urge-only one had to put these things very carefully, so intolerant was she of anything that might be construed into flattery that the self-restraint exercised by her since the fall of the Empire must shed shed a reflex light on the past. And she herself was surely too sensible, too just, to believe that such testimony could be swept aside as worthless. So, at least, I hope.

I think the Empress cared for polities more than any thing, and if you take passionate interest in a subject, it is hard not to believe yourself specially equipped for it. One day I had been asking her who were the most fascinating personalities she had met, and among them, greatly to my surprise, she mentioned Bismarek! "When it was worth his while," she added, with a peculiar look on her face, "ne one could be a more adroit courtier." To extol her beauty would have left her indifferent, and suddenly it was borne in upon me that he must have laid himself out to flatter her on the score of her political flair! It was late in the sixties when last he was in Paris, and such flattery would have been well "worth his while!"

Whatever her political action and influence may or may not have been in France, listening to her comments on current English polities, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that seldom was any one more pertinaciously wrong-headed! If black seemed the obvious colour

to name, she would say white; if the turn to be taken lay on one hand, she would maintain that salvation was to be found on the other. And, still stranger fact, although, as better judges than myself can testify, her political knowledge was unlimited, her judgment on past events sound and even brilliant, there were certain political factors which she seemed incapable of grasping, because the collective states of mind connected with them escaped her.

The Dreyfus case is an instance. This was a conundrum to which she possessed no olue. People who knew nothing whatever about France might be excused for racking their brains as to what it was all about, though to others who, like myself, had some aequaintance with French mentality, l'Affaire, however regrettable, was comprehensible. But the Empress never got beyond asking how it was possible that a question of justice should be treated in such a fashion? I have said that a sense of justice was among her ruling characteristics. Here it was outraged, and her lack of insight into the spirit of a people did the rest.

She had believed from the first in the innocence of Dreyfus, and was amazed at the storm which this conviction brought about her head. Not that she would have shrunk from proclaiming it in any case, but it is strange that she failed to realise the state of feeling in France. Her earliest intimation of it was the be

contempt! "You are like Achilles' spear, ," she exclaimed, "that healed the wounds it had made!"... and forthwith she swallowed the antidote.

Even if the story had not come to me from an indisputably reliable source, one would be certain that it must be true

in every detail. She herself was probably proud of only having loved onee; myself, I wish she could have had the experience of a second and happier passion. But to wish that is to wish the Empress had been some one else, which is inadmissible.

The anomalies of her mental equipment were nowhere more baffling than on the field of politics. I am not venturing to speak of her political action in France; nothing save the lapse of time can decide how far it went, and as I have hinted, there were documents in her possession which, to my certain knowledge, would reverse many a settled conviotion.

Judging by her character, and in spite of a qualified sympathy with democratic ideals, I imagine she must always have been an absolutist at heart. I remember her saying that though the English monarchical system was undoubtedly the only one suited to England, to be a ruler bereft of real power would not appeal to her personally, nor did she think the position dignified "au fond." At the same time she allowed that to fill it adequately required a rare

"

As for the verdiot of history on herself, a very sympathetic cover-notice in the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' for this month (August 1920) quotes a bitter remark I have heard her make more than once: "Ma légende est faite; au début du règne, je fus la femme futile, ne s'occupant que de chiffons; et, vers la fin de l'Empire, je suis devenue la femme fatale, qu'on rend responsable de toutes les fautes et de tous les malheurs ! . . . Et la légende l'emporte toujours sur l'histoire!" One day, in the last summer she was to spend at Farnborough (1919), she said, "Je déteste les gens qui ont peur de la responsabilité. On veut me rendre responsable pour les événements, ... bien! j'en accepte la responsabilité!.. au moins j'ai l'air de l'avoir aceepté, puisque je me tais !". Then, after a pause, she added, "C'est l'orgueil," and I shall never forget her accent as she said it-the proud magnificent expression that was on her face.

...

Nevertheless, towards the end of her life, when the Great War, monstrous epilogue of the Bismarck revelations, opened all eyes to Germany's designs of world-dominion, I think she came to believe in the silent depths of her heart that that legend of "la femme fatale" might some day fade out of existence. I would often

urge-only one had to put these things very carefully, so intolerant was she of anything that might be construed into flattery that the self-restraint exercised by her since the fall of the Empire must shed a reflex light on the past. And she herself was surely too sensible, too just, to believe that such testimony could be swept aside as worthless. So, at least, I hope.

I think the Empress cared for politics more than anything, and if you take passionate interest in a subject, it is hard not to believe yourself specially equipped for it. One day I had been asking her who were the most fascinating personalities she had met, and among them, greatly to my surprise, she mentioned Bismarok! “When it was worth his while," she added, with a peculiar look on her face, "ne one could be a more adroit courtier." To extol her beauty would have left her indifferent, and suddenly it was borne in upon me that he must have laid himself out to flatter her on the score of her political flair! It was late in the sixties when last he was in Paris, and such flattery would have been well "worth his while!"

