PRINCE NAPOLEON
THE EMPRESS IN 1910-11.
[⁂ THESE POLITICAL VIEWS OF H.I.H. PRINCE NAPOLEON NOW APPEAR FOR
THE FIRST TIME IN CONCRETE FORM. QUESTIONED IN LONDON, IN JUNE,
1911, AS TO HIS “PROGRAMME,” THE PRINCE REPLIED: “THE NAME OF
BONAPARTE IS A PROGRAMME.”]
It has been recently said that I adhere to the Republic, the actual
Government. That is an exaggeration. In the actual Government there are
statesmen, men of order, and, without mentioning names, I may add that
there are talented chiefs. I am, above all, a man of my epoch, a lover
of progress. The time has gone for coups d’état and for proscriptions in
France. I could, to-morrow, work with some past Ministers, or with some
who are retiring. I should have considered it an honour to have voted
for the social laws enacted by the Government. I think only that the
laws ought to be prepared more juridically. A Council of State should
give a legal shape to the informal opinions of legislators not
thoroughly versed in the laws. That could be done without injury to
Parliamentary initiative.
All régimes have some good in them. Take, for instance, the family of
Louis Philippe. Well, Louis Philippe did some excellent things. He
prepared the way for the Empire admirably. If I am not with the Extreme
Left, I am still less with the Right. I have none of the ideas, none of
the illusions, cherished by the Parliamentary party of the Right. I am
in the Centre, with legality. I put my country above dynastic questions;
I would not disturb order. I crave for the Revolution, the mother of all
of us--the Revolution, from which modern France has sprung. It has been
said that yesterday I asked that the “Marseillaise” should be played. At
my marriage, which was celebrated privately, no national air was played;
but in the evening a local band of musicians serenaded us. I was asked
if I should like to hear the “Marseillaise,” with the “Brabançonne”[171]
and the Italian Hymn, and I heard it with a feeling of respect. Did it
not precede the Eagles across Europe? The “Marseillaise” is the only
French [national] hymn the Moncalieri bandsmen know. I was pleased with
it. The words of the “Marseillaise” have now only an historic sense, and
it was with that air that my great-uncle led his armies across the
world.
I note with the deepest interest all that happens in France--everything
that is done and everything that is said. I admit with pleasure that
some excellent things are often done there. The longer we--nous autres
Français--live abroad, the more we love our France. For me the word
“Republic” always preserves its Latin sense, res publica (the “public
thing”), but there were, and there still are, in France men who have
regarded, and continue to regard, it in that sense, and I do not
hesitate to say that I approve from the bottom of my heart their
actions. Excellent things have been done for the army, for the military
service; but more attention ought to have been paid to the cadres, in
order to have assured the re-engagement of the bons sousofficers; more
especially should anti-militarism not have been encouraged.
France has especially need of order. I am often accused of not
concerning myself sufficiently with politics; but there they make a
mistake. I think I should concern myself with politics still less. That
Ministers of the Interior and of Foreign Affairs should be political
Ministers is perfectly natural; but Commerce, Public Works, and
Agriculture ought to be only administrations.[172] That a pension should
be given to every Frenchman upon attaining a certain age is an idea
which I entirely approve; but how many millions of francs would that
cost, and where would they come from? No Government which increases the
taxes would be popular.
The Empire! Do you really believe that France could still exist under
all the laws of the First, and even of the Second, Empire? The times
have progressed. We have railways, telephones, newspapers. The
conditions of the peoples have changed. A good Government, you see, is
one which, above all other things, sees to the needs of the epoch in
which we live.
To be unable to visit our museums in France is one of the most painful
phases of my exile. So much has been done for the museums: they have
been so greatly enriched. My deep love of art suffers from my inability
to inspect their treasures. What emotion I should feel at seeing again
Fontainebleau and the Malmaison, where there are so many souvenirs of my
family! And Versailles!
It seems to me that my exile, in proportion as it is prolonged, exalts
the national sentiment in me. I love France as a good Frenchman, with a
particular and disinterested affection. I am with all those who
contribute to its greatness and prosperity, wherever they come from, and
to whatever party they belong. They know me very imperfectly, and many
errors have been spread about me. I am of my time; I am a man of
progress. I do not live in the past, with old-fashioned sentiments. I
desire above everything the well-being of my country. Narrow political
formulas embarrass me only very slightly.
In all camps I see those who work to realize the greatness of France,
and I am their unknown friend. I have never abandoned my own projects.
Whether it is this one or that one who secures the happiness and
greatness of France matters little to me--that, for me, is a secondary
question. I am with all who collaborate for that purpose. France first!
I am, beside, un sage. I do not believe in adventures. In a modern
country the army alone is powerless to bring about a change of régime,
if it has not behind it the assent and the willingness of the country.
One must know how to await opportunities, and never attempt to
precipitate events.
* * * * *
M. Jules Delafosse, the eminent Deputy for Calvados, and a zealous
member of H.I.H. Prince Napoleon’s party, has defined “Bonapartism” as
being, “not a doctrine,” but “an absolutism”:
It is the régime which Napoleon I. inaugurated, and which Napoleon
III. adopted, that is represented to-day by their dynastic heir
[the Pretender]. At present no one occupies himself with
Bonapartism, and the Prince does nothing to direct attention to
himself. For the indifferent and the satisfied the Bonapartist
programme is only a purely speculative indication, which is of no
more value in their eyes than a prospectus; it will have no value
until the Republic expires, and the Republic will not die until it
has lost the right to live. That may come sooner than one imagines.
The accidental causes which may any day sweep away the régime
include the increasing dissatisfaction caused by the horrible
unpopularity of Parliament, which is the visible figure and the
hidden soul of the Republic. The spectacles which it daily gives us
reproduce the prophetic features which mark the “agony,” generally
disgusting, of dying régimes. That, perhaps, is not a reason why
the Empire should necessarily succeed it; but it is a reason for
thinking of it. One may think of it in all ranks of society, and
even in all camps, because the Empire is not a party, but a refuge.
It is not impossible that the heir of the Napoleons may attain to
power by the political paths that anarchy fatally opens to the
predestined man. It is by the Consulate or the Presidency that the
elect of his race were conducted to the throne. There is no worse
servitude than that of oligarchies, those especially which have the
appetites and passions of negroes. It is to this miserable
condition of affairs--in which the germs of revolution are already,
thank God! apparent--that Republican Parliamentarism has led us;
and that is why from all hearts there rises the same cry of desire
and of hope--“Exoriare aliquis!”
The years 1896 and 1898 were marked by exceptional exultation in the
Bonapartist camp. In 1896 there were serious differences amongst the
rival Orleanist factions. Some of the younger and more ardent Royalists,
recalling the début in political life of Napoleon III., were desirous of
putting forward the Duc d’Orléans as a Parliamentary candidate. The
managing committee of the party, however, decided that “a son of France
should not parody a Bonaparte.” The Duc d’Audiffret Pasquier
communicated this decision to the Duc d’Orléans, who curtly replied that
the committee should have consulted him upon the subject before
expressing an opinion. Pasquier repelled this snub by resigning his
membership of the committee, which, guided by Buffet, De Broglie, and
d’Haussonville, was accused by the stalwarts of lack of energy in the
propaganda. A cleavage seemed imminent among the Royalist sections, for
many Catholics abandoned the party, and the Pope repudiated it.
Taking advantage of the misfortunes of others, the Bonapartists became
more of a militant party. On August 15, 1898 (the old Napoleonic
fête-day), they mustered in force at a banquet, made speeches ridiculing
the Republic, and cheered to the echo a letter from the Pretender
containing a promise to “appear at the proper moment,” which he
declared to be “at hand.” In the intervening thirteen years the
Royalists have done most of the “shouting,” or, rather, it has been done
by the “Camelots du Roy,” led by the two sons of the late Paul de
Cassagnac, M. Léon Daudet, and even M. Henri Rochefort!
THE MARRIAGE AT MONCALIERI.
The marriage contract of Prince Napoleon and Princesse Clémentine was
signed at Brussels on November 7, 1910.
The banns of marriage were published on October 9, on which day the
subjoined official announcement was affixed to the notice-board of the
Hôtel de Ville at Brussels, where it remained for ten days, in
compliance with the law:
A marriage is to take place at Moncalieri (Italy) between his
Imperial Highness Prince Napoleon Victor Gerome Frederick,
domiciled in Paris, 8th Arrondissement (Seine, France), living at
Brussels, No. 241, Avenue Louise, eldest son of his late Imperial
Highness Prince Napoleon Joseph Charles Paul and of Her Imperial
and Royal Highness the Dowager Princess Marie Clotilde Napoleon,
Princess of Savoy, domiciled and residing at the Royal Castle of
Moncalieri, near Turin (Italy), and Her Royal Highness Princess
Clementine Albertine Marie Leopoldine, Princess of Belgium, Duchess
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, domiciled at Brussels, No. 1, Place des
Palais, eldest[173] daughter of his late Majesty Leopold Louis
Philippe Marie Victor, Leopold II., King of the Belgians, Duke of
Saxe, Prince of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, and of her late Majesty Marie
Henriette Anne, Queen of the Belgians, Archduchess of Austria.
English people of all creeds will learn with surprise and amusement that
the Government of the French Republic will not allow Prince Napoleon to
be described in official documents published in France as “Imperial”;
nor may his father (the late Prince “Jérôme”) or his mother (Princesse
Clotilde, daughter of the renowned Victor Emmanuel II.) be so
designated, even in banns of marriage.
Prince Napoleon was described in the “banns” published at Brussels and
at Moncalieri as having a “domicile” in the 8th Arrondissement,
Paris--as, in fact, he always has had, although the law prevents him
from entering his native country. The document containing an
announcement of the marriage was affixed to the wall of the Mairie of
the 8th Arrondissement, Paris, but the words “Imperial” and “domiciled
in Paris” were suppressed by the “Parquet” (otherwise the Public
Prosecutor).
