Death of Prince Imperial
Eugénie’s grief at her husband’s death was deep and sincere. Over his
bier she wept far bitterer tears than those she had shed during those
dreadful days following her flight from the capital. Indeed she was so
prostrated as to be unable to appear at the funeral. Human nature is
elastic, however, and it was never the Empress’s way to fold her hands
and brood over her troubles. She found one source of consolation,
moreover, in the constant proofs of attachment that reached her, not
only from the friends that had remained faithful to her through all the
changes of fortune, but also from many others who had long seemed to
have forgotten their vows of allegiance.
As death had removed all possibility of the restoration of Napoleon the
Third to the throne, his old adherents rallied to the support of his
son; and as there was still a large Bonapartist party in France, it
seemed not improbable that with the exercise of courage and patience the
Empire might one day be revived. In 1873, by uniting with the
Legitimists and Orleanists, they succeeded in deposing Thiers, who had
been President of the Republic since 1871, and electing Marshal MacMahon
in his place, a change greatly to the advantage of the Bonapartists, who
now entered the political arena once more as a regular party.
In the Autumn of 1872 the Prince Imperial entered the military academy
at Woolwich, where he studied hard and made gratifying progress; and on
the death of his father he was generally recognized as heir to the
imperial throne, in spite of all the efforts made by his cousin Napoleon
to prevent it. Eugénie now lived only in this son and his future; no
stone was left unturned to smooth his pathway to the throne. As yet he
had a hard struggle before him; but her faith in his ultimate victory
was supreme; and supported by ex-Minister Rouher, the leader of the
Bonapartists, then as ever one of Eugénie’s stanchest friends, she
carefully but firmly gathered up the threads by which she hoped to guide
the course of events.
On the seventh of February, 1875, the Prince passed the required
examinations and left Woolwich with an officer’s commission. He had
developed greatly in every respect, to his mother’s joy and the pride of
his party, whose hopes were now fixed on him. His amiability and charm
of manner won him friends wherever he went. Unlike his father, he
objected strongly to any radical measures or political agitation of any
sort, and hoped to recover what he considered his rightful crown by the
natural allegiance of France. Besides her political ambitions for her
son, Eugénie was anxious also to arrange a suitable marriage for him;
but in this she was disappointed. The wooing of Napoleon the Fourth met
with the same fate as that of his father. There were repeated rumors of
a betrothal between him and Queen Victoria’s youngest daughter,
Beatrice, who is said to have cherished a warmer feeling than friendship
for the exiled Prince; but, deep as was the sympathy felt for him by the
English royal house, and true a friend as Victoria had proved herself,
to entrust her daughter’s fate to young Napoleon seemed to her a trifle
too uncertain. When this plan failed, Eugénie fixed her hopes on the
Princess Thyra of Denmark; and in 1878 the Prince made a visit to that
country to try his fortune with the Danish court; but here, too, he was
rejected as a suitor.
The Bonapartists now felt that to have any serious hope of gaining the
French crown the Prince must first win his laurels as a soldier; they
urged him, therefore, to join the English army, which was about to go to
war with the Kaffirs of Zulu. Much as she desired to see her son seated
on the throne, Eugénie shrank from this method of achieving it; but the
Prince fell in at once with the suggestion, and unmoved by his mother’s
attempts to dissuade him, sailed for Africa with the English troops,
leaving a message of farewell to his followers.
On the ninth of April, 1879, he arrived at the headquarters of the
commander-in-chief, Lord Chelmsford, and took part in several actions
with great spirit and courage. In May, while he was on a reconnoitring
expedition in the neighborhood of Itelezi with a fellow officer and
several men, the party was suddenly surprised by a band of Zulus who
sprang out from behind an ambuscade. Abandoned by his companions, who
fled to save themselves, the Prince held out bravely as long as he
could, but at length one of the savages dealt him a fatal blow, and he
fell, his body pierced with seventeen spears. The _Military Gazette_, in
which the young Prince received honorable mention, says:
“Thus did an inscrutable fate grant to him what it cruelly denied both
his father and the great founder of their race—to fall in battle,
bravely fighting against the foe.”
The death of the Prince Imperial created the profoundest sensation. As
soon as the news reached England, Colonel Sidney, an old friend of the
family, was sent to break it to the Empress, but before he could get to
Chiselhurst she had already heard of it. That morning all newspapers and
telegrams had been carefully withheld from her, but her letters were
overlooked. One of these was doubly addressed, to her and to Secretary
Pietri, and contained an allusion to “the dreadful news” without
mentioning what it was. She sent at once for the Duke of Bassano to ask
for an explanation; and when he arrived speechless with emotion, she
suspected that it concerned the Prince. Chilled with fear at what she
read in his countenance, she stood as if turned to stone. That son, for
whom she longed day and night, her only joy in life! The thought was so
terrible, Eugénie could not pursue it to the end.
