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THE COMEDY AND TRAGEDY OF
THE SECOND EMPIRE
[Illustration: NAPOLEON III.
BY ALBERT BRUCE-JOY.
From the cast taken by the Sculptor, by permission of H.I.M. the Empress
Eugénie, immediately after the Emperor’s death, January 9, 1873.
Mr. Bruce-Joy’s bust has never been exhibited, and was specially
photographed for this book in June, 1911.
_Copyright in all Countries. Reproduction prohibited._
_Frontispiece._]
THE COMEDY & TRAGEDY
OF THE SECOND EMPIRE
PARIS SOCIETY IN THE SIXTIES
INCLUDING LETTERS OF NAPOLEON III.,
M. PIETRI, AND COMTE DE LA CHAPELLE, AND
PORTRAITS OF THE PERIOD
_By_ EDWARD LEGGE, AUTHOR OF “THE EMPRESS
EUGÉNIE: 1870-1910”
[Illustration: colophon]
LONDON AND NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS
45, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1911
I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME
ON HIS EIGHTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY
TO THE
EMINENT STATESMAN AND HISTORIAN OF
L’EMPIRE LIBÉRAL
ÉMILE OLLIVIER
PRIME MINISTER IN 1870
LOYAL FRIEND OF NAPOLEON III.
AND
GRAND OLD MAN OF FRANCE
* * * * *
Ab honesto virum bonum nihil deterret.
A NOTE.
MONSIEUR,
Non-seulement j’accepte avec plaisir la dédicace dont vous voulez bien
m’honorer, mais je vous remercie des termes beaucoup trop bienveillants
dont vous vous servez à mon égard. Je vous remercie aussi de l’envoi de
votre livre, que je me ferai lire, et dans lequel, je suis sûr, je
trouverai beaucoup d’intérêt.
Agreez, Monsieur, mes sentiments les plus cordialement sympathiques.
ÉMILE OLLIVIER.
[TRANSLATION.]
_June 30, 1911_.
SIR,
Not only do I accept with pleasure the dedication with which you are
good enough to honour me, but I thank you for the much too kind terms in
which you refer to me.
I thank you also for sending me your book, which I shall have read to
me, and in which I am sure I shall find much that is interesting.
Accept my most cordially-sympathetic sentiments.
ÉMILE OLLIVIER.
[The book referred to is “The Empress Eugénie: 1870-1910.” London:
Harper and Brothers. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 1910. Owing
to M. Olliver’s somewhat impaired vision, books and documents are
read to him.]
PREFACE
It is due to the readers of “The Empress Eugénie: 1870-1910,” that they
should know how that volume was received by the British and American
Press. Leading critics like Mr. Courtney, “Daily Telegraph”; Mr. Richard
Whiteing, “Manchester Guardian”; and Mr. Tighe Hopkins, “Daily
Chronicle,” devoted much space to their analyses of the volume, as did
the able reviewers of the work in the “Morning Post,” “Daily Mail,”
“Evening Standard,” “Scotsman,” “Illustrated London News,” “Observer,”
“Athenæum,” “Church Times,” “Catholic Times,” “Onlooker,” and many other
influential and widely-circulated journals. Two editions were exhausted
in this country and the United States. A remarkable, and
severely-critical, article appeared in “La Grande Revue” (Paris), from
the pen of the celebrated author and publicist, M. Gérard Harry, a
strong anti-Bonapartist, who deprecated what he considered the excessive
praise bestowed upon the Empress Eugénie. I had a distinctly “good
Press,” and to that fact I attribute the success of the work, a French
edition of which will be issued by the eminent Paris firm of Pierre
Lafitte et Cie. The written words of Napoleon III., hurriedly jotted
down at the hazard of the pen on his way from Sedan to Wilhelmshöhe; of
General Fleury by the side of the captive; of the Empress, and those
about her, addressed to Mgr. Goddard--all these documents, it was agreed
by the Press, threw new light upon the period of the Second Empire.
One of several appreciative American critics did not appear quite
satisfied with the evidence authenticating the Empress’s “Case,” the
elaborate statement justifying Her Majesty’s severely-criticized
political and domestic acts. If any doubt existed on that point I will
now remove it. The assertions contained in that document were indeed
those of the Empress herself, and would never have been published
without her express approval and sanction.
Sovereigns who have been traduced do not “rush into print” with signed
denials of accusations published to their discredit. They adopt other
means of repelling attacks upon their honour, and sometimes upon their
morality. Thus, the Emperor Napoleon, during his captivity at
Wilhelmshöhe, wrote with his own hand a detailed explanation of his
policy as the Ruler of France. It would not have been convenable--not in
accordance with his dignity or with the rigid etiquette which guides
Sovereigns even in their most trivial actions--for the Emperor (who had
not then been formally deposed) to have issued that statement with his
signature appended to it. The Duc de Persigny refused to “father” the
document, and it was sent forth as “by the Marquis de Gricourt,”
although, as General Count von Monts assures us, the Emperor was the
actual author of the pamphlet,[1] and gave the General a copy of it.
