dinners). Our Aisne deputies and senators were not very mondains, didn't
care much to dine out. They were pleasant enough when they talked about
subjects that interested them. Henri Martin, senator of the Aisne, was
an old-fashioned Republican, absolutely convinced that no other
government would ever succeed in France, but he was moderate. St.
Vallier, also a senator from the Aisne, was nervous and easily
discouraged when things didn't go smoothly, but he too thought the
Republic was the only possible government now, whatever his preferences
might have been formerly.
W.'s ministry came to an end on the famous 16th of May, 1877, when
Marshal MacMahon suddenly took matters in his own hands and dismissed
his cabinet presided over by M. Jules Simon. Things had not been going
smoothly for some time, could not between two men of such absolute
difference of origin, habits, and ideas. Still, the famous letter
written by the marshal to Jules Simon was a thunderclap. I was walking
about the Champs-Elysées and Faubourg St. Honoré on the morning of the
16th of May, and saw all the carriages, our own included, waiting at the
Ministry of the Interior, where the conseil was sitting. I went home to
breakfast, thought W. was later than usual, but never dreamed of what
was happening. When he finally appeared, quite composed and smiling,
with his news, "We are out of office; the marshal has sent us all about
our business," I could hardly believe it, even when he told me all the
details. I had known for a long time that things were not going well,
but there were always so much friction and such opposing elements in the
cabinet that I had not attached much importance to the accounts of
stormy sittings and thought things would settle down.
[Illustration: Theodor Mommsen. From a painting by Franz von Lenbach.]
W. said the marshal was very civil to him, but it was evident that he
could not stand Jules Simon any longer and the various measures that he
felt were impending. We had many visitors after breakfast, all much
excited, wondering what the next step would be--if the Chambers would be
dissolved, the marshal trying to impose a cabinet of the Right or
perhaps form another moderate liberal cabinet without Jules Simon, but
retaining some of his ministers. It was my reception afternoon, and
while I was sitting quietly in my drawing-room talking to some of my
friends, making plans for the summer, quite pleased to have W. to
myself again, the butler hurried into the room telling me that the
Maréchale de MacMahon was on the stairs, coming to make me a visit. I
was very much surprised, as she never came to see me. We met very
rarely, except on official occasions, and she made no secret of her
dislike to the official Republican ladies (but she was always absolutely
correct if not enthusiastic). I had just time to get to the head of the
stairs to receive her. She was very amiable, a little embarrassed, took
a cup of tea--said the marshal was very sorry to part with W., he had
never had any trouble or disagreement with him of any kind, but that it
was impossible to go on with a cabinet when neither party had any
confidence in the other. I quite agreed, said it was the fortunes of
war; I hoped the marshal would find another premier who would be more
sympathetic with him, and then we talked of other things.
My friends were quite amused. One of them, Marquise de T., knew the
Maréchale quite well, and said she was going to ask her if she was
obliged to make visites de condoléance to the wives of all the fallen
ministers. W. was rather astonished when I told him who had come to tea
with me, and thought the conversation must have been difficult. I told
him, not at all, once the necessary phrases about the departing
ministers were over. The piano was open, music littered about; she was
fond of music and she admired very much a portrait of father as a boy in
the Harrow dress, asked who it was and what the dress was. She was a
perfect woman of the world, and no one was uncomfortable.
It seemed quite strange and very pleasant to take up my old life again
after two years of public life. W. breakfasted at home, went to the
Senate every day and to the Institute on Fridays and we dined with our
friends and had small dinners in our own house instead of official
banquets at all the ministries (usually from Potel and Chabot at so much
a head). Politics were very lively all summer. The Chambers were
dissolved almost at once after the constitution of the new cabinet,
presided over by the Duc de Broglie. It was evident from the first
moment that the new ministry wouldn't, couldn't live. (The Duc de
Broglie was quite aware of the fact. His first words on taking office
were: "On nous a jetés à l'eau, maintenant il faut nager.") He made a
very good fight, but he had that worst of all faults for a leader, he
was unpopular. He was a brilliant, cultured speaker, but had a curt,
dictatorial manner, with an air always of looking down upon his public.
