Chapter 9

Amusements of all kinds were provided for the plenipotentiaries. Early in July W. writes of a "Land-parthie"--the whole Congress (wives too this time) invited to Potsdam for the day. He was rather dreading a long day--excursions were not much in his line. However, this one seems to have been successful. He writes: "Our excursion went off better than could be expected. The party consisted of the plenipotentiaries and a certain number of court officers and generals. We started by rail, stopped at a station called Wannsee, and embarked on board a small steamer, the Princess Royal receiving the guests as they arrived on board. We then started for a trip on the lakes, but before long there came a violent squall which obliged the sailors to take down the awnings in double-quick time, and drove every one down into the cabins. It lasted about half an hour, after which it cleared up and every one reappeared on deck. In course of time we landed near Babelsberg, where carriages were waiting. I was told off to go in the first with the Princess Royal, Countess Karolyi (wife of the Austrian ambassador, a beautiful young woman), and Andrassy. We went over the Château of Babelsberg, which is a pretty Gothic country-seat, not a palace, and belongs to the present Emperor. After that we had a longish drive, through different parks and villages, and finally arrived at Sans Souci, where we dined. After dinner we strolled through the rooms and were shown the different souvenirs of Frederick the Great, and got home at ten-thirty." W. saw a good deal of his cousin, George de Bunsen, a charming man, very cultivated and cosmopolitan. He had a pretty house in the new quarter of Berlin, and was most hospitable. He had an interesting dinner there with some of the literary men and savants--Mommsen, Leppius, Helmholtz, Curtius, etc., most of them his colleagues, as he was a member of the Berlin Academy. He found those evenings a delightful change after the long hot afternoons in the Wilhelmsstrasse, where necessarily there was so much that was long and tedious. I think even he got tired of Greek frontiers, notwithstanding his sympathy for the country. He did what he could for the Greeks, who were very grateful to him and gave him, in memory of the efforts he made on their behalf, a fine group in bronze of a female figure--"Greece" throwing off the bonds of Turkey. Some of the speakers were very interesting. He found Schouvaloff always a brilliant debater--he spoke French perfectly, was always good-humoured and courteous, and defended his cause well. One felt there was a latent animosity between the English and the Russians. Lord Beaconsfield made one or two strong speeches--very much to the point, and slightly arrogant, but as they were always made in English, they were not understood by all the Assembly. W. was always pleased to meet Prince Hohenlohe, actual German ambassador to Paris (who had been named the third German plenipotentiary). He was perfectly au courant of all that went on at court and in the official world, knew everybody, and introduced W. to various ladies who received informally, where he could spend an hour or two quietly, without meeting all his colleagues. Blowitz, of course, appeared on the scene--the most important person in Berlin (in his own opinion). I am not quite convinced that he saw all the people he said he did, or whether all the extraordinary confidences were made to him which he related to the public, but he certainly impressed people very much, and I suppose his letters as newspaper correspondent were quite wonderful. He was remarkably intelligent and absolutely unscrupulous, didn't hesitate to put into the mouths of people what he wished them to say, so he naturally had a great pull over the ordinary simple-minded journalist who wrote simply what he saw and heard. As he was the Paris correspondent of _The London Times_, he was often at the French Embassy. W. never trusted him very much, and his flair was right, as he was anything but true to him. The last days of the Congress were very busy ones. The negotiations were kept secret enough, but things always leak out and the papers had to say something. I was rather émue at the tone of the French press, but W. wrote me not to mind--they didn't really know anything, and when the treaty was signed France would certainly come out very honourably. All this has long passed into the domain of history, and has been told so many times by so many different people that I will not go into details except to say that the French protectorate of Tunis (now one of our most flourishing colonies) was entirely arranged by W. in a long confidential conversation with Lord Salisbury. The cession of the Island of Cyprus by Turkey to the English was a most unexpected and disagreeable surprise to W. However, he went instantly to Lord Salisbury, who was a little embarrassed, as that negotiation had been kept secret, which didn't seem quite fair--everything else having been openly discussed around the council table. He quite understood W.'s feelings in the matter, and was perfectly willing to make an arrangement about Tunis. The thing was neither understood nor approved at first by the French Government. W. returned to Paris, "les mains vides; seulement à chercher dans sa poche on y eut trouvé les clés de la Tunisie"--as one of his friends defined the situation some years ago. He was almost disavowed by his Government. The ministers were timid and unwilling that France should take any initiative--even his friend, Léon Say, then Minister of Finances, a very clever man and brilliant politician, said: "Notre collègue Waddington, contre son habitude, s'est emballé cette fois pour la question de la Tunisie." (Our colleague Waddington, contrary to his nature, has quite lost his head this time over the Tunis question.) I think the course of events has fully justified his action, and now that it has proved such a success, every one claims to have taken the initiative of the French protectorate of Tunis. All honours have been paid to those who carried out the project, and very little is said of the man who originated the scheme in spite of great difficulties at home and abroad. Some of W.'s friends know the truth.