Some extracts from the Emperor’s “Case” are printed in the present
volume.
The Emperor’s letters to the late Comtesse de Mercy-Argenteau display
the workings of his mind during the crisis of his life as only intimate
correspondence could do. This gifted and charming woman’s letters to
Napoleon III. are in the Empress’s possession, and will probably, like
all other correspondence, remain unpublished “until fifty years after
Her Majesty’s death.” The Emperor’s letters came into the possession of
Herr Paul Linderberg, of Berlin, by whose kindness I am privileged to
print them in this volume.
English people who had held the Emperor in holy horror took a different
view of him when they made his personal acquaintance. Lady Westmorland,
for instance, “had always felt a great antipathy for Napoleon III.; to
her he was a clever ‘scoundrel.’ In 1863 her son was a guest at
Compiègne, and there he became seriously ill. She went over to bring him
home, and not only did she acknowledge the Emperor’s kindness, she was
won by his personal charm, and recognized, as Queen Victoria had done,
the evidence of his high-bred instinct: ‘He tried to put others at their
ease, and he is always himself a perfect gentleman.’”[2]
The Emperor, who lavished millions of francs upon others, was himself
very economical. The bills of his fournisseurs show that he had his hats
done up for four francs and his coats for fourteen francs. “Napoleon
III.,” says M. André Lefèvre, “entering France with one or two million
francs of debts, left it with twenty, thirty, or fifty millions owing
to France.... We must not allow even the mummy of Chislehurst to sleep
in peace.” A beautiful sentiment, essentially French.
I have essayed, with the help of others, to paint the Pale Emperor as he
was, and the Empress as _she_ was, and is, and Paris Society as it was.
Of those who knew both, some will agree, others will disagree, with me;
but it is not for this little coterie that I write. I write for the
English-speaking peoples all over the world.
As in my first volume, “The Empress Eugénie: 1870-1910,” the object
primarily aimed at was to narrate the lives of the Imperial Family in
England, I was precluded from dwelling upon the Reign. In the following
pages I have endeavoured to portray some aspects of the Court and of
Paris Society between 1852 and 1870. These are necessarily only
bird’s-eye views; brief, however, as are these parts of the imperial
story, I hope they will convey an idea of the real life of the period.
It was very gay--not a doubt about it. Was it an “orgy”? One can hardly
think so. Everything was New. To the severe critics--the “sea-green
incorruptibles”--the Emperor was an “adventurer,” the Empress an
“adventuress,” Society “rotten.”
The descriptions of Fontainebleau and Compiègne are mainly derived from
a work by M. Bouchot,[3] whose encyclopædic knowledge is only equalled
by his fascinating style. Other details of life at Compiègne are from
the brilliant pen of the Marquis de Massa, whose unexpected death in
1910 robbed Paris Society of one of its wittiest and most delightful
figures. (The Marquis furnished the Imperial Theatre at Compiègne with
many humorous saynètes, and was in great favour with the Emperor and the
Empress.) From a lecture delivered in 1910 by the Marquis,[4] and from
his entertaining and always reliable “Souvenirs,” I have selected some
amusing items. The telegrams sent by the Emperor and Empress in August,
1870, form a history of the war up to the eve of Sedan. These despatches
are taken from the fifth volume of M. Germain Bapst’s remarkable
historical work, “Le Maréchal Canrobert,” the eminent publishers of
which, MM. Plon-Nourrit et Cie., have very generously authorized me to
reproduce them. M. Bapst’s running commentary on the dissensions of the
Generals, Ministers, and politicians is deeply interesting, and I have
quoted largely from it, convinced that it will be as fresh to English as
it was to French readers. The picture of the Empress, so vividly
sketched by M. Bapst, reveals her in a new light. Although critics are
against me, I hazard the assertion that throughout that month of August
she displayed most of the qualities of a competent Regent--qualities
possessed by no other Empress or Queen of the period, with the single
exception of Queen Victoria. But she strove to accomplish the
impossible. No human power could convert inept Generals into strategists
and tacticians, nor double the strength of the French forces, nor remedy
the defects of organization. Every factor that makes for success was
lacking, or we should not have a distinguished French soldier writing in
1910:
The authors of most of the works inspired by the war of 1870 have
too willingly yielded to the temptation of looking for the guilty,
and fixing them with the blame for all our reverses. In turn they
have chosen for scapegoats the Emperor Napoleon III., that dreamer,
