Puslapio vaizdai

tion, told me the very nicest things about him, and this means a good deal, for to the dictum, "no man is a hero to his own valet," there are, I believe, very few exceptions. From all Uhlmann said, with what I had already gathered from others, Mme. Le Breton, the Duc de Bassano, the Conneaus, all of whom had been his childhood friends, and also from Monsignor Goddard of Chislehurst, and his friend the old Abbé Toursel of the "French chapel" (the old historic Embassy Chapel in London), the last outsider to see and talk with him before he sailed for Natal, there was only one verdict about him that he was deeply and truly good. His chief characteristic seems to have been his wonderful truth of mind. He had a noble, straightforward nature, shunning pretense of all kinds, and was deeply religious and spiritual-minded. He was beloved and looked up to by all his classmates at Woolwich, by all the servants, by everybody, in fact, who had ever known and come in contact with him. The English soldiers out in Zululand worshiped him, and no wonder, for besides his chivalrous and brave qualities, Uhlmann said the prince was always simple and generous and shared everything with his comrades. During the campaign he never allowed himself the possession of anything they had not, nor accepted privileges due to his superior rank. When luxuries in the shape of food and other things sent out in hampers from his mother reached him, he insisted on dividing up with the privates, despite the protest of those in authority, who thought he needed the extra food himself, not being very rugged. Uhlmann also told me that one very striking feature was his absolutely fearless and unashamed recognition of his religion. Even in Woolwich days and camp-life, and up to the very last night before starting on that fatal reconnaissance trip,' he never missed saying his night prayers aloud. He would call Uhlmann into his room, and the two would kneel down together by the side of the bed, just as he had always done when a little child.

M- and A, always called the empress's nieces, by courtesy to her, on

account of the great disparity of their ages, were in reality her cousins. I think they had a grandmother, a Cabarus, in common. They and the empress were both cousins of M. de Lesseps, and I think they told me the relationships came from the same source. Mand A were pleasant, healthy-minded girls, affectionate, and with nice dispositions, accustomed to think of others first and themselves afterward.

Two years after their visit to the empress, M married Paco de Amsaldo, and at her marriage her uncle gave her one of the numerous titles which he owned. They were then Count and Countess de San Henrique. Her husband occupied some position at Alfonso XIII's court.

A shortly after married Luis de Casanova. After a blissfully happy six months he died, leaving her a widow at seventeen. I heard from M. Pietri, who told me "de la part de l'imperatrice" the news of A- -'s new engagement to M. d'Attainville, nephew of the Prince d'Essling whose wife was mistress of the robes under the empress.

First and foremost among the few faithful adherents of the empress must be named the dear old Duke of Bassano, Napoléon-Hugues-Joseph Maret, son of Hugues-Bernard Maret, first duke of the name, whose title was created by Napoleon I. He inherited from his birth in 1804 traditions of devotion to the Bonaparte family, which were furthered by his having Napoleon and the Empress Josephine for his godparents, and, later on, the little roi de Rome for playmate. The empress had no truer friend than he in her hours of need. While others were leaving her to her fate, he bravely spoke for her before the Chamber of Deputies, trying vainly to turn the torrent of anger away from her, or at least to obtain from the provisional government aid in bodily protecting her against the furious rabble. When she landed in England penniless and without a single belonging except a few absolute necessaries hastily gathered together and loaned her by Mrs. Evans and Lady Burgoyne, the duke followed her to England almost immediately,

Uhlmann bitterly lamented the fact that the prince imperial had not allowed him to follow on that last fatal trip, as he felt he might possibly have helped him guard against the chain of most unusual and untoward coincidences that led up to the tragic end.

with only a carpet-bag, so the empress told us, saying simply on arriving, "Madame me voici," and begging to be allowed to give her his services.

At Napoleon III's death, in January, 1873, the widowed Eugénie offered the duke his freedom to return to France and the family, from whom he had voluntarily separated himself despite his deepest affection for them. But he would not accept it. Again, after the prince's death, the empress gave him once more the chance of leaving her household, but he still refused, answering, "Madame, now you are entirely alone, you need me all the more."

The duke has left a delightful picture of himself in my memory as he was in 1886: a tall, handsome, dignified old man, with beautiful white hair; courteous to all, and with a specially chivalrous feeling toward women, the very type of the grand seigneur and preux chevalier of old that one reads about, but meets rarely.

