My First Years as a Frenchwoman, 1876-1879 Part 7

Notwithstanding his preoccupations, W. managed to get a few days'

shooting in November. He shot several times at Rambouillet with Grevy, who was an excellent shot, and his shooting breakfasts were very pleasant. There was plenty of game, everything very well organised, and the company agreeable. He always asked the ministers, amba.s.sadors, and many of the leading political men and very often some of his old friends, lawyers and men of various professions whom W. was delighted to meet. Their ideas didn't run in grooves like most of the men he lived with, and it was a pleasure to hear talk that wasn't political nor personal. The vicious attacks upon persons were so trying those first days of the Republic. Every man who was a little more prominent than his neighbour seemed a target for every kind of insinuation and criticism.

We went for two days to "Pout," Casimir Perier's fine place in the departement de l'Aube, where we had capital shooting. It was already extremely cold for the season--the big pond in the court was frozen hard, and the wind whistled about our ears when we drove in an open carriage to join the shooters at breakfast. Even I, who don't usually feel the cold, was thankful to be well wrapped up in furs. The Pavillon d'Hiver looked very inviting as we drove up--an immense fire was blazing in the chimney, another just outside, where the soup and ragout for the army of beaters were being prepared. We all had nice little foot-warmers under our chairs, and were as comfortable as possible. It was too warm in fact when the shooters came in and we sat down to breakfast. We were obliged to open the door. The talk was entirely "shop" at breakfast, every man telling what he had killed, or missed, and the minute they had finished breakfast, they started off again. We followed one or two battues (pheasants), but it was really too cold, and we were glad to walk home to get warm.

The dinner and evening were pleasant--everybody talking--most of them criticising the Government freely. W. didn't mind, they were all friends. He defended himself sometimes, merely asking what they would have done in his place--he was quite ready to receive any suggestions--but nothing practical ever came out of the discussions. I think the most delightful political position in the world must be "leader of the opposition"--you have no responsibilities, can concentrate all your energies in pointing out the weak spots in your adversary's armour, and have always your work cut out for you, for as soon as one ministry falls, you can set to work to demolish its successor, which seems the most interesting occupation possible.

The great question which was disturbing the Chambers and the country was the general amnesty. That, of course, W. would never agree to. There might be exceptions. Some of the men who took part in the Commune were so young, little more than lads, carried away by the example of their elders and the excitement of the moment, and there were fiery patriotic articles in almost all the Republican papers inviting France to make the beau geste of la mere patrie and open her arms to her misguided children, and various sensible experienced men really thought it would be better to wipe out everything and start again with no dark memories to cast a shadow on the beginnings of the young Republic. How many brilliant, sanguine, impossible theories I heard advanced all those days, and how the few remaining members of the Centre Gauche tried to reason with the most liberal men of the Centre Droit and to persuade them frankly to face the fact that the country had sent a strong Republican majority to Parliament and to make the best of the fait accompli. I suppose it was asking too much of them to go back on the traditions of their lives, but after all they were Frenchmen, their country was just recovering from a terrible disaster, and had need of all her children. During the Franco-Prussian War all party feeling was forgotten. Every man was first a Frenchman in the face of a foreign foe, and if they could have stood firmly together in those first days after the war the strength of the country would have been wonderful. All Europe was astounded at the way in which France paid her milliards,--no one more so than Bismarck, who is supposed to have said that, if he could have dreamed that France could pay that enormous sum so quickly, he would have asked much more.

December was very cold, snow and ice everywhere, and very hard frosts, which didn't give way at all when the sun came out occasionally in the middle of the day. Everybody was skating, not only at the clubs of the Bois de Boulogne, but on the lakes, which happens very rarely, as the water is fairly deep. The Seine was full of large blocks of ice, which got jammed up against the bridges and made a jarring ugly sound as they knocked against each other. The river steamers had stopped running, and there were crowds of flaneurs loitering on the quais and bridges wondering if the cold would last long enough for the river to be quite frozen over.

