My First Years As a Frenchwoman, 1876-1879

Part 1

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MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN

MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN

1876-1879

MARY KING WADDINGTON

ILLUSTRATED

1914

CONTENTS

I. WHEN MACMAHON WAS PRESIDENT II. IMPRESSIONS OF THE ASSEMBLY AT VERSAILLES III. M. WADDINGTON AS MINISTER OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION IV. THE SOCIAL SIDE OF A MINISTER'S WIFE V. A REPUBLICAN VICTORY AND A NEW MINISTRY VI. THE EXPOSITION YEAR VII. THE BERLIN CONGRESS VIII. GAIETIES AT THE QUAI D'ORSAY IX. M. WADDINGTON AS PRIME MINISTER X. PARLIAMENT BACK IN PARIS XI. LAST DAYS AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE

INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS

MADAME WADDINGTON Frontispiece From a photograph taken in the year of the Exposition, 1878.

MONSIEUR THIERS

MARSHAL MACMAHON

SITTING OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY AT THE PALACE OF VERSAILLES

THE FOYER OF THE OPERA

MEETING OF OFFICERS OF THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY, AND OF DELEGATES OF THE NEW CHAMBERS, IN THE SALON OF HERCULES, PALACE OF VERSAILLES

THEODOR MOMMSEN

PALACE OF THE MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS, PARIS

FRANZ LISZT

WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE

LORD LYONS

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, IN 1876

PRINCE HOHENLOHE

M. WILLIAM WADDINGTON. IN THE UNIFORM HE WORE AS MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS AND AT THE BERLIN CONGRESS, 1878

NASR-ED-DIN, SHAH OF PERSIA

PRINCE BISMARCK

THE BERLIN CONGRESS

Part 2

M. JULES GRÉVY, READING MARSHAL MACMAHON'S LETTER OF RESIGNATION TO THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES

M. JULES GRÉVY ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC BY THE SENATE AND CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES MEETING AS THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY

THE ELYSÉE PALACE, PARIS

HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA, ABOUT 1879

M. DE FREYCINET

MME. SADI CARNOT

PRESIDENT SADI CARNOT

MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN

WHEN MACMAHON WAS PRESIDENT

I was married in Paris in November, 1874, at the French Protestant Chapel of the rue Taitbout, by Monsieur Bersier, one of the ablest and most eloquent pastors of the Protestant church. We had just established ourselves in Paris, after having lived seven years in Rome. We had a vague idea of going back to America, and Paris seemed a first step in that direction--was nearer New York than Rome. I knew very little of France--we had never lived there--merely stayed a few weeks in the spring and autumn, coming and going from Italy. My husband was a deputy, named to the National Assembly in Bordeaux in 1871, by his Department--the Aisne. He had some difficulty in getting to Bordeaux. Communications and transports were not easy, as the Germans were still in the country, and, what was more important, he hadn't any money--couldn't correspond with his banker, in Paris--(he was living in the country). However, a sufficient amount was found in the country, and he was able to make his journey. When I married, the Assembly was sitting at Versailles. Monsieur Thiers, the first President of the Republic, had been overthrown in May, 1873--Marshal MacMahon named in his place. W. had had a short ministry (public instruction) under Monsieur Thiers, but he was so convinced that it would not last that he never even went to the ministry--saw his directors in his own rooms. I was plunged at once into absolutely new surroundings. W.'s personal friends were principally Orleanists and the literary element of Paris--his colleagues at the Institute. The first houses I was taken to in Paris were the Ségurs, Remusats, Lasteyries, Casimir Périers, Gallieras, d'Haussonville, Léon Say, and some of the Protestant families--Pourtalès, André Bartholdi, Mallet, etc. It was such an entirely different world from any I had been accustomed to that it took me some time to feel at home in my new milieu. Political feeling was very strong--all sorts of fresh, young elements coming to the front. The Franco-German War was just over--the French very sore and bitter after their defeat. There was a strong underlying feeling of violent animosity to the Emperor, who had lost them two of their fairest provinces, and a passionate desire for the revanche. The feeling was very bitter between the two branches of the Royalist party, Legitimists and Orleanists. One night at a party in the Faubourg St. Germain, I saw a well-known fashionable woman of the extreme Legitimist party turn her back on the Comtesse de Paris. The receptions and visits were not always easy nor pleasant, even though I was a stranger and had no ties with any former government. I remember one of my first visits to a well-known Legitimist countess in the Faubourg St. Germain; I went on her reception day, a thing all young women are most particular about in Paris. I found her with a circle of ladies sitting around her, none of whom I knew. They were all very civil, only I was astonished at the way the mistress of the house mentioned my name every time she spoke to me: "Madame Waddington, êtes-vous allée à l'Opéra hier soir," "Madame Waddington, vous montez à cheval tous les matins, je crois," "Monsieur Waddington va tous les vendredis à l'Institut, il me semble," etc. I was rather surprised and said to W. when I got home, "How curious it is, that way of saying one's name all the time; I suppose it is an old-fashioned French custom. Madame de B. must have said 'Waddington' twenty times during my rather short visit." He was much amused. "Don't you know why? So that all the people might know who you were and not say awful things about the 'infecte gouvernement' and the Republic, 'which no gentleman could serve.'"