Mme. Le Breton was the sister of General Bourbaki, who distinguished himself in Algiers, a widow of long standing, with several sons and daughters, was formerly one of the lectrices at the Tuileries, and alone of all the women in France did not abandon the empress, but accompanied her bravely on that eventful journey when, on the fifth of September, they fled from Paris. With the exception of a few short periods of absence for little holidays, she never left her imperial mistress's side all those years. She was a most faithful friend, tried patiently to help and comfort the empress and make everything run smoothly, and this when "ma Souveraine," as she called the empress playfully in speaking of her, was in such a state of nerves that she was often irritable and difficult to please. Only duty and true affection had kept her by her mistress through those long years of dullness, for "society" was the breath of life to her.1

Mme. Arcos, who has been almost a lifelong friend of the empress, was a Miss V. Her father had held some official position in Spain, had been English consul in one of the Southern towns, and she and the empress made each

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was ambitious for her beautiful daughter, was going to present her to Queen Victoria and bring her out in London society. It was very rough weather, and Eugénie Montijo, violently sick, rushed to the side. The ship was not a very fine one, according to our present standards; the rail was low, and the seasick girl in such a state of collapse that she did not care whether she went overboard or not. Presently, the empress told us, she felt two arms put firmly around her waist, and she was dragged away. Very indignant, she struggled with this interfering person, saying, "Leave me alone." She looked up, and found it was a girl a good deal younger than herself, who spoke to her in English, told her that it was a dangerous place, and helped her to a more comfortable one. They then began talking and made friends. The Countess Montijo,

1 She died at the age of eighty-two, very much regretted by the empress and all her friends.

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one of her visits to Windsor that she remembered perfectly the presentation as a young girl that season and the impression made on her at the time. It was at a semi-private audience, before a fancy ball at Buckingham Palace. The Queen told her friend she recalled the costumes worn on the occasion. Eugénie Montijo was dressed as a Spanish infanta, Queen Victoria as Queen Anne, and the prince consort as William of Orange. 1

Naturally, when Eugénie, Condessa de Teba, became empress, Mme. Arcos always found a welcome at the Tuileries. The friendship was cemented, and she, in her turn, remained faithful to her imperial friend all through the life of exile in England. She is the woman.

with whom the empress has been most intimate, excepting, of course, Mme. Le Breton. It was Mme. Arcos, also an intimate friend of my aunt, who suggested my name to the empress.

Dr. Scott, a surgeon-major in the English Army, and stationed at Aldershot, was a constant visitor at Farnborough, and the empress was very fond of him in a kind and grateful way. He had known and been devoted to the prince imperial, and accompanied him to Zululand, where he was supposed, in an unofficial way, looking after him as a friend, to be in charge of the young man's health. He it was who went out to search for and found the poor prince's mutilated body the day after the brave boy had been killed, and later brought the corpse back to England in H. M. S. Orontes, and took a prominent part in the funeral. Since then Dr. Scott has always kept very much in touch with the empress, and when she started for Zululand, in 1880, he, with the Duc de Bassano, Sir Evelyn and Lady Wood, and several ladies who had lost relatives in the Zulu War, accompanied her, going over the well-known ground and showing her the places of sad interest in the pathetic drama.

Franceschini Pietri was a grandson of the celebrated Corsican, Paoli. His mother was, I believe, a Sebastiani, so on both father's and mother's side, according to the empress, he was offspring of Corsican patriots. He had been under-secretary to the emperor, and fought close beside him at the Battle of Sedan, and afterward shared his imprisonment at Wilhelmshöhe. He was very intelligent, witty, had a great business capacity, and concealed a most excellent heart under a somewhat brusk manner. His constant devotion did not prevent his seeing through his imperial hostess's little foibles, which sight he sometimes manifested by a characteristic gesture, an almost imperceptible smile, and shrug of his shoulders. He was a man of sterling worth, one of the most reliable people about the empress.


1 Viscountess Canning to Lady Stuart de Rothsay. Windsor Castle, Jan. 22, 1853: "The Emperor's marriage is the chief topic. I remember Mlle. de Montijo distinctly, for she was very striking, and quite the most interesting of the sights at the Queen's fancy ball-in white-with a dress of bows and tags, very fair hair and skin and dark eyes, good delicate features, a little formal, and a good figure. She is the right age, 26, and clever, and I think the Emperor has done a wise thing. Mme. de Lieven approves and says she is 'très grande dame.'" Hare's "Two Noble Lives," Vol. I.

America's Interests and the Revision

of the Treaties


It ought never to be forgotten that a firm union of this country under an efficient government will probably be an increasing object of jealousy to more than one nation of Europe; and that enterprises to subvert it will sometimes originate in the intrigues of foreign powers, and will seldom fail to be patronized and abetted by some of them.— ALEXANDER HAMILTON in "The Federalist," February 22, 1788.


ITHOUT exception the founders of our republic looked upon the diplomatic and military activities of "foreign Powers" in the western continents as a menace to our security. One cannot read the history of American international relations during the first thirty years of our existence as an independent nation without realizing that the Monroe Doctrine was simply the expression in concrete form of a policy that had been shaping itself since the first administration of Washington. The instinct of self-preservation was at the bottom of it. We sympathized with the colonies of Spain and Portugal fighting for self-government as we had done, but this sympathy alone would not have led Monroe to tell the European powers to keep hands off in the two Americas. The controlling motive was tersely expressed by Alexander Hamilton. We feared "enterprises to subvert" our union.