W. and I went two or three times to the Cercle des Patineurs at the Bois de Boulogne, and had a good skate. The women didn't skate as well then as they do now, but they looked very pretty in their costumes of velvet and sables. It was funny to see them stumbling over the ice with a man supporting them on each side. However, they enjoyed it very much. It was beautiful winter weather, very cold but no wind, and it was very good exercise. All the world was there, and the afternoons pa.s.sed quickly enough. I had not skated for years, having spent all my winters in Italy, but on the principle that you never forget anything that you know well, I thought I would try, and will say that the first half-hour was absolute suffering. It was in the old days when one still wore a strap over the instep, which naturally was drawn very tight. My feet were like lumps of ice, as heavy as lead, and I didn't seem able to lift them from the ground. I went back to the dressing-room to take my skates off for a few minutes, and when the blood began to circulate again, I could have cried with the pain. A friend of mine, a beginner, who was sitting near waiting to have her skates put on, was rather discouraged, and said to me: "You don't look as if you were enjoying yourself. I don't think I will try." "Oh yes you must,--'les commencements sont toujours difficiles,' and you will learn. I shall be all right as soon as I start again." She looked rather doubtful, but I saw her again later in the day, when I had forgotten all about my sufferings, and she was skating as easily as I did when I was a girl. I think one must learn young.

After all, it is more or less a question of balance. When one is young one doesn't mind a fall.

W., who had retired to a corner to practise a little by himself, told me that one of his friends, Comte de Pourtales, not at all of his way of thinking in politics, an Imperialist, was much pleased with a little jeu d'esprit he had made at his expense. W. caught the top of his skate in a crevice in the ice, and came down rather heavily in a sitting posture.

Comte de Pourtales, who was standing near on the bank, saw the fall and called out instantly, "Est-ce possible que je voie le President du Conseil par terre?" (Is it possible that the President du Conseil has fallen?) The little joke was quite de bonne guerre and quite appropriate, as the cabinet was tottering and very near its fall. It amused W. quite as much as it did the bystanders.

The cold was increasing every day, the ground was frozen hard, the streets very slippery, and going very difficult. All our horses were rough shod, but even with that we made very slow progress. Some of the omnibuses were on runners, and one or two of the young men of the ministry had taken off the wheels of their light carriages and put them on runners, but one didn't see many real sleighs or sledges, as they call them here. I fancy "sleigh" is entirely an American expression. The Seine was at last completely taken, and the public was allowed on the ice, which was very thick. It was a very pretty, animated sight, many booths like those one sees on the Boulevard during the Christmas holidays were installed on the ice close to the banks, and the river was black with people. They couldn't skate much, as the ice was rough and there were too many people, but they ran and slid and shouted and enjoyed themselves immensely. I wanted to cross one day with my boy, that he might say he had crossed the Seine on foot, but W. was rather unwilling. However, the prefet de la Seine, whom he consulted, told him there was absolutely no danger--the ice was several inches thick, so I started off one afternoon, one of the secretaries going with me. He was much astonished and rather nervous at seeing me in my ordinary boots. He had nails in his, and one of our friends whom we met on the ice had woollen socks over his boots. They were sure I would slip and perhaps get a bad fall. "But no one could slip on that ice; it is quite rough, might almost be a ploughed field,"--but they were uncomfortable, and were very pleased when I landed safely on the other side and got into the carriage. Just in the middle the boys had swept a path on the ice to make a glissade. They were racing up and down in bands, and the constant pa.s.sing had made it quite level and very slippery. We saw three or four unwary pedestrians get a fall, but if one kept on the outside near the bank there was no danger of slipping.

The extreme cold lasting so long brought many discomforts. Many trains with wood and provisions couldn't get to Paris. The railroads were all blocked and the Parisians were getting uneasy, fearing they might run short of food and fuel. We were very comfortable in the big rooms of the ministry. There were roaring fires everywhere, and two or three caloriferes. The view from the windows on the Quai was charming as long as the great cold lasted, particularly at night, when the river was alive with people, lights and coloured lanterns, and music. Every now and then there would be a ronde or a farandole,--the farandole forcing its way through the crowd, every one carrying a lantern and looking like a brilliant snake winding in and out.