There was a great exchange of visits, photographs, and autographs the last days of the Congress. Among other things which W. brought back from Berlin, and which will be treasured by his grandsons as a historical souvenir, was a fan, quite a plain wooden fan, with the signatures of all the plenipotentiaries--some of them very characteristic. The French signatures are curiously small and distinct, a contrast to Bismarck's smudge. W. was quite sorry to say good-bye to some of his colleagues. Andrassy, with his quick sympathies and instant comprehension of all sides of a question, attracted him very much. He was a striking personality, quite the Slav type. W. had little private intercourse with Prince Gortschakoff--who was already an old man and the type of the old-fashioned diplomatist--making very long and well-turned phrases which made people rather impatient. On the whole W. was satisfied. He writes two or three days before the signing of the treaty: "As far as I can see at present, no one will be satisfied with the result of the Congress; it is perhaps the best proof that it is dealing fairly and equitably with the very exaggerated claims and pretensions of all parties. Anyhow, France will come out of the whole affair honourably and having done all that a strictly neutral power can do." The treaty was signed on July 13 by all the plenipotentiaries in full uniform. W. said there was a decided feeling of satisfaction and relief that it was finished. Even Bismarck looked less preoccupied, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course he was supposed to have had his own way in everything. Everybody (not only the French) was afraid of him. With his iron will, and unscrupulous brushing aside, or even annihilating, everything that came in his way, he was a formidable adversary. There was a gala dinner at the Schloss, to celebrate the signing of the treaty. "It was the exact repetition of the first, at the opening of the Congress. I sat on the left of Bismarck, and had a good deal of conversation with him. The Crown Prince and Princess were just opposite, and the Princess talked a great deal with me across the table, always in English." The Crown Princess could never forget that she was born Princess Royal of England. Her household was managed on English principles, her children brought up by English nurses, she herself always spoke English with them. Of course there must have been many things in Germany which were distasteful to her,--so many of the small refinements of life which are absolute necessaries in England were almost unknown luxuries in Germany,--particularly when she married. Now there has been a great advance in comfort and even elegance in German houses and habits. Her English proclivities made her a great many enemies, and I don't believe the "Iron Chancellor" made things easy for her. The dinner at the Schloss was as usual at six o'clock, and at nine W. had to go to take leave of the Empress, who was very French in her sympathies, and had always been very kind to him. Her daughter, the Grand Duchess of Baden, was there, and W. had a very pleasant hour with the two ladies. The Empress asked him a great many questions about the Congress, and particularly about Bismarck--if he was in a fairly good temper--when he had his nerves he was simply impossible, didn't care what people thought of him, and didn't hesitate to show when he was bored. The Grand Duchess added smilingly: "He is perfectly intolerant, has no patience with a fool." I suppose most people are of this opinion. I am not personally. I have some nice, foolish, kindly, happy friends of both sexes I am always glad to see; I think they are rather resting in these days of high education and culture and pose. W. finished his evening at Lady Salisbury's, who had a farewell reception for all the plenipotentiaries. He took leave of his colleagues, all of whom had been most friendly. The only one who was a little stiff with him and expressed no desire to meet him again was Corti, the Italian plenipotentiary. He suspected of course that something had been arranged about Tunis, and was much annoyed that he hadn't been able to get Tripoli for Italy. He was our colleague afterward in London, and there was always a little constraint and coolness in his manner. W. left Berlin on the 17th, having been five weeks away.