The corollary to being ready at all times to oppose the extension of European political systems on the American continents was the determination to avoid entangling alliances with European nations. Washington's farewell advice to his fellow-countrymen was not a sudden flash of insight on his part, a new policy invented on the spur of the moment. During his eight years in office Washington had had to struggle hard against the temptation of allying

his country with one or the other side in the gigantic European conflict. Partizan feeling ran high, and was abetted by French and British propaganda. Conservatives abhorred the French Revolution and feared its spread. They were for intervention on the side of Great Britain and Prussia and Austria. Liberals hailed the Revolution with delight, and used the fact that we owed a debt of gratitude to France, while England was our enemy, to create sentiment for intervention on the side of France. Jefferson, enamoured with the Revolution, resigned his position as secretary of state after trying to trying to persuade Washington to abandon neutrality or at least to favor France in our diplomacy. But Washington was convinced that the United States should let Europe work out her own salvation for the simple reason that the interests of the United States dictated a policy of aloofness. Moreover, he believed that the rival coalitions wanted us to pull chestnuts out of the fire for them.

A hundred years have passed since the United States began to follow Washington's advice and adopted the Monroe Doctrine. During that time we have not been involved in war because of treaty obligations to any other nation or group of nations, and we have taken up arms only when we felt that our own interests and ideals, as we saw them and interpreted them, demanded war. We have not been beholden to any foreign power. We have not been involved in war by promises made to other nations.

We entered the World War in 1917 as a result of German acts of aggression on the high seas, which the instinct of selfpreservation and the sense of national honor and dignity did not permit us to tolerate. Our President made this very clear in his addresses to Congress and his notes to Germany, and he also said that we had no quarrel with the German

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people, but only with the Imperial Government. Our State Department limited its strictures to submarine warfare and massacre of Armenians. just one instance of disinterestedness, the resurrection of Poland was officially announced in November, 1916, by Germany and Austria-Hungary. We made no comment one way or the other. We could have hailed the announcement with satisfaction or we could have intimated that the Austro-German move did not look to us like the real thing. In January, 1917, before we broke off relations with Germany, an opportunity arose to offer our good offices to Poland by making certain representations to Berlin and Vienna. We did not do so. These facts flatly contradict the initial statement in Secretary Colby's recent note to Italy on Poland. This country has not always been an advocate of Polish independence nor has it always been an advocate of the integrity of the Russian Empire. Why? Because our secretaries of state before Colby realized that these two causes were as irreconcilable as the independence of Ireland and the integrity of the British Empire.

During the entire period of American intervention and up to President Wilson's visit to Paris, the management of our international relations conformed to the traditions and interests of the United States. It is true that through our President we gave Europe much more advice than in the past, but this was perhaps not uncalled for. Not only had we helped win the war, but we had become creditors of all the victorious belligerents, and it was reasonable that we should advocate a war settlement that would protect our ten billions in Europe. We were not "allies," but merely "associates," and President Wilson said at Manchester that the United States could never enter any association of nations that was not an association of all for the good of all.

I am not writing from a partizan point of view, but as a student and observer of international politics. I take the attitude of the two parties toward the treaty and the league to be what is set forth in the platforms and in the speeches of the candidates. It may be true that the Democrats had to sink or swim with the

administration and that the Republicans naturally attacked what their opponents had done. In the interpretation of motives I am not interested. But I am very deeply interested in the crisis in international relations that confronts us. Is November 2 to prove a turningpoint in American history? Governor Cox, making his mind run along with that of President Wilson, declares that the League of Nations is workable and working, and that if he has the chance, he will change the United States from a pariah among the nations, in the class with Germany and Turkey and Mexico, to a member of the charmed circle which already comprises the twenty-nine nations more enlightened than ourselves. Senator Harding asserts that the league as conceived by the Treaty of Versailles is unworkable and is not working, and, as it is contrary to American instincts and the American Constitution, the covenant will be recast drastically before the United States has any part in it if he becomes President. Governor Cox pledges his party to follow along the lines laid down by President Wilson in the conduct of foreign relations. Senator Harding promises a complete reversal of the present State Department's foreign policy.

Former President Taft, one of the few league advocates among leading Republicans, justifies his subordination of the league issue to party regularity and loyalty on the ground that the election of Cox would not secure the triumph of the league. Mr. Taft points out that no matter how the election goes, enough senators hostile to the Treaty of Versailles will remain to block ratification. This same reason prompts Senator Walsh and other Democratic opponents of the treaty to stand by Cox. Not hope of treaty ratification, or alarm over the possibility of treaty ratification, need influence decisively one's vote one way or the other. The American people, now awakened to the weak points of the league as it stands, although still vaguely desiring some form of a League of Nations, will not stand for a policy of international coöperation in which burdens without compensations fall upon the United States while other nations gather in the loot.

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