We had some people dining one night, and they couldn't keep away from the windows. Some of the young ones (English) wanted to go down and have a lark on the ice, but it wasn't possible. The crowd, though thoroughly good-humoured, merely bent on enjoying themselves, had degenerated into a rabble. One would have been obliged to have a strong escort of police, and besides in evening dress, even with fur cloaks and the fur and woollen boots every one wore over their thin shoes, one would certainly have risked getting a bad attack of pneumonia. One of our great friends, Sir Henry h.o.a.re, was dining that night, but he didn't want to go down, preferred smoking his cigar in a warm room and talking politics to W. He had been a great deal in Paris, knew everybody, and was a member of the Jockey Club. He was much interested in French politics and au fond was very liberal, quite sympathised with W. and his friends and shared their opinions on most subjects, though as he said, "I don't air those opinions at the Jockey Club." He came often to our big receptions, liked to see all the people. He too used to tell me all that was said in his club about the Republic and the Government, but he was a shrewd observer, had been a long time an M.P. in England, and had come to the conclusion that the talk at the clubs was chiefly a "pose,"--they didn't really have many illusions about the restoration of the monarchy, couldn't have, when even the Duc de Broglie with his intelligence and following (the Faubourg St. Germain followed him blindly) could do nothing but make a const.i.tutional Republic with Marshal MacMahon at its head.

It was always said too that the women were more uncompromising than the men. I went one afternoon to a concert at the Austrian Emba.s.sy, given in aid of some inundations, which had been a catastrophe for that country, hundreds of houses, and people and cattle swept away! The French public had responded most generously, as they always do, to the urgent appeal made by the amba.s.sador in the name of the Emperor, and the Government had contributed largely to the fund. Count Beust the Austrian amba.s.sador was obliged of course to invite the Government and Madame Grevy to the entertainment, as well as his friends of the Faubourg St. Germain.

Neither Madame nor Mademoiselle Grevy came, but some of the ministers'

wives did, and it was funny to see the ladies of society looking at the Republican ladies, as if they were denizens of a different planet, strange figures they were not accustomed to see. It is curious to think of all that now, when relations are much less strained. I remember not very long ago at a party at one of the emba.s.sies, seeing many of the society women having themselves presented to the wife of the then Minister of Foreign Affairs, with whom they certainly had nothing in common, neither birth, breeding, nor mode of life. I was talking to Casimir Perier (late President of the Republic) and it amused us very much to see the various introductions and the great empress.e.m.e.nt of the ladies, all of whom were asking to be presented to Madame R. "What can all those women want?" I asked him. He replied promptly, "Emba.s.sies for their husbands." It would have been better, I think, in a worldly point of view, if more emba.s.sies had been given to the bearers of some of the great names of France--but there were so many candidates for every description of function in France just then, from an amba.s.sador to a gendarme, that anybody who had anything to give found himself in a difficult position.

XI

LAST DAYS AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE

The end of December was detestable. We were en pleine crise for ten days. Every day W. went to the Chamber of Deputies expecting to be beaten, and every evening came home discouraged and disgusted. The Chamber was making the position of the ministers perfectly untenable--all sorts of violent and useless propositions were discussed, and there was an undercurrent of jealousy and intrigue everywhere. One day, just before Christmas, about the 20th, W. and his chef de cabinet, Comte de P., started for the house, after breakfast--W. expecting to be beaten by a coalition vote of the extreme Left, Bonapartists and Legitimists. It was an insane policy on the part of the two last, as they knew perfectly well they wouldn't gain anything by upsetting the actual cabinet. They would only get another one much more advanced and more masterful. I suppose their idea was to have a succession of radical inefficient ministers, which in the end would disgust the country and make a "saviour," a prince (which one?) or general, possible. How wise their reasoning was time has shown! I wanted to go to the Chamber to hear the debate, but W. didn't want me. He would be obliged to speak, and said it would worry him if I were in the gallery listening to all the attacks made upon him. (It is rather curious that I never heard him speak in public, either in the house or in the country, where he often made political speeches, in election times.) He was so sure that the ministry would fall that we had already begun cleaning and making fires in our own house, so on that afternoon, as I didn't want to sit at home waiting for telegrams, I went up to the house with Henrietta. The caretaker had already told us that the stock of wood and coal was giving out, and she couldn't get any more in the quarter, and if she couldn't make fires the pipes would burst, which was a pleasant prospect with the thermometer at I don't remember how many degrees below zero. We found a fine cleaning going on--doors and windows open all over the house--and women scrubbing stairs, floors, and windows, rather under difficulties, with little fire and little water. It looked perfectly dreary and comfortless--not at all tempting. All the furniture was piled up in the middle of the rooms, and W.'s library was a curiosity. Books and pamphlets acc.u.mulated rapidly with us, W. was a member of many literary societies of all kinds all over the world, and packages and boxes of unopened books quite choked up the room. H. and I tried to arrange things a little, but it was hopeless that day, and, besides, the house was bitterly cold. It didn't feel as if a fire could make any impression.