The position of the German Embassy in Paris was very difficult, and unfortunately their first ambassador after the war, Count Arnim, didn't understand (perhaps didn't care to) how difficult it was for a high-spirited nation, which until then had always ranked as a great military power, to accept her humiliation and be just to the victorious adversary. Arnim was an unfortunate appointment--not at all the man for such a delicate situation. We had known him in Rome in the old days of Pio Nono's reign, where he had a great position as Prussian minister to the Vatican. He and the Countess Arnim received a great deal, and their beautiful rooms in the Palazzo Caffarelli, on the top of the Capitol Hill (the two great statues of Castor and Pollux standing by their horses looking as if they were guarding the entrance) were a brilliant centre for all the Roman and diplomatic world. He was a thorough man of the world, could make himself charming when he chose, but he never had a pleasant manner, was curt, arrogant, with a very strong sense of his own superiority. From the first moment he came to Paris as ambassador, he put people's backs up. They never liked him, never trusted him; whenever he had an unpleasant communication to make, he exaggerated the unpleasantness, never attenuated, and there is so much in the way things are said. The French were very hard upon him when he got into trouble, and certainly his own Government was merciless to him.

One of my first small difficulties after becoming a Frenchwoman was to eliminate some of my German friends from my salon. I could not run the risk of their being treated rudely. I remember so well one night at home, before I was married, seeing two French officers not in uniform slip quietly out of the room when one of the German Embassy came in, yet ours was a neutral house. When my engagement was announced one of my great friends at the German Embassy (Count Arco) said to me: "This is the end, I suppose, of our friendship; I can never go to see you when you are the wife of a French deputy." "Oh, yes, you can still come; not quite so often, perhaps, but I can't give up my friends." However, we drifted apart without knowing why exactly. It is curious how long that hostile feeling toward Germany has lasted in France.

Every year there is a great review of the Paris garrison (thirty thousand men) by the President of the Republic, at Longchamp, on the 14th of July, the national fête--the day of the storming of the Bastile. It is a great day in Paris--one of the sights of the year--and falling in midsummer the day is generally beautiful and very warm. From early dawn all the chairs and benches along the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne are crowded with people waiting patiently for hours to see the show. There is not a seat to be had at Longchamp. Unless one arrives very early the tribunes are packed, and the President's box very crowded, as he invites the diplomatic corps and the ministers and their wives on that day. The troops are always received with much enthusiasm, particularly the artillery, dragging their light field-pieces and passing at a gallop--also the battalion of St. Cyr, the great French military school. The final charge of the cavalry is very fine. Masses of riders come thundering over the plain, the general commanding in front, stopping suddenly as if moved by machinery, just opposite the President's box. I went very regularly as long as W. was in office, and always enjoyed my day. There was an excellent buffet in the salon behind the box, and it was pleasant to have a cup of tea and rest one's eyes while the long columns of infantry were passing--the regular, continuous movement was fatiguing. All the ambassadors and foreigners were very keen about the review, paying great attention to the size of the men and horses and their general equipment. As long as Marshal MacMahon was President of the Republic, he always rode home after the review down the Champs-Elysées--in full uniform, with a brilliant staff of foreign officers and military attachés. It was a pretty sight and attracted great attention. Some of the foreign uniforms are very striking and the French love a military show.

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