My First Years As A Frenchwoman, 1876 to 1879 - Mary King Waddington
The chamberlain was waiting just outside the door, also two ladies in
waiting, just as fat as the Queen. Certainly the mise en scene was very
effective. The number of servants in red liveries, the solitary standing
figure at the end of the long enfilade of rooms, the high diamond comb
and long veil, quite transformed the very stout, red-faced lady whom I
used to meet often walking in the Bois.
We dined once or twice at the palace, always a very handsome dinner. One
for the Marshal and Madame de MacMahon was beautifully done--all the
footmen, dozens, in gala liveries, red and yellow, the maitre d'hotel in
very dark blue with gold epaulettes and aiguillettes. The table was
covered with red and yellow flowers and splendid gold plate, and a very
good orchestra of guitars and mandolins played all through dinner, the
musicians singing sometimes when they played a popular song. We were all
assembled in one of the large rooms waiting for the Queen to appear. As
soon as the Marshal and Madame de MacMahon were announced, she came in,
meeting them at the door, making a circle afterward, and shaking hands
with all the ladies.
Lord Lyons gave a beautiful ball at the embassy that season. The hotel
of the British embassy is one of the best in Paris--fine reception-rooms
opening on a very large garden, and a large courtyard and side exit--so
there was no confusion of carriages. He had need of all his room--Paris
was crowded with English. Besides all the exposition people, there were
many tourists and well-known English people, all expecting to be
entertained at the embassy. All the world was there. The Prince and
Princess of Wales, the Marshal and Madame de MacMahon, the Orleans
princes, Princesse Mathilde, the Faubourg St. Germain, the Government,
and as many foreigners as the house could hold, as he invited a great
many people, once his obligations, English and official, were
satisfied. It was only at an embassy that such a gathering could take
place, and it was amusing to see the people of all the different camps
looking at each other.
There was a supper up-stairs for all the royalties before the cotillion.
I was told that the Duc d'Aumale would take me to supper. I was very
pleased (as we knew him very well and he was always charming to us) but
much surprised, as the Orleans princes never remained for supper at any
big official function. There would have been questions of place and
precedence which would have been very difficult to settle. When the move
was made for supper, things had to be changed, as the Orleans princes
had gone home. The Crown Prince of Denmark took me. The supper-room was
prettily arranged, two round tables--Lord Lyons with the Princesses of
Wales and Denmark presiding at one--his niece, the Duchesse of Norfolk,
at the other, with the Princes of Wales and Denmark. I sat between the
Princes of Denmark and Sweden. Opposite me, next the Prince of Wales,
sat a lady I didn't know. Every one else at the table did. She was very
attractive-looking, with a charming smile and most animated manner. I
asked the Prince of Denmark in a low voice, who she was--thought it must
be one of the foreign princesses I hadn't yet met. The Prince of Wales
heard my question, and immediately, with his charming tact and ease of
manner, said to me: "You don't know the Princesse Mathilde; do let me
have the pleasure of presenting you to her," naming me at once--in my
official capacity, "wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs." The
princess was very gracious and smiling, and we talked about all sorts of
things--some of her musical protegees, who were also mine. She asked me
if I liked living at the ministry, Quai d'Orsay; she remembered it as
such a beautiful house. When the party broke up, she shook hands, said
she had not the pleasure of knowing M. Waddington, but would I thank him
from her for what he had done for one of her friends. I tried to find W.
after supper to present him to the princess, but he had already gone,
didn't stay for the cotillion--the princess, too, went away immediately
after supper. I met her once or twice afterward. She was always
friendly, and we had little talks together. Her salon--she received once
a week--was quite a centre--all the Bonapartists of course, the
diplomatic corps, many strangers, and all the celebrities in
literature and art.
With that exception I never saw nor talked with any member of that
family until I had been some years a widow, when the Empress Eugenie
received me on her yacht at Cowes. When the news came of the awful
tragedy of the Prince Imperial's death in Zululand, W. was Foreign
Minister, and he had invited a large party, with music. W. instantly put
off the party, said there was no question of politics or a Bonapartist
prince--it was a Frenchman killed, fighting bravely in a foreign
country. I always thought the Empress knew about it and appreciated his
act, for during his embassy in London, though we never saw her, she
constantly sent him word through mutual friends of little negotiations
she knew about and thought might interest him, and always spoke very
well of him as a "clear-headed, patriotic statesman." I should have
liked to have seen her in her prime, when she must have been
extraordinarily beautiful and graceful. When I did see her she was no
longer young, but a stately, impressive figure, and had still the
beautiful brow one sees in all her pictures. One of our friends, a very
clever woman and great anti-Bonapartist, told us an amusing story of her
little son. The child was sometimes in the drawing-room when his mother
was receiving, and heard her and all her friends inveighing against the
iniquities of the Imperial Court and the frivolity of the Empress. He
saw the Empress walking one day in the Bois de Boulogne. She was
attracted by the group of children, stopped and talked to them. The boy
was delighted and said to his governess: "Elle est bien jolie,
l'Imperatrice, mais il ne faut pas le dire a Maman." (The Empress is
very pretty, but one must not say it to mother.)
VII
THE BERLIN CONGRESS
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 plenipotentiaires 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 Ministere des Affaires Etrangeres, 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 represente." He started the 10th
of June in the best conditions possible--not an instruction of any kind
from his chief, M. Dufaure, President 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 Marechale 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 Marechale 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 Marechale, 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 Majeste 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: "Ou est votre mari?" (neither Madame, nor M.
Waddington, nor any of the terms that are usually adopted in polite
society). "A Berlin, Sire." "Pourquoi a Berlin?" "Comme
plenipotentiaire Francais au Congres de Berlin." "Oui, oui, je sais, je
sais. Cela l'interesse?" "Beaucoup; il voit tant de personnes
interessantes." "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 bientot," and moved off. The Marechale 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 Hotel 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 Pontecoulant 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-maitre 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 prevenir Son Excellence, Monsieur Waddington,
que la premiere reunion du Congres aura lieu le
13 juin a 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 Chateau 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 emue 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 a chercher dans sa poche
on y eut trouve les cles 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, Leon Say, then Minister of Finances, a very
clever man and brilliant politician, said: "Notre collegue Waddington,
contre son habitude, s'est emballe 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.