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twg_000000032600 | in the place where it had stood. This news, it appears, so excited the curiosity of the villagers, that they overcame their fears, and marched _en masse_ to the place. There, they found everything, just as described by the carrier. This was all that we could learn. Of the author of the MS., who he was, and whence he came, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032601 | we shall never know. His identity is, as he seems to have desired, buried forever. That same day, we left the lonely village of Kraighten. We have never been there since. Sometimes, in my dreams, I see that enormous pit, surrounded, as it is, on all sides by wild trees and bushes. And the noise of the water rises upward, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032602 | and blends--in my sleep--with other and lower noises; while, over all, hangs the eternal shroud of spray. Grief[] Fierce hunger reigns within my breast, I had not dreamt that this whole world, Crushed in the hand of God, could yield Such bitter essence of unrest, Such pain as Sorrow now hath hurled Out of its dreadful heart, unsealed! Each sobbing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032603 | breath is but a cry, My heart-strokes knells of agony, And my whole brain has but one thought That nevermore through life shall I (Save in the ache of memory) Touch hands with thee, who now art naught! Through the whole void of night I search, So dumbly crying out to thee; But thou are _not_; and night's vast throne | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032604 | Becomes an all stupendous church With star-bells knelling unto me Who in all space am most alone! An hungered, to the shore I creep, Perchance some comfort waits on me From the old Sea's eternal heart; But lo! from all the solemn deep, Far voices out of mystery Seem questioning why we are apart! "Where'er I go I am alone | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032605 | Who once, through thee, had all the world. My breast is one whole raging pain For that which _was_, and now is flown Into the Blank where life is hurled Where all is not, nor is again!" FOOTNOTES: [] An apparently unmeaning interpolation. I can find no previous reference in the MS. to this matter. It becomes clearer, however, in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032606 | the light of succeeding incidents.--Ed. [] Here, the writing becomes undecipherable, owing to the damaged condition of this part of the MS. Below I print such fragments as are legible.--Ed. [] NOTE.--The severest scrutiny has not enabled me to decipher more of the damaged portion of the MS. It commences to be legible again with the chapter entitled "The Noise | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032607 | in the Night."--Ed. [] The Recluse uses this as an illustration, evidently in the sense of the popular conception of a comet.--Ed. [] Evidently referring to something set forth in the missing and mutilated pages. See _Fragments, _--Ed. [] No further mention is made of the moon. From what is said here, it is evident that our satellite had greatly | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032608 | increased its distance from the earth. Possibly, at a later age it may even have broken loose from our attraction. I cannot but regret that no light is shed on this point.--Ed. [] Conceivably, frozen air.--Ed. [] See previous footnote. This would explain the snow (?) within the room.--Ed. [] I am confounded that neither here, nor later on, does | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032609 | the Recluse make any further mention of the continued north and south movement (apparent, of course,) of the sun from solstice to solstice.--Ed. [] At this time the sound-carrying atmosphere must have been either incredibly attenuated, or--more probably--nonexistent. In the light of this, it cannot be supposed that these, or any other, noises would have been apparent to living ears--to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032610 | hearing, as we, in the material body, understand that sense.--Ed. [] I can only suppose that the time of the earth's yearly journey had ceased to bear its present _relative_ proportion to the period of the sun's rotation.--Ed. [] A careful reading of the MS. suggests that, either the sun is traveling on an orbit of great eccentricity, or else | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032611 | that it was approaching the green star on a lessening orbit. And at this moment, I conceive it to be finally torn directly from its oblique course, by the gravitational pull of the immense star.--Ed. [] It will be noticed here that the earth was "_slowly_ traversing the tremendous face of the dead sun." No explanation is given of this, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032612 | and we must conclude, either that the speed of time had slowed, or else that the earth was actually progressing on its orbit at a rate, slow, when measured by existing standards. A careful study of the MS. however, leads me to conclude that the speed of time had been steadily decreasing for a very considerable period.--Ed. [] See _first | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032613 | footnote, _. [] Without doubt, the flame-edged mass of the Dead Central Sun, seen from another dimension.--Ed. [] NOTE.--From the unfinished word, it is possible, on the MS., to trace a faint line of ink, which suggests that the pen has trailed away over the paper; possibly, through fright and weakness.