As we could do nothing there, we went back to the ministry. No telegrams had come, but Kruft, our faithful and efficient chef du materiel, was waiting for me for last instructions about a Christmas tree. Some days before I had decided to have a Christmas tree, about the end of the month. W. then thought the ministry would last over the holidays, the treve des confiseurs, and was quite willing I should have a Christmas party as a last entertainment. He had been too occupied the last days to think about any such trifles, and Kruft, not having had any contrary instructions, had ordered the presents and decorations. He was rather depressed, because W. had told him that morning that we surely would not be at the Quai d'Orsay on the 29th, the day we had chosen for our party.

However, I rea.s.sured him, and told him we would have the Christmas tree all the same, only at my house instead of at the ministry. We went to look at his presents, which were all spread out on a big table in one of the drawing-rooms. He really was a wonderful man, never forgot anything, and had remembered that at the last tree, the year before, one or two nurses had had no presents, and several who had were not pleased with what was given to them. He had made a very good selection for those ladies,--lace scarfs and rabats and little tours de cou of fur,--really very pretty. I believe they were satisfied this time. The young men of the Chancery sent me up two telegrams: "rien de nouveau,"--"ministere debout."

[Ill.u.s.tration: M. de Freyeinet. After a photograph by M. Nadaz, Paris]

W. came home late, very tired and much disgusted with politics in general and his party in particular. The cabinet still lived, but merely to give Grevy time to make another. W. had been to the Elysee and had a long conversation with Grevy. He found him very preoccupied, very unwilling to make a change, and he again urged W. very much to keep the Foreign Office, if Freycinet should succeed in making a ministry. That W. would not agree to--he was sick of the whole thing. He told Grevy he was quite right to send for Freycinet--if any man could save the situation he could. We had one or two friends, political men, to dinner, and they discussed the situation from every point of view, always ending with the same conclusion, that W. was right to go. His policy wasn't the policy of the Chamber (I don't say of the country, for I think the country knew little and cared less about what was going on in Parliament), hardly the policy of all his own colleagues. There was really no use to continue worrying himself to death and doing no good.

W. said his conversation with Grevy was interesting, but he was much more concerned with home politics and the sweeping changes the Republicans wanted to make in all the administrations than with foreign policy. He said Europe was quiet and France's first duty was to establish herself firmly, which would only be done by peace and prosperity at home. I told W. I had spent a very cold and uncomfortable hour at the house, and I was worried about the cold, thought I might, perhaps, send the boy to mother, but he had taken his precautions and arranged with the Minister of War to have a certain amount of wood delivered at the house. They always had reserves of wood at the various ministries. We had ours directly from our own woods in the country, and it was en route, but a flotilla of boats was frozen up in the Ca.n.a.l de l'Ourcq, and it might be weeks before the wood could be delivered.

We dined one night at the British Emba.s.sy, while all these pourparlers were going on, en pet.i.t comite, all English, Lord and Lady Reay, Lord Edmond Fitz-Maurice, and one or two members of Parliament whose names I have forgotten. Both Lord and Lady Reay were very keen about politics, knew France well, and were much interested in the phase she was pa.s.sing through. Lord Lyons was charming, so friendly and sensible, said he wasn't surprised at W.'s wanting to go--still hoped this crisis would pa.s.s like so many others he had seen in France; that certainly W.'s presence at the Foreign Office during the last year had been a help to the Republic--said also he didn't believe his retirement would last very long. It was frightfully cold when we came out of the emba.s.sy--very few carriages out, all the coachmen wrapped up in m.u.f.flers and fur caps, and the Place de la Concorde a sea of ice so slippery I thought we should never get across and over the bridge. I went to the opera one night that week, got there in an entr'acte, when people were walking about and reading the papers. As I pa.s.sed several groups of men, I heard W.'s name mentioned, also that of Leon Say and Freycinet, but just in pa.s.sing by quickly I could not hear any comments. I fancy they were not favourable in that milieu. It was very cold in the house--almost all the women had their cloaks on--and the coming out was something awful, crossing that broad perron in the face of a biting wind.

