But when it comes to rarefied tastes and exquisite manners, including spectacular death scenes, Mitterrand is outclassed by Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord, whose career serves as a master class in how to stay on top in turbulent times. A scion of an ancient aristocratic family, Talleyrand sensed where the political winds were blowing and sought to place himself in the forefront of the French Revolution — until things got out of hand and the climate became positively unhealthy for former aristos. During the Terror, Talleyrand escaped abroad, only to return to Paris to become foreign minister under the Directoire, against which he conspired with a promising young general, Napoleon Bonaparte, whose empire he subsequently helped build. When Napoleon entered on a path to self-destruction, Talleyrand schemed with France's enemies to stop him and get the Bourbons back on the throne. After a brief spell as prime minister under Louis xviii, he was forced to retire to his estate for a lengthy period, only to make a comeback under the "People's Monarch," Louis Philippe, who sent him to Britain as ambassador. To his enemies, Talleyrand was the ultimate court viper, the prince of vice. A late contemporary cartoon shows him with six different faces, one for each regime he served. This is the mild stuff: His club foot, described by a mistress as "a horse's hoof made of flesh ending in a claw," was a source of endless fascination. The savage British satirist James Gillray saw it as an emblem of evil, and a female nonadmirer alludes to his satanic "limping gait . . . flashing eyes . . . snake-like mouth . . . paralysing smile, and . . . affected flatteries." In crisis Talleyrand was unflappable, exhibiting the kind of self-assurance that comes with centuries of privilege. This, of course, made him extra infuriating. In a celebrated incident, Napoleon, in one of his famous fits of rage, accused him of having betrayed everyone, threatened to hang him from the wrought-iron railings on la place du Carrousel, and called him "a turd in a silk stocking" before storming out. After which Talleyrand coolly remarked, "What a pity, such a great man and so ill-mannered."