Many who read the banns of marriage were probably surprised at finding
that neither in that document nor in other official papers does Prince
Napoleon use the historic name of “Bonaparte.” I may, therefore, explain
that under the Second Empire it was decreed by a Family Statute that
henceforward “Napoleon” should be the designation of those branches of
the Imperial Family who might be called upon to reign. The other members
of the family preserved the name of “Bonaparte,” but constituted the
“civil” family of the Emperor Napoleon III., and were not included in
the “Imperial” Family. This distinction is noted in the “Almanach de
Gotha” without explanation--an omission which should be rectified in
future editions of the world’s libro d’oro.[174]
In the _Times_ of November 26, 1909, it was noted that “Prince Victor
Napoleon Bonaparte, after a week’s stay at the Savoy Hotel, left
yesterday for Brussels.”
Our official Court Circular of the same date described the Pretender as
“His Imperial Highness Prince Napoleon Bonaparte.”
Both those designations are incorrect. Upon the death of his father
(1891), Victor, as eldest son, became “Prince Napoleon”; and it will be
observed that in the original banns of marriage he is so styled, plus
his Christian names, “Victor Gerome [correctly “Jérôme”] Frederick.”
For the solemnization of these princely imperial and royal nuptials on
November 14, 1910, the old château of Moncalieri shook off the dust of
centuries; the chevaliers, in their suits of mail, who sleep their last
long sleep under the tombstones; the more modern heroes, whose great
deeds are narrated in the war-pictures adorning the immense and
melancholy corridors--all these reawoke for some days. Momentarily they
saw once more the venerable citadel, perched, like a great eagle’s nest,
on the flank of the picturesque hills leaning over the River Po, a few
miles from Turin, in which, for so many lustres, Princesse Clotilde has
unrolled the autumnal stages of her saintly existence, divided between
penance and charity. At the jubilant strains of the “Alléluia” the old
home of the Princes of Piedmont, which resembles a fortress charged to
watch over the mausoleum of the Superga,[175] saw itself resuscitated.
After these rapid souvenirs we ascend the slopes of the park, arrest our
steps on the terrace to admire the magnificent panorama of the immense
valley of the Po; then enter this moyen-âge château, with its
interminable galleries and great salles, ordinarily so solitary and
indescribably sombre, but to-day rejuvenated, made comfortable, bedecked
with sumptuous stuffs, with carpets and with flowers, luxuriously
furnished by royal command--by the orders of the King of Italy. And it
is the Administration of the Royal Domains which has sent to Moncalieri
the beautiful services of plate for the wedding repast--something
between a State déjeuner and a State banquet. King Victor Emmanuel III.
had indeed, with kindly and generous tyranny, decreed that, although
celebrated with the strictest princely privacy, there should be lacking
no noble and dignified elements in the solemnization of the marriage of
his cousin-german--great-nephew of Napoleon I., Emperor of the French,
King of Italy--and Princesse Clémentine of Belgium, daughter and
granddaughter of two great monarchs, and great-granddaughter of Louis
Philippe I., King of the French.
If Prince Napoleon was married at his mother’s residence, and in the
midst of his nearest relatives, it was far otherwise with Princesse
Clémentine, who, for political reasons, had to make a long journey to
obtain the fulfilment of a happiness which she had so long awaited. She
had, however, even before the marriage, been received in Italy, not only
as a Princess, but as a relative. The daughter of Queen Henrietta,
Archduchess of Austria, the Princesse is, in fact, distantly related to
the Italian royal family, and, previous to her alliance with Prince
Napoleon, “dispensations” had to be obtained from Rome.
By yet another delicate attention of the King of Italy, Princesse
Clémentine and her aunt, the widowed Comtesse de Flandre, mother of the
King of the Belgians, who accompanied her to the altar, were not
obliged, before the wedding, to face the ennui--in such
circumstances--inseparable from the occupation of apartments at an
hotel. The left wing of the Royal Palace at Turin was, for the special
gratification of these two royal ladies, decorated as it is on great
fête-days; and it was through a forest of chrysanthemums, adorning even
the portraits of their ancestors, that they entered the old palace of
the Kings of Sardinia. The Dowager Duchesse d’Aoste (Princesse Lætitia)
presided, with her wonted taste and grace, over the installation of the
apartments reserved for the two Princesses and their suite; and it was
Princesse Lætitia who, earlier in the year, had chaperoned the fiancée
on her first visit to her future mother-in-law at Moncalieri, the scene
of the fiançailles.
H.I.H. Prince Napoleon arrived at the château of Moncalieri three days
before the wedding, attended by M. Thouvenel, the senior member of the
Prince’s service d’honneur, and by the Marquis de Girardin (who had
accompanied the Prince from Brussels). The other members of the suite
were lodged at Turin. Princesse Lætitia and her son and General Prince
Louis Napoleon stayed at the château of Moncalieri.
At half-past ten on the morning of the wedding the Princes, Princesses,
and their suites assembled in the large salon des Suisses, in which the
Mayor of Moncalieri (M. Protti) celebrated the civil marriage of the
imperial and royal couple. The witnesses at this function were the Comte
de Salemi (son of H.I.H. Princesse Lætitia), the Marquis Ferreri di
Cambiano (Deputy for Moncalieri), Comte Balbo Bertone di Sambuy, and
Comte Negri di Lamporo, the two latter being selected as residing at
Moncalieri (the Italian law requiring that two of the witnesses at the
civil union are residents of the place of the marriage). After the brief
ceremony, the Mayor expressed his hopes that the future of the imperial
couple would be of the happiest; then, on behalf of the Municipality of
Moncalieri, he gave Prince Napoleon the gold pen with which the act of
marriage had been signed; and to the Princesse the Mayor presented a
bouquet of orchids. The procès-verbal of the civil marriage was
afterwards registered at the French Consulate at Turin.
The religious marriage was solemnized in the chapel (which is decorated
with frescoes) of the château. Green plants and white chrysanthemums
covered the altar.
Prince Napoleon (who escorted his mother, Princesse Marie Clotilde
Napoleon) was in plain evening dress, over which appeared the riband of
the Order of Leopold, which had been sent to him through Prince Ernest
de Ligne on the previous day by King Albert. (Some saw in the sombre
garb of the bridegroom the symbol of exile.)
Princesse Clémentine, radiant in beauty and charm, looking equally
majestic and amiable, came next, on the arm of her brother-in-law,
Prince Philippe de Saxe-Coburg (who married, and separated from,
Princesse Louise of Belgium). The bride’s magnificent robe was of
embroidered white satin, covered with lace; her veil and corsage, of
exquisite lace, were the gift of a number of Belgian ladies--in fact,
the subscribers were the “ladies of all Belgium.”
Following the bride came--
H.R.H. the Duc d’Aoste and the Queen-Mother Marguerite (mother of the
present King of Italy);
Prince Ernest de Ligne and H.R.H. the Comtesse de Flandre;
H.I.H. Prince Louis Napoleon and his sister, H.I.H. Princesse Lætitia,
Duchesse Douairière d’Aoste;
H.R.H. the Comte de Turin and H.R.H. the Duchesse de Gênes;
H.R.H. the Duc de Gênes;
H.R.H. the Duc de Abruzzes;
Comte de Salemi (son of Princesse Lætitia and nephew of the bridegroom);
Prince d’Udine;
Duc de Pistoie;
Duc de Bergame (son of the Duc de Gênes); and
M. de Borchgrave (Belgian Chargé d’Affaires at Rome).
The witnesses at the religious ceremony were Prince Philippe de
Saxe-Coburg and Prince Ernest de Ligne--representing the King of the
Belgians; Prince Louis Napoleon, and the Duc d’Aoste (the former
representing his brother, and the last attending as proxy for the King
of Italy).
Other witnesses were--
For PRINCE NAPOLEON: M. Thouvenel, Marquis de Girardin, Baron de Serlay,
Prince Aymon de Lucinge, Lieutenant-Colonel Nitot, Baron Antoine de
Brimont, and Monsieur H. Beneyton (His Imperial Highness’s Private
Secretary).
For PRINCESSE CLÉMENTINE: Comtesse d’Ursel, Baronne d’Hoogworst, Mlle.
de Bassompierre (all three Belgian ladies), General Daelman (Belgian
chevalier d’honneur), and Mlle. de Bassano (a French lady).[176]
The dames d’honneur of Queen Marguerite and of Princesse Lætitia were
also witnesses.
H.R.H. the Comtesse de Flandre was attended by the Vicomte de Beughem,
grand-maître of Her Royal Highness’s household; and by the Comtesse de
Borchgrave, dame d’honneur.
Mass was said by Monsignor Masera, Bishop of Biella, who used the
historical chalice presented to Princesse Clotilde on the day of her
marriage by King Jérôme, who for a while reigned in Westphalia. Two of
Princesse Clotilde’s chaplains assisted the Bishop, who delivered a very
inspiring address, recalling the great deeds of the ancestors of the
bridal pair.
The music was exclusively Beethoven’s and Mendelssohn’s, and included
the latter’s celebrated “Wedding March.”
There were no street or any other decorations in the little town. This
accorded with the wishes of Princesse Clotilde, who took the greatest
pains to avoid all possibility of political embarrassments. In this
laudable task she was seconded by Prince Napoleon, who, ever since the
death of the Prince Imperial and his consequent succession to the rôle
of Pretender to the throne, has evinced the most commendable desire to
remain outside the pale of politics.
Princesse Napoleon’s wedding-presents were artistically arranged in one
of the large salons. They were of the estimated value of 2,500,000
francs (£100,000). The Empress Eugénie sent Her Imperial and Royal
Highness a diamond tiara; the King of Italy a diamond diadem. A group of
French ladies presented the Princesse with a very handsome
toilette-service (table coiffeuse is the technical name for it).[177]
This artistic gift consists of a magnificent toilette, Empire style, in
mahogany, on which stand the various items of a magnificent nécessaire
in silver gilt, also in the purest “Empire,” executed, from several
famous models of the art of the First Empire, by MM. Falize, of Paris.
Accompanying this “all-French” gift was a livre d’or, containing the
names of all the donors. Several of the subscribers were persons in the
humblest walks of life, and their names were read by the Prince and
Princesse with much emotion.
When the “ladies of Belgium” asked the Princess what form she would like
their wedding-gift to take, she expressed her patriotic preference for
lace, because she would be stimulating a national industry. Her Royal
Highness’s choice highly gratified the presentation committee, at the
head of which were Her Highness Princesse Ernest de Ligne and the
Comtesse de Smet de Naeyer, two of the most popular leaders of Brussels
society. This beautiful gift (veil and corsage) was presented to
Princesse Clémentine at the Palais Belle-Vue, accompanied by a
splendidly-bound album containing the names of all the subscribers.
