Birth of the Prince Imperial
Early on the morning of the sixteenth of March, 1856, a son was born to
the imperial pair, and a salute of a hundred and one guns proclaimed the
great news to the public, who received it with the wildest enthusiasm.
The whole city was decorated with flags, garlands, and portraits of the
Emperor and Empress, and ablaze with illuminations at night; while the
City Council granted a sum of two hundred thousand francs for a feast
for the poor. Greater still was the joy of the royal parents. The
Emperor took the little Prince in his arms and carried him out to show
to the assembled court, with tears of pride and happiness. He at once
ordered a million francs to be distributed in charity to celebrate the
event; had it publicly proclaimed that he and the Empress would act as
sponsors to all legitimate children born on that day within the borders
of his Empire, and issued a decree permitting all political exiles to
return to France on condition that they would swear to uphold the
Government and obey the laws of the country.
Soon after the birth of the Prince Imperial a congress met to determine
the articles of peace which concluded the Crimean War and restored the
peace of Europe, and Napoleon was appointed arbiter. At the zenith of
his power and with the future of his dynasty seemingly secured, it did
not appear altogether presumptuous when in replying to the
congratulations of the Assembly he expressed a hope in the brightness of
his son’s future as heir to the throne of France.
Eugénie’s position was greatly strengthened by this happy event, for
now, should she survive her husband (as seemed probable from the
difference in their ages), as mother of Napoleon the Fourth she would
have still greater influence in public affairs. Her marriage to Napoleon
the Third had revived memories of Josephine. Like the wife of the great
Emperor she had been born under a southern sky; like her she had seemed
destined from the cradle to wear a crown; and as long as she remained
childless there were not lacking hints that a similar fate might be in
store for her. But Providence had ordained otherwise. As a mother
Eugénie was seated more firmly than ever on the throne of France, and
universally regarded with respect, almost with reverence. Gifts flowed
in from all sides. No less than twenty-eight orders were bestowed on the
baby Prince. Messages of congratulation came from all parts of the
Empire. Even the fishwives of the Halle came to offer their good wishes,
and engravings of the Empress and her child were scattered by hundreds
of thousands throughout the country.
In the early Summer of 1856, terrific floods caused much suffering and
distress in many parts of France, in consequence of which there was some
talk of having the Prince Imperial’s christening celebrated quietly.
Unwilling, however, to lose an opportunity of showing the world that his
dynasty, though young in years was inferior to none of the older
monarchies in wealth and splendor, Napoleon determined to send the flood
victims one half of the sum which would originally have been devoted to
the christening festivities, and with the other half he still managed to
make an impressive display.
Not for many years had there been such excitement in Paris as on that
summer day, which was to witness the baptism of the heir of Napoleon the
Third. At six o’clock in the morning the pealing of bells and the
thunder of cannon proclaimed that the great day had come, and at the
first sound, swarms of eager spectators poured into the streets. All the
boulevards and squares were filled in a few hours, and by the time
incoming trains had deposited their freight of strangers and
provincials, the crowds were so dense it was impossible to cross the
Seine. A deafening shout greeted the appearance of the gilded state
coach bearing the little Prince with his governess and nurse; nor was
the enthusiasm lessened when close behind followed the happy parents
with their suite. No less a person than the Holy Father at Rome was
godfather to the Spaniard’s child, while Queen Josephine of Norway and
Sweden acted as godmother. The ceremony at Notre Dame was most striking
and impressive. All the clergy of France were present; on entering the
great shadowy Cathedral, dimly lighted by the myriad wax tapers on the
altar, one might easily have imagined himself suddenly transported to a
scene in the Middle Ages.
That evening the city of Paris gave a magnificent banquet in honor of
the imperial family, at which the whole court and many foreign guests
were present. It was held in the great hall of the Hôtel de Ville, lit
up by eighteen thousand wax candles. The silver service used was made
expressly for the occasion at a cost of two hundred and fifty thousand
francs and the flowers alone came to twenty thousand francs. Two
orchestras alternated in furnishing music; and at the close all present
rose and sang “_Vive l’Empereur!_” The popularity of the Empress was
proven by a surprise that had been prepared for her in the form of a
diorama representing the various places with which she had some special
association:—Granada her birthplace; Madrid, with the Prado; the forest
of Compiègne; Fontainebleau, where the Emperor had confessed his love
for her; the chamber which she had occupied in the Élysée before her
marriage; the wedding of the imperial pair at Notre Dame; the Prince
Imperial’s apartment at the Tuileries; the palace of St. Cloud; and the
cascade in the Bois de Boulogne. At the conclusion of the banquet
Napoleon and Eugénie appeared on one of the balconies of the Hôtel de
Ville and were greeted with the wildest enthusiasm by the crowds that
had gathered to admire the fireworks and the illuminations. All were
charmed with the Emperor’s graciousness and the beauty of the Empress,
but most of all with the little Prince Imperial whom the people
affectionately nicknamed “Lulu.”[1]