--Ed. | 51 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032614 | This file was produced from images generously made available by the Bibliothque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr., carlo traverso, Charlie Kirschner and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN [Illustration: Madame Waddington. From a photograph taken in the year of the Exposition, .] MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN - BY MARY KING WADDINGTON ILLUSTRATED | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032615 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032616 | IN PARIS XI. LAST DAYS AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE INDEX ILLUSTRATIONS MADAME WADDINGTON _Frontispiece From a photograph taken in the year of the Exposition_, . 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032617 | 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 PRINCE HOHENLOHE M. WILLIAM WADDINGTON. IN THE UNIFORM HE WORE AS MINISTER OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS AND AT THE BERLIN CONGRESS, NASR-ED-DIN, SHAH OF PERSIA PRINCE BISMARCK THE BERLIN CONGRESS | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032618 | M. JULES GRVY, READING MARSHAL MACMAHON'S LETTER OF RESIGNATION TO THE CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES M. JULES GRVY ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC BY THE SENATE AND CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES MEETING AS THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY THE ELYSE PALACE, PARIS HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA, ABOUT M. DE FREYCINET MME. SADI CARNOT PRESIDENT SADI CARNOT MY FIRST YEARS AS A FRENCHWOMAN I WHEN | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032619 | MACMAHON WAS PRESIDENT I was married in Paris in November, , 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032620 | 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 , by his Department--the Aisne. He had some difficulty in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032621 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032622 | sitting at Versailles. Monsieur Thiers, the first President of the Republic, had been overthrown in May, --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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032623 | 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 Sgurs, Remusats, Lasteyries, Casimir Priers, Gallieras, d'Haussonville, Lon Say, and some of the Protestant families--Pourtals, Andr Bartholdi, Mallet, etc. It was such an entirely different world from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032624 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032625 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032626 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032627 | 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, tes-vous alle l'Opra hier soir," "Madame Waddington, vous montez cheval tous les matins, je crois," "Monsieur Waddington | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032628 | va tous les vendredis 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032629 | "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.'" [Footnote : "W.," here and throughout this book, refers to Madame Waddington's husband, M. William Waddington.] [Illustration: Monsieur Theirs.] The position of the German Embassy in Paris was very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032630 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032631 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032632 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032633 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032634 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032635 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032636 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032637 | Longchamp, on the 14th of July, the national fte--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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032638 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032639 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032640 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032641 | 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-Elyses--in full uniform, with a brilliant staff of foreign officers and military attachs. It was a pretty sight and attracted great attention. Some of the foreign uniforms are very striking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032642 | and the French love a military show. [Illustration: Marshal MacMahon.] For many years after the war the German military attach returned from the review unobserved in a _shut_ carriage, couldn't run the risk of an angry or insulting word from some one in the crowd, and still later, fifteen years after the war, when W. was ambassador in England, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032643 | was godmother of the daughter of a German-English cousin living in London. The godfather was Count Herbert Bismarck, son of the famous chancellor. At the time of the christening I was in France, staying with some friends in the country. The son of the house had been through the war, had distinguished himself very much, and they were still very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032644 | sore over their reverses and the necessity of submitting to all the little pin-pricks which came at intervals from Germany. Bismarck sent me a telegram regretting the absence of the godmother from the ceremony. It was brought to me just after breakfast, while we were having our coffee. I opened it and read