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.

[Illustration: M. William Waddington. In the uniform he wore as Minister of Foreign Affairs and at the Berlin Congress, 1878]

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?)

[Illustration: Nasr-ed-Din, Shah of Persia.]

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.

[Illustration: Prince Bismarck. From a sketch by Anton von Werner, 1880.]

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.)

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.

[Illustration: The Berlin Congress. From a painting by Anton von Werner, 1881.]

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.