The Princess’s intimate friends greatly admired the Empress Eugénie’s
wedding-gift--a tiara of brilliants--the stones being specially selected
and set in the most artistic manner. Her Imperial Majesty is a
connaisseuse in precious stones of every description, especially
diamonds and emeralds, of which, as well as pearls, she still possesses
a large collection. The wearing of gems she has discarded for forty
years, with the exception of one occasion--that of the visit to
Farnborough Hill of the King and Queen of Spain--when, at the State
dinner and the “At Home” the same evening, one small jewel was
observable, relieving her invariable black costume. Princesse Clémentine
received a number of smaller jewels, in the shape of pendants, earrings,
finger-rings, and hatpins, some of which came from H.I.H. Princesse
Clotilde, the Dowager Duchesse and the Duchesse d’Aoste, the Comtesse de
Flandre, and the Queens of Italy, and others from her friends in
Belgium.
The Empress’s wedding-present to Prince Napoleon was fully appreciated
by His Imperial Highness, whose collection of historical souvenirs has
been increased from time to time by gifts from the august lady. The
Prince’s father was a cousin of the Emperor Napoleon III., so that the
“relationship” of the Pretender and the Empress is of the slightest. As
a result of the injunctions contained in the Prince Imperial’s will,
however, the imperial lady has displayed in the fortunes of Prince
Napoleon as much kindly interest as if he were her second son. From his
men friends the Prince received a number of presents, these including
souvenirs from the Sovereigns of Austria-Hungary, Roumania, Bulgaria,
and Servia, whom he visited in 1908, when he was also the guest for
several days of the ex-Sultan of Turkey.
The honeymoon was passed in Italy. From Moncalieri the newly-married
couple went to Rome, where they were the guests for a few days of the
King and Queen of Italy at the Quirinal. The fact that they did not
visit the Pope during their stay in the Eternal City gave umbrage to a
section of the Belgian Catholics, one of their organs asserting that the
Pretender deliberately kept out of the way of His Holiness. “The
declarations made by the Prince on the day after the wedding at
Moncalieri, the incident of his recent visit to the King and Queen of
Italy, and his affected ignoring of the Vatican, have,” it was stated,
“definitely alienated from Prince and Princess Napoleon the sympathies
of the Belgian Catholics, who would, as a matter of course, have been
friendly to them by reason of the blind hatred evinced by the Catholics
towards the French Republicans.” Not since 1870, it was asserted, “has
there been witnessed the spectacle of a member of a Catholic royal
family visiting Rome without paying his respects to the Pope.”[178]
The Belgian Liberal papers expressed their gratification at the omission
of the Pretender to call upon “the prisoner of the Vatican.” “Let the
Prince become a real Liberal, and he will not have to complain of a lack
of sympathy.”
The sojourn of Prince and Princess Napoleon at Vienna was made
additionally pleasant owing to the very friendly reception given to the
former by the Emperor Francis Joseph when the Prince was entertained by
His Majesty at the Hofburg in 1908, the Pretender’s “great year” of
visits to foreign Sovereigns, including the ex-Sultan of Turkey. On that
occasion the Emperor wore, as his only decorations, the insignia of the
Legion of Honour, presented to him by Napoleon III.
The anniversary of the election of Prince Louis Napoleon (afterwards
Emperor) to the Presidency of the Republic was celebrated in 1910 by a
banquet at St. Mandé, at which there were present numerous prominent
members of the Bonapartist party. The Marquis de Dion, who presided,
expressed the hope that they would see France, “which had been struck in
its beliefs and in its dreams of social fraternity,” rally to the cause
which his party defended. During the banquet an address expressing
devotion to “the cause” was telegraphed to the Prince; and another was
sent to the Princess, congratulating her upon “bringing to the defenders
of the plebiscitary doctrine the support of her great charm and her
tenacious energy to secure the triumph of the great name of Napoleon.”
Italy--both in the official world and in the Press--was somewhat gênée
by Prince Napoleon’s marriage. From all that was said and printed it
appeared clear that neither the Court, nor the Government, nor the more
influential journals had ventured to give to the wedding of the grandson
of Victor Emmanuel II. and cousin of the reigning King the importance
and the éclat with which they would have surrounded the nuptial fêtes of
any Prince who was not, like Victor Napoleon, the issue, through his
mother, of the stock of the Savoys. M. Jean Carrère told in the _Temps_,
in November, 1910, that a very influential Italian politician had said
to him at the period of the nuptials at Moncalieri: “Do you not think
that all the noise made in the Press will disturb your [French]
compatriots, and will make them believe that Italy supports the dynastic
claims of the heir of the Napoleons?”
How many others in Italy (asked M. Carrère) still believe that
contemporary France is vaguely susceptible in all matters relating to
the Pretenders? But times have greatly changed since the expulsion of
the Orleanist and Bonapartist Princes, “and I believe that amongst all
Frenchmen under the age of thirty the song of MacNab is as remote in
history as are the refrains of former days upon Soubise or Marlborough.
However this may be, one can only thank Italy, and especially those who
govern the country, for their extreme discretion in this event. If they
have exaggerated their scruples, it only proves how very correctly the
Court and the people have acted in respect of the French Republic.”
This intention to be agreeable to France was said to be the more
meritorious on the part of the Italians because in reality the
Bonapartes--or, if the word be preferred, the Napoleons--have remained
very popular in Italy, more particularly the Jérôme branch. The battles
of Solferino, Magenta, and Palestro, which covered the Napoleonic name
with so much lustre, are legendary. It is, however, true that Mentana
and the mistakes made towards the end of the Second Empire have slightly
tarnished the memory of Napoleon III. The souvenirs still preserved in
Italy prove that Prince Jérôme--cousin of Napoleon III. and father of
Prince Victor--did not lessen the prestige attached to the name of
Napoleon; he was, in fact, always very popular in Italy. Princesse
Lætitia, Duchesse d’Aoste Douairière, who resides at Turin, is among the
Princesses of the House of Savoy who are most loved by the people, and
she is much cheered whenever she appears at theatres or fètes. It is not
betraying a secret to recall the deep personal affection always
displayed by King Victor Emmanuel III. for his two cousins, the Princes
Victor and Louis, whose cultivated minds and serious characters he so
much appreciates.
At Moncalieri, where Princesse Clotilde’s infancy was passed, and where
her daughter, Princesse Lætitia, was married to her uncle, the Duc
d’Aoste, the widowed consort of the Emperor Napoleon’s cousin Jérôme
(whom the Emperor always addressed as “Napoleon”) saw her dearest wishes
gratified by the union of her eldest son, Prince Napoleon, with a
Princess who is exceptionally accomplished, beautiful, spirituelle,
cultivated, endowed with a taste for the arts, and a fervent Catholic,
with whom the Holy Father evidenced his great sympathy by sending her a
magnificent gift, accompanied by a much-prized autograph letter of
congratulation.
If, as in a vision, Princesse-mère, the august châtelaine of Moncalieri,
evoked the brilliant, or the sad, events which furrowed her life,
clouded by melancholy episodes which her ardent faith in Providence
helped her to face courageously, she saw again the fêtes celebrated for
her own marriage at Turin--the prelude to the union of her beloved Savoy
with France; the cradle of her House offered in exchange for an
independence which France--the France of the Pale Emperor--assisted the
Italians to obtain; she saw again the struggle between the newly-born
Italy and the Holy See; and she saw herself, the patient and devoted
wife, bien Française in the moment of danger, refusing, in a charming
letter, the asylum offered to her by her father, King Victor Emmanuel,
when France was bleeding from the wounds inflicted upon her in the year
of disaster. “At this moment,” wrote Princesse Clotilde to her father,
“I cannot accept your advice, because, if I fled from France, my sons
would blush for me, and you know that the House of Savoy and fear have
never met. You would not wish them to meet in me.” Similarly noble
sentiments were contained in a memorable letter written by Queen
Catherine to the King of Würtemburg, when, urged by her father in 1814
to forsake King Jérôme and take refuge at Stuttgart, she loftily
refused, resolved to share the fate of her proscribed husband.
If, in 1870, events proved to be stronger than the firm will of
Princesse Clotilde, and if she was compelled to quit France, then in the
throes of revolution as well as war, we remember how calmly and with
what dignity, on September 5,[179] she drove en daumont to the Lyons
railway-station, traversing the quarters where the revolutionary danger
was greatest, and still saluted on all sides by a populace disarmed by
this noble woman’s courage. The Princess, looking back through the
years--through forty years!--saw herself once more at Prangins, by her
husband’s side; saw her sons en pension at Vevey; then, her consort
having returned to France after the chute of Thiers, she would have
recalled her arrival at Moncalieri, her home ever since.
At Moncalieri, then, the Princesse Clotilde has voluntarily lived her
cloistered life. Not, however, that she has ever failed to discharge her
family duties. Twice she journeyed to Rome--the first time in January,
1878. Her father, King Victor Emmanuel, was dying, and, despite her
repugnance to enter a Rome which had become the capital, she wished, as
a devoted daughter, to receive the King’s last words. Learning en route,
however, that her father had expired, she abandoned her intention of
going to Rome, and returned to Moncalieri. Early in March, 1891, her
consort, Prince (Jérôme) Napoleon, who had resided in Rome all the
winter, was struck down by an attack of nephritis, complicated by
pneumonia. The Princesse, accompanied by her daughter, the Duchesse
d’Aoste, set out once more for Rome. Only a very few persons are
acquainted with the incidents of the Prince’s last illness, and I will
not recall those painful episodes. One detail may, however, be recorded
here, as it shows how the perseverance of Princesse Clotilde triumphed
on that melancholy occasion. Twice had Cardinal Mermillod knelt by the
bedside of the dying Prince, who was still fully conscious. When the
Bishop of Geneva left the sick-room the second time, he seemed relieved
of a great weight, and the face of Princesse Clotilde evidenced her
gratitude at the “good end” made by her husband.[180] With her children
she watched, praying--always praying--by the side of the dead. After
the interment at the Superga (March 30) the widowed Princesse took the
hands of her children, joined them in hers, and said: “Promise to remain
united.” They promised, and they have kept their word. Princesse
Clotilde was last seen in Paris during the illness and at the death of
Princesse Mathilde, the cousin of Napoleon III. On that occasion she
fulfilled once again the rôle of a sœur de charité.[181]
THE HOME.