So different from his colleague, the Duc Décazes, whose charming,
courteous manners and nice blue eyes made him friends even among his
adversaries. There is a well-known story told of the two dukes which
shows exactly the personality of the men. Some one, a deputy I think,
wanted something very much which either of the gentlemen could give. He
went first to the Duc Décazes, then Minister of Foreign Affairs, who
received him charmingly, was most kind and courteous, but didn't do what
the man wanted. He then went to the Duc de Broglie, Président du
Conseil, who was busy, received him very curtly, cut short his
explanations, and was in fact extremely disagreeable but did the thing,
and the man loved Décazes and hated de Broglie. All sorts of rumours
were afloat; we used to hear the wildest stories and plans. One day W.
came in looking rather preoccupied. There was an idea that the Right
were going to take most stringent measures, arrest all the ministers,
members of Jules Simon's cabinet, many of the prominent Liberals. He
said it was quite possible and then gave me various instructions. I was
above all to make no fuss if they really came to arrest him. He showed
me where all his keys, papers, and money were, told me to go instantly
to his uncle, Mr. Lutteroth, who lived next door. He was an old
diplomat, knew everybody, and would give me very good advice. I did not
feel very happy, but like so many things that are foretold, nothing
ever happened.
Another rumour, from the extreme Left this time, was that a large armed
force under the command of a well-known general, very high up in his
career, was to assemble in the north at Lille, a strong contingent of
Republicans were to join them to be ready to act. I remember quite well
two of W.'s friends coming in one morning, full of enthusiasm for this
plan. I don't think they quite knew what they were going to do with
their army. W. certainly did not. He listened to all the details of the
plan; they gave him the name of the general, supposed to have very
Republican sympathies (not generally the case with officers), the number
of regiments, etc., who would march at a given signal, but when he said,
"It is possible, you might get a certain number of men together, but
what would you do with them?" they were rather nonplussed. They hadn't
got any further than a grand patriotic demonstration, with the military,
drums beating, flags flying, and the Marseillaise being howled by an
excited crowd. No such extreme measures, however, were ever carried
out. From the first moment it was evident that a large Republican
majority would be returned; almost all the former deputies were
re-elected and a number of new ones, more advanced in their opinion. In
the country it was the only topic of conversation.
Parliament was dissolved in June, 1877, but we remained in town until
the end of July. It wasn't very warm and many people remained until the
end of the session. The big schools too only break up on the 15th of
July, and many parents remain in Paris. The Republican campaign had
already begun, and there were numerous little dinners and meetings when
plans and possibilities were discussed. W. got back usually very late
from Versailles. When he knew the sitting would be very late he sent me
word and I used to go and dine with mother, but sometimes he was kept on
there from hour to hour. I had some long waits before we could dine, and
Hubert, the coachman, used to spend hours in the courtyard of the Gare
St. Lazare waiting for his master. We had a big bay mare, a very fast
trotter, which always did the train service, and the two were stationed
there sometimes from six-thirty to nine-thirty, but they never seemed
the worse for it. W., though a very considerate man for his servants
generally, never worried at all about keeping his coachmen and horses
waiting. He said the coachmen were the most warmly dressed men in Paris,
always took care to be well covered, and we never had fancy,
high-stepping horses, but ordinary strong ones, which could wait
patiently. W. said the talk in the Chambers and in the lobbies was quite
wild--every sort of extravagant proposition was made. There were many
conferences with the Duc d'Audiffret-Pasquier, Duc de Broglie--with
Casimir Périer, Léon Say, Gambetta, Jules Ferry, and Freycinet--where
the best men on both sides tried hard to come to an agreement. W. went
several times in August to see M. Thiers, who was settled at St.
Germain. The old statesman was as keen as ever, receiving every day all
sorts of deputations, advising, warning, encouraging, and quite
confident as to the result of the elections. People were looking to him
as the next President, despite his great age. However, he was not
destined to see the triumph of his ideas. He died suddenly at St.
Germain on the 3d of September. W. said his funeral was a remarkable
sight--thousands of people followed the cortège--all Paris showing a
last respect to the libérateur du territoire (though there were still
clubs where he was spoken of as le sinistre vieillard). In August W.
