Chapter 8

There was a supper up-stairs for all the royalties before the cotillion. I was told that the Duc d'Aumale would take me to supper. I was very pleased (as we knew him very well and he was always charming to us) but much surprised, as the Orléans princes never remained for supper at any big official function. There would have been questions of place and precedence which would have been very difficult to settle. When the move was made for supper, things had to be changed, as the Orléans princes had gone home. The Crown Prince of Denmark took me. The supper-room was prettily arranged, two round tables--Lord Lyons with the Princesses of Wales and Denmark presiding at one--his niece, the Duchesse of Norfolk, at the other, with the Princes of Wales and Denmark. I sat between the Princes of Denmark and Sweden. Opposite me, next the Prince of Wales, sat a lady I didn't know. Every one else at the table did. She was very attractive-looking, with a charming smile and most animated manner. I asked the Prince of Denmark in a low voice, who she was--thought it must be one of the foreign princesses I hadn't yet met. The Prince of Wales heard my question, and immediately, with his charming tact and ease of manner, said to me: "You don't know the Princesse Mathilde; do let me have the pleasure of presenting you to her," naming me at once--in my official capacity, "wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs." The princess was very gracious and smiling, and we talked about all sorts of things--some of her musical protégées, who were also mine. She asked me if I liked living at the ministry, Quai d'Orsay; she remembered it as such a beautiful house. When the party broke up, she shook hands, said she had not the pleasure of knowing M. Waddington, but would I thank him from her for what he had done for one of her friends. I tried to find W. after supper to present him to the princess, but he had already gone, didn't stay for the cotillion--the princess, too, went away immediately after supper. I met her once or twice afterward. She was always friendly, and we had little talks together. Her salon--she received once a week--was quite a centre--all the Bonapartists of course, the diplomatic corps, many strangers, and all the celebrities in literature and art.

With that exception I never saw nor talked with any member of that family until I had been some years a widow, when the Empress Eugénie received me on her yacht at Cowes. When the news came of the awful tragedy of the Prince Imperial's death in Zululand, W. was Foreign Minister, and he had invited a large party, with music. W. instantly put off the party, said there was no question of politics or a Bonapartist prince--it was a Frenchman killed, fighting bravely in a foreign country. I always thought the Empress knew about it and appreciated his act, for during his embassy in London, though we never saw her, she constantly sent him word through mutual friends of little negotiations she knew about and thought might interest him, and always spoke very well of him as a "clear-headed, patriotic statesman." I should have liked to have seen her in her prime, when she must have been extraordinarily beautiful and graceful. When I did see her she was no longer young, but a stately, impressive figure, and had still the beautiful brow one sees in all her pictures. One of our friends, a very clever woman and great anti-Bonapartist, told us an amusing story of her little son. The child was sometimes in the drawing-room when his mother was receiving, and heard her and all her friends inveighing against the iniquities of the Imperial Court and the frivolity of the Empress. He saw the Empress walking one day in the Bois de Boulogne. She was attracted by the group of children, stopped and talked to them. The boy was delighted and said to his governess: "Elle est bien jolie, l'Impératrice, mais il ne faut pas le dire à Maman." (The Empress is very pretty, but one must not say it to mother.)