it out, explaining that it was from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032645 | Bismarck to express his regret for my absence. There was a dead silence, and then the mistress of the house said to me: "C'est trs dsagrable pour vous, chre amie, cette association avec Bismarck." I didn't see much of W. in the daytime. We usually rode in the morning in the Bois and immediately after breakfast he started for Versailles | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032646 | in the parliamentary train. Dinner was always a doubtful meal. Sometimes he came home very late for nine-o'clock dinner; sometimes he dined at Versailles and only got home at ten or eleven if the sitting was stormy. The Hotel des Reservoirs did a flourishing business as long as the Chambers sat at Versailles. When we were dining out it was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032647 | very disagreeable, particularly the first winter when I didn't know many people. I remember one dinner at the Countess Duchatel's where I went alone; we were ten women and five men. All the rest were deputies, who had telegraphed at the last moment they would not come, were kept at Versailles by an important question. One of the most interesting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032648 | things I saw in , just before my marriage, was the court-martial of Marshal Bazaine for treachery at Metz--giving up his army and the city without any attempt to break through the enemy's lines, or in fact any resistance of any kind. The court was held at the Grand Trianon, Versailles, a place so associated with a pleasure-loving court, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032649 | the fanciful devices of a gay young queen, that it was difficult to realise the drama that was being enacted, when the honour of a Marshal of France--almost an army of France, was to be judged. It was an impressive scene, the hall packed, and people at all the doors and entrances clamouring for seats. The public was curious, a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032650 | little of everything--members of the National Assembly, officers all in uniform, pretty women of all categories--the group of journalists with keen eager faces watching every change of expression of the marshal's face--some well-known faces, wives of members or leading political and literary men, a fair amount of the frailer sisterhood, actresses and demi-mondaines, making a great effect of waving plumes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032651 | and diamonds. The court was presided over by the Duc d'Aumale, who accepted the office after much hesitation. He was a fine, soldierly figure as he came in, in full uniform, a group of officers behind him, all with stern, set faces. The impression of the public was generally hostile to the marshal; one felt it all through the trial. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032652 | He was dressed in full uniform, with the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour. It was melancholy to hear the report of his career when it was read by his counsel,--long years of active service, many wounds, often mentioned for brave conduct under fire, having the "Mdaille Militaire"--the grand cordon of the Legion d'Honneur, the baton de Marchal de | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032653 | France,--all the honours his country could give him--to end so miserably, judged not only by the court but by the country, as a traitor, false to his trust, when his country was in the death-throes of defeat and humiliation. His attitude at the trial was curious. He sat very still in his armchair, looking straight before him, only raising his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032654 | head and looking at the Duc d'Aumale when some grave accusation was made against him. His explanation brought the famous reply from the duc, when he said it was impossible to act or to treat; there was nothing left in France--no government, no orders--nothing. The due answered: "Il y avait toujours la France." He didn't look overwhelmed, rather like some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032655 | one who was detached from the whole proceedings. I saw his face quite well; it was neither false nor weak--ordinary. It is difficult to believe that a French general with a brilliant record behind him should have been guilty of such treachery, sacrificing his men and his honour. His friends (they were not many) say he lost his head, was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032656 | nearly crazy with the utterly unforeseen defeat of the French, but even a moment of insanity would hardly account for such extraordinary weakness. W. and some of his friends were discussing it in the train coming home. They were all convinced of his guilt, had no doubt as to what the sentence of the court would be--death and degradation--but thought | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032657 | that physical fatigue and great depression must have caused a general breakdown. The end every one knows. He was condemned to be shot and degraded. The first part of the sentence was cancelled on account of his former services, but he was degraded, imprisoned, escaped, and finished his life in Spain in poverty and obscurity, deserted by all his friends | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032658 | and his wife. It was a melancholy rentre for the Duc d'Aumale. His thoughts must have gone back to the far-off days when the gallant young officer, fils de France, won his first military glory in