The ladies were
badly lodged in a so-called hotel and he had a room in a
fisherman's hut.
Marshal MacMahon had a house near Trouville that year, and he came over
occasionally to see W., always on horseback and early in the morning. W.
used to struggle into his clothes when "M. le Marechal" was announced.
I think the marshal preferred his military title very much to his civic
honours. I suppose there never was so unwilling a president of a
republic, except many years later Casimir Perier, who certainly hated
the "prison of the Elysee," but the marshal was a soldier, and his
military discipline helped him through many difficult positions. We had
various visitors who came down for twenty-four hours--one charming visit
from the Marquis de Vogue, then French ambassador at Vienna, where he
was very much liked, a persona grata in every way. He was very tall,
distinguished-looking, quite the type of the ambassador. When I went to
inspect his room I was rather struck by the shortness of the bed--didn't
think his long legs could ever get into it. The valet assured me it was
all right, the bed was normal, but I doubt if he had a very comfortable
night.
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