straying into the field of politics, that idéologue, punished in
excess of his faults by the pitiless decrees of destiny; Marshal
Lebœuf, so fatally lacking in foresight; the Corps Législatif, so
badly inspired in its contests with Marshal Niel; the Generals who
succeeded each other in the command of our troops, from MacMahon to
Bourbaki; and, finally, the Government of National Defence,
especially its Delegates. How few have recognized the fact that the
French army and our rulers in 1870-71 were purely and simply, with
their qualities and their defects, the representation, the faithful
image, of the nation![5]
It was a Frenchman, again, who wrote: “The German schoolmaster was the
real conqueror of France in 1870, for he it was who had for years
developed in the hearts of the children the idea of Teutonic
greatness.”[6]
I recall, without in any way endorsing, a quaint reason seriously
advanced for the French defeats: “Don’t blame your late Emperor because
the Germans thrashed you; the cause lies far deeper: it is due to the
sneakishness of your male population.”[7]
Quite recently I read in the Press that only two or three days before
the outbreak of war Count Bismarck declared that he had no idea there
would be a conflict. If he really said so (I do not credit it), he spoke
in a very different strain in January, 1868, to a prominent German
socialist. “War,” he is alleged to have said, “is inevitable.” And he
continued:
It will be forced upon us by the French Emperor. I say that
clearly. He is an adventurer, and will be forced into it. We have
to be ready. _We are ready._ We shall win, and the result will be
just the contrary to what Napoleon aims at--the total unification
of Germany outside Austria, and probably Napoleon’s downfall.[8]
That prediction--assuming it to have been made--was fulfilled to the
letter. Germany was ready--France was not. It is to be noted that M.
Émile Ollivier’s new volume--the fifteenth!--is devoted to this question
of preparedness or unpreparedness, for the work is entitled “Were we
Ready?”[9] The veteran Prime Minister (the last) of Napoleon III. deals
with three points--the military preparations, the diplomatic
preparations, and the first war operations, down to the morning of
August 6 (before the Battles of Wörth and Spicheren):
The conclusion is that, from the military point of view, we were
sufficiently ready to conquer, and that, despite formal promises,
no alliance was concluded by August 6. Finally, that if, from July
31 until August 6, we had adopted a vigorous offensive on the side
of the River Sarre [_i.e._, at Saarbrücken] we should have gained
that first victory which would have changed the conditions of the
struggle.
This will strike many as a splendidly-audacious proposition; yet it is
neither audacious nor new. The two hours’ fighting at Saarbrücken on
August 2 was entirely to the advantage of the French force
(overwhelmingly superior in numbers) under Frossard; but the “victory”
was not followed up, and thus proved wholly fruitless. M. Ollivier is,
therefore, entitled to this expression of opinion, over-sanguine as some
war critics may deem it; and his view must be received with respect,
even by those who differ from it.
The “great years” of the Reign were 1855, when Queen Victoria and the
Prince Consort (the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales with them)
returned the visit paid to them by the Emperor and Empress of the
French; and 1867, when “all the Sovereigns” were the guests of the
imperial pair. The events of the latter year were brilliantly and
amusingly recorded by that most vivacious chronicler, M. Adrien Marx, in
“Les Souverains à Paris,”[10] from which I have translated some salient
passages.
In “L’Impératrice Eugénie,”[11] one of M. Pierre de Lano’s vigorous and
much “documented” works relating to the Second Empire, there are to be
found many tableaux vivants of the epoch--mordant pages, glowing with
colour, of that “Exotic” society which, more than aught else, tended to
bring the Second Empire into disrepute; and impressions of the imperial
lady which are nothing if not frank and unconventional. The extracts
which I have made from M. de Lano’s valuable work cannot fail to be
appreciated by impartial readers, who, perhaps, will be startled by the
audacity of this highly-original and exceptionally-gifted author.
Two recently-issued works--one by M. Irénée Mauget,[12] the other by M.
Gaston Stiegler[13]--strongly appealed to me. To the first I am indebted
for some diverting material; to the second for the delightful picture of
the Emperor intime in the early days of the Reign and the grim story of
the Orsini “attempt,” into which M. Stiegler has infused a few deft
touches of romanticism.
The “papers” of my valued friend Mgr. Goddard have again provided me
with much material otherwise unobtainable, and have left me with a
reserve for future use.