Perhaps--I do not assert it--secret party meetings have been, and are,
held now and again at No. 241, Avenue Louise, in those beautiful salons,
so rich in relics, or in the garden of the imperial residence, now more
than ever an object of public curiosity, with its modest blue stone
façade and its oak door with carved eagles, guarded only by those tall
chestnut-trees which serve as a curtain to many a demeure bourgeoise of
more ambitious aspect. The Prince’s partisans, the associates of his
hopes, evidently come and go very unobtrusively, for no one at Brussels
hears or sees anything of them. The Prince’s voice is raised at long
intervals--whenever he thinks it desirable to formulate the Imperialist
idea--in succinct and frank letters addressed, now to the Bonapartist
Committees of the Seine, anon to personalities like M. Malbert. But
this is done so discreetly, these letters are written in so dignified a
style, without any reference to the question of personal banishment from
France, that the sharpest-sighted critic is unable to trace in them the
faintest infraction of the duty which an exile owes to a country which
shelters him.
Prince Napoleon returns to Brussels from his rare visits to the Empress
Eugénie at Farnborough Hill, and to his sister, the Duchesse d’Aoste
Douairière, at Turin, without getting himself talked about; for on no
account would he say or do anything which might compromise the country
in which he has found an agreeable asylum for half his life. When he
comes to England two lines in the “Times,” “Telegraph,” or “Post”
sometimes announce the fact, either on his arrival or departure. His
“movements” at the Carlton or the Savoy (the hotels of his predilection)
are not watched and reported upon; the names of his visitors are not
publicly, or even privately, mentioned. His friendly visit to King
Manoel at Buckingham Palace in November, 1909, was recorded in the Court
Circular (which scrupulously noted his rank of “Imperial” Highness) and
mentioned in the “Times”--that was all. And perhaps it was enough; for
the Prince it was certainly ample. Let him alone, and he is grateful.
It was amusingly said of him by a Brussels critic: “Prince Napoleon is a
Pretender who seems to have no pretensions.” Probably the author of the
mot was unaware of the homage which he was paying to the Prince’s
correct interpretation of a rôle so difficult to sustain.
The daily life of the Prince has never ceased to be governed, in all its
details, by the same prudent and admirable reserve. His existence is
that of a grand seigneur, too distinguished to “make an exhibition of
himself” for the entertainment of the crowd, too cultivated not to know
how to vary the preoccupations of an exile by useful toil. In the
morning one may often catch a flying glimpse of his tall, robust,
dominating figure among the riders galloping in the beautiful Bois de la
Cambre, or at the “meets” of M. Saint-Pol de Sinçay and of the Prince de
Chimay. But he is seldom to be seen in the afternoon. He is then at
home, studying some work on political economy or some scientific volume,
or, to assist his memory concerning some historical point, turning the
leaves of one or other of the 6,000 books composing his “Napoleonic”
library--those 6,000 volumes of the prodigious annals of the Revolution,
the Consulate, and the Empire. The Prince’s library is, of its special
kind, unique. Of his collection of books and relics he has said:[182] “I
live my darkest hours in the midst of souvenirs of the First Emperor.
Each one of these, in recalling a period of his life, teaches me a
lesson. Force has driven me from the cradle and from the tomb of the
great Emperor. I take refuge in his thoughts. To him alone I go to ask
for inspirations.”
If you have been granted an audience of the Prince--a favour not
accorded to more than a very few of those who seek it, unless an
application is well backed--you wait your turn in one of the rooms on
the left of the entrance-hall, into which you have been shown by a
footman in a light-coloured livery. Here you may find a few of the
Prince’s friends who have come from Paris to spend the day with him, and
who will leave in these rooms some “good mouthfuls” of the air of
France.
When the moment arrives for your interview with the Prince, you pass
through a vestibule gleaming with white marble, and your gaze falls upon
a bronze statuette of Bonaparte, at the age of twelve, reading a book.
You proceed through a vast corridor, paved, like the vestibule, with
white marble. Before entering the cabinet in which Prince Napoleon
receives his visitors, you cast an admiring coup d’œil upon a spacious
landing where portraits and statues of the imperial family form an
incomparable museum, seeming to mount guard on the threshold of this
last representative of the Bonapartes. They are all here--the
grandfathers and the grandmothers. Here Lætitia, robust and bonne, in
her ample senaro of a Roman matron, regards reposefully her peaceable
husband. Neither this Corsican--a humble deputy of the island, not long
become French--nor this Florentine, by origin and temperament, seems to
divine, around the head of the pale infant before them, the unperishable
aureole that awaits him. There Bonaparte, at all the ages of his life,
and at all the stages of his apotheosis, glances, with his cold eye, at
the Kings his brothers and the Queens his sisters. Here is Joseph of
Spain, whose handsome and open countenance is less that of a King than
of a dilettante, épris of belles-lettres. Here is Louis of Holland, with
the cunning eye, observing, not without melancholy, Hortense de
Beauharnais, who seems to turn her head from him. Here is Jérôme of
Westphalia, sanguine, ready-witted, adventurous, regretting that
Napoleon had not allowed him to conquer the crown by his own daring. He
avenged himself, however, many times--among others, on the day when,
not yet having a hair upon his face, he bought, for 12,000 francs
(£480), at the Emperor’s expense (!), at the sign of the “Singe Violet,”
the famous travelling “necessary,” with its ivory-handled razors and
silver-plated wash-hand basins.
Then, in this marvellous gallery, come the women. Here is Pauline
Borghèse, an ideal Diane chasseresse--Canova’s. You remember this
marvellous creature’s reply to someone who had reproached her for posing
for this statue in her splendid nudity, “Oh, il y avait un poèle!” (But
there was a fire!). You linger a moment to gaze upon Joséphine de
Beauharnais, like the lava of a sleeping volcano under the calm envelope
of this warm beauty of the isles of the West--this mortal who, as
someone has said, “had the audacity to love a god.” And here is the
Archduchesse Louise, in the midst of her parrots and her dogs,
indifferent and dreamy as an Austrian woman, and also as far from
Napoleon as from the Schönbrunn, which she prefers even to the
Tuileries.
Napoleon III., fearing lest you should surprise him in the midst of his
dreams, flies from you, his eyes almost effaced, as if lost in a mist.
Here is Eugénie, reigning as much by her blonde beauty as by that
imperial crown whose gold seems to be expiring in her glowing hair. Her
eyes, in particular, strike you as strange--tranquil eyes, with their
far-off, melancholy look; eyes like two tears; eyes which are about to
weep, whose too large eyelids resemble inexhaustible wells, from which
sorrow has nothing more to do but to draw the water. Last of all, there
is Napoleon IV., with the eyes, the look, and all the sweet resignation
of his mother: the “little Prince,” in the bearskin of the Imperial
Guard; the Prince, grown taller, as the Woolwich cadet; the
Prince--having attained his majority--in a British soldier’s cap,
mournfully posed upon that languid head, already enveloped by the night
of Death.
But you have arrived at the door of the Prince’s cabinet, an immense
room; and here is the Prince himself, giving you a hearty and hospitable
shake of the hand. The Prince’s broad chest, strong head, wide
shoulders, and firm pressure of the hand which clasps yours indicate
frankness and sympathy.
“Victor or Napoleon? Say, rather, a Savoyard!” exclaimed one of his
opponents, who, however, could not more aptly have described or more
pleased the Prince. Prince Victor is a Napoleon through his father, a
Savoyard through his mother, whose saintly virtues do honour to the
upright, proud character of her son. A little habit of the Prince amuses
you: when he speaks he takes the large triple ring from the finger on
his right hand and transfers it mechanically to his left hand. You note
also that his deep, strong voice is well fitted to utter words of
command--like that of all the Napoleons. The Republic of which he is so
fond of talking is neither Liberal nor Conservative, but an
“authoritative” Republic, with its hierarchical chief at its head.
His words, energetically hammered out, resound through the large salon,
full of cases containing the spolia opima of nearly a century of
imperial grandeurs. Here are sabres, there swords; elsewhere crosses and
medals; hats, browned by powder; redingotes, no longer grey, but faded,
colourless. Ah! that Napoleon--what rays of light he leaves behind him
in his hats, his greatcoats, and his swords, the latter still gleaming,
and all forming a noble cradle for the heir, born to preserve the
immortal memory of the great Emperor! These bullets, mortars, swords,
guns, banners, hats, greatcoats, spurs--all the conqueror’s battle
paraphernalia, sorted and classified--must perturb the mind of even the
most stoical and unsympathetic; and the chances are that you will leave
No. 241 without having studied the Napoleon of to-day as calmly and as
thoroughly as you had intended to. In that dominating head there is a
mixture of the Carignan Savoyards and the Napoleon Bonapartes. The
convex forehead, arched, low, stubborn, is that of Clotilde, his mother.
The moustache, long and sèche, is that of King Humbert, his uncle; but
it is in the chin, prominent and handsome as that in a Greek statue; it
is in the black eyes, sphinx-like in their penetration, and as
steel-bright as an eagle’s (as is said of the Bonapartes), that Prince
Napoleon so strongly resembles his father, as that father resembled
Napoleon I. Summing up, you feel that you have seen a Prince robust
alike in body and mind--mens sana in corpore sano. France, without
distinction of party, may be proud of this scion of a glorious race. And
who knows if the Republic is not damaged by depriving itself of the
services of this citizen?
Some of the privileged few who are received by this descendant of
Napoleon I., in the midst of those rare prints which faithfully
reproduce the episodes of that dazzling career, have dined or supped off
the selfsame campaign plate on which were served the hasty repasts of
the conqueror of Austerlitz or of Jena before or after the victory. “The
privileged ones of whom I speak,” says the most amiable and gifted of
confrères, M. Gérard Harry, “are numerically few, mais de choix. By his
admirable fulfilment of the rôle of a silent and studious exile, by the
charm of his conversation--the talk of an érudit and an artist--and by
his sportsmanlike qualities, Prince Napoleon has made, in the royal
family and in the ‘high society’ of Belgium, friends whose circle he has
restricted only from a sentiment of proud reserve, and the better to
preserve himself from the bothers inseparable from ‘fashionable’
existence. One seldom sees him at the theatre, concealed in the
semi-obscurity of a box, except when some chef-d’œuvre of French
dramatic art is produced; or at the Cercle Artistique et Littéraire; or
at ‘Wauxhall,’ when the attraction is some literary piece brought from
his natal land. On such occasions he is accompanied only by one or other
of the Bonapartist notabilities who come in turn from Paris, like the
‘relief’ of a guard of honour.”