I began my packing seriously this time, as W.'s mind was quite made up.

He had thought the matter well over, and had a final talk with Freycinet, who would have liked to keep both W. and Leon Say, but it wasn't easy to manage the new element that Freycinet brought with him.

The new members were much more advanced in their opinions. W. couldn't have worked with them, and they certainly didn't want to work with him.

The autumn session came to a turbulent end on the 26th of December, and the next day the papers announced that the ministers had given their resignations to the President, who had accepted them and had charged M.

de Freycinet to form a cabinet. We dined with mother on Christmas day, a family party, with the addition of Comte de P. and one or two stray Americans who were at hotels and were of course delighted not to dine on Christmas day at a table d'hote or cafe. W. was rather tired; the constant talking and seeing so many people of all kinds was very fatiguing, for, as long as his resignation was not official, announced in the _Journal Officiel_, he was still Minister of Foreign Affairs.

One of the last days, when they were hoping to come to an agreement, he was obliged to come home early to receive the mission from Morocco. I saw them arrive; they were a fine set of men, tall, powerfully built, their skin a red-brown, not black, entirely dressed in white from turbans to sandals. None of them spoke any French--all the conversation took place through an interpreter. Notwithstanding our worries, we had a very pleasant evening and W. was very cheerful--looking forward to our Italian trip with quite as much pleasure as I did.

W. made over the ministry to Freycinet on Monday, the 28th, the transmission des pouvoirs. Freycinet was very nice and friendly, regretted that he and W. were no longer colleagues. He thought his ministry was strong and was confident he would manage the Chamber. W.

told him he could settle himself as soon as he liked at the Quai d'Orsay, as we should go at once, and would sleep at our house on Wednesday night. Freycinet said Madame de Freycinet (whom I knew well and liked very much) would come and see me on Wednesday, and would like to go over the house with me. I was rather taken aback when W. told me we must sleep in our own house on Wednesday night. The actual packing was not very troublesome, as I had not brought many of my own things from the rue Dumont d'Urville. There was scarcely a van-load of small furniture and boxes, but the getting together of all the small things was a bore,--books, bibelots, music, cards, and notes (these in quant.i.ties, lettres de condoleance, which had to be carefully sorted as they had all to be answered). The hotel of the Quai d'Orsay was crowded with people those last two days, all W.'s friends coming to express their regrets at his departure, some very sincerely sorry to see him go, as his name and character certainly inspired confidence abroad--and some delighted that he was no longer a member of such an advanced cabinet--(some said "de cet infect gouvernement"), where he was obliged by his mere presence to sanction many things he didn't approve of. He and Freycinet had a long talk on Wednesday, as W. naturally wanted to be sure that some provision would be made for his chef de cabinet and secretaries. Each incoming minister brings his own staff with him.

Freycinet offered W. the London Emba.s.sy, but he wouldn't take it, had had enough of public life for the present. I didn't want it either, I had never lived much in England, had not many friends there, and was counting the days until we could get off to Rome. There was one funny result of W. having declined the London Emba.s.sy. Admiral Pothnau, whom W. had named there, and who was very much liked, came to see him one day and made a great scene because Freycinet had offered him the London Emba.s.sy. W. said he didn't understand why he made a scene, as he had refused it. "But it should never have been offered to you over my head."

"Perhaps, but that is not my fault. I didn't ask for it--and don't want it. If you think you have been treated badly, you should speak to Freycinet." However, the admiral was very much put out, and was very cool with us both for a long time. I suppose his idea was that being recalled would mean that he had not done well in London, which was quite a mistake, as he was very much liked there.