Immediately after the death of the Emperor Napoleon III. at Camden
Place, Chislehurst, the Empress Eugénie permitted Mr. Albert Bruce-Joy
to take a cast of the head of His Majesty. The sculptor later executed
the bust. In June, 1911, at my request, Mr. Bruce-Joy courteously
allowed a photograph of his beautiful work to be taken for reproduction
in this volume. As the distinguished sculptor worked from the mask taken
with his own hands, there can be no question of the perfect fidelity of
the portrait. The Empress Eugénie has graciously accepted a photograph
of the bust, which I had the honour of sending to Her Imperial Majesty
in June.
On May 7, 1910, Queen Alexandra graciously allowed Mr. Bruce-Joy to take
a cast of the features of King Edward VII.; and the sculptor’s bust of
our late beloved Sovereign was a prominent feature of the Royal Academy
Exhibition in 1911. It was executed for Manchester University. Mr.
Bruce-Joy’s most recent work is a colossal bronze statue of the late
Lord Kelvin.
Prince Roland Bonaparte has again been very generous in sending me some
very finely executed photographs, for which I tender His Highness my
respectful thanks. These are (1) H.R.H. Princess George of Greece, the
Prince’s only daughter (née Princesse Marie Bonaparte); (2) the
deeply-regretted Marquise de Villeneuve-Esclapon (née Princesse Jeanne
Bonaparte, Prince Roland’s only sister); and (3) Prince Roland himself,
in the costume of President of the Geographical Society of France. These
photographs are primeurs. The portrait of the charming and gifted
Consort of Queen Alexandra’s nephew is particularly à propos, for
Princess George was the solitary member of the House of Bonaparte
present at the Coronation of King George V. as (with Prince George) a
Royal guest.
I have to thank Messrs. Russell and Sons, Baker Street, for their
kindness in specially preparing, and, allowing me to use in this volume,
the beautiful picture showing the Empress Eugénie on board the royal
yacht with our beloved King Edward, Queen Alexandra, and other Royal
personages, when, in 1902, the late King reviewed the fleet. This is the
only picture of the kind ever taken, and will be treasured as a souvenir
of the affectionate relations between the Empress and the principal
members of our Reigning House. Of the latter Messrs. Russell and Sons
have taken hundreds of superb photographs during the last forty years.
In my quest for suitable portraits of the Second Empire period I have
been greatly aided by that universally-popular lady, Mrs. Ronalds, who,
with charming courtesy, placed her valuable collection of imperial,
royal, and other photographs (all autograph) at my disposal. These
include rare pictures of the Emperor Napoleon, the Empress Eugénie, and
the Prince Imperial, enriched with their signatures. Unfortunately, I
could only avail myself of this generous offer to a limited extent, for
I have been confronted by an embarras des richesses. The portraits I
selected are those of Mrs. Ronalds and her sister, Miss Josephine
Carter. Of their beauty and esprit the chroniclers of the epoch speak in
the most flattering terms. Mrs. Ronalds enjoyed the distinction of being
a guest of their Imperial Majesties at the Tuileries.
Miss Carter represented “America” at the magnificent fancy-dress ball
given in 1866 at the Ministère de la Marine. Other ladies appeared as
“Europe,” “Asia,” and “Africa,” and I have it on the authority of a
surviving eye-witness of this notable fête that the costumes of the fair
representatives of the “five” quarters of the globe were “gorgeous.”
Miss Carter was carried on a large platform by twelve of her compatriots
dressed as Indians. She was seen reclining in a hammock suspended from
two palm-trees. Her dress was artistically embroidered with emblems of
the victorious Republic, and her corsage was studded with diamond
stars. On her beautiful golden hair she wore a Phrygian cap. In the
cortège of “America” were many charming American women, distinguished
(as was “Maud”) by “dead perfection.” “Oceania” was represented.
I have been so fortunate as to obtain from the Vicomte de La Chapelle
some exceptionally interesting reminiscences of Napoleon III. and the
Prince Imperial, as well as a curious story of Marshal Bazaine. His
father--one of the comparatively few survivors of the Bonapartist
régime--was, as I well remember, one of the stanchest and most valued
friends of the Emperor, who made him his political and literary
collaborator and confidant. I have also to thank the Vicomte de La
Chapelle for the portrait of his father (the venerable Comte de La
Chapelle) and the picture of the Emperor on the field of Sedan.