I recall an audience granted by the Prince to the “Figaro” in 1910, at
which the heir of the Napoleons expressed his initiation in the art of
aviation, and his pride that Frenchmen of to-day--Frenchmen of the
Republic--have been the heroes and the conquerors of so many aerial
contests.
That so many merits should have attracted Princesse Clémentine is not
more surprising than the attachment of the Prince to a King’s daughter
so morally royal. This youngest of the daughters of Leopold II. has the
same tastes as her consort--a heart as French as his own. It was her
affection for France which led her for so many years to make one of the
Mediterranean plages--St. Raphael--her winter home. She is the only one
of the daughters of King
[Illustration:
The Empress. Comte Primoli. M. Pietri.
H.I.M. THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE IN THE EMPRESS JOSÉPHINE’S BEDROOM AT LA
MALMAISON, 1910.
The Empress Joséphine died in this room on June 1, 1814.
_Courteously lent by the Proprietors of the illustrated Paris
journal, “Femina.” The Photograph by “Central-Photo,” Paris._
_To face p. 368._]
Leopold who did not trouble his last years; and she set a good example
to others by submitting to her father’s rigorous will, and by delaying
an alliance which she so long desired. Her artistic education and her
penchant for “glory” make her the ideal companion of an exiled Prince.
From the outset of her acquaintance with the Prince, Princesse
Clémentine has been a fervent upholder of the Napoleonic legend, and has
made a close study of the works of M. Frédéric Masson, M. Émile
Ollivier, and other historians of the First and Second Empires. She, at
all events, does not regard the imperial cause as a lost one; and her
friends laughingly assert that she is really plus Bonapartiste que le
Prince. In her new home she is surrounded by many historical emblems of
her culte--precious souvenirs of the First and Third Emperors and of the
ill-fated “Napoléon Quatre,” these latter including presents from the
Empress and others bequeathed to the present Head of the House of
Bonaparte by the “little Prince” himself.
From her birth Princesse Clémentine was linked in relationship--very
slightly, only in the seventh degree--to Prince Napoleon; for the
youngest daughter of Leopold II. had for her maternal granduncle the
Archduke Régnier of Austria, great-grandfather of the Prince-Pretender.
But “the élans of two hearts are of more avail as a means of bringing
two persons together than the drooping boughs of two genealogical
trees.”[183]
Prince Napoleon’s exile dates from a quarter of a century ago; and some
ten years have elapsed since there was an entente cordiale between His
Imperial Highness and Princesse Clémentine. There was one obstacle (and,
let it be emphatically said here, only one) in the way of a realization
of their hopes--the fatal raison d’état! King Leopold was, or professed
to be, haunted by the fear that such an alliance might possibly place
Belgium in a delicate position vis-à-vis the French Republic. Has that
apprehension vanished? Anyway, “Leopold the Builder” has gone to his
last account, and Princesse Napoleon is not the daughter, but simply the
cousin, of the reigning Sovereign.
Machiavelli outlined the line of conduct to be followed by Princes
who reign or who will surely reign. He would, perhaps, have found
it difficult to formulate the troublesome rules of existence of a
Pretender in exile, who is obliged to firmly maintain his
historical rights to the government of a neighbouring country, and
to keep them sufficiently in the background, so that they may not
compromise the nation which shelters him and whose hospitality he
enjoys. How many banished Princes have known how to comply with two
such contradictory conditions? The Comte de Chambord, Victor Hugo,
and General Boulanger failed to grasp this essential point, and had
to leave Belgian territory. It is by having known, since June,
1886, by his consummate tact, how to scrupulously respect the laws
of hospitality, without in the slightest degree abdicating his
dynastic claims, that Prince Napoleon has secured the respect and
esteem of all Belgians, whether Conservatives or Liberals. They
thank their guest because he has never been the cause of the least
friction between Belgium and the French Republic; and they have
admired him because, without going back upon his principles, he has
never troubled the friendly relations which exist between Belgium
and France.[184]
By the civil law of Belgium, Princesse Clémentine was under no
obligation (her father being dead) to request permission to marry. When
the Constitution was revised in 1893 a clause was inserted providing
that any “Prince” who married without the consent of the King would lose
all rights to the Crown. No mention was made of “Princesses.” If Prince
Napoleon had married the Princesse and created difficulties of an
international character during her father’s lifetime, the Government, by
virtue of Article 1 of the Law of February 12, 1897, could have expelled
him from Belgium. King Leopold’s death changed the situation.
By her marriage Princesse Napoleon became connected with a reigning King
(Victor Emmanuel), a former Queen (Maria Pia of Portugal), and a former
Empress (Eugénie). One of her aunts (the Comtesse de Flandre) is the
mother of a King (Belgium), and another aunt is an ex-Empress (of
Mexico). The latter was deprived of her reason when on her fruitless
mission to Napoleon III. and to Pope Pius IX. to crave their support for
her consort, and was thus spared all knowledge of the execution by the
insurgents at Queretaro, in June, 1867, of the Emperor Maximilian,
brother of the present Emperor of Austria-Hungary. For forty-four years
the Empress Charlotte has lived in complete seclusion in the residences
provided for her by her brother, the late King of the Belgians--first,
at the château of Tervueren, which was destroyed by fire in 1874; and
then at the château of Bouchout, a few miles from the Royal Palace at
Laeken. The veuve tragique (as the Empress of Austria pathetically
described her) wore her imperial crown for only three years--a period of
continuous anxiety, trouble, and bitter humiliations. She had a devoted
friend in the late Queen of the Belgians, and she found another in
Princesse Clémentine.
Princesse Napoléon’s arrival at and departure from the church at which
she hears Mass on Sundays is witnessed by an eager and admiring crowd of
“the faithful”--and others; and she herself related this little episode
to the eminent Belgian sculptor, M. Lucien Pallez, one day, when she was
sitting for the bust which was completed in April, 1911. As Her Imperial
Highness was leaving the church she heard a young girl of the people say
to a companion: “How happy our Princesse looks!” This tribute, said the
sculptor to a friend, touched her more than all her wedding-presents.
The impression of supreme elegance which one derives from a glance at
the bust--a chef-d’œuvre of Pallez--results from the harmony of the
lines and the graceful curve of the neck and shoulders. The general
allure of the bust recalls the Dianes chasseresses of the Renaissance.
“I had only to look at my model to get my inspiration,” said the
sculptor. On the imperial lady’s head (coiffée in Empire style) is a
diamond and pearl diadem; the delicate ears and the supple neck are
unadorned. M. Pallez has previously exhibited at the Paris Salon busts
of the young Queen of Spain and the Queen-Mother, Pope Pius X., and
Cardinal Rampolla.
The German Emperor and Empress met H.I.H. Princesse Clémentine for the
first time during their visit to Brussels in the autumn of 1910. Prince
Napoléon had a long conversation with the Emperor William, whom the
Bonapartist Prince had not previously met. The Kaiser had, however, made
the acquaintance of the Empress Eugénie in July, 1907, when Her Imperial
Majesty received him one Sunday on board her yacht _Thistle_ off Bergen.
It was a memorable meeting, but not a single detail of the interview has
ever been published, and never will be during the Empress’s lifetime.
THE IDYLL.
Some two months prior to the marriage the illustrious fiancés visited
Farnborough Hill, where, in the Empress’s Oratory, the nuptials would
have been solemnized but for the weak health of the Prince’s mother, Her
Imperial and Royal Highness Princesse Clotilde.
Prince Napoléon’s consort was no stranger to the august lady who
entertained her in Hampshire in September, 1910; for the Princesse, her
sister Stéphanie, and their father were the Empress Eugénie’s guests at
Cap Martin some few seasons ago. To her unfeigned gratification, the
Empress witnessed the enactment, chez elle, of an idyll the consequences
of which may ultimately prove to be of high import to Europe. “The
legends woven by the peoples around their Sovereigns must not be
destroyed,” said the Empress one day. Prince Napoléon’s prospects of
ruling France may not be very apparent at the moment; nor, in June,
1870, was the downfall of the Second Empire deemed within the region of
possibility. But one September morning that terrible “shout from Paris”
went up, and the imperial crown “flew off” with a suddenness which
startled and thrilled the world. In France, more surely than in any
other country, it is “the unexpected” which happens oftenest; and it may
be that one day there may be another plébiscite, and that another
Bonaparte may be invested with the imperial purple.
It needs a Ruskin or a Matthew Arnold to depict the Nature-glories of
Farnborough Hill, the scene of this idyll. The rustic gabled mansion,
the terraced slopes, the bosky lanes and dells, the “forest” which
skirts the imperial domain, and the smiling Arcadian landscape provide
all the materials for a great painter’s canvas, a poet’s tuneful lay.
“How many walks,” says one of the venerable châtelaine’s French guests,
“I recall in the alleys of the park at Farnborough Hill in the evenings
of glorious days; or in winter, when the great trees were powdered with
frosty rime, giving to the English landscape the semblance of some
phantom picture; or in the early morning, in the second park, which has
been christened ‘Compiègne,’ planted with rhododendrons and young
pine-trees. The black dogs gambol round us, now racing off like mad
things, then returning at the call of their mistress. The Empress’s firm
voice mounts higher and higher in the pure invigorating air, as, leaning
on her cane, with which she taps the sandy path, she gazes around,
drinking in the freshness of the morning which she loves. Her features
are more than usually animated. ‘Compiègne’ has revived memories of the
past.”[185]
In “Compiègne,” those glorious autumn days, the story which is never old
was once more told, to the accompaniment of the birds’ music and the
rustle of the falling leaves, with, for spectator, an Empress,
dethroned, ’tis true, but perhaps greater in her fall than in her
elevation. Amid these beautiful surroundings, gladdened by the sympathy
of one who has seen the world at her feet, the lovers’ days flew on
lightning wing. For the Princesse, whose charm exercised a spell over
all, those September days were of the nature of an imperial fête. The
“auto” in which she and the Prince sped through the Hampshire and
Berkshire lanes was not, certainly, preceded by piqueurs in the
green-and-gold livery of the vénerie of the other Compiègne; but, to
compensate for the absence of such luxe, the imperial guests revelled in
that blissful solitude which is the one thing needful for the complete
enjoyment of “love’s young dream.”
