PARIS SOCIETY UNDER THE PRESIDENCY OF MARSHAL MACMAHON
A great change came over Paris society after the fall of the Empire.
Some of its most brilliant elements disappeared altogether, whilst the
Faubourg St. Germain, about which nothing had been heard for such a long
time, came suddenly to the front, partly through its associations with
the Maréchale MacMahon, who, being née de Castries, was considered as
one of the Faubourg, and partly through the certainty that prevailed in
many circles as to the imminence of a monarchical restoration, for which
everybody was prepared. It is true that the first two years which
followed upon the conclusion of peace with Germany were dull ones, so
far as public amusements were concerned, but little by little Parisian
social life began again, though somewhat on a different plane than
during the Empire. Whilst the latter had lasted, the families belonging
to the highest aristocracy, which had ruled France in olden times, had
kept aloof from the social movement that had been so very luxurious and
so very gay when the lovely Empress Eugénie had presided over it. They
had lived for the most in the country in their ancestral castles, where
they had economised, and cultivated their cabbages and potatoes. The
custom of marrying heiresses belonging to the bourgeoisie, or to
financiers, had not yet become usual, and military service, not being
compulsory as it is nowadays, had not mixed together young men belonging
to all classes, and thus thrown down the barriers of social
distinction. The noblesse had transformed itself into a set, into which
no intruders were allowed to enter, and when the Duc de Mouchy married
the Princess Anna Murat, the cousin of Napoleon III., he scandalised not
only aristocratic circles in general but his own family, the de
Noailles, who looked very much askance at the lovely bride in spite of
the large dowry she brought with her.
After the fall of the Empire, the Faubourg St. Germain began to come out
from its seclusion, to live a little more in Paris, and a little less in
its country castles. It participated in the gaieties, such as they were,
that went on, and even appeared at the receptions of the Elysée, timidly
at first, whilst M. and Mme. Thiers presided over them, and then more
boldly after they had been replaced by Marshal MacMahon and his wife.
Then the different members of the Orleans family opened their doors to a
few select guests, and the salons of the Rothschilds became a neutral
meeting ground, where in time people belonging to different political
opinions saw each other and commingled, at least as regards social
relations. Sport, which had hitherto been absolutely unknown among the
better classes, became fashionable, and did more than anything else to
break down the barriers that had divided the different social sets and
coteries that had lived in solitary grandeur until then. The Embassies,
too, contributed to bring together representatives of the various
sections of fashionable France, because the supremacy of Paris somehow
began to be less absolute than it had been under Napoleon III. The fact,
also, that the government of the Republic had appealed to the patriotism
of some members of the old nobility of the country to help it in its
task of restoring the prestige of France abroad--as, for instance, in
sending the Duc de Bisaccia to London as Ambassador, and the Vicomte de
Gontaut Biron to Berlin in the same capacity--had done much to bring it
partisans, and to procure it more sympathy than the Empire had won for
itself at its start. People were feeling that the present state of
things was but transitory, and that the existence of that Republic,
which no one had expected or foreseen a few days, even, before it became
an accomplished fact, was bound to come to an end very quickly,
especially under the Marshal, who, it was firmly believed, would use all
his influence to bring about a return of the Bourbon dynasty to the
throne of France.
The Legitimists were also in possession of large financial means, which
they had contrived to accumulate during all the years of their voluntary
seclusion. This gave them a distinct advantage over the Imperialists,
whose exchequer, which had largely depended on the liberality of the
Emperor, found itself in a very low state indeed after it had lost that
resource. Ladies who had presided over salons that gave the tone to
Paris society, and whose doors had been thrown widely open to all who
had cared to enter--such social leaders as the Countess Valevoska, the
Princess Pauline Metternich, or the Marquise de Chasseloup Laubat, and
the Countess Tascher de la Pagerie--had either left Paris, or retired
from the world, or lost the means to entertain with their former
splendour. Of the hostesses of olden days there remained but very few,
such as the Comtesse Edmond de Pourtalès, the Baronesses Alphonse and
Gustave de Rothschild, and the Princess de Sagan, and it was at their
houses that the first entertainments after the horrors of the war and
the Commune took place. It was under their patronage that Paris found
out it still could enjoy itself, though the wild chase after gaiety,
which had preceded them, no longer existed. And then a few salons,
hermetically closed before, suddenly started a series of entertainments,
at which the Comte and the Comtesse de Paris made frequent appearances,
especially after their eldest daughter, the Princesse Amélie d’Orléans,
who was later on to become Queen of Portugal, had begun to go out into
the world. Among them may be mentioned those of the Duchesse de Galliera
and of the Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld Bisaccia, after the latter’s
return from London, and the retirement of the Duc from public life.