The welcome co-operation of the Vicomte de La Chapelle--a popular figure
in legal, City, and social circles--has enabled me to print a number of
letters written by his aged father to the Emperor Napoleon. I have given
an outline of the Comte de La Chapelle’s career, and I will not dwell
upon it further here except to say that he was the trusted and valued
collaborator of the august Exile from 1871 until the unexpected happened
on January 9, 1873. But I must mention the invaluable services which he
rendered to Napoleon III. at a time when His Majesty did not know where
to turn for money. I noticed this question in my previous volume,[14]
and in proof of the correctness of my assertions quoted a letter written
by the great house of “Barings,” and published in the “Times,” denying
the absurd statements that they had invested immense sums on the
Emperor’s account. The accuracy of what I wrote in 1910 is now further
confirmed by my valued friend the Comte de La Chapelle, whose letters to
the Emperor on the subject of his financial embarrassment I am now
privileged to make public. It was the Comte de La Chapelle who, by his
influence, energy, and devotion to Napoleon III., succeeded in raising
large sums for the personal use of the Emperor and to keep the
Bonapartist cause going. The name of one of these generous helpers is
very well known to me, and in the early seventies it was familiar to the
commercial world generally. These letters form a most interesting
chapter in the Emperor’s amazing career.
The Comtesse Edmond de Pourtalès, with the most charming and kindly
grace, sent me, at my earnest request, a very rare photograph of
herself, taken in the later period of the imperial reign. The Empress
Eugénie will, I am confident, be gratified at seeing the portrait of
this great lady--the most lovely of all the belles dames who surrounded
Her Imperial Majesty in the years of her splendour, and one of the very
few surviving intimate friends of the still radiant châtelaine of
Farnborough Hill.
The proprietors of the well-known and deservedly popular Paris
illustrated paper, “Femina,” have been exceedingly generous in this
important matter of pictures. But for their good offices I could not
have given the delightful and piquant portraits of the Empress Eugénie
in various costumes, or the large picture of Her Imperial Majesty at La
Malmaison, with portraits of M. Franceschini Pietri and Comte Joseph
Primoli. Certain difficulties arose in the preparation of these
historically valuable pictures, but these obstacles were overcome by the
great goodwill and liberality of the proprietors of “Femina,” to whom I
shall always be grateful for their kindness.
During the Terrible Year a “Times” leader-writer took as his text for a
powerful essay some extracts from the Reports of Colonel Stoffel, French
Military Attaché at Berlin (1866-1870), to his Government; and in the
course of his article he did not hesitate to assert that it was a puzzle
how anyone who had read those documents could ever have dreamt of
plunging France into a war with Prussia. After reading M. Franceschini’s
letters to Stoffel the puzzle would appear greater still were it not
now, thanks to M. Émile Ollivier, matter of common knowledge that the
Emperor and his Government were goaded into a declaration of war by the
French Press and by the nation en masse. These letters (from which, by
the great courtesy of the director of the “Revue de Paris,” I have been
able to give extracts) are in every way remarkable, but their main
importance lies in the fact that they were written by M. Pietri. In
1866, as later, he was the mouthpiece of Napoleon III. When he wrote to
Colonel Stoffel he expressed not only the Emperor’s views, but his own.
He shows us that Stoffel’s opinions were highly valued by the Emperor
and by Marshal Niel, then Minister of War. Both Sovereign and War
Minister set special store upon the Military Attaché’s Reports. The
Emperor could not hear too often from him. M. Pietri was always urging
the Colonel to write. The Emperor dictated to M. Pietri questions which
Stoffel was required to answer. The Prussians, in their campaign against
Austria, in 1866, used the needle-gun for the first time in warfare, and
M. Pietri sent Stoffel funds wherewith to purchase one of the new rifles
for the Emperor. These lettres révélatrices are further remarkable for
their ardent patriotism and wide knowledge of political and military
affairs. It is hardly too much to say that in these epistles M.
Franceschini Pietri shines as the Admirable Crichton of Bonapartism.
Sometimes he is amusingly audacious and delightfully humorous, but
always he is “the Emperor’s man” to the backbone. With a few hundred of
such letters it would be possible to construct a history of the Second
Empire which only the publication of the Empress Eugénie’s Memoirs could
rival. And perhaps the Secretary’s letters would be the more
historically interesting of the two.
Proof-sheets of the chapter, “Prince Napoleon’s Policy,” were sent to
His Imperial Highness’s Secretary, M. Beneyton, and returned to me by
that gentleman with his wonted courtesy. If I mention these incidents,
it is simply to show that I have always taken the utmost pains to secure
absolute accuracy in all which I have written concerning the Imperial
Family. Similarly, I based my exposé of the forged “Mémoires de
l’Impératrice Eugénie” on the written statements courteously furnished
me by M. Franceschini Pietri in January, 1910.[15]
[Illustration: letter]
I have been honoured by the letter of M. Pietri conveying the Empress
Eugénie’s thanks, and also by these gracious communications:
SANDRINGHAM, NORFOLK, _June 29, 1911_.
DEAR SIR,
I am commanded by Queen Alexandra to thank you very much for the
excellent photograph of the Emperor Napoleon the Third’s Bust,
which Her Majesty is very glad to have.
Believe me,
Yours truly,
CHARLOTTE KNOLLYS.