We dined alone that last night at the ministry, and sat some time in the window, looking at the crowds of people amusing themselves on the Seine, and wondering if we should ever see the Quai d'Orsay again. After all, we had had two very happy interesting years there--and memories that would last a lifetime.--Some of the last experiences of the month of December had been rather disillusioning, but I suppose one must not bring any sentiment into politics. In the world it is always a case of donnant--donnant--and--when one is no longer in a position to give a great deal--people naturally turn to the rising man. Comte de P., chef de cabinet, came in late as usual, to have a last talk. He too had been busy, as he had a small apartment and stables in the hotel of the ministry, and was also very anxious to get away. He told us all the young men of the cabinet were very sorry to see W. go--at first they had found him a little cold and reserved--but a two years' experience had shown them that, if he were not expansive, he was perfectly just, and always did what he said he would.

The next day Madame de Freycinet came to see me, and we went over the house. She didn't care about the living-rooms, as they never lived at the Quai d'Orsay, remained in their own hotel near the Bois de Boulogne.

Freycinet came every day to the ministry, and she merely on reception days--or when there was a party. Just as she was going, Madame de Zuylen, wife of the Dutch minister, a great friend of mine, came in. She told me she had great difficulty in getting up, as I had forbidden my door, but my faithful Gerard (I think I missed him as much as anything else at first) knowing we were friends, thought Madame would like to see her. She paid me quite a long visit,--I even gave her some tea off government plate and china,--all mine had been already sent to my own house. We sat talking for some time. She had heard that W. had refused the London Emba.s.sy, was afraid it was a mistake, and that the winter in Paris would be a difficult one for him--he would certainly be in opposition to the Government on all sorts of questions--and if he remained in Paris he would naturally go to the Senate and vote. I quite agreed that he couldn't suddenly detach himself from all political discussions--must take part in them and must vote. The policy of abstention has always seemed to me the weakest possible line in politics. If a man, for some reason or another, hasn't the courage of his opinions, he mustn't take any position where that opinion would carry weight. I told her we were going to Italy as soon as we could get off after the holidays.

While we were talking, a message came up to say that the young men of the cabinet were all coming up to say good-bye to me. I had seen the directors earlier in the day, so Madame de Zuylen took her leave, promising to come to my Christmas tree in the rue Dumont d'Urville. The young men seemed sorry to say good-bye--I was, too. I had seen a great deal of them and always found them ready and anxious to help me in every way. The Comte de Lasteyrie, who was a great friend of ours as well as a secretary, went about a great deal with us. W. called upon him very often for all sorts of things, knowing he could trust him absolutely. He told one of my friends that one of his princ.i.p.al functions was to accompany Madame Waddington to all the charity sales, carrying a package of women's chemises under his arm. It was quite true that I often bought "poor clothes" at the sales. The objects exposed in the way of screens, pincushions, table-covers, and, in the spring, hats made by some of the ladies, were so appalling that I was glad to have poor clothes to fall back upon, but I don't remember his ever carrying my purchases home with me.

They were much amused when suddenly Francis burst into the room, having escaped a moment from his Nonnon, who was busy with her last packing, his little face flushed and quivering with anger because his toys had been packed and he was to be taken away from the big house. He kicked and screamed like a little mad thing, until his nurse came to the rescue. I made a last turn in the rooms to see that all trace of my occupation had vanished. Francis, half pacified, was seated on the billiard-table, an old grey-haired huissier, who was always on duty up-stairs, taking care of him. The huissiers and house servants were all a.s.sembled in the hall, and the old Pierson, who had been there for years, was the spokesman, and hoped respectfully that Madame "would soon come back...." W. didn't come with us, as he still had people to see and only got home in time for a late dinner.

We dined that night and for many nights afterward with our uncle Lutteroth (who had a charming hotel filled with pictures and bibelots and pretty things) just across the street, as it was some little time before our kitchen and household got into working order again. The first few days were, of course, very tiring and uncomfortable--the house seemed so small after the big rooms at the Quai d'Orsay. I didn't attempt to do anything with the salons, as we were going away so soon--carpets and curtains had to be arranged to keep the cold out, but the big boxes remained in the carriage house--not unpacked. We had a procession of visitors all day--and tried to make W.'s library possible--comfortable it wasn't, as there were packages of books and papers and boxes everywhere.