VII

THE BERLIN CONGRESS

Seventy-eight was a most important year for us in many ways. Besides the interest and fatigues of the exposition and the constant receiving and official festivities of all kinds, a great event was looming before us--the Berlin Congress. One had felt it coming for some time. There were all sorts of new delimitations and questions to be settled since the war in the Balkans, and Europe was getting visibly nervous. Almost immediately after the opening of the exposition, the project took shape, and it was decided that France should participate in the Congress and send three representatives. It was the first time that France had asserted herself since the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, but it was time for her now to emerge from her self-imposed effacement, and take her place in the Congress of nations. There were many discussions, both public and private, before the plénipotentiaires were named, and a great unwillingness on the part of many very intelligent and patriotic Frenchmen to see the country launching itself upon dangerous ground and a possible conflict with Bismarck. However, the thing was decided, and the three plenipotentiaries named--Mr. Waddington, Foreign Minister, first; Comte de St. Vallier, a very clever and distinguished diplomatist, actual ambassador at Berlin, second; and Monsieur Desprey, Directeur de la Politique au Ministère des Affaires Etrangères, third. He was also a very able man, one of the pillars of the ministry, au courant of every treaty and negotiation for the last twenty years, very prudent and clear-headed. All W.'s colleagues were most cordial and charming on his appointment. He made a statement in the House of the line of policy he intended to adopt--and was absolutely approved and encouraged. Not a disparaging word of any kind was said, not even the usual remark of "cet anglais qui nous représente." He started the 10th of June in the best conditions possible--not an instruction of any kind from his chief, M. Dufaure, Président du Conseil--very complimentary to him certainly, but the ministers taking no responsibility themselves--leaving the door open in case he made any mistakes. It was evident that the Parliament and Government were nervous. It was rather amusing, when all the preparations for the departure were going on. W. took a large suite with him, secretaries, huissiers, etc., and I told them they were as much taken up with their coats and embroideries and cocked hats as any pretty woman with her dresses. I wanted very much to go, but W. thought he would be freer and have more time to think things over if I were not there. He didn't know Berlin at all, had never seen Bismarck nor any of the leading German statesmen, and was fully conscious how his every word and act would be criticised. However, if a public man is not criticised, it usually means that he is of no consequence--so attacks and criticisms are rather welcome--act as a stimulant. I could have gone and stayed unofficially with a cousin, but he thought that wouldn't do. St. Vallier was a bachelor; it would have been rather an affair for him to organise at the embassy an apartment for a lady and her maids, though he was most civil and asked me to come.

I felt rather lonely in the big ministry when they had all gone, and I was left with baby. W. stayed away just five weeks, and I performed various official things in his absence--among others the Review of the 14th of July. The distinguished guest on that occasion was the Shah of Persia, who arrived with the Maréchale in a handsome open carriage, with outriders and postilions. The marshal of course was riding. The Shah was not at all a striking figure, short, stout, with a dark skin, and hard black eyes. He had handsome jewels, a large diamond fastening the white aigrette of his high black cap, and his sword-hilt incrusted with diamonds. He gave a stiff little nod in acknowledgment of the bows and curtseys every one made when he appeared in the marshal's box. He immediately took his seat on one side of the Maréchale in front of the box, one of the ambassadresses, Princess Hohenlohe I think, next to him. The military display seemed to interest him. Every now and then he made some remark to the Maréchale, but he was certainly not talkative. While the interminable line of the infantry regiments was passing, there was a move to the back of the box, where there was a table with ices, champagne, etc. Madame de MacMahon came up to me, saying: "Madame Waddington, Sa Majesté demande les nouvelles de M. Waddington," upon which His Majesty planted himself directly in front of me, so close that he almost touched me, and asked in a quick, abrupt manner, as if he were firing off a shot: "Où est votre mari?" (neither Madame, nor M. Waddington, nor any of the terms that are usually adopted in polite society). "A Berlin, Sire." "Pourquoi à Berlin?" "Comme plénipotentiaire Français au Congrès de Berlin." "Oui, oui, je sais, je sais. Cela l'intéresse?" "Beaucoup; il voit tant de personnes intéressantes." "Oui, je sais. Il va bien?" always coming closer to me, so that I was edging back against the wall, with his hard, bright little eyes fixed on mine, and always the same sharp, jerky tone. "Il va parfaitement bien, je vous remercie." Then there was a pause and he made one or two other remarks which I didn't quite understand--I don't think his French went very far--but I made out something about "jolies femmes" and pointed out one or two to him, but he still remained staring into my face and I was delighted when his minister came up to him (timidly--all his people were afraid of him) and said some personage wanted to be presented to him. He shook hands with me, said something about "votre mari revient bientôt," and moved off. The Maréchale asked me if I were not touched by His Majesty's solicitude for my husband's health, and wouldn't I like to come to the front of the box and sit next to him, but I told her I couldn't think of engrossing His Majesty's attention, as there were various important people who wished to be presented to him. I watched him a little (from a distance), trying to see if anything made any impression on him (the crowd, the pretty, well-dressed women, the march past, the long lines of infantry,--rather fatiguing to see, as one line regiment looks very like another,--the chasseurs with their small chestnut horses, the dragoons more heavily mounted, and the guns), but his face remained absolutely impassive, though I think he saw everything. They told a funny story of him in London at one of the court balls. When he had looked on at the dancing for some time, he said to the Prince of Wales: "Tell those people to stop now, I have seen enough"--evidently thought it was a ballet performing for his amusement. Another one, at one of the European courts was funny. The monarch was very old, his consort also. When the Shah was presented to the royal lady, he looked hard at her without saying a word, then remarked to her husband: "Laide, vieille, pourquoi garder?" (Ugly, old; why keep her?)

