of royal dynasties.

I then visited M. de Blacas. He had evinced some prepossession against
me. "What brings this young man here?" said he to Baron d'Eckstein,
Commissary-General of Police to the King of the Netherlands, at Ghent.
"He comes from I know not who, with some mission that I am ignorant of,
to the King." He was fully acquainted both with my mission and my
friends. However, he received me with perfect civility, and I must add
with honourable frankness, inquiring what they said at Paris, and why
they were so incensed against him. He spoke to me even of his
differences with the Abbe de Montesquiou, complaining of the sallies and
whims which had embroiled them to the detriment of the King's service. I
replied with equal candour; and his bearing during the whole of our
interview was dignified, with a slight degree of reserve, expressing
more surprise than irritation. I find in some notes written after I left
him, this sentence:--"I am much mistaken if his mistakes do not chiefly
proceed from the mediocrity of his intellect."

The situation of M. de Chateaubriand at Ghent was singular. A member of
the King's Council, he brilliantly exposed its policy in official
publications, and defended them in the 'Moniteur of Ghent' with the same
attractive power; but he was dissatisfied with everybody, and no one
placed much confidence in him. I believe that neither then nor later did
the King or the different Cabinets understand M. de Chateaubriand, or
sufficiently appreciate his concurrence or hostility. He was, I admit, a
troublesome ally; for he aspired to all things, and complained of all.
On a level with the rarest spirits and most exalted imaginations, it was
his chimera to fancy himself equal to the greatest masters in the art of
government, and to feel bitterly hurt if he were not looked upon as the
rival of Napoleon as well as of Milton. Prudent men did not lend
themselves to this complaisant idolatry; but they forgot too much what,
either as friend or enemy, he to whom they refused it was worth. They
might, by paying homage to his genius and satisfying his vanity, have
lulled to rest his ambi