I had a good many visits and flowers on New Year's day--which was an agreeable surprise--Lord Lyons, Orloff, the Sibberns, Comte de Segur, M. Alfred Andre, and others. Andre, an old friend of W.'s, a very conservative Protestant banker, was very blue about affairs. Andre was the type of the modern French Protestant. They are almost a separate cla.s.s in France--are very earnest, religious, honourable, narrow-minded people. They give a great deal in charity and good works of all kinds.

In Paris the Protestant coterie is very rich. They a.s.sociate with all the Catholics, as many of them entertain a great deal, but they live among themselves and never intermarry. I hardly know a case where a French Protestant has married a Catholic. I suppose it is a remnant of their old Huguenot blood, and the memories of all their forefathers suffered for their religion, which makes them so intolerant. The amba.s.sadors had paid their usual official visit to the Elysee--said Grevy was very smiling and amiable, didn't seem at all preoccupied. We had a family dinner at my uncle's on New Year's night, and all the family with wonderful unanimity said the best wish they could make for W. was that 1880 would see him out of politics and leading an independent if less interesting life.

An interesting life it certainly was, hearing so many questions discussed, seeing all sorts of people of all nationalities and living as it were behind the scenes. The Chamber of Deputies in itself was a study, with its astounding changes of opinion, with no apparent cause.

One never knew in the morning what the afternoon's session would bring, for as soon as the Republican party felt themselves firmly established, they began to quarrel among themselves. I went back to the ministry one afternoon to pay a formal visit to Madame de Freycinet on her reception day. I had rather put it off, thinking that the sight of the well-known rooms and faces would be disagreeable to me and make me regret, perhaps, the past, but I felt already that all that old life was over--one adapts one's self so quickly to different surroundings. It did seem funny to be announced by my own special huissier, Gerard, and to find myself sitting in the green drawing-room with all the palms and flowers arranged just as they always were for me, and a semicircle of diplomats saying exactly the same things to Madame de Freycinet that they had said to me a few days before, but I fancy that always happens in these days of democracy and equalising education, and that under certain circ.u.mstances, we all say and do exactly the same thing. I had quite a talk with Sibbern, the Swedish minister, who was very friendly and sympathetic, not only at our leaving the Foreign Office, but at the extreme discomfort of moving in such frightfully cold weather. He was wrapped in furs, as if he were going to the North Pole. However, I a.s.sured him we were quite warm and comfortable, gradually settling down into our old ways, and I was already looking back on my two years at the Quai d'Orsay as an agreeable episode in my life. I had quite a talk too with the Portuguese minister, Mendes Leal. He was an interesting man, a poet and a dreamer, saw more, I fancy, of the literary world of Paris than the political. Blowitz was there, of course--was always everywhere in moments of crisis, talking a great deal, and letting it be understood that he had pulled a great many wires all those last weeks. He too regretted that W. had not taken the London Emba.s.sy, a.s.sured me that it would have been a very agreeable appointment in England--was surprised that I hadn't urged it. I replied that I had not been consulted. Many people asked when they could come and see me--would I take up my reception day again? That wasn't worth while, as I was going away so soon, but I said I would be there every day at five o'clock, and always had visits.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mme. Sadi Carnot. From a drawing by Mlle. Amelie Beaury-Saurel.]

One day Madame Sadi Carnot sat a long time with me. Her husband had been named undersecretary at the Ministry of Public Works in the new cabinet, and she was very pleased. She was a very charming, intelligent, cultivated woman--read a great deal, was very keen about politics and very ambitious (as every clever woman should be) for her husband and sons. I think she was a great help socially to her husband when he became President of the Republic. He was a grave, reserved man, didn't care very much for society. I saw her very often and always found her most attractive. At the Elysee she was amiable and courteous to everybody and her slight deafness didn't seem to worry her nor make conversation difficult. She did such a charming womanly thing just after her husband's a.s.sa.s.sination. He lay in state for some days at the Elysee, and M. Casimir Perier, his successor, went to make her a visit.

As he was leaving he said his wife would come the next day to see Madame Carnot. She instantly answered, "Pray do not let her come; she is young, beginning her life here at the Elysee. I wouldn't for worlds that she should have the impression of sadness and gloom that must hang over the palace as long as the President is lying there. I should like her to come to the Elysee only when all traces of this tragedy have gone--and to have no sad a.s.sociations--on the contrary, with the prospect of a long happy future before her."