I went to a big dinner and reception at the British Embassy, given for all the directors and commissioners of the exposition. It was a lovely warm night, the garden was lighted, everybody walking about, and an orchestra playing. Many of the officials had their wives and daughters with them, and some of the toilettes were wonderful. There were a good many pretty women, Swedes and Danes, the Northern type, very fair hair and blue eyes, attracting much attention, and a group of Chinese (all in costume) standing proudly aloof--not the least interested apparently in the gay scene before them. I wonder what they thought of European manners and customs! There was no dancing, which I suppose would have shocked their Eastern morals. Lord Lyons asked me why I wasn't in Berlin. I said, "For the best of reasons, my husband preferred going without me--but I hoped he would send for me perhaps at the end of the Congress." He told me Lady Salisbury was there with her husband. He seemed rather sceptical as to the peaceful issue of the negotiations--thought so many unforeseen questions would come up and complicate matters.

I went to a ball at the Hôtel de Ville, also given for all the foreigners and French people connected with the exposition. The getting there was very long and tiring. The coupe-file did no good, as every one had one. Comte de Pontécoulant went with me and he protested vigorously, but one of the head men of the police, whom he knew well, came up to the carriage to explain that nothing could be done. There was a long line of diplomatic and official carriages, and we must take our chance with the rest. Some of our cousins (Americans) never got there at all--sat for hours in their carriage in the rue du Rivoli, moving an inch at a time. Happily it was a lovely warm night; and as we got near we saw lots of people walking who had left their carriages some little distance off, hopelessly wedged in a crowd of vehicles--the women in light dresses, with flowers and jewels in their hair. The rooms looked very handsome when at last we did get in, particularly the staircase, with a Garde Municipal on every step, and banks of palms and flowers on the landing in the hall, wherever flowers could be put. The Ville de Paris furnishes all the flowers and plants for the official receptions, and they always are very well arranged. Some trophies of flags too of all nations made a great effect. I didn't see many people I knew--it was impossible to get through the crowd, but some one got me a chair at the open window giving on the balcony, and I was quite happy sitting there looking at the people pass. The whole world was represented, and it was interesting to see the different types--Southerners, small, slight, dark, impatient, wriggling through the crowd--the Anglo-Saxons, big, broad, calm, squaring their shoulders when there came a sudden rush, and waiting quite patiently a chance to get a little ahead. Some of the women too pushed well--evidently determined to see all they could. I don't think any royalties, even minor ones, were there.

W. wrote pretty regularly from Berlin, particularly the first days, before the real work of the Congress began. He started rather sooner than he had at first intended, so as to have a little time to talk matters over with St. Vallier and make acquaintance with some of his colleagues. St. Vallier, with all the staff of the embassy, met him at the station when he arrived in Berlin, also Holstein (our old friend who was at the German Embassy in Paris with Arnim) to compliment him from Prince Bismarck, and he had hardly been fifteen minutes at the embassy when Count Herbert von Bismarck arrived with greetings and compliments from his father. He went to see Bismarck the next day, found him at home, and very civil; he was quite friendly, very courteous and "bonhomme, original, and even amusing in his conversation, but with a hard look about the eyes which bodes no good to those who cross his path." He had just time to get back to the embassy and get into his uniform for his audience with the Crown Prince (late Emperor Frederick).[1] The Vice Grand-Maitre des Ceremonies came for him in a court carriage and they drove off to the palace--W. sitting alone on the back seat, the grand-maître facing him on the front. "I was ushered into a room where the Prince was standing. He was very friendly and talked for twenty minutes about all sorts of things, in excellent French, with a few words of English now and then to show he knew of my English connection. He spoke of my travels in the East, of the de Bunsens, of the Emperor's health (the old man is much better and decidedly recovering)--and of his great wish for peace." All the plenipotentiaries had not yet arrived. They appeared only on the afternoon of the 12th, the day before the Congress opened. Prince Bismarck sent out the invitation for the first sitting:

[Footnote 1: The Crown Prince represented his father at all the functions. Some days before the meeting of the Congress the old Emperor had been wounded in the arm by a nihilist, Nobiling, who Fired from a window when the Emperor was passing in an open carriage. The wound was slight, but the old man was much shaken and unable to take any part in the ceremonies or receive any of the plenipotentiaries.]

