During those years the "separation" of Church and State was carried out and afterwards Anti-Clericalism subsided. A mention must also be made of the "Confédération Générale du Travail"—a kind of federation of trade unions—born in January 1908. This C.G.T., a child of Socialism, very soon broke from the parent, cultivated strikes, and showed from the first that its aim is social revolution, though it is not clear what the C.G.T. dictators would do after the social revolution had taken place. Syndicalism, so far, can hardly be called "popular."
In January 1906 M. Fallières—simple, solid, and safe—succeeded Loubet as President of the Republic, and the same year Clémenceau, unscrupulous but extremely able and so intensely picturesque, became Prime Minister. Whatever may be thought of him as a statesman, he, at any rate, did one great thing. He gave France confidence in herself at a critical moment. That was in November 1908. In 1905 Declassé had had to go because the German Emperor wished it. That was after the "Imperial" landing in Morocco. In November 1908 Clémenceau refused to obey Germany, who had asked for an apology in regard to the Casablanca incident. Ever since that France has seemed to be once more sure of her strength, and, without embarking upon any very great adventure, has shown much firmness and purpose in her foreign policy.
As soon as I was well enough after my illness and shock I threw open the doors of my salon.
I went through a difficult time. The great majority of my acquaintances had read what the papers said, and knowing that my husband and I frequently went to the Elysée, they had no difficulty in guessing who was meant by "Madame S.," or "the wife of the well-known painter."... Not one of them, of course, was so tactless as to refer to the matter... but my friends had friends who insisted upon being introduced to me. And so to my receptions there came scores of amiable persons of both sexes, who gazed at me, looked me up and down, and studied me as if I were an object of great curiosity. I had the courage to take no notice whatever of this, and I faced it unflinchingly, although the ordeal was painful; for I knew well enough that these good people had not come with any goodwill towards me in their hearts, but rather to see one whom they looked upon as the latest "fatal woman," as a Delilah or Judith up-to-date. I smiled on them all, as I had in the past, and sang and played to them in the old way.
The ordeal was worse when I went to other houses. When I entered a crowded drawing-room all eyes were turned on me and a sudden hush fell, wrapping me as in my cloak. Then, as host and hostess greeted me, a strange murmur arose and went up and down the room in little gusts, that broke now from this brilliant group of men and women and now from that, and I felt that all this whispering was about me. There were many healthy-minded women and honest men who took my part and defended me, but I soon realised that it was beyond them to convince my enemies, and still less the sceptics and the cynics.... In Paris scepticism and cynicism are a fashionable pose, under which people too often hide the noble principles and generous thoughts which would more truly express their nature and true characters. I, therefore, determined to conquer one by one, not only my enemies, but also those in whose eyes I could read a poor opinion of me. It was an ardent, almost a titanic task, but in time I succeeded. And many of those who had spoken lightly of me, or had thought me a "fatal" person, became my most devoted friends.... It was a trying time, but I lived through it and won in the end—thanks, of course, to the fact that not a word of those calumnies was true, and also to my mother's devotion and to my little Marthe's tender love. My mother looked after me in that pretty way that children often have; and, on the other hand, my little daughter, now a tiny mite of eight, was almost maternal in her solicitude for me.
Why was I so anxious to return to my old position among the men and women of Paris?... Because my reputation was at stake. Whether I liked it or not, whether the task was feasible or almost impossible, I had to battle and conquer. And I did conquer. Calumny, the most elusive and dangerous enemy that woman may have to face, was routed... and some six months after the death of President Faure my receptions were more largely attended than ever. I had tested all those who claimed to be my friends, and found they were sincere. In official circles my influence had not waned, and I was able to render service to many as in the past.
My mother had settled down for good in her pretty châlet at Beaucourt, but she frequently came to Paris and stayed either at the house of my younger sister, or with me in the Impasse Ronsin.
My relations with my husband were what they had been for years. We were good comrades, and I did my utmost to make his life a pleasant and comfortable one. I spent much of my time in the studio. He felt much older than his fifty years and needed much coaxing and encouraging to work. His technique as a painter had marvellously improved, but more and more he lacked imagination, and time after time I suggested to him subjects for his pictures, and advised him in matters of "composition" and "grouping," of backgrounds and atmosphere. Our life, after all, was not abnormal. There are thousands of married couples in Paris who live apart, and yet remain the best of partners and friends....
From 1899 to 1908 my husband painted many portraits—delicate miniatures in oils which were not only works of art, but subtle, psychological studies; although I believe he never realised this himself. Several persons came from Germany to visit the studios and buy pictures, and my husband told me they had been sent by the mysterious foreigner.
But they always came when I was not at home. The pictures disappeared from the studio, however, and I know that my husband had received payment for them. He obviously did not care to talk about these clients, and I was not in the least anxious to find out details about them. I had for many months spared no effort in attempting to solve the mystery of the pearl necklace, and of the "German," but my efforts had been in vain.