My First Years as a Frenchwoman, 1876-1879 | Page 6

in their first
youth) of well-known political men sitting prominently in the
President's box, or in the front row of the 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 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, 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 for hours
about "allumettes chimiques."

Leon 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 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 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 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
habitue of 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 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 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. I never tired of

hearing about the brilliant days of the last Empire, and the fetes at the
Tuileries, Compiegne, 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 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 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 description