Le Prince de Bismarck a l'honneur de prévenir Son Excellence, Monsieur Waddington, que la première réunion du Congrès aura lieu le 13 juin à deux heures, au Palais du Chancelier de l'Empire, 77, Wilhelmstrasse. "Berlin, le 12 juin 1878."

It was a brilliant assemblage of great names and intelligences that responded to his invitation--Gortschakoff, Schouvaloff, Andrassy, Beaconsfield, Salisbury, Karolyi, Hohenlohe, Corti, and many others, younger men, who acted as secretaries. French was the language spoken, the only exception being made by Lord Beaconsfield, who always spoke in English, although it was most evident, W. said, that he understood French perfectly well. The first day was merely an official opening of the Congress--every one in uniform--but only for that occasion. After that they all went in ordinary morning dress, putting on their uniforms again on the last day only, when they signed the treaty. W. writes: "Bismarck presides and did his part well to-day; he speaks French fairly but very slowly, finding his words with difficulty, but he knows what he means to say and lets every one see that he does." No one else said much that first day; each man was rather reserved, waiting for his neighbour to begin. Beaconsfield made a short speech, which was trying for some of his colleagues, particularly the Turks, who had evidently much difficulty in understanding English. They were counting upon England's sympathy, but a little nervous as to a supposed agreement between England and Russia. The Russians listened most attentively. There seemed to be a distrust of England on their part and a decided rivalry between Gortschakoff and Beaconsfield. The Congress dined that first night with the Crown Prince at the Schloss in the famous white hall--all in uniform and orders. W. said the heat was awful, but the evening interesting. There were one hundred and forty guests, no ladies except the royal princesses, not even the ambassadresses. W. sat on Bismarck's left, who talked a great deal, intending to make himself agreeable. He had a long talk after dinner with the Crown Princess (Princess Royal of England) who spoke English with him. He found her charming--intelligent and cultivated and so easy--not at all stiff and shy like so many royalties. He saw her very often during his stay in Berlin, and she was unfailingly kind to him--and to me also when I knew her later in Rome and London. She always lives in my memory as one of the most charming women I have ever met. Her face often comes back to me with her beautiful bright smile and the saddest eyes I have ever seen. I have known very few like her. W. also had a talk with Prince Frederick-Charles, father of the Duchess of Connaught, whom he found rather a rough-looking soldier with a short, abrupt manner. He left bitter memories in France during the Franco-German War, was called the "Red Prince," he was so hard and cruel, always ready to shoot somebody and burn down villages on the slightest provocation--so different from the Prince Imperial, the "unser Fritz" of the Germans, who always had a kind word for the fallen foe.

W.'s days were very full, and when the important sittings began it was sometimes hard work. The Congress room was very hot (all the colleagues seemed to have a holy horror of open windows)--and some of the men very long and tedious in stating their cases. Of course they were at a disadvantage not speaking their own language (very few of them knew French well, except the Russians), and they had to go very carefully, and be quite sure of the exact significance of the words they used. W. got a ride every morning, as the Congress only met in the afternoon. They rode usually in the Thiergarten, which is not very large, but the bridle-paths were good. It was very difficult to get out of Berlin into the open country without going through a long stretch of suburbs and sandy roads which were not very tempting. A great many officers rode in the park, and one morning when he was riding with the military attache of the embassy, two officers rode up and claimed acquaintance, having known him in France in '70, the year of the war. They rode a short time together, and the next day he received an invitation from the officers of a smart Uhlan regiment to dine at their mess "in remembrance of the kind hospitality shown to some of their officers who had been quartered at his place in France during the war." As the hospitality was decidedly forced, and the presence of the German officers not very agreeable to the family, the invitation was not very happy. It was well meant, but was one of those curious instances of German want of tact which one notices so much if one lives much with Germans. The hours of the various entertainments were funny. At a big dinner at Prince Bismarck's the guests were invited at six, and at eight-thirty every one had gone. W. sat next to Countess Marie, the daughter of the house, found her simple and inclined to talk, speaking both French and English well. Immediately after dinner the men all smoked everywhere, in the drawing-room, on the terrace, some taking a turn in the park with Bismarck. W. found Princess Bismarck not very femme du monde; she was preoccupied first with her dinner, then with her husband, for fear he should eat too much, or take cold going out of the warm dining-room into the evening air. There were no ladies at the dinner except the family. (The German lady doesn't seem to occupy the same place in society as the French and English woman does. In Paris the wives of ambassadors and ministers are always invited to all official banquets.)