Decline of the Empire
As yet there had been no sign of change in Eugénie’s fortunes. The sun
of empire was still apparently at its zenith. France deemed herself
invincible. The throne seemed secured to the present dynasty for all
time. The Emperor’s policy had received some severe blows, however, and
disquieting rumors floated over from the ill-fated Empire he had founded
in Mexico.
Maximilian and Carlotta had often visited the Tuileries in their younger
days, and it was only by Napoleon’s urgent persuasion and promise of
support until his throne should be firmly established that the Austrian
Archduke consented to accept the fatal crown. Mindful of this promise,
in his hour of need Maximilian sent his wife to Europe to seek
Napoleon’s aid. She arrived in Paris at night, and without pausing a
moment to rest after the long wearisome sea voyage she hastened to St.
Cloud, her disordered dress and distracted appearance betraying her
terrible agitation. She had brought over the letters Napoleon had
written to her husband, promising his support. Handing these to the
Emperor, she flung herself at his feet imploring him to keep his word.
But all in vain. Even had he wished, he could have done nothing; and
sobbing aloud, half senseless with despair, Carlotta is said to have
left St. Cloud with a curse on her lips, crying: “Louis Philippe’s
granddaughter should never have trusted her fate to a Bonaparte!”
But although Napoleon’s political errors began to darken the halo lent
him by the Crimean War, and although two important events in the world’s
history had occurred without his having any share in them (the wars
between Denmark and Germany in 1864, and between Prussia and Austria in
1866), to all appearances the period immediately succeeding was marked
by greater splendor and prosperity than ever. On the first of April,
1867, a second World’s Exposition was opened in Paris. Once more a
stream of people from all parts of the world poured into the capital.
Never in the history of France had such lavish hospitality been
displayed—not even during the magnificence of Louis the Fourteenth’s
time nor in the reign of Napoleon the First. A perfect galaxy of crowned
heads was assembled at the French court, and the proudest princesses,
the most conservative monarchs, vied with one another in marks of
friendship toward “the upstart” and “the adventuress.” And with what
matchless grace, with what admirable tact, Eugénie played the part of
hostess to her illustrious guests!
In consequence of an attempt to assassinate the Czar of Russia, history
has preserved an account of the grand military review that was held on
the seventh of June, 1867, in his honor and that of the King of Prussia.
Living walls of spectators surrounded the plain of Longchamps where it
took place. The glitter of uniforms, the flash of arms, and the flutter
of banners made a brilliant scene in the summer sunshine. The guests
arrived in state and took their places. The Crown Princess of Prussia
and her sister Princess Alice of Hesse were already in their seats on
the tribune, but no one heeded them. A general air of expectancy
prevailed. Suddenly on all sides arose the shout, “Here comes the
Empress!” and beaming with happiness, smiling and bowing graciously to
all, Eugénie drove round the great plain through ranks of cheering
thousands and alighted at the imperial pavilion. Directly behind her
came the three monarchs on horseback, followed by the German Crown
Prince and the Russian heir to the throne, while the massed troops
presented arms and a blare of trumpets greeted Their Majesties. Eugénie
took the seat of honor on the tribune, her glance travelling proudly
over the glittering ranks of soldiers, the flower of the French army,
and the shouting throngs beyond. As the sovereigns approached, Alexander
of Russia and William the Great of Prussia rode up and bent to kiss her
hand. The granddaughter of the wine-merchant Kirkpatrick, daughter of
Manuela Montijo of doubtful reputation, receiving public homage from
Europe’s mightiest princes—well might Eugénie be proud and happy!
The review at Longchamps was one of the last of those brilliant
spectacles that amazed the world during the Second Empire, although not
the last of Eugénie’s triumphs that memorable summer. Three weeks later
the exposition prizes were awarded by the Prince Imperial, officiating
as President, on which occasion were present the Prince of Wales, the
Crown Princess of Prussia, the Crown Prince of Italy, the Duke of Aosta,
the Grand Duchess Marie of Russia, and lastly the Sultan, with his son
and two nephews. Side by side on the magnificently decorated platform
sat Christian and Mohammedan, the bigoted Empress and the Turkish
Sultan. He had no command of French, but the glances with which he
followed her every motion plainly spoke the language of admiration.
Intoxicated with gratified vanity and ambition, Eugénie believed herself
at the summit of her greatness; but already the ground was trembling
beneath her feet. On that very day Napoleon received news of
Maximilian’s tragic fate, and the shouts of the populace were powerless
to drown the echoes of the rattle of musketry that came to him from
Querétaro like a prophecy of evil.
One of Napoleon’s most marked and singular characteristics was his firm
belief in predestination. It was this fatalism that had led him to
centre all his energies on winning the throne, and to it he also owed
his cool personal bravery. With this indifference to danger were linked
the irresolution and vacillation so conspicuous in all the political
dealings of his later years. He tried in every possible way to lift the
veil that hid the future. There was scarcely a fortune-teller of any
repute in Paris whom he did not secretly visit, and, incredible as it
may seem, their prophecies always made a deep impression on him.