An excursion to Windsor awakened memories of happy days which the
Princesse had spent at the royal château with her father as guests of
the beloved “Great Queen,” whose good graces King Leopold’s youngest
daughter enjoyed to the full. And, further, she was befriended at
Sandringham by the then “Prince” and “Princess.” In Victorian days, too,
Prince Victor had received hospitable entertainment at Windsor. His
father had presented him to the Queen at Camden Place, Chislehurst,
after the obsequies of the young Prince who had willed Prince Jérôme’s
eldest son as his successor to the headship of the House of Bonaparte.
Prince Victor could recall to his fiancée how, a score of years ago, he
was taken along those same roads to Windsor, and how, at Queen
Victoria’s dinner-table, he had met the Tsar of to-day, who later had
also his idyll on the marge of the Thames.
Accompanied by M. Franceschini Pietri, the Princesse and the Prince paid
their homage to the Empress’s beloved dead. They bore with them two
crosses of violets, which with reverent hands they laid on the tombs of
the Emperor and his son, the young victim of the assegais, who, as
Monsignor Goddard said of him, had “the soul of a Sidney and the heart
of a Bayard.” The then newly-erected arched tomb--the
“arcosolium”[186]--for the surviving member of the illustrious trio was
gazed upon by the Princesse with moistened eyes; the beautiful vestments
in the sacristy--some made by the Empress and by the widowed Duchesse de
Mouchy, the devoted friend of nearly half a century--were unfolded, to
the royal lady’s inexpressible admiration; and she was shown the
Sultan’s humeral veil; the illuminated altar-cards, whereon is traced a
passage from the Prince Imperial’s “Prayer” (said by Cardinal Manning to
be one of the most beautiful outpourings of a pure, devout soul he had
ever read); the priestly purple vestments made from the Emperor’s pall,
and the ecclesiastical apparel fashioned
[Illustration: H.R.H. PRINCESS GEORGE OF GREECE
(_née_ PRINCESSE MARIE BONAPARTE, ONLY DAUGHTER OR H.H. PRINCE ROLAND
BONAPARTE).
Princess George and her Consort were the guests of the King and
Queen at the Coronation of their Majesties. The Princess is the
only member of the House of Bonaparte who ever attended the
Coronation of an English Sovereign. Before leaving England, Prince
and Princess George were the guests of Her Majesty Queen Alexandra
at Sandringham.
_Specially photographed by Boissonas et Taponier, Paris, and lent
for this work by H.H. Prince Roland Bonaparte._
_To face p. 376._]
out of the Empress’s wedding-robe. There were no spectators of this
pious pilgrimage of the Princesse and the Prince, or they would have
witnessed the pathetic figure of the royal pair kneeling side by side at
the foot of the high altar, and imploring the Divine blessing upon their
union. Warm thanks for his genial courtesy were bestowed upon the Lord
Abbot, Dom Cabrol, who had summoned all the members of the Benedictine
community to witness the arrival and departure of the visitors, and to
be presented to the Princesse.
Princesse Napoléon’s intimate friendship with the members of the Royal
Family dates from as far back as 1895. Queen Victoria had expressed a
wish to make the acquaintance of the youngest daughter, and on December
3 King Leopold and Princesse Clémentine proceeded to Windsor Castle,
where they spent three days. Prince Christian and Princess (and the late
Prince) Henry of Battenberg met the visitors at the railway-station, and
escorted them to the Castle. Queen Victoria’s guests at the royal
dinner-party that evening included the Belgian Minister and the Marquis
and Marchioness of Lansdowne. While at Windsor Princesse Clémentine was
taken to the cavalry barracks at Spittal, where she saw a “double ride”
by non-commissioned officers and men of the 2nd Life Guards. From
Windsor King Leopold and the Princesse went to Sandringham on a visit,
from Saturday until Monday, to the then Prince and Princess of Wales,
the former accompanying them to St. Pancras on the conclusion of their
visit.
Princesse Napoléon has two sisters: one, Stéphanie, married, as her
first husband, the Austrian Archduke Rudolf, and, secondly, Comte
Lonyay; the other, Louise, became the wife of Prince Philip of
Saxe-Coburg, a son of the celebrated Princesse Clémentine (daughter of
Louis Philippe, King of the French until his abdication in 1848), and
consequently brother of Ferdinand, King and Tsar of the Bulgarians.
Princesse Stéphanie’s widowhood was brought about by the Archduke’s
tragic death in his hunting-box at Meyerling--a mysterious drama of
which there are many versions, all of them unsatisfactory.
The story of Princesse Louise’s wedded life is only a shade less
poignant than that of her sister Stéphanie. It has been told, in all its
harrowing details, by a young Austrian officer, Count Mattachich, in a
volume which had a sale of more than 30,000 before it was seized and its
further circulation in the Austrian Empire prohibited by the Government.
It is a narrative of dissensions between Princesse Louise and her
husband, of bills of exchange bearing the signatures of herself and her
sister, the widowed Archduchess, of a charge of falsification brought
against the Lieutenant, of his imprisonment, of the placing of Princesse
Louise under surveillance as being of weak mind, and of a discussion on
all these circumstances in the Reichsrath. The death of King Leopold led
to the opening of another chapter of family quarrels relating to the
manner in which he had disposed of much of his large fortune by gifts to
the lady whom he had made Baroness Vaughan, and to whom, it was publicly
asserted by an ecclesiastical dignitary, he had been married. Princesse
Louise displayed no indications of feeble-mindedness when, in May, 1911,
she contested her father’s will. The little ironies of royal lives, as
well as those of humbler rank, are illustrated by the fact that Prince
Philip of Saxe-Coburg was among the wedding-guests bidden to Moncalieri.
THE FAMILY.
Before ending this narrative of the most important event in the history
of Bonapartism since the martyrdom in Zululand of the only child of
Napoleon III. and the Empress Eugénie--that tragedy which made Prince
Victor, in accordance with the explicit terms of the Prince Imperial’s
will, Head of the House--a few lines may be fittingly devoted to the
Pretender’s brother and sister and their father.
At the period of the Prince Imperial’s death, in 1879, the Bonapartist
Pretender of to-day and his only brother, Louis, now a General in the
Russian army, were being educated in Paris. Their tutor was M. Blanchet,
one of the most eminent scholars in France. He lived at No. 13, Rue de
la Cerisaie, and the two sons of Prince Jérôme Napoleon were his only
boarders. One of my friends asked M. Blanchet if Prince Victor was
clever. “Very,” was the reply. “His early education was neglected, and
it is wonderful how he holds his own with others who began the race long
before him. [Prince Victor was then going through a year’s course at the
Lycée Charlemagne, under his tutor’s supervision.] Before he came to me
he was at a school at Vevey, and then at Vanves. He is, perhaps, best in
physical sciences, history, and French. His mathematics might be better,
but they were neglected in early youth. He excels in all field sports
and all physical exercises. His great ambition is to be a distinguished
soldier. [Later he studied at St. Cyr, the French Sandhurst.] Everything
relating to military matters interests him, and he takes special
pleasure in his fencing lessons, which are given him once a week. He is
brought up very strictly. His father desired me to train him in the most
liberal ideas, and keep him away from the many temptations which beset a
youth in Paris. He hardly ever goes to theatres and races.”
Both Prince (Victor) Napoleon and his brother have worn the uniform of
the French army. They entered the ranks as volontaires, and served for
the regulation period, one year--Victor in the artillery, and Louis in
the infantry. In 1908 Prince Napoleon made his “grand tour.” Accompanied
by Prince Aymon de Lucinge and Colonel Nicot, he visited the Emperor of
Austria-Hungary (who wore the Cross of the Legion of Honour given him by
his young friend’s relative, Napoleon III.), the ex-Sultan of Turkey,
and the Sovereigns of Bulgaria, Roumania, and Servia. In November, 1909,
he was to be seen at Buckingham Palace, in friendly converse with one
who, like himself, was to become an exile--King Manoel.
Princesse Lætitia’s marriage with her uncle, the Duc d’Aoste, aroused
intense interest in Italy in September, 1888, owing to the high position
of the bridegroom and bride and to their close relationship. The Duc’s
daughters were not over-pleased at the prospect of having a stepmother
of only two-and-twenty, who was also their cousin. Their two brothers
showed their good-feeling by desiring their father to continue to reside
at the castle of Cisterna, which had come to him by his first wife. The
bridegroom (a one-time King of Spain) was double the age of the
Princesse, who had the ripened intelligence of much older women, and
exercised great influence in the family councils, more especially over
her father. No one could manage Prince Jérôme better than Princesse
Lætitia. Sometimes he rebelled, but only to yield with the protest,
“Where did you get that strong little head?” In consenting to the
marriage, she made it a condition that she should be allowed to see her
brother, Prince Victor, as often as she chose.
Princesse Lætitia was only four when, in 1870, the day after the flight
of the Empress from the Tuileries, she left Paris with her mother for
Prangins, on the Lake of Geneva. Five years later she accompanied her
mother, Princesse Clotilde, to the château of Moncalieri, an immense
square edifice, then almost uninhabitable, situated on the hills above
Turin. Owls and bats had made their homes in the castle; the vast rooms
contain the portraits of many undistinguished members of the House of
Savoy. Here the young Princesse spent her girlhood, going daily to a
school at Turin, and, later, entering the convent school of the Sacré
Cœur at Lyons, where the Sisters of the Adoration supervised her
education. Thirsting for more knowledge after her return to Moncalieri,
she received instruction from tutors of both sexes, the present King’s
father (the ill-fated Humbert, who was assassinated at Monza) placing at
her disposal rooms in the Royal Palace at Turin. Her principal studies
were drawing, painting, music, and languages. She speaks with equal ease
French, Italian, German, and English, has still a fine voice, and sings
with taste and feeling. Turin society thought that a more suitable
consort for the Princesse would have been her cousin, the Duca delle
Puglie, then nineteen, the present head of the ducal house of Aoste, who
married the Princesse Hélène d’Orléans in 1895.