“Something has happened to my son,” she groaned; “I must start at once
for the Cape.”
Unable to reply, the Duke went out into the hall, where he met Colonel
Sidney, who brought confirmation of the sad tidings. The Empress sent
again for the Duke and insisted upon hearing all, repeating that she
should go to Africa at once.
“Alas! madame,” said the Duke, “it is too late.”
“Oh, my son—my poor son!” shrieked the mother, and fell senseless to the
floor.
After the first paroxysm of grief was over, she neither wept nor spoke,
but listened with feverish despair while the Duke related all the
circumstances of her son’s death, not withholding a single painful
detail. Madame Lebreton then led her gently into her bedchamber where
the Abbé Goddard tried to comfort her. But the religion that had been
such a source of support to her through all her troubles now proved of
little consolation. Her whole life had been bound up in her child, and
now that this last earthly support had crumbled, all hope and joy lay
buried in the dust. For several days and nights she neither ate nor
slept, but remained sunk in a sort of torpor from which she roused only
to ask in tones of agonized pleading if it might not be that her son was
only ill or wounded, and she could go out to nurse him back to health.
Fortunately for her life or reason, she at last found relief in tears,
and now she wept unceasingly.
The whole world shared the stricken mother’s sorrow, and thousands of
messages of sympathy were received at Chiselhurst. Telegrams of
condolence came from all the courts of Europe, as well as from President
Grévy of the French Republic, Marshal MacMahon, and many others. Requiem
masses were held in every Roman Catholic church in London. Especial
sympathy was felt for her in Spain, but the consolation of weeping out
her grief on a mother’s bosom was denied her, as the Countess Montijo
was then so old and feeble it was thought best not to inform her of her
grandson’s death.
Republican, not to say radical, as the French capital was at that time,
the death of the Prince Imperial caused general consternation. The
Empire was still fresh in the minds of all. At the birth of the
Emperor’s son innumerable prayers had been offered for both mother and
child. Step by step the affections of the gay Parisians followed the
little Prince, and when at the age of three he rode with his mother to
Notre Dame to the thanksgiving services for the victory of Solferino,
the state coach was scarcely able to make its way through the admiring
and enthusiastic throngs. Since that day the Napoleonic dynasty had
suffered many reverses. The Empress, once the pride and glory of her
subjects, was an exile, surrounded by only a few friends, and living in
comparative poverty. Now she had suffered the last and heaviest blow of
fate in the loss of her only child. Yet many more hearts went out to
Eugénie in this hour of trial than in the days of her prosperity. Great
and small, rich and poor, friend and foe, united in heart felt sympathy
for the grief-stricken mother. But it was a grief that was beyond
consolation. She had done with life. “All is finished,” were the words
she constantly repeated, and sobbing aloud would bury her face in her
hands to shut out the awful vision that was always before her—the body
of her son pierced with cruel spear-wounds.
* * * * * * * *
When the remains of the Prince Imperial, which had been sent back to
England under a military escort, were borne into the hall at Camden
House by some of his former comrades at Woolwich, a single cry of
anguish escaped the Empress, but she did not shed a tear. All night she
remained on her knees in prayer beside the coffin; at dawn, when the
flame of the wax tapers began to pale in the growing light, she heard
mass, after which she shut herself closely in her own room and did not
leave it again till after the funeral services were over.
The burial of Napoleon the Third had been only the usual drama enacted
in every family when a beloved one is laid to his last rest, but that of
the Prince Imperial was a scene that touched even the coldest and most
indifferent, and excited world-wide interest. At the Emperor’s death,
despite their grief, the mourners had looked with hope and confidence
toward his son; now this last hope had vanished, and tears were seen
even on the cheeks of grizzled veterans. Where hundreds had accompanied
the father’s remains to their resting-place, the son’s bier was followed
by thousands of every rank and station.
Early in the morning of the day of the funeral, July 12, Queen Victoria
arrived at Camden House with her daughters Alice and Beatrice, and with
her own hands laid a laurel wreath of gold upon the coffin. Many other
royal and distinguished personages followed, and the expression of
genuine sorrow visible on every face lent an air of remarkable solemnity
to the occasion. The Archbishop of Southwark performed the burial rites
for which some of the most famous opera singers had proffered their
services. Those of Madame Caters and Christine Nilsson were accepted;
but the latter, some of whose happiest memories were associated with the
palmy days of the Empire, and who had then considered it her highest
honor to sing before the now broken-hearted Empress, was for the first
time unequal to her task. Her voice failed, and she burst into tears.