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photograph, copyright by Pierre Pet.i.t, Paris._ President Sadi Carnot.]

W. went the two or three Fridays we were in Paris to the Inst.i.tute, where he was most warmly received by his colleagues, who had much regretted his enforced absences the years he was at the Foreign Office.

He told them he was going to Rome, where he hoped still to find some treasures in the shape of inscriptions inedites, with the help of his friend Lanciani. The days pa.s.sed quickly enough until we started. It was not altogether a rest, as there were always so many people at the house, and W. wanted to put order into his papers before he left. Freycinet made various changes at the Quai d'Orsay. M. Desprey, Directeur de la Politique (a post he had occupied for years) was named amba.s.sador to Rome in the place of the Marquis de Gabriac. I don't think he was very anxious to go. His career had been made almost entirely at the Foreign Office, and he was much more at home in his cabinet, with all his papers and books about him, than he would be abroad among strangers. He came to dinner one night, and we talked the thing over. W. thought the rest and change would do him good. He was named to the Vatican, where necessarily there was much less to do in the way of social life than at the Quirinal. He was perfectly au courant of all the questions between the Vatican and the French clergy--his son, secretary of emba.s.sy, would go with him. It seemed rather a pleasant prospect.

W. went once or twice to the Senate, as the houses met on the 12th or 14th of January, but there was nothing very interesting those first days. The Chamber was taking breath after the holidays and the last ministerial crisis, and giving the new ministry a chance. I think Freycinet had his hands full, but he was quite equal to the task. I went late one afternoon to the Elysee. I had written to Madame Grevy to ask if she would receive me before I left for Italy. When I arrived, the one footman at the door told me Madame Grevy was un peu souffrante, would see me up-stairs. I went up a side staircase, rather dark, preceded by the footman, who ushered me into Madame Grevy's bedroom. It looked perfectly uncomfortable--was large, with very high ceilings, stiff gilt furniture standing against the wall, and the heat something awful,--a blazing fire in the chimney. Madame Grevy was sitting in an armchair, near the fire, a grey shawl on her shoulders and a lace fichu on her head. It was curiously unlike the bedroom I had just left. I had been to see a friend, who was also souffrante. She was lying under a lace coverlet lined with pink silk, lace, and embroidered cushions all around her, flowers, pink lamp-shades, silver flacons, everything most luxurious and modern. The contrast was striking. Madame Grevy was very civil, and talkative,--said she was very tired. The big dinners and late hours she found very fatiguing. She quite understood that I was glad to get away, but didn't think it was very prudent to travel in such bitterly cold weather--and Rome was very far, and wasn't I afraid of fever? I told her I was an old Roman--had lived there for years, knew the climate well, and didn't think it was worse than any other. She said the President had had a visit from W. and a very long talk with him, and that he regretted his departure very much, but that he didn't think "Monsieur Waddington was au fond de son sac." Grevy was always a good friend to W.--on one or two occasions, when there was a sort of cabal against him, Grevy took his part very warmly--and in all questions of home policy and persons W. found him a very keen, shrewd observer--though he said very little--rarely expressed an opinion. I didn't make a very long visit--found my way down-stairs as well as I could--no servant was visible either on the stairs or in the hall, and my own footman opened the big doors and let me out. We got off the first days of February--as, up to the last moment, W. had people to see. We went for two or three days to Bourneville--I had one or two very cold tramps in the woods (very dry) which is quite unusual at this time of the year, but the earth was frozen hard. Inside the woods we were well sheltered, but when we came out on the plain the cold and icy wind was awful. The workmen had made fires to burn the roots and rotten wood, and we were very glad to stop and warm ourselves. Some had their children with them, who looked half perished with cold, always insufficiently clad, but they were quite happy roasting potatoes in the ashes. I was so cold that I tied a woollen scarf around my head, just as the women in Canada do when they go sleighing or skating.

We had a breakfast one day for some of W.'s influential men in the country, who were much disgusted at the turn affairs had taken and that W. could no longer remain minister, but they were very fairly au courant of all that was going on in Parliament, and quite understood that for the moment the moderate, experienced men had no chance. The young Republic must have its fling. Has the country learned much or gained much in its forty years of Republic?