It had often been foretold him, even before he ascended the throne, that
Germany would be the cause of his undoing, and that was the reason why
he could neither bring himself to support national unity in that country
nor yet decide forcibly to oppose it. He had hoped the war between
Prussia and Austria would weaken both powers so that he might be able to
snatch the roast chestnuts safely from the fire; but Prussia’s decisive
victory left him helpless and irresolute, unable to nerve himself to any
decisive action. The increasing power of that country caused a growing
uneasiness throughout France, and the Emperor’s credit began to sink. He
tried to form new political alliances, but it seemed as if the hand of
fate, which at first had led him on from victory to victory, was now
against him, for he encountered only difficulties and disappointments.
To play the role of protector to the Latin peoples had always been a
part of Napoleon the Third’s policy. It was no slight blow to him,
therefore, when Isabella of Spain, with whom he was about to form an
alliance, was dethroned just as a meeting between them had been
arranged. She sought refuge in Paris, where she was received with royal
honors, and her son, afterwards King Alfonso the Twelfth, became the
constant playmate of the Prince Imperial.
[Illustration: _NAPOLEON THE THIRD_]
The revolution beyond the Pyrenees sounded the alarm for France, and
clouds of insurrection began to appear on the horizon. Napoleon found
himself forced to loosen the reins of government; and although the
disturbances apparently blew over, opposition increased daily. With
modification of the press laws in 1867 the situation grew worse instead
of better; and when in the following year Henri Rochefort began the
publication of “La Lanterne,” the waves of revolution began to rise.
This democratic Comte exercised a magical influence over public opinion
in Paris, and his scurrilous journal, filled with venomous attacks on
the whole imperial family, reached an enormous circulation. Napoleon’s
political blunders were not calculated to appease popular sentiment or
his own anxious forebodings. To add to his troubles, he suffered greatly
from a chronic physical ailment; and in the autumn of 1869 his health
was so seriously affected that there was some talk of declaring the
Prince Imperial of age, before the proper time. Eugénie’s popularity too
began to wane even among the middle classes, which had always formed her
strongest support.
As every one knows, it was her cousin Ferdinand de Lesseps who was the
originator of the Suez Canal. With it his name will remain forever
linked, while the Empress’s share in this undertaking will doubtless
soon be forgotten. He conceived the idea during a long residence in
Egypt, and devoted a year of tireless labor to its execution; but it was
her enthusiastic support that encouraged and urged him on and paved the
way for his success. It was not all smooth sailing, however. Before the
canal was finished rumors arose that it would not be navigable for large
vessels. The stock fell heavily; and with their usual fickleness, the
French people, threatened with heavy losses, blamed the Empress, who had
done her best to encourage subscription to the stock. Instead of the
shouts that usually greeted her appearance she encountered only an
ominous silence; and so great was her unpopularity at this time, that
she found it advisable when at the theatre to retire to the back of her
box. Her desire to be present at the opening of the Suez Canal added
fuel to the flame. One day it was announced by telegraph from London
that Napoleon had negotiated a loan of ten million francs from English
banks to defray the expenses of his wife’s journey to Egypt. Of course
it was totally without foundation, but the radical press hastened to
spread the report with so many malicious additions that Eugénie was
universally denounced for the vast sums she was supposed to have
squandered.
Arrangements for her journey were continued, nevertheless. Preparations
were made everywhere to receive the fair guest on so grand a scale that
it is well worth a glance backward to recall the homage paid her so
short a time before her fall. Venice, where the imperial yacht, the
_Eagle_, first touched, was beautifully illuminated. The Italian royal
family welcomed her in person; and a hundred singers serenaded her on
the Grand Canal. In Athens she met with a still more flattering
reception; but it was at Constantinople that the most elaborate
preparations had been made in her honor. All the streets through which
she was to pass were newly paved and a number of houses torn down that
they might be widened. Accommodations for twenty thousand troops were
erected, and near by, a splendid kiosk. A gorgeous sedan chair valued at
over two hundred thousand francs was made expressly for her use, while
for weeks the ladies of the harem were busy practising their curtsies
and wearing high-heeled shoes. On the arrival of the _Eagle_, October
13, 1869, she was met by a fleet of twenty vessels, which escorted her
through a double line of Turkish men-of-war, twenty-five on either side,
each of which saluted with a hundred and one guns, the imperial yacht
responding with an equal number. The shores of the Bosphorus were lined
on both sides with troops. All the ships in the harbor were decorated
with flags, and at the appointed landing-place the Sultan was waiting to
receive his royal guest. The event was made a national holiday. All the
provinces and dependencies of the Turkish Empire sent deputations to the
capital to greet the French Empress; public celebrations of all kinds
were held; and at night the illuminations on the Bosphorus were a
magnificent sight.
A week later Eugénie reached Alexandria on her triumphal progress, where
she was welcomed by Ismail, the Viceroy of Egypt, and from whence the
journey was continued by rail to Cairo. Everywhere her appearance was
the signal for an unbroken succession of _fêtes_ and illuminations. At
the celebration of the opening of the Canal her yacht was the first to
pass through it. Seated on the flower-wreathed deck, amid the thunder of
cannon and strains of music from all the ships’ bands, she sailed
proudly through the new waterway, not only France’s sovereign and the
patroness of the great undertaking, but Queen of Beauty and Fashion as
well. Almost all the great sea powers were represented at the ceremony.
The Emperor of Austria and the Crown Prince of Prussia with many other
royalties were with her on the _Eagle_, but it was upon Eugénie that all
eyes were fixed; for her the frantic shouts that rent the air.