* * * * *
PARIS. 10, AVENUE D’IÈNA, _30 juin, 1911_.
CHER MONSIEUR,
J’ai recu votre aimable lettre du 27 ct., ainsi que la photographie
du buste de l’Empereur Napoléon III. et les paragraphes sur la
représentation de la Maison Bonaparte aux fêtes du couronnement de
S.M. le Roi Georges V.
Je me suis empressé de remettre le tout à S.A.I. Monseigneur le
Prince Roland Bonaparte, qui me charge de vous en remercier
vivement, et de vous dire combien Elle a été sensible à cette
délicate attention.
Veuillez agréer, cher Monsieur, l’expression de mes sentiments les
plus distingués.
G. FAUSSEZ DES MARES.
TRANSLATION.
PARIS, 10, AVENUE D’IÈNA, _June 30, 1911_.
DEAR SIR,
I have received your amiable letter of the 27th inst., and also the
photograph of the bust of the Emperor Napoleon III. and the
paragraphs referring to the representation of the House of
Bonaparte at the Coronation fêtes of H.M. King George V.
I hastened to hand the whole to H.I.H. Monseigneur Prince Roland
Bonaparte, who directs me to warmly thank you, and to tell you how
sensible he is of your delicate attention.
Accept, dear sir, the expression of my most distinguished
sentiments.
G. FAUSSEZ DES MARES.
I have selected for detailed treatment 1867. In that year the Emperor
Napoleon and the Empress Eugénie entertained three Emperors, eight
Kings, one Viceroy, five Queens, nine Grand Dukes, two Grand Duchesses,
two Archdukes, twenty-four Princes, seven Princesses, five Dukes, and
two Duchesses. The Prince of Wales (King Edward VII.), the Duke of
Edinburgh, and the Duke of Connaught were of the party. While 1867 is
generally considered to have been the “great year” of the Imperial
Reign, M. Hanotaux[16] inclines to the opinion that “the climax of
Napoleonic glory” came in November, 1869, when the Empress Eugénie
inaugurated the Suez Canal--ten months before Sedan.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE EMPRESS’S GIRLHOOD 1
II. THE BOYHOOD AND YOUTH OF NAPOLEON III. 7
III. FROM LONDON TO HAM VIÂ BOULOGNE 18
IV. COURTSHIP AND ENGAGEMENT 29
V. CÆSAR’S WIFE 49
VI. APOGEE OF THE SECOND EMPIRE 70
VII. TWO EMPRESSES 90
VIII. THE TUILERIES 99
IX. FONTAINEBLEAU 113
X. COMPIÈGNE 127
XI. THE FOREIGN LEGION; AND SOME GREAT LADIES 137
XII. THE SOVEREIGNS’ WAR DESPATCHES 165
XIII. WHAT OUR EYES HAVE SEEN 204
XIV. ON THE EVE OF EXILE 223
XV. “THESE THINGS ARE LITTLE; BUT, THEN, THEY’RE ALL” 240
XVI. THE EMPEROR AND THE COMTESSE DE MERCY-ARGENTEAU 245
XVII. THE EMPEROR’S CORRESPONDENCE 259
XVIII. CITIZEN--PRESIDENT--EMPEROR 268
XIX. THE PALE EMPEROR 274
XX. THE EMPEROR’S COLLABORATOR 300
XXI. FINANCING THE EMPEROR AND “THE CAUSE” 308
XXII. THE MAN WHO GAVE THE WARNING--M. PIETRI’S LETTRES RÉVÉLATRICES 21
XXIII. PRINCE NAPOLEON--THE EMPRESS IN 1910-11 339
THE PRINCE IMPERIAL (THE POET LAUREATE’S SONNET) 400
INDEX 401
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
TO FACE PAGE
NAPOLEON III. _Frontispiece_
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE ON BOARD THE ROYAL YACHT,
AUGUST, 1902, AT THE REVIEW OF THE FLEET BY
KING EDWARD 64
GUESTS OF THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH
IN THE “GREAT YEAR,” 1867 72
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE IN SPANISH COSTUME 128
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE IN CIRCASSIAN COSTUME 128
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE AS AN ODALISQUE (TURKISH
DANCING-GIRL) 136
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE AS MARIE ANTOINETTE 136
MRS. RONALDS 152
THE COMTESSE EDMOND DE POURTALÈS 160
MISS JOSEPHINE CARTER (SISTER OF MRS. RONALDS) 176
NAPOLEON III. AT SEDAN 216
MR. ALFRED AUSTIN (POET LAUREATE) 272
THE COMTE A. DE LA CHAPELLE 304
H.H. PRINCE ROLAND BONAPARTE 336
H.I.M. THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE IN THE EMPRESS JOSÉPHINE’S
BEDROOM AT LA MALMAISON IN 1910 368
H.R.H. PRINCESS GEORGE OF GREECE (_née_ PRINCESSE MARIE
BONAPARTE, ONLY DAUGHTER OF H.H. PRINCE ROLAND
BONAPARTE) 376
THE LATE MARQUISE DE VILLENEUVE (_née_ PRINCESSE JEANNE
BONAPARTE, ONLY SISTER OF PRINCE ROLAND, AND
AUNT OF H.R.H. PRINCESS GEORGE OF GREECE) 384
THE COMTESSE DE MERCY-ARGENTEAU 392
CHAPTER I
THE EMPRESS’S GIRLHOOD
_It is August, 1840, and from the balcony of the Delesserts’ house
a fair-complexioned, golden-haired girl of fourteen looks down on a
man escorted by two gendarmes. Dishevelled, unkempt, in his
shirtsleeves, the prisoner, who has been fished out of the salt
water, passes out of sight, unaware of the child’s wistful looks
and the sympathetic glances of her sister and their mother.