* * * * * * * *
Broken by mental and physical suffering, the ex-Empress Eugénie still
lives on, awaiting the moment of release that shall reunite her with
those dearest to her on earth. She made a pilgrimage to Zululand to see
the spot where her son met his death. She has frequented various
watering-places seeking relief from the physical infirmities from which
she suffers. She visits many hospitals and charitable institutions to
minister to the sick and wounded; yet these acts of mercy serve only to
revive her sorrows, and emphasize the void in her lonely life.
From Chiselhurst, which held so many painful memories, she moved to
Farnborough, whither she also had the bodies of the Emperor and the
Prince Imperial conveyed. With the Queen of England Eugénie enjoyed the
same close friendship as in earlier years, and until the time of
Victoria’s death she was a frequent visitor at Windsor, although she
never appeared at any Court festivities. She still receives frequent
proofs of loyalty from France, and every year on her birthday she is
overwhelmed with flowers and good wishes. Yet nothing can rouse her from
her melancholy. Whole days and nights she sits brooding over the past,
haunted by faces and presentiments of death. At one time her attendants
even found it necessary to remove all the portraits of her husband and
son in order to preserve her reason.
A sad change has also taken place in her appearance. Portraits of her in
the early days of her widowhood show a still attractive figure whose
unhappy fate is suggested only by her mourning and the lines about the
eyes. But years such as she has since experienced count heavily. Her
hair is now snowy white. The slender figure is bowed with age and grief.
Scarce a trace is left of her wonderful charm and fascination, and in
the pale mourner with sunken eyes and faltering step there is no longer
the faintest resemblance to the once beautiful and splendor-loving
Empress.
[Illustration: _THE EMPRESS-WIDOW_]
What a contrast, alas! between her youth and her age! In the one, a
triumphant goddess, soaring from victory to victory, a sovereign tried
by many disappointments and disillusionments indeed, yet never
disheartened, never harboring bitterness or resentment in her heart: in
the other, a broken and grief-stricken woman, weighed down with sorrows
for which time brings no consolation, and whose thoughts are ever with
her beloved dead.
The historian of the future, undazzled by the glittering splendor of the
Second Empire, and unbiassed by sympathy for the unfortunate widow and
mother, will scarcely judge the Empress Eugénie as leniently as the
critic of to-day, yet more fairly than those of her own realm who have
tried to blacken her reputation by calumny. He will find palliation for
her faults, not so much because they were the result of her origin and
training as because they were more than counterbalanced by her better
qualities, especially her warm-heartedness and dauntless courage. He
will also recognize that, as the wife of a usurper, she was beset with
complications to which a born princess would not have been exposed, and
that, taking all things into consideration, she filled that difficult
position with credit to herself and France.
Footnotes
[1]At his christening the Prince received the names Napoleon Eugéne
Louis Jean Joseph, but was called, like his father, Louis Napoleon.
Appendix
The following is a chronological statement of the principal events
during the career of Empress Eugénie and Louis Napoleon:
1808 Birth of Louis Napoleon.
1826 Birth of Eugénie.
1815-30 Napoleon in exile.
1831 Revolt against the Pope.
1840 Descent upon France and Capture.
1848 Member of the National Assembly.
1851 _Coup d’État._
1852 Elected Emperor.
1853 Marriage of Eugénie and Napoleon.
1854-56 Crimean War.
1856 Birth of the Prince Imperial.
1859 War with Austria.
1862 Interference with Mexico.
1870 War with Germany.
1870-71 Capture and Imprisonment.
1873 Death of Napoleon.
1879 Prince Imperial killed in Africa.
LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
_Translated from the German by_
GEORGE P. UPTON
28 Volumes Now Ready
_Historical and Biographical_
Barbarossa
William of Orange
Maria Theresa
The Maid of Orleans
Frederick the Great
The Little Dauphin
Herman and Thusnelda
The Swiss Heroes
Marie Antoinette’s Youth
The Duke of Brittany
Louise, Queen of Prussia
The Youth of the Great Elector
Emperor William First
Elizabeth, Empress of Austria
Charlemagne
Prince Eugene
Eugénie, Empress of the French
Queen Maria Sophia of Naples
_Musical Biography_
Beethoven
Mozart
Johann Sebastian Bach
Joseph Haydn
_Legendary_
Frithjof Saga
Gudrun
The Nibelungs
William Tell
Arnold of Winkelried
Undine
Illustrated. Each 50 cents _net_
A. C. McCLURG & CO., Chicago
Transcriber’s Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
domain in the country of publication.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the
HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
dialect unchanged.