The Duchesse de Bisaccia, born Princesse Marie de Ligne, was a most
important person in Paris society, over which she exercised a real
influence owing to her husband’s enormous fortune, her beautiful house
in the Rue de Varennes, and the luxury, the pomp and the grandeur that
were displayed at her numerous receptions. A factor which also
contributed to her popularity was the fact of the alliances that united
the La Rochefoucaulds to all the oldest nobility of France, and the most
powerful members of the coterie “du Faubourg St. Germain.” The eldest
daughter of the Duc by his first wife, Mademoiselle de Polignac, was the
Duchesse de Luynes, the widow of the Duc de Luynes, who had fallen
bravely during the battle of Patay in 1870, whilst his second and third
daughters were in time to become the Princesse de Ligne and the Duchesse
d’Harcourt; his eldest son was to marry the only daughter of the Duc de
la Trémouille, one of the richest heiresses in France.
Personally, the Duc de la Rochefoucauld Bisaccia was a pompous
individual, with the manners of a courtly gentleman, as, indeed, he was,
and with just enough wit about him to allow him to hold his own among
the people with whom he lived. He had an excellent opinion of his
personal capacities, felt himself born to great things, and destined to
greater still. He had a despotic temperament, and his way of greeting
those who called upon him, or whom he met at other people’s houses, was
decidedly haughty. He believed himself to be as much above humanity as
his worldly position and his fortune were above those of the generality
of mankind. In a word, he carried his ducal coronet everywhere, and even
when sleeping remembered that he had to take care of it, or rather that
it had to take care of him. He did not admit that anybody could forget
what was due to him, and when, long past middle age he took for his
second wife the pretty and lively Marie de Ligne, he could not for one
single instant think that he failed to represent for her an ideal
husband in every way, or that her fancy might have led her to choose a
younger and handsomer and merrier companion of her life.
The Duchesse, however, succeeded very soon in finding diversion in other
directions than in the constant companionship of her pompous and solemn
husband. She was one of those beings who always succeed in taking for
themselves the good things of life. Secure in her position, and having
very soon come to the conclusion that the Duc’s vanity would never allow
him to think that his wife might look beyond him for the happiness to
which every woman is entitled, she managed to arrange her existence in
such a way that many roses helped her to bear its thorns. There was a
time when almost every man of note in Paris society found himself one of
the admirers of the Duchesse de Bisaccia, and also one of her friends.
She was always pleasant, always kind, always good-tempered, always ready
to make others happy. Pretty in her youth, she very quickly became
stout, but this did not prevent her from going about or attending any of
the entertainments at which it was deemed fashionable to be seen. She
was fond of dress, but yet always appeared untidy, perhaps on account of
her corpulence. She generally put on her tiara in such a way that five
minutes after it had been fastened on to her head it got crooked and
hung on one side, but though this gave her whole person an original
appearance it did not make her ridiculous, as it would have made another
woman. The Duchesse could not be ridiculous, no matter what she wore,
nor what she did. She was essentially a great lady, even when not
ladylike, which often occurred, because her manners were distinctly
unceremonious, and had a dash of Bohemianism about them such as is not
often met with in the circles in which she generally moved. I use the
word “generally” on purpose, as there were times when the Duchesse did
not object to visiting, with one or other of her numerous friends,
places and people more or less unconventional. But, somehow, whatever
she did or said no one seemed to mind, and she remained until the last
the favourite of a society over which she reigned for nearly forty
years, and by which she is missed to this very day.