went to his Conseil-Général at Laon, and I went down to my
brother-in-law's place at St. Léger near Rouen. We were a very happy
cosmopolitan family-party. My mother-in-law was born a Scotch-woman
(Chisholm). She was a fine type of the old-fashioned cultivated lady,
with a charming polite manner, keenly interested in all that was going
on in the world. She was an old lady when I married, and had outlived
almost all her contemporaries, but she had a beautiful old age,
surrounded by children and grandchildren. She had lived through many
vicissitudes from the time of her marriage, when she arrived at the
Château of St. Remy in the Department of Eure-et-Loire (where my
husband, her eldest son, was born), passing through triumphal arches
erected in honour of the young bride, to the last days when the fortunes
of the family were diminished by revolutions and political and business
crises in France. They moved from St. Remy, selling the château, and
built a house on the top of a green hill near Rouen, quite shut in by
big trees, and with a lovely view from the Rond Point--the highest part
of the garden, over Rouen--with the spires of the cathedral in the
distance. I used to find her every morning when I went to her room,
sitting at the window, her books and knitting on a table near--looking
down on the lawn and the steep winding path that came up from the
garden,--where she had seen three generations of her dear ones pass
every day--first her husband, then her sons--now her grandsons. My
sister-in-law, R.'s wife, was also an Englishwoman; the daughter of the
house had married her cousin, de Bunsen, who had been a German
diplomatist, and who had made nearly all his career in Italy, at the
most interesting period of her history, when she was struggling for
emancipation from the Austrian rule and independence. I was an American,
quite a new element in the family circle. We had many and most animated
discussions over all sorts of subjects, in two or three languages, at
the tea-table under the big tree on the lawn. French and English were
always going, and often German, as de Bunsen always spoke to his
daughter in German. My mother-in-law, who knew three or four languages,
did not at all approve of the careless habit we had all got into of
mixing our languages and using French or Italian words when we were
speaking English--if they came more easily. She made a rule that we
should use only one language at meals--she didn't care which one, but we
must keep to it. My brother-in-law was standing for the deputation. We
didn't see much of him in the daytime--his electors and his visits and
speeches and banquets de pompiers took up all his time. The beginning
of his career had been very different. He was educated in England--Rugby
and Woolwich--and served several years in the Royal Artillery in the
British army. His military training was very useful to him during the
Franco-Prussian War, when he equipped and commanded a field battery,
making all the campaign. His English brother officers always remembered
him. Many times when we were living in England at the embassy, I was
asked about him. A curious thing happened in the House of Lords one day,
showing the wonderful memory of princes for faces. R. was staying with
us for a few days, when the annual debate over the bill for marriage of
a deceased wife's sister came up. The Prince of Wales (late King Edward)
and all the other princes were present in the House. R. was there too,
standing where all the strangers do, at the entrance of the lobby. When
the debate was over, the Prince of Wales left. As he passed along, he
shook hands with several gentlemen also standing near the lobby,
including R. He stopped a moment in front of him, saying: "I think this
is Mr. Waddington. The last time I saw you, you wore Her Majesty's
uniform." He hadn't seen him for twenty-five or thirty years. I asked
the prince afterward how he recognised him. He said he didn't know; it
was perhaps noticing an unfamiliar face in the group of men standing
there,--and something recalled his brother, the ambassador.
In September we went down to Bourneville and settled ourselves there for
the autumn. W. was standing for the Senate with the Count de St. Vallier
and Henri Martin. They all preferred being named in their department,
where everybody knew them and their personal influence could make itself
more easily felt. W.'s campaign was not very arduous. All the people
knew him and liked him--knew that he would do whatever he promised.
Their programme was absolutely Republican, but moderate, and he only
made a few speeches and went about the country a little. I often went
with him when he rode, and some of our visits to the farmers and local
authorities were amusing if not encouraging. We were always very well
received, but it wasn't easy to find out what they really thought (if
they did think about it at all) of the state of affairs. The small
landowners particularly, the men who had one field and a garden, were
very reserved. They listened attentively enough to all W. had to say. He
was never long, never personal, and never abused his adversaries, but
they rarely expressed an opinion. They almost always turned the
conversation upon some local matter or petty grievance. It didn't seem
to me that they took the slightest interest in the extraordinary changes
that were going on in France. A great many people came to see W. and
there would be a curious collection sometimes in his library at the end
of the day. The doctor (who always had precise information--country
doctors always have--they see a great many people and I fancy the women
talk to them and tell them what their men are doing), one or two
farmers, some schoolmasters, the mayors of the nearest villages, the
captains of the firemen and of the archers (they still shoot with bow
and arrow in our part of the country; every Sunday the men practise
shooting at a target)--the gendarmes, very useful these too to bring
news--the notary, and occasionally a sous-préfet, but then he was a
personage, representing the Government, and was treated with more
ceremony than the other visitors. It was evident from all these sources
that the Republicans were coming to the front en masse.