Princesse Lætitia’s wedding was not lacking in incidents. There was an
evident coolness between the members of the House of Savoy and the
Bonapartes. When the bride’s father and his youngest son, Prince Louis
(now a General in the Russian army), arrived at Turin nobody awaited
them at the station. The Court officials had been instructed to attend,
but at the last moment the order was cancelled, and Prince (Jérôme)
Napoleon and his son drove to the Hôtel de l’Europe, all the other
wedding-guests staying at the Royal Palace. Even Princesse Clotilde
abstained from meeting her consort on his arrival, and Princesse Lætitia
sided with her mother. Prince Jérôme carried his resentment so far as to
refuse to meet his eldest son, the Pretender, who was consequently, to
the general regret, not present at his sister’s wedding. These family
differences, arising out of the nomination by the Prince Imperial of
Prince Victor as his successor, had their effect upon the Empress
Eugénie, who did not attend the wedding, although she had given a
qualified promise to be present if Prince Jérôme “made it up” with his
eldest son. But even Princesse Lætitia never succeeded in bringing about
a reconciliation between her father and her brother.
Prince Jérôme Napoleon (as it has been usual, although incorrectly, to
style him) never recovered from the blow to his pride inflicted by the
Prince Imperial. He died in Rome in 1891, refusing to be reconciled to
his eldest son, and on his death-bed nominating his other son, Prince
Louis, as Head of the House of Bonaparte. That position Louis declined
to accept, and “recognized” his brother forthwith. Prince Jérôme’s death
was described by M. Duruy, son of one of the most distinguished of
Napoleon III.’s Ministers, as “the end of a dream.” Princesse Mathilde,
Jérôme’s sister, died thirteen years after her brother, and with her
passed away the last niece of the “Great” Emperor.
One act of Prince Victor’s father will always be remembered to his
credit. He condemned the declaration of war in 1870 from the first. When
the fatal missive went forth, he foresaw what would, and did, happen,
and said to the Emperor: “Tout est fini, et nous avec.” It was at
Châlons, in the “blood month,” August, that Prince Jérôme next saw his
imperial cousin. At a council held on the 17th the Prince, in angry
mood, shouted to the Emperor, racked with pain and in the deepest
despair: “To take part in this war you abdicated by leaving Paris, and
now, by leaving Metz, you have abdicated the command of the army. Unless
you cross over to Belgium, you must do one of two things--either
re-assume the command, which is impossible; or go back to Paris, which
will be difficult and dangerous. But, damn it! if we _must_ fall, let us
fall like men!”
Prince Jérôme Napoleon disinherited his eldest son and his only
daughter, and left all he possessed to his second son, Prince Louis, who
has long held the rank of General in the Russian army. Prince Louis’
inheritance amounted to about £100,000; and his aunt, Princesse
Mathilde, Jérôme’s only sister, made further provision for him under her
will, leaving him also many valuable jewels and objets d’art. Scarcely
anything was left by the Prince to his wife. As a Princess of the House
of Savoy, the Italian Government allowed her £4,000 a year, a sum which,
as she had lived a very retired and simple life since her husband’s
death, sufficed for her wants. Princesse Lætitia was adequately provided
for by her consort, or she would have been practically sans le sou, and
this despite the fact that her mother brought Prince Jérôme a very
handsome dot. Jérôme dissipated many thousands in wild speculations, and
lost heavily by maintaining three newspapers--the “Peuple,” the “Ordre,”
and the “Napoléon.”
The number of Bonapartist marriages since Napoleon III. ascended the
throne is very limited. They include the wedding of the Emperor to “the
beautiful Spaniard,” Mlle. Eugénie de Montijo, “Grandee of Spain of the
first class,” in 1853; the late Prince Jérôme Napoleon (father of the
present Pretender) and Princesse Clotilde, daughter of King Victor
Emmanuel II.; the late Princesse Mathilde (sister of Prince Jérôme, and
consequently aunt of Prince Victor and General Prince Louis Napoleon),
who made an ill-starred marriage with the Russian Prince Anatole
Demidoff, Prince of San Donato; Prince Pierre Bonaparte, who, although a
first cousin of Napoleon III., made the reverse of a “great” marriage;
[Illustration: THE LATE MARQUISE DE VILLENEUVE
(_née_ PRINCESSE JEANNE BONAPARTE, ONLY SISTER OF PRINCE ROLAND, AND
AUNT OF H.R.H. PRINCESS GEORGE OF GREECE).
_Photographed “for her friends” by Reutlinger, Paris, and lent for
this work by H.H. Prince Roland Bonaparte._
_To face p. 384._]
Prince Roland Bonaparte (only son of Prince Pierre), who espoused a
daughter of the late M. François Blanc, of Homburg and Monte Carlo fame;
the recently deceased Princesse Jeanne Bonaparte (Prince Pierre’s only
daughter), who married the Marquis de Villeneuve; Princesse Lætitia
(sister of the Pretender), the widowed Dowager Duchesse d’Aoste, who
married as her second husband her uncle, the late Duc d’Aoste, the
sometime King Amadeus of Spain; and Princesse Marie Bonaparte, the only
child of Prince Roland, the consort of H.R.H. Prince George of Greece, a
nephew of Queen Alexandra.
On April 2, 1910, at St. Paul’s, Grove Park, Chiswick, Miss Gertrude
Crowther married Mr. Napoleon Gerald Bonaparte-Wyse, youngest son of the
late Mr. C. W. Bonaparte-Wyse, of the manor of St. John’s, Waterford,
and grandson of the late Right Hon. Sir W. T. Wyse, K.C.B., and
Princesse Lætitia Bonaparte, daughter of Prince Lucien, brother of
Napoleon I. There is a species of relationship--very remote, it is
true--between Madame Sarah Bernhardt and one branch of the Bonaparte
family. Prince Lucien, brother of Napoleon I., married as his second
wife a Mlle. de Bleschamp, mother of Prince Pierre Bonaparte, Prince
Roland’s father. Her daughter, by her marriage with a M. Maurice
Jablonowski (her second husband), had a son, who, in 1860, married an
American lady, Miss Mohr. The daughter of that union, Marie Terka
Virginie Clotilde, married in 1887 M. Maurice Bernhardt, son of the
famous actress, one of whose most successful parts is that of the
“Aiglon” (the Duc de Reichstadt).
The marriage at Moncalieri revived general interest in the period of the
Second Empire. The “great year” of the régime was that of 1867, when
the Emperor and Empress of the French entertained foreign Sovereigns,
Heirs-Apparent, Princes and Princesses, Generals, diplomatists, and the
fine fleur of European society.
In 1911 there are still surviving several distinguished personages who
were among the imperial guests in the summer and autumn of the most
brilliant days of the Napoleonic reign. These include the Emperor of
Austria-Hungary, whom the Empress Eugénie visited at Ischl in 1906; the
King of Denmark; the King of the Hellenes; the King of Montenegro; the
ex-Sultan of Turkey; Duke of Connaught; Comtesse de Flandre, Princesse
Clémentine’s aunt; Prince Murat; the Duchesse de Mouchy (_née_ Princesse
Anna Murat), the most cherished friend of the Empress; the Princesse de
Metternich, who in 1910 was relating her recollections of Second Empire
days to a select audience in her salon at Vienna; and the Comtesse
Edmond de Pourtalès, who hastened to Chislehurst in 1870 to assist the
Empress in a very practical way, and in 1911 is the valued friend of
Prince Napoleon and his consort.
To this list must be added the familiar names of Mrs. Ronalds and Mme.
De Arcos, both of whom have been for many years popular members of
English society, and both residing in London. The last-mentioned lady
and her sister, Mrs. Vaughan, are among the Empress’s most attached
surviving friends; and Miss Vaughan has accompanied Her Majesty on some
of her recent tours. M. Franceschini Pietri remains the most invaluable
and devoted of secretaries.
Illustrious _disparus_ include King Edward and his brother, the Duke of
Edinburgh; the King and Queen of the Belgians and the Comte de Flandre;
the King of Denmark, Queen Alexandra’s father; the King of Holland,
father of Queen Wilhelmina; Queen Sophia of Holland; the King of Sweden,
father of his present Majesty; the King of Portugal, Dom Manoel’s
grandfather; the Emperor William I.; the Emperors Alexander II. and
Alexander III.; Ismaïl Pasha; Abdul Aziz, Sultan of Turkey from 1861
until 1876; Prince Jérôme Napoleon, father of the Bonapartist Pretender;
Prince Pierre Bonaparte, father of Prince Roland and grandfather of
Princess George of Greece; Princesse Mathilde, cousin of Napoleon III.
and aunt of the Princes Victor and Louis; the Prince Imperial of France;
the Prince of Monaco, father of the present ruler of the Principality;
that Prince of the Netherlands popularly known as “Citron,” Bismarck,
the great Moltke, Princesse Clotilde, and Queen Maria Pia.
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE: 1910-11.
Her Imperial Majesty the Empress Eugénie, who is deeply interested in
the future of Prince and Princesse Napoleon, celebrated her eighty-fifth
birthday on May 5, 1911. The unexpected and tragic death of King Edward,
on May 6, 1910, came as a great shock to the Empress, who had known our
beloved Sovereign from his boyhood--in fact, since 1855, when, some six
months before he had attained his thirteenth year, he and his eldest
sister (the Princess Royal, afterwards Crown Princess of Prussia, and
later Empress Frederick) accompanied their august parents on their
memorable return visit to the Emperor and Empress of the French. As
Prince of Wales, King Edward had been present, earlier in that year, at
the installation, at Windsor, of the Emperor Napoleon III. as a Knight
of the Order of the Garter, and heard from his royal mother that, after
the ceremony, the Emperor had expressed his gratitude for the honour
conferred upon him, and, in a moment of rare expansiveness, had said to
the Queen, “Now, at last, I feel I am a gentleman!”--a frank admission
which much pleased, and probably amused, our beloved sovereign lady.
A week after the King’s death I learnt (although no mention of the fact
had been made public) that early on the morning of May 7 (His Majesty
passed away at a quarter before midnight on the 6th)--the Empress
Eugénie had telegraphed “heart-felt condolences” to Queen Alexandra,
Princess Henry of Battenberg, and Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll. It
was also confided to me that, immediately after telegraphing, the
Empress, although momentarily “stupefied” by the calamity which plunged
our Empire into mourning, had written what were described to me as “very
beautiful and most pathetic letters” to the three royal ladies. I was
privileged to see other letters written by the Empress in May, 1910, and
I do not hesitate to say that they were truly remarkable productions,
revealing Her Imperial Majesty (as the Emperor once wrote of her) “in
her true colours.”
