Talleyrand was less successful in his resistance to the Allies when they claimed the statues and pictures and other works of art that had been brought to Paris. On September 11th Castlereagh wrote him that the Pope, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the King of the Netherlands, King of Prussia, and others demanded the return of their treasures, and the Allies had decided to comply. Talleyrand at once protested in the sacred name of morality against such a spoliation of the Parisian museums. At least, he concluded, this should have been done in 1814 or not at all. Wellington now took up the argument, and cut him short “with the brutality of a soldier.” The phrase is scarcely too strong. The Duke’s letter terminated: “The sovereigns were unable to wrong their subjects in order to satisfy the pride of the French army and nation, who must be made to feel that, in spite of a few temporary and partial advantages in various States, the day of restitution had come, and the allied monarchs could not neglect this opportunity of giving the French a great lesson in morality!” Talleyrand observes in the memoirs that no doubt Wellington had equally espoused the cause of morality when he had been on service in India. And through all these troubles and distractions there was the grave anxiety about the new terms to be offered to France by the Allies. Pasquier would have us believe that during these busy months Talleyrand was peculiarly indolent, and that his whole energy was absorbed in fretting over a certain lady who seemed inclined to desert him.[56] But the whole of Pasquier’s narrative at this period is tinged with bitterness against Talleyrand, and must not lightly be followed. He is too obviously trying to justify the change from Talleyrand to his friend Richelieu. However much he may have betrayed his concern at the obstinate absence from Paris of his friend, it is, on the face of it, absurd to say that he could think of nothing else. We have seen that he had plenty to do, and did it. If it is true that there was a notable lack of the intense energy he usually displayed at critical periods (as Casimir Périer says), it is surely possible to trace this to the profound weariness and disgust that the whole situation would inspire. Feebly supported by the King, hated and maligned by the courtiers, surrounded by the intrigues of the Richelieus and Pasquiers and Fouchés, confronted with the hostility of Prussia and Russia and annoyed by the blunders of Wellington, conscious of the wretched state of the country and of the determination of the Allies to undo their generosity of 1814 and avenge Vienna, convinced that he himself would soon be cast aside as a worn-out tool, he had cause enough for weariness.