Algiers, and thought the world was at his feet. His brilliant exploit, capturing the Smala of Abd-el-Kader, has been immortalised by Vernet in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032659 | great historical picture that one sees at Versailles. There are always artists copying parts of it, particularly one group, where a lovely, fair-haired woman is falling out of a litter backward. Even now, when one thinks of the King Louis Philippe, with all his tall, strong, young sons (there is a well-known picture of the King on horseback with all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032660 | his sons around him--splendid specimens of young manhood), it seems incredible that they are not still ruling and reigning at the Tuileries. I wonder if things would have been very different if Louis Philippe and his family had not walked out of the Tuileries that day! I often asked W. in what way France had gained by being a republic. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032661 | I personally was quite impartial, being born an American and never having lived in France until after the Franco-Prussian War. I had no particular ties nor traditions, had no grandfather killed on the scaffold, nor frozen to death in the retreat of "La Grande Arme" from Moscow. They always told me a republic was in the air--young talents and energy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032662 | must come to the front--the people must have a voice in the government. I think the average Frenchman is intelligent, but I don't think the vote of the man in the street can have as much value as that of a man who has had not only a good education but who has been accustomed always to hear certain principles | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032663 | of law and order held up as rules for the guidance of his own life as well as other people's. Certainly universal suffrage was a most unfortunate measure to take from America and apply to France, but it has been taken and now must stay. I have often heard political men who deplored and condemned the law say that no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032664 | minister would dare to propose a change. I went often to the Chamber in the spring--used to drive out and bring W. home. Versailles was very animated and interesting during all that time, so many people always about. Quite a number of women followed the debates. One met plenty of people one knew in the streets, at the Patissiers, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032665 | at some of the bric--brac shops, where there were still bargains to be found in very old furniture, prints, and china. There is a large garrison. There were always officers riding, squads of soldiers moving about, bugle-calls in all directions, and continuous arrivals at the station of deputies and journalists hurrying to the palace, their black portfolios under their arms. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032666 | The palace was cold. There was a fine draught at the entrance and the big stone staircase was always cold, even in June, but the assembly-room was warm enough and always crowded. It was rather difficult to get seats. People were so interested in those first debates after the war, when everything had to be reorganised and so much of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032667 | the past was being swept away. II IMPRESSIONS OF THE ASSEMBLY AT VERSAILLES The sittings of the assembly were very interesting in that wonderful year when everything was being discussed. All public interest of course was centred in Versailles, where the National Assembly was trying to establish some sort of stable government. There were endless discussions and speeches and very | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032668 | violent language in the Chambers. Gambetta made some bitter attacks on the Royalists, accusing them of mauvaise foi and want of patriotism. The Bonapartist leaders tried to persuade themselves and their friends that they still had a hold on the country and that a plbiscite would bring back in triumph their prince. The Legitimists, hoping against hope that the Comte | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032669 | de Chambord would still be the saviour of the country, made passionate appeals to the old feeling of loyalty in the nation, and the centre droit, representing the Orleanists, nervous, hesitating, knowing the position perfectly, ardently desiring a constitutional monarchy, but feeling that it was not possible at that moment, yet unwilling to commit themselves to a final declaration of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032670 | the Republic, which would make a Royalist restoration impossible. All the Left confident, determined. The Republic was voted on the 30th of January, , by a majority of one vote, if majority it could be called, but the great step had been taken, and the struggle began instantly between the moderate conservative Republicans and the more advanced Left. W. came | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032671 | home late that day. Some of his friends came in after dinner and the talk was most interesting. I was so new to it all that most of the names of the rank and file were unknown to me, and the appreciations of the votes and the anecdotes and side-lights on the voters said nothing to me. Looking back after | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032672 | all these years, it seems to me that the moderate Royalists (centre droit) threw away a splendid chance. They could not stop the Republican