I have a word to add. The Empress commissioned a Paris art firm to
execute a very beautiful souvenir of King Edward. This she sent to Queen
Alexandra, and in the autumn it was placed near the King’s tomb in St.
George’s Chapel, Windsor. The Empress lunched (for the last time) with
King Edward and Queen Alexandra, at Buckingham Palace, on December 16,
1907, when the imperial lady was accompanied by Mrs. Vaughan (whose
sister, Mme. De Arcos, represented the Empress at the funeral of Queen
Victoria) and M. Pietri.
In the summer of 1910 the Empress cruised in the _Thistle_ for more than
two months, visiting, besides Italian ports, Corfu, Athens, the
Dalmatian coast, Smyrna, and Constantinople, which she first saw in
1869, when she went to Egypt to inaugurate the Suez Canal. The Sultan of
those distant days and the Sultan of these entertained her. In the
August of 1910 the Empress was in the Solent, and witnessed the launch
of the Orion at Portsmouth. Later in the year she lunched, for the first
time, with the King and Queen at Marlborough House, M. Pietri
accompanying her.
The Empress signalized her eighty-fifth birthday (May 5, 1911) by a very
pleasant cruise in the Mediterranean, as the guest of Sir Thomas Lipton,
Bart., on board his yacht _Erin_, and on June 24 she witnessed the
review of the fleet.
In my previous volume[187] I dwelt upon the solicitude of Queen Victoria
and other members of our Royal Family--notably King Edward and Queen
Alexandra--for the Empress Eugénie and the fatherless Prince Imperial. I
note the fact here because I am delighted to find that the details which
I gave of that more than cordial--that affectionate--relationship are
supplemented by M. Xavier Paoli in his volume of Souvenirs, entitled
“Leurs Majestés....”[188] Some two years ago, in the “Pall Mall
Gazette,” I announced M. Paoli’s intention to produce his reminiscences,
and I emphasized the opinion that his work would contain some
entertaining and piquant “indiscretions” concerning Queen Victoria and
the Empress Eugénie. That my anticipations have been fully realized will
be seen by what follows.
When Queen Victoria was at Nice a grave responsibility fell upon those
who, like M. Paoli, the “Protector of Sovereigns,”[189] were charged
with the onerous duty of guarding the royal residence without any great
display of force, almost without any indication of it. The small body of
infantry installed near the Queen’s abode had merely to present arms
when the august lady appeared, and when French official personages
called upon her.
One afternoon there was a “piquante adventure,” and all on account of
“the” Empress. M. Paoli’s amazed gaze fell upon the little infantry
force drawn up in the court, and he asked the officer in command “the
cause of this mobilization, which was not in the day’s programme.” The
officer replied that he had turned out the guard at the request of the
Queen’s Courier, M. Dosse, who explained that Her Majesty was expecting
the visit of “a crowned head.” Somewhat annoyed at his ignorance of what
was about to happen, M. Paoli further questioned M. Dosse, who remarked:
“Then you know nothing about it?” “Ma foi, non.” “Well, we are expecting
the Empress Eugénie.” Paoli jumped. “What!” he exclaimed, “you want
soldiers of the Republic to render honours to the former Empress of the
French!” “I admit,” answered M. Dosse, “that I did not look at it from
that point of view.” “But,” said M. Paoli, “I _do_ look at it from that
point of view;” and he requested the officer to march his men off
immediately.
A few days later M. Paoli related the incident to the Empress, who said:
“Oh, how pleased I am that you have told me about it! Certain papers
would have made me responsible for what happened, and my very delicate
position would not have been improved.”
When the Empress attends a church in England other than St. Michael’s,
Farnborough, it is an event. On Sunday, August 14, 1910, Her Majesty,
accompanied by M. Pietri and Miss Vaughan, landed at Cowes and heard
Mass at the church of St. Thomas of Canterbury. The celebrant was the
Rev. John O’Hanlon, who told me he was born and brought up at Dumfries,
less than a dozen miles from Closeburn, the home of the Kirkpatricks,
from whom, through her mother, the imperial lady descends. The Empress
walked up the steep road leading from Cowes Pier to St. Thomas’s Church.
An observant spectator wrote of her: “Except for a slight lameness, the
Empress has the activity and vigour of a well-preserved woman of sixty.
The glorious chestnut hair, though now iron-grey, is still abundant, the
eyes are bright, the features finely chiselled. The Empress, who once
led fashions for all Europe, is now content to follow far in their wake,
for the skirt of her simple costume was much ampler than those lately
seen on the Royal Yacht Squadron’s lawns, while her coat had sleeves of
a bygone fashion.” In the afternoon the Empress visited Princess Henry
of Battenberg, at Osborne Cottage. On the following day (August 15, the
date of the great fête in the Empire period) Princess Henry and Princess
Christian took tea with the Empress on the _Thistle_, which remained in
the Solent for several days. The Queen of Spain and Princess Victoria of
Schleswig-Holstein were other visitors. The Empress was seen walking on
the parade at Cowes, but no one noticed the “slight lameness” referred
to, which, in fact, is non-existent.
On February 4, 1911, the daily papers announced the death of John Brown,
of Southwold, aged seventy-four, “a pensioner of the Empress Eugénie”;
and it was added that Brown “brought the Prince Imperial’s body home.”
This was incorrect. Colonel Pemberton had charge of the remains from the
Cape to Woolwich. The body was brought to England by the _Orontes_, and
transhipped at Portsmouth to the _Enchantress_, which conveyed it to
Woolwich. On board those vessels, besides Colonel Pemberton, were the
Abbé Rooney, the Prince’s valet (Uhlmann, who died some four years ago),
and two grooms (Lomas and Brown).
In January, 1911, the Empress’s friends read in the Paris papers the
somewhat disquieting announcement that MM. André de Lorde and A. Binet
had written a play called “Napoleon III.,” in which both the Emperor and
the Empress Eugénie will figure. French dramatists have hitherto, I
think, refrained from presenting the august lady on the stage, and it is
only within the last five years that the Emperor was impersonated in a
piece entitled
[Illustration: THE LATE COMTESSE DE MERCY-ARGENTEAU
(_née_ COMTESSE CARAMAN-CHIMAY).
From a private and unpublished photograph, courteously presented to
the Author in 1911 by the Comte de Pimodan, the well-known author
of a recently-issued valuable work on the Comte F. C. de
Mercy-Argenteau, counsellor and confidant of Marie Antoinette.
_To face p. 392._]
“La Savelli,” by M. Max Maurey, produced by Mme. Réjane at her new
theatre, Rue Blanche, in December, 1906. In the part of the Emperor M.
Buguet acted with much distinction. His “makeup” was surprisingly good.
Very different was the treatment of the Emperor on the German stage, as
recently narrated by M. Jules Claretie: “I was disgusted at seeing, at a
Berlin theatre, in an adaptation of an old French féerie, Napoleon III.,
caricatured by a low comedian, dancing a cancan, his breast adorned with
the grand cordon of the Légion d’Honneur.”
In December, 1907, MM. Julien and Marcel Priollet selected “Napoleon
III.” as a title for their piece, produced at the Comédie de l’Époque,
“amidst the bravos of the public.”
The Prince Imperial was dragged on the stage as a consequence of the
“romantic” story first told to his detriment in 1879.[190] So
persistently was the rumour spread that the Prince Imperial had lost his
heart to an English girl that a German play was written on the subject
and produced at the theatre at Kreuznach within a month of the Prince’s
death in Zululand. In this amazing piece, which the German Government
allowed to be performed at the fashionable watering-place (where the
Empress Eugénie had “made a cure” some time after the war of 1870, and
by whose inhabitants she was consequently well known), the Prince
Imperial was portrayed in love with a gamekeeper’s daughter, “Miss
Mary.” A rival tried to shoot the Prince, who escaped by the aid of a
German servant, “Reinecke.” The story, as unfolded on the stage, showed
that, when the Prince had made up his mind to go to the Cape, the
Empress offered a bracelet to “Miss Mary,” who, regarding it as an
attempted bribe, refused it, declaring melodramatically that woman’s
love was “not to be bought with gold.” The dramatist made the most of
the Zulus’ “surprise” of the reconnoitring party, numbering nine all
told, led--or assumed to be led--by Lieutenant Carey, 98th Regiment; and
the attack, the abandonment of the Prince by his comrades, and his cruel
slaying by the savages were all enacted. The scene of the last act was
described as “the crypt of the Catholic Church, Chislehurst,” and the
Empress Eugénie was seen giving her dead son’s last letter to “Miss
Mary,” who revealed to the imperial lady that she had been really
married to the “little Prince” before he left for the Cape.
Not long after the tragedy of the First of June some Zulus were
exhibited in Paris, and for fourpence, in a booth, illumined by oil
lamps, M. Proudhon saw “how the Prince Imperial was killed”!
These fragments are pieced together for the sole purpose of completing
the record of the history of the Empress given in my first volume. Such
a record, imperfect as it may be, will not be found elsewhere. To be
able to infuse into the narrative a note of gaiety is most agreeable to
me, as I hope it will be to my readers at home and abroad.
One glorious summer afternoon[191] I roamed through rhododendron land.
Oh the beauty of it!--the joy of living in so fair a world, a Paradise
terrestrial! Through leafy mazes I wandered into gardens, where the air
was laden with the perfume of roses and honeysuckles. For miles, and
miles, and miles all was forest--dense, impenetrable forest. Unwillingly
I left this scene of enchantment and entered a park. My brief midsummer
day’s dream was over. I was invited to mount one of quite a “stable” of
prancing steeds, galloping in a circle--“patronized by the Royal Family
and the English aristocracy.” I was urged to “try my skill” in the
art--say, rather, the science--of casting wooden rings over clocks,
vases, and Lowther Arcade prettinesses in general. I was tempted by
roundabouts, swings, “hooplas,” cocoanut shies, Aunt Sally, and
“numerous side-shows.” “Zara,” the “celebrated Palmiste,” offered me
“peeps into the future--the past laid bare”--“Zara,” whose “remarkable