Madame de Bisaccia was exceedingly fond of entertaining, and gave
sumptuous receptions in her Hotel de la Rue de Varennes, which were
considered landmarks in the horizon of fashionable Paris. These
receptions were very stately; it would have been impossible for them to
be otherwise in the presence of the Duc. During the septenary of Marshal
MacMahon they were frequent, especially and always honoured by the
presence of a royalty or two. The Duchesse had a grand way of receiving
her guests, and when she stood on the top of her beautiful old staircase
she appeared every inch of her to be one of those great ladies of the
eighteenth century such as we see in the pictures of Latour or
Largillière--a queen without a crown, but with courtiers, and surrounded
by regal state.
It was rumoured that at these feasts, which took place in the Hotel de
Bisaccia, many dark plots against the Republic were hatched. The Comte
de Paris used to receive some of his adherents in a remote room there
whilst his daughter was dancing in the ball-room, and the Comtesse gave
audiences to ladies who craved to be presented to her, with the dignity
she had learnt in the royal palace of Madrid, where she had been born.
It was under the auspices of the Duc that the leaders of the Legitimist
party persuaded the head of the House of Orleans that, in order to
recover the throne which his grandfather had lost, a reconciliation had
to be effected between him and the Comte de Chambord; it was also there
that a plot was conceived to persuade Marshal MacMahon to lend himself
to a restoration, which was not only desired but which had been in a
certain sense already discounted among the majority of the people who
were guests at the receptions of the Hotel de Bisaccia.
All this is now a thing of the past. Good-natured Duchesse Marie died a
good many years since, and the pompous little Duc has followed her to
the grave; their eldest son has also disappeared from this worldly
scene, whilst his widow, Charlotte de la Trémouille, lives in
retirement, and moves in quite a different set from the one which had
frequented the salons of Madame de Bisaccia. The Hotel de la Rue de
Varennes belongs to the second son of the Duchesse, who has inherited
from an uncle the title of Duc de Doudeauville, and who has married the
granddaughter of M. Blanc, of Monaco fame--a woman with more pride than
charm, who knows the value of the millions which she brought as her
dowry to her husband, and who will never play in Parisian society the
part which her mother-in-law filled so well.
I have already said that the eldest daughter of the Duc de Bisaccia had
been married to the Duc de Luynes. She became a widow at the age of
twenty, and never married again, preferring to keep her great name and
title, and understanding that this would not prevent her from living her
own life in the way she liked best. She was a charming creature, this
Duchesse de Luynes, gifted with great talents, and possessed of an
engaging manner that was quite peculiar to her. People who knew her well
used to say that she had an abominable temper, but of this last fact the
general public was not made aware, and it is quite certain that she was
greatly liked by nearly all those who knew her. She lived most of the
year at her castle of Dampierre, which had been left to her for life by
the Duc, and received in great state in that historical domain, made
illustrious by the remembrance of all the famous people to whom it had
previously belonged, or who had been visitors under its hospitable roof.
Ill-natured gossips pretended that during her children’s minority she
had managed to squander a good part of the fortune which they had
inherited from their father, and which had been left under her personal
control, and it is certain that her son, the present Duc, in spite of
the large dowry which his wife, the daughter of the Duchesse d’Uzès, of
Boulanger fame, had brought to him, had to exercise a rigorous economy
in order to restore something of its past glories to the house of
Luynes. But during the lifetime of the Duchesse Yolande no one dared to
make any allusion to the carelessness with which she had attended to her
children’s interests, and she exercised a despotic sway over them, and
never allowed them to question anything she decided to do. Dark things
were hinted about her, but we may be allowed to consider them as
calumnies, and to remember her as one of the pleasantest women among the
many who reigned over Paris society at the period of which I am writing.
The La Rochefoucauld was a very numerous family, divided into ever so
many branches, and owing to the similarity of names a good deal of
trouble ensued, until the identity of all of them was discovered,
especially to persons not very well up in the mysteries of the Almanach
de Gotha.