Whatever her political action and influence may or may not have been in France, listening to her comments on current English polities, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that seldom was any one more pertinaciously wrong-headed! If black seemed the obvious colour

to name, she would say white; if the turn to be taken lay on one hand, she would maintain that salvation was to be found on

the other. And, still stranger fact, although, as better judges than myself can testify, her political knowledge was unlimited, her judgment on past events sound and even brilliant, there were certain political factors which she seemed incapable of grasping, because the collective states of mind connected with them escaped her.

The Dreyfus case is an instance. This was a conundrum to which she possessed no clue. People who knew nothing whatever about France might be excused for racking their brains as to what it was all about, though to others who, like myself, had some acquaintance with French mentality, l'Affaire, however regrettable, was comprehensible. But the Empress never got beyond asking how it was possible that a question of justice should be treated in such a fashion? I have said that a sense of justice was among her ruling characteristics. Here it was outraged, and her lack of insight into the spirit of a people did the rest.

She had believed from the first in the innocence of Dreyfus, and was amazed at the storm which this conviction brought about her head. Not that she would have shrunk from proelaiming it in any case, but it is strange that she failed to realise the state of feeling in France. Her earliest intimation of it was the be

The anomalies of her mental equipment were nowhere more baffling than on the field of politics. I am not venturing to speak of her political action in France; nothing save the lapse of time can decide how far it went, and as I have hinted, there were documents in her possession which, to my certain knowledge, would reverse many a settled conviction.

Judging by her character, and in spite of a qualified sympathy with demooratio ideals, I imagine she must always have been an absolutist at heart. I remember her saying that though the English monarchical system was undoubtedly the only one suited to England, to be a ruler bereft of real power would not appeal to her personally, nor did she think the position dignified "au fond." At the same time she allowed that to fill it adequately required a rare

.. Et la légende l'emporte toujours sur l'histoire!" One day, in the last summer she was to spend at Farnborough (1919), she said, "Je déteste les gens qui ont peur de la responsabilité. On veut me rendre responsable pour les événements, . bien j'en

accepte la responsabilité! au moins j'ai l'air de l'avoir accepté, puisque je me tais !"... Then, after a pause, she added, "C'est l'orgueil," and I shall never forget her accent as she said it-the proud magnificent expression that was on her face...

...

Nevertheless, towards the end of her life, when the Great War, monstrous epilogue of the Bismarck revelations, opened all eyes to Germany's designs of world-dominion, I think she came to believe in the silent depths of her heart that that legend of "la femme fatale" might some day fade out of existence. I would often

urge-only one had to put these things very carefully, so intolerant was she of anything that might be construed into flattery that the self-restraint exercised by her since the fall of the Empire must shed a reflex light on the past. And she herself was surely too sensible, too just, to believe that such testimony could be swept aside as worthless. So, at least, I hope.

I think the Empress cared for polities more than any thing, and if you take passionate interest in a subject, it is hard not to believe yourself specially equipped for it. One day I had been asking her who were the most fascinating personalities she had met, and among them, greatly to my surprise, she mentioned Bismarek! "When it was worth his while," she added, with a peculiar look on her face, "ne one could be a more adroit courtier." To extol her beauty would have left her indifferent, and suddenly it was borne in upon me that he must have laid himself out to flatter her on the score of her political flair! It was late in the sixties when last he was in Paris, and such flattery would have been well "worth his while!"

Whatever her political action and influence may or may not have been in France, listening to her comments on current English polities, I reluctantly came to the conclusion that seldom was any one more pertinaciously wrong-headed! If black seemed the obvious colour

to name, she would say white; if the turn to be taken lay on one hand, she would maintain that salvation was to be found on the other. And, still stranger fact, although, as better judges than myself can testify, her political knowledge was unlimited, her judgment on past events sound and even brilliant, there were certain political factors which she seemed incapable of grasping, because the collective states of mind connected with them escaped her.

The Dreyfus case is an instance. This was a conundrum to which she possessed no clue. People who knew nothing whatever about France might be excused for racking their brains as to what it was all about, though to others who, like myself, had some acquaintance with French mentality, l'Affaire, however regrettable, was comprehensible. But the Empress never got beyond asking how it was possible that a question of justice should be treated in such a fashion? I have said that a sense of justice was among her ruling characteristics. Here it was outraged, and her lack of insight into the spirit of a people did the rest.

She had believed from the first in the innocence of Dreyfus, and was amazed at the storm which this conviction brought about her head. Not that she would have shrunk from proelaiming it in any case, but it is strange that she failed to realise the state of feeling in France. Her earliest intimation of it was the be