Perchance he sees Goldenhair wave her handkerchief._
_Mme. Delessert’s husband is Préfet of Paris. The ladies on the
balcony are the Comtesse de Montijo and her daughters. The man in
custody is Prince Louis Napoleon, the derided, but unabashed, hero
of the Boulogne “attempt”; and he is two-and-thirty._
The daughters of the Comte and Comtesse de Montijo made their
acquaintance with Paris when they were not more than four or five. It
was about 1830 or 1831 when the family went to reside there for a while.
Prosper Mérimée, whose name can no more be kept out of the history of
the Empress than could Mr. Dick suppress the mention of King Charles’s
head, was there, and his friend of the British Museum, Dr. Panizzi, was
kept informed of the strolls on the boulevards of the little Eugénie,
and of her liking, not only for the author of the story of “Carmen,”
which Bizet was later to set to music, but for the sweets given to her
by Mérimée.
The Montijos seem to have been then in only fairly easy circumstances.
Three or four years later their fortunes improved, the head of the
family having died.
Eugénie’s education begins at a celebrated convent school, on whose
books she figures as Eugénie Palafox, a name used by her for a score of
years.
At the Sacré-Cœur, Rue de la Varenne, the little Montijo is supremely
happy. Her holidays and those other days when she is allowed “out” she
spends with her mother’s friend, the Comtesse de Laborde, at a country
house at Passy, where a park runs down to the Seine. Mme. de Laborde has
promised Madame mère to make Eugénie’s school life as pleasant as
possible, and she fulfils her promise to the letter. The Comtesse de
Laborde has three daughters, all well married, all charming mondaines:
Mme. Delessert--who, as the wife of the Préfet, is a personage--Mme.
Bocher, and Mme. Odiar. Eugénie is in the good graces of this
captivating trio. But the lady to whom she is particularly attached is
the Comtesse de Nadaillac, daughter of Mme. Delessert, and
grand-daughter of the Comtesse de Laborde.
At the age of eleven (in 1837) she makes the vows imposed upon
communicants, in the stereotyped phrase, “La fille de la Comtesse de
Téba (Montijo) fit sa première communion,” in the chapel of the convent
school. Soon--in March, 1839--there comes a hurried departure for Spain,
whither her parents had returned a short time previously. Her father has
died, and the child’s Parisian “schooling” is over. For some little time
before the loss of their father Eugénie and her eldest sister,
Francisca, familiarly “Pacca,” had been in the charge, in Paris, of an
English governess, Miss Flowers,[17] who accompanied them to Madrid at
the time of the Count’s death. Mérimée wrote: “No one would credit the
regret I feel at their departure” (from Paris). I will note only in
passing that Eugénie’s education was “finished” in this country at a
school at Clifton, Bristol.
Having ceased to be a schoolgirl, the Señorita Eugénie de Montijo
undergoes a transformation. She is, and for some years will remain, in
her teens. At fifteen she is bewitching. In the saddle, what a charming
and picturesque figure! Madrid has no such fearless rider. There is no
particular evidence that now and then she gallops through the streets
riding à califourchon; but legend has it so, and in this case legend may
possibly not wholly err. In the forties she is heedless of criticism,
perhaps because only her rivals can find it in their hearts to malign
her. As yet she is not seen in the hunting-field. She little recks that
ten years or so later she will be arousing the undisguised hostility of
her sex at the imperial chasses at Compiègne.
The Señorita would hardly be Spanish were she not much in view when all
Madrid foregathers at the bull-fights. Like her companions, she has her
favourite toreadors, and is lavish of her rewards--gold and flowers.