wave (nothing could) but they might have controlled it and directed it instead of standing aloof and throwing the power into the hands of the Left. We heard the well-known sayings very often those days: "La | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032673 | Rpublique sera conservatrice ou elle ne sera pas" and "La Rpublique sans Rpublicains," attributed to M. Thiers and Marshal MacMahon. The National Assembly struggled on to the end of the year, making a constitution, a parliament with two houses, senate and chamber of deputies, with many discussions and contradictions, and hopes and illusions. [Illustration: Sitting of the National Assembly at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032674 | the palace of Versailles. From _l'Illustration_, March , ] I went often to Versailles, driving out when the weather was fine. I liked the stormy sittings best. Some orator would say something that displeased the public, and in a moment there would be the greatest uproar, protestations and accusations from all sides, some of the extreme Left getting up, gesticulating | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032675 | wildly, and shaking their fists at the speaker--the Right, generally calm and sarcastic, requesting the speaker to repeat his monstrous statements--the huissiers dressed in black with silver chains, walking up and down in front of the tribune, calling out at intervals: "Silence, messieurs, s'il vous plat,"--the President ringing his bell violently to call the house to order, and nobody paying | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032676 | the slightest attention,--the orator sometimes standing quite still with folded arms waiting until the storm should abate, sometimes dominating the hall and hurling abuse at his adversaries. W. was always perfectly quiet; his voice was low, not very strong, and he could not speak if there were an uproar. When he was interrupted in a speech he used to stand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032677 | perfectly still with folded arms, waiting for a few minutes' silence. The deputies would call out: "Allez! allez!" interspersed with a few lively criticisms on what he was saying to them; he was perfectly unmoved, merely replied: "I will go on with pleasure as soon as you will be quiet enough for me to be heard." Frenchmen generally have such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032678 | a wonderful facility of speech, and such a pitiless logic in discussing a question, that the debates were often very interesting. The public was interesting too. A great many women of all classes followed the sittings--several Egerias (not generally in their first youth) of well-known political men sitting prominently in the President's box, or in the front row of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032679 | journalists' box, following the discussions with great interest and sending down little slips of paper to their friends below--members' wives and friends who enjoyed spending an hour or two listening to the speeches--newspaper correspondents, literary ladies, diplomatists. It was very difficult to get places, particularly when some well-known orators were announced to speak upon an important question. We didn't always | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032680 | know beforehand, and I remember some dull afternoons with one or two members making long speeches about purely local matters, which didn't interest any one. We looked down upon an almost empty hall on those occasions. A great many of the members had gone out and were talking in the lobbies; those who remained were talking in groups, writing letters, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032681 | walking about the hall, quite unconscious apparently of the speaker at the tribune. I couldn't understand how the man could go on talking to empty benches, but W. told me he was quite indifferent to the attention of his colleagues,--his speech was for his electors and would appear the next day in the _Journal Officiel_. I remember one man talked | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032682 | for hours about "allumettes chimiques." Lon Say was a delightful speaker, so easy, always finding exactly the word he wanted. It hardly seemed a speech when he was at the tribune, more like a causerie, though he told very plain truths sometimes to the peuple souverain. He was essentially French, or rather Parisian, knew everybody, and was au courant of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032683 | all that went on politically and socially, and had a certain blague, that eminently French quality which is very difficult to explain. He was a hard worker, and told me once that what rested him most after a long day was to go to a small boulevard theatre or to read a rather lively yellowbacked novel. I never heard Gambetta | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032684 | speak, which I always regretted--in fact knew very little of him. He was not a ladies' man, though he had some devoted women friends, and was always surrounded by a circle of political men whenever he appeared in public. (In all French parties, immediately after dinner, the men all congregate together to talk to each other,--never to the women,--so unless | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032685 | you happen to find yourself seated next to some well-known man, you never really have a chance of talking to him.) Gambetta didn't go out much, and as by some curious chance he was never next to me at dinner, I never had any opportunity of talking to