VIII

GAIETIES AT THE QUAI D'ORSAY

W. got home on the 17th, and was so busy the first days, with his colleagues and political friends that I didn't see much more of him than if he had been in Berlin. He was rather disgusted and discouraged at the view his colleagues of the cabinet and his friends took of France's attitude at the Congress. The only man who seemed to be able to look ahead a little and understand what a future there might be for France in Tunis was Gambetta. I remember quite well his telling of an interesting conversation with him. Gambetta was very keen about foreign affairs, very patriotic, and not at all willing that France should remain indefinitely a weakened power, still suffering from the defeat of 1870. There were many fêtes and reunions of all kinds, all through the summer months, as people had flocked to Paris for the exposition. We remained in town until the first days of August, then W. went to his Conseil-Général in the Department of the Aisne, and I went down to Deauville. He joined me there, and we had a pleasant month--bathing, driving, and seeing a great many people. We had taken Sir Joseph Oliffe's villa, one of the best in Deauville. Oliffe, an Englishman, was one of Emperor Napoleon's physicians, and he and the Duc de Morny were the founders of Deauville, which was very fashionable as long as Morny lived and the Empire lasted, but it lost its vogue for some years after the Franco-German War--fashion and society generally congregating at Trouville. There were not many villas then, and one rather bad hotel, but the sea was nearer than it is now and people all went to the beach in the morning, and fished for shrimps in the afternoon, and led a quiet out-of-doors life. There was no polo nor golf nor automobiles--not many carriages, a good tennis-court, where W. played regularly, and races every Sunday in August, which brought naturally a gay young crowd of all the sporting world. The train des maris that left Paris every Saturday evening, brought a great many men. It was quite different from the Deauville of to-day, which is charming, with quantities of pretty villas and gardens and sports of all kinds, but the sea is so far off one has to take quite a long walk to get to it, and the mornings on the beach and the expeditions to Trouville in the afternoon across the ferry, to do a little shopping in the rue de Paris, are things of the past. Curiously enough while I was looking over my notes the other day, I had a visit from an old friend, the Duc de M., who was one of the inner circle of the imperial household of the Emperor Napoleon III, and took an active part in all that went on at court. He had just been hearing from a friend of the very brilliant season at Deauville this year, and the streams of gold that flowed into the caisse of the management of the new hotel and casino. Every possible luxury and every inducement to spend money, racing, gambling, pretty women of all nationalities and facile character, beautifully dressed and covered with jewels, side by side with the bearers of some of the proudest names in France. He said that just fifty years ago he went to Deauville with the Duc de Morny, Princesse Metternich, and the Comtesse de Pourtéles to inaugurate the new watering-place, then of the simplest description. The ladies were badly lodged in a so-called hotel and he had a room in a fisherman's hut.

Marshal MacMahon had a house near Trouville that year, and he came over occasionally to see W., always on horseback and early in the morning. W. used to struggle into his clothes when "M. le Marechal" was announced. I think the marshal preferred his military title very much to his civic honours. I suppose there never was so unwilling a president of a republic, except many years later Casimir Périer, who certainly hated the "prison of the Elysée," but the marshal was a soldier, and his military discipline helped him through many difficult positions. We had various visitors who came down for twenty-four hours--one charming visit from the Marquis de Vogüé, then French ambassador at Vienna, where he was very much liked, a persona grata in every way. He was very tall, distinguished-looking, quite the type of the ambassador. When I went to inspect his room I was rather struck by the shortness of the bed--didn't think his long legs could ever get into it. The valet assured me it was all right, the bed was normal, but I doubt if he had a very comfortable night. He and W. were old friends, had travelled in the East together and discussed every possible subject during long starlight nights in the desert. They certainly never thought then that one day they would be closely associated as ambassador and foreign minister. Vogüé didn't like the Republic, didn't believe in the capacity or the sincerity of the Republicans--couldn't understand how W. could. He was a personal friend of the marshal's, remained at Vienna during the marshal's presidency, but left with him, much to W.'s regret, who knew what good service he had done at Vienna and what a difficult post that would be for an improvised diplomatist. It was then, and I fancy is still, one of the stiffest courts in Europe. One hears amusing stories from some diplomatists of the rigid etiquette in court circles, which the Americans were always infringing. A great friend of mine, an American, who had lived all her life abroad, and whose husband was a member of the diplomatic corps in Vienna, was always worrying over the misdemeanours of the Americans who never paid any attention to rules or court etiquette. They invaded charmed circles, walked boldly up to archdukes and duchesses, talking to them cheerfully and easily without waiting to be spoken to, giving them a great deal of information upon all subjects, Austrian as well as American, and probably interested the very stiff Austrian royalties much more than the ordinary trained diplomatist, who would naturally be more correct in his attitude and conversation. I think the American nationality is the most convenient in the world. The Americans do just as they like, and no one is ever surprised. The explanation is quite simple: "They are Americans." I have often noticed little faults of manners or breeding, which would shock one in a representative of an older civilisation, pass quite unnoticed, or merely provoke a smile of amusement.

We drove about a great deal--the country at the back of Deauville, going away from the sea, is lovely--very like England--charming narrow roads with high banks and hedges on each side--big trees with spreading branches meeting overhead--stretches of green fields with cows grazing placidly and horses and colts gambolling about. It is a great grazing and breeding country. There are many haras (breeding stables) in the neighbourhood, and the big Norman posters are much in demand. I have friends who never take their horses to the country. They hire for the season a pair of strong Norman horses that go all day up and down hill at the same regular pace and who get over a vast amount of country. We stopped once or twice when we were a large party, two or three carriages, and had tea at one of the numerous farmhouses that were scattered about. Boiling water was a difficulty--milk, cider, good bread and butter, cheese we could always find--sometimes a galette, but a kettle and boiling water were entirely out of their habits. They used to boil the water in a large black pot, and take it out with a big spoon. However, it amused us, and the water really did boil.