The Comte de la Rochefoucauld was an amusing personage, and anything
more funny than his admiration of the family to which he belonged could
scarcely be met. His whole universe consisted in the grandeur of the
origin of the La Rochefoucaulds, and the sole reason of his existence,
as well as the only object of his thoughts, was how to persuade others
to view it in the same light that he did. According to him, God came
first and the La Rochefoucaulds next, and I am not quite sure whether he
did not consider in his inmost thoughts that even in Heaven they ought
to be awarded precedence at the banquet of Eternity over the saints of
humble origin.
It is related that one day when he was in England someone mentioned the
old saying, in relation to one of the most noble of the many noble
houses Great Britain can boast, which speaks of “all the blood of all
the Howards,” Count Aimery smiled modestly. “Yes,” he replied, “the
Howards are great people, but I have known greater ones” (“Je connais
mieux qu’eux”).
One can imagine how this weakness of that amiable man, for he was
amiable indeed, was laughed at, but nevertheless he contrived to create
for himself a unique position in Paris society, and talked so much and
so constantly over his right to occupy the seat of honour at every
dining-table he was asked to honour with his presence, that he succeeded
in getting it,--and no one would have dreamed of denying it to him. Even
when he happened to be in the same room as a Duke whose supremacy he
deigned to recognise and to admit, one was very careful to award him the
next best seat.
Comte Aimery was married to a charming woman, Mademoiselle de Mailly
Nesle, whose house in the Rue de l’Université was for many years
considered one of the most hospitable among the many hospitable ones in
Paris. She was most exclusive as to the people whom she invited to it,
but when once she had allowed them to cross her threshold, she never
dropped them later on, or showed any difference in the way in which she
welcomed them, even when she did not find them quite congenial or
entirely sympathetic. She was rather stiff and certainly dull, and the
parties which she used to give regularly during the spring season were
anything but lively, partly because the guests felt that they ought not
to think about anything else but the greatness of the La Rochefoucaulds,
and the honour which was conferred upon them by their admittance under
the roof of a member of that illustrious family; partly because anything
that would have borne even the most remote likeness to amusement or
mirth would have seemed out of place in those large rooms furnished in
the seventeenth century style, where on all the walls hung solemn
pictures of dead and gone ancestors of the hosts. But to be invited to
attend a social function, no matter of what kind, by Madame Aimery gave
one at once a position in Paris society, putting one immediately on the
level of the upper ten thousand who constituted its most exclusive set,
and by reason of that circumstance any new arrival or foreigner aspiring
to make a position for himself, thought it his or her duty never to miss
any of the receptions given at the hotel in the Rue de l’Université.
Madame Aimery de La Rochefoucauld died a year or two ago, and the
hospitable gates of her house have remained closed ever since. Her only
son, Comte Gabriel, is married to Mademoiselle de Richelieu, the sister
of the present Duke of that name and the daughter of the widowed
Duchess, who later married the Prince of Monaco. The Princesse de Monaco
is a Jewess by origin, the daughter of the banker Heine, and it was a
hard pill to swallow for Count Aimery when he had to consent to this
union of his only son with a girl who, though charming in herself, still
could not boast of the thirty-two quarterings which he considered as
indispensable in such cases. He submitted, however, with better grace
than he would have done had a few millions not helped him to do so,
together with the consciousness that these millions would allow his heir
to keep up the state which befitted his station in life. Now Count
Aimery is an old man, far advanced in the sixties, if not in the
seventies, and is but little seen in society, especially since the death
of his wife. His greatest delight consists in being consulted in matters
of etiquette, or being asked to arrange seats at a dinner table. His
constant occupation is the study of the Almanach de Gotha and books of
that kind. He is as happy as a man devoid of cares can be, and probably
will live a good many years yet, being so forgetful of anything that
does not concern the glories of the La Rochefoucauld family that he will
surely even forget to die. Should he ever remember to do so, the
Faubourg St. Germain will lose its greatest authority in matters of
social etiquette and social precedence.