him. He was not one of W.'s friends, nor an habitu of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032686 | the house. His appearance was against him--dark, heavy-looking, with an enormous head. When I had had enough of the speeches and the bad atmosphere, I used to wander about the terraces and gardens. How many beautiful sunsets I have seen from the top of the terrace or else standing on the three famous pink marble steps (so well known to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032687 | all lovers of poetry through Alfred de Musset's beautiful verses, "Trois Marches Roses"), seeing in imagination all the brilliant crowd of courtiers and fair women that used to people those wonderful gardens in the old days of Versailles! I went sometimes to the "Reservoirs" for a cup of tea, and very often found other women who had also driven out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032688 | to get their husbands. We occasionally brought back friends who preferred the quiet cool drive through the Park of St. Cloud to the crowd and dust of the railway. The Count de St. Vallier (who was not yet senator, but deeply interested in politics) was frequently at Versailles and came back with us often. He was a charming, easy talker. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032689 | I never tired of hearing about the brilliant days of the last Empire, and the ftes at the Tuileries, Compigne, and St. Cloud. He had been a great deal at the court of Napoleon III, had seen many interesting people of all kinds, and had a wonderful memory. He must have had an inner sense or presentiment of some kind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032690 | about the future, for I have heard him say often in speaking of the old days and the glories of the Empire, when everything seemed so prosperous and brilliant, that he used often to ask himself if it could be real--Were the foundations as solid as they seemed! He had been a diplomatist, was in Germany at the time of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032691 | the Franco-German War, and like so many of his colleagues scattered over Germany, was quite aware of the growing hostile feeling in Germany to France and also of Bismarck's aims and ambitions. He (like so many others) wrote repeated letters and warnings to the French Foreign Office, which apparently had no effect. One heard afterward that several letters of that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032692 | description from French diplomatists in Germany were found unopened in a drawer at the ministry. It was rather sad, as we drove through the stately alleys of the Park of St. Cloud, with the setting sun shining through the fine old trees, to hear of all the ftes that used to take place there,--and one could quite well fancy the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032693 | beautiful Empress appearing at the end of one of the long avenues, followed by a brilliant suite of ladies and cuyers,--and the echoes of the cor de chasse in the distance. The alleys are always there, and fairly well kept, but very few people or carriages pass. The park is deserted. I don't think the cor de chasse would awaken | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032694 | an echo or a regret even, so entirely has the Empire and its glories become a thing of the past. A rendezvous de chasse was a very pretty sight. We went once to Compigne before I was married, about three years before the war. We went out and breakfasted at Compigne with a great friend of ours, M. de St. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032695 | M., a chamberlain or equerry of the Emperor. We breakfasted in a funny old-fashioned little hotel (with a very good cuisine) and drove in a big open break to the forest. There were a great many people riding, driving, and walking, officers of the garrison in uniform, members of the hunt in green and gold, and a fair sprinkling of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032696 | red coats. The Empress looked charming, dressed always in the uniform of the hunt, green with gold braid, and a tricorne on her head,--all her ladies with the same dress, which was very becoming. One of the most striking-looking of her ladies was the Princess Anna Murat, the present Duchesse de Mouchy, who looked very handsome in the tricorne and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032697 | beautifully fitting habit. I didn't see the Empress on her horse, as we lost sight of them very soon. She and her ladies arrived on the field in an open break. I saw the Emperor quite distinctly as he rode up and gave some orders. He was very well mounted (there were some beautiful horses) but stooped slightly, and had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032698 | rather a sad face. I never saw him again, and the Empress only long years after at Cowes, when everything had gone out of her life. The President, Marshal MacMahon, was living at the Prfecture at Versailles and received every Thursday evening. We went there several times--it was my first introduction to the official world. The first two or three | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000032699 | times we drove out, but it was long (quite an hour and a quarter) over bad roads--a good deal of pavement. One didn't care to drive through the Park of St. Cloud at night--it was very lonely and dark. We should have been quite helpless if we had fallen upon any enterprising tramps, who could easily have stopped the carriage | 60 | gutenberg |
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