The Republicans (for once) were marvellously disciplined and kept
together. It was really wonderful when one thought of all the different
elements that were represented in the party. There was quite as much
difference between the quiet moderate men of the Left Centre and the
extreme Left as there was between the Legitimists and any faction of the
Republican party. There was a strong feeling among the Liberals that
they were being coerced, that arbitrary measures, perhaps a coup d'état,
would be sprung upon them, and they were quite determined to resist. I
don't think there was ever any danger of a coup d'état, at least as long
as Marshal MacMahon was the chief of state. He was a fine honourable,
patriotic soldier, utterly incapable of an illegality of any kind. He
didn't like the Republic, honestly thought it would never succeed with
the Republicans (la République sans Républicains was for him its only
chance)--and he certainly had illusions and thought his friends and
advisers would succeed in making and keeping a firm conservative
government. How far that illusion was shared by his entourage it is
difficult to say. They fought their battle well--government pressure
exercised in all ways. Préfets and sous-préfets changed, wonderful
prospects of little work and high pay held out to doubtful electors, and
the same bright illusive promises made to the masses, which all parties
make in all elections and which the people believe each time. The
Republicans were not idle either, and many fiery patriotic speeches
were made or their side. Gambetta always held his public with his
passionate, earnest declamation, and his famous phrase, that the marshal
must "se soumettre ou se démettre," became a password all through
the country.
V
A REPUBLICAN VICTORY AND A NEW MINISTRY
The elections took place in October-November, 1877, and gave at once a
great Republican majority. W. and his two colleagues, Count de St.
Vallier and Henri Martin, had an easy victory, but a great many of their
personal friends, moderates, were beaten. The centres were decidedly
weaker in the new Chambers. There was not much hope left of uniting the
two centres, Droite et Gauche, in the famous "fusion" which had been a
dream of the moderate men.
The new Chambers assembled at Versailles in November. The Broglie
cabinet was out, but a new ministry of the Right faced the new
Parliament. Their life was very short and stormy; they were really dead
before they began to exist and in December the marshal sent for M.
Dufaure and charged him to form a Ministère de Gauche. None of his
personal friends, except General Borel at the War Office, was in the new
combination. W. was named to the Foreign Office. I was rather
disappointed when he came home and told me he had accepted that
portfolio. I thought his old ministry, Public Instruction, suited him so
well, the work interested him, was entirely to his taste. He knew all
the literary and educational world, not only in France but everywhere
else--England, of course, where he had kept up with many of his
Cambridge comrades, and Germany, where he also had literary connections.
However, that wide acquaintance and his perfect knowledge of English and
English people helped him very much at once, not only at the Quai
d'Orsay, but in all the years he was in England as ambassador.
The new ministry, with Dufaure as President of the Council, Léon Say at
the Finances, M. de Freycinet at Public Works, and W. at the Foreign
Office was announced the 14th of December, 1877. The preliminaries had
been long and difficult--the marshal and his friends on one side--the
Republicans and Gambetta on the other--the moderates trying to keep
things together. Personally, I was rather sorry W. had agreed to be a
member of the cabinet; I was not very keen about official life and
foresaw a great deal that would be disagreeable. Politics played such a
part in social life. All the "society," the Faubourg St. Germain (which
represents the old names and titles of France), was violently opposed to
the Republic. I was astonished the first years of my married life in
France, to see people of certain position and standing give the cold
shoulder to men they had known all their lives because they were
Republicans, knowing them quite well to be honourable, independent
gentlemen, wanting nothing from the Republic--merely trying to do their
best for the country. I only realised by degrees that people held off a
little from me sometimes, as the wife of a Republican deputy. I didn't
care particularly, as I had never lived in France, and knew very few
people, but it didn't make social relations very pleasant, and I should
have been better pleased if W. had taken no active part. However, that
feeling was only temporary. I soon became keenly interested in politics
(I suppose it is in the blood--all the men in my family in America were
politicians) and in the discussion of the various questions which were
rapidly changing France into something quite different. Whether the
change has been for the better it would be hard to say even now, after
more than thirty-five years of the Republic.
Freycinet was a great strength. He was absolutely Republican, but
moderate--very clever and energetic, a great friend of Gambetta's--and
a beautiful speaker. I have heard men say who didn't care about him
particularly, and who were not at all of his way of thinking, that they
would rather not discuss with him. He was sure to win them over to his
cause with his wonderful, clear persuasive arguments.
[Illustration: Palace of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Paris.]