We had an Italian friend, Count A., who went with us sometimes, and he was very débrouillard, made himself delightful at once to the fermière and got whatever he wanted--chairs and tables set out on the grass, with all the cows and colts and chickens walking about quite undisturbed by the unusual sights and sounds. It was all very rustic and a delightful change from the glories of the exposition and official life. It amused me perfectly to see W. with a straw hat, sitting on a rather rickety three-legged stool, eating bread and butter and jam. Once or twice some of W.'s secretaries came down with despatches, and he had a good morning's work, but on the whole the month passed lazily and pleasantly.

We went back to Paris about the 10th of September, and remained there until the end of the exposition. Paris was again crowded with foreigners--the month of October was beautiful, bright and warm, and the afternoons at the exposition were delightful at the end of the day, when the crowd had dispersed a little and the last rays of the setting sun lingered on the Meudon Hills and the river. The buildings and costumes lost their tawdry look, and one saw only a mass of moving colour, which seemed to soften and lose itself in the evening shadows. There were various closing entertainments. The marshal gave a splendid fête at Versailles. We drove out and had some difficulty in making our way through the crowd of carriages, soldiers, police, and spectators that lined the road. It was a beautiful sight as we got near the palace, which was a blaze of light. The terraces and gardens were also illuminated, and the effect of the little lamps hidden away in the branches of the old trees, cut into all sorts of fantastic shapes, was quite wonderful. There were not as many people at the entrance of the palace as we had expected to find, for the invitations had been most generously given to all nationalities. At first the rooms, which were brilliantly lighted, looked almost empty. The famous Galerie des Glaces was quite enchanting, almost too light, if there can be too much light at a fête. There were very few people in it when we arrived rather early--so much so that when I said to M. de L., one of the marshal's aides-de-camp, "How perfectly beautiful it is, even now, empty; what will it be when all the uniforms and jewels are reflected in the mirrors," his answer was: "Ah, Madame, I am afraid we shan't have people enough, the hall is so enormous."

I thought of him afterward when an angry crowd was battering at the doors of one of the salons where the royalties were having refreshments. I don't think they realised, and we certainly didn't, what the noise meant, but some of the marshal's household, who knew that only a slight temporary partition was between us and an irate mob, struggling up the staircase, were green with anxiety. However, the royalties all got away without any difficulty, and we tried to hurry immediately after them, but a dense crowd was then pouring into the room at each end, and for a moment things looked ugly. The gentlemen, my husband and my brother-in-law, Eugene Schuyler, Lord Lyons, British ambassador (a big square-shouldered man), and one or two others, put us, my sister Schuyler and me, in a recess of one of the big windows, with heavy furniture in front of us, but that was not very pleasant--with the crowd moving both ways closing in upon us--and the men were getting nervous, so one of our secretaries squeezed through the crowd and found two or three huissiers, came back with them, and we made a procession--two big huissiers in front, with their silver chains and swords, the mark of official status, which always impresses a French crowd, then Lord Lyons, my sister, and I, then W. and Schuyler, and two more men behind us--and with considerable difficulty and a good many angry expostulations, we made our way out. Happily our carriages and servants with our wraps were waiting in one of the inner courts, and we got away easily enough, but the evening was disastrous to most of the company.

There must have been some misunderstanding between the marshal's household and the officials at Versailles, as but one staircase (and there are several) was opened to the public, which was of course absolutely insufficient. Why others were not opened and lighted will always be a mystery. Every one got jammed in the one narrow stairway--people jostled and tumbled over each other--some of the women fainted and were carried out, borne high aloft over the heads of the struggling multitudes, and many people never saw their cloaks again. The vestiaire was taken by storm--satin and lace cloaks lying on the ground, trampled upon by everybody, and at the end, various men not having been able to find their coats were disporting themselves in pink satin cloaks lined with swan's-down--over their shoulders. Quantities of people never got into the palace--not even on the staircase. The landing was directly opposite the room where the princes had their buffet--and if they had succeeded in forcing the door, it would have been a catastrophe. While we were standing in the window, looking into the park, which looked an enchanted garden, with the lights and flowers--we wondered if we could jump or climb down if the crowd pressed too much upon us, but it was too high and there were no projecting balconies to serve as stepping-stones. It was a very unpleasant experience.