Matadors and picadors do her homage. She is coquette to her little
finger-tips. A smile from that sunny face and a word from those rosebud
lips are eagerly contended for, and she is not slow in according both.
Meanwhile the élégants group themselves around her as thick as bees
round the tulips and honeysuckles. In those Southern climes, if
anywhere, flirtation is one of the fine arts. The Señorita
Eugénie--“Ugenia” in her own language--is not the least ardent disciple
of the genus flirt. She coquettes with this Duke and that Duke. He of
Ossuna and he of Sesto (Alganices) are rivals. There is yet a third
Duke--Alba--over whom she essays to cast a spell; but, alas! the course
of true love is diverted--perhaps unconsciously--by Pacca, the beautiful
sister, and she it is who becomes Duquesa. Around this episode of
unrequited love how many “histories” have been woven, mostly apocryphal!
“Ugenia,” some would have us believe, resorts to what she thinks is a
phial of poison, and awakes from her torpor to discover--oh,
horror!--that she has swallowed a portion of the disgusting, but
harmless, contents of a blacking-bottle!
No salon in Madrid was more frequented than the Comtesse de Montijo’s.
The daughters were not the only magnets. Madame mère was a woman of
esprit, and had a genius for making friends and keeping them.
“Theatricals” drew all Madrid to the house. Eugénie was seen in De
Musset’s “Caprice,” with the enamoured Duc de Sesto in the cast. The
summers--or a portion of them--were passed on the Montijo property at
Carabanchel.
Every great lady in Madrid has her circle of young and middle-aged men,
known as “pollos”--literally, chickens. Among the Comtesse de Montijo’s
“pollos,” all more or less smitten by the radiant Señorita Eugénie, was
General Espartero’s successful rival, General Narvaly, Duke of Valencia,
short, dark, a stern soldier, as supple in the young lady’s hands as the
youngest and most impressionable of her “pollos.” A lady well known in
social London, the wife of a foreign diplomatist, and gifted with the
pen of a ready writer, drew this somewhat caustic portrait of the
future Empress when she was the most-discussed personage in Madrid:
Hardly a week passed without some fresh anecdote being circulated
of which Eugénie de Montijo was the heroine. She justified
curiosity and courted censure by her disregard of
conventionalities; and she certainly possessed the Alcibidian
temperament which craves for notoriety. She wielded her sceptre of
society queen with no light hand, and her favourites of to-day were
discarded by to-morrow’s caprice. In her own house she was seen
devoting herself for the whole evening to the entertainment of some
obscure musician, hanging on his arm, speaking to no one else, and
finally dropping the curtains over a window recess to which she had
led him; but the following week, if the poor infatuated wretch came
confidently to bask in the intoxicating favour that had bewitched
him, he was received with a supercilious arching of the lovely
eyebrows. This idol could look at him as if he were a total
stranger, and glide away from him with the coldest inclination of
her head.
The variegated life of the Spanish girl who was destined to become
Empress of the French--her life between the ages of fifteen and
twenty-six--has never been, and never will be, described in detail. They
were “Wanderjähre,” years of travel, visits to modish Continental
resorts, and one or two sojourns in England. Once, in the summer of
1851, she and her mother (but not “Pacca”) attended a Court ball at
Buckingham Palace--an incident which Queen Victoria may have recalled in
one or other of her numerous meetings with the imperial lady, but not
recorded by the Queen in her “Leaves” or her “Letters.” The presence of
the Spanish ladies among the Queen’s guests was, however, noted in the
official list, the compiler of which, or the printers, effectually
mangled the names of both. A week later Lord Malmesbury saw them at
Cambridge House, Piccadilly, the town residence of Viscount and
Viscountess Palmerston, now, and for many years past, the Naval and
Military Club. Mlle. de Montijo struck Lord Malmesbury as being “very
handsome”; with the “flair” of a modern journalist, he noted her auburn
hair and her “beautiful skin and figure.” He would have earned our
thanks had he given us the names of the social sponsors of the Montijos
in London. It was our Great Exhibition year, and we may be certain that
the ladies were among the hundreds of thousands who flocked to Paxton’s
huge glass palace in Hyde Park, the exact site of which is probably
unknown to all but the fogies of 1911.[18]
A resort which found much favour with the mother and daughter was
Eaux-Bonnes, in the Pyrenees. At the hotel honoured by their presence
was an observant gentleman who for a full fortnight had the felicity of
dining in the company of the fair Spaniards. He was therefore, according
to one of his friends, who made attractive “copy” of it for a Belgian
paper, able to “coldly study” the younger lady. “C’est une très belle et
très jolie femme, qui tiendra fort bien sa place, attendu qu’elle a,
comme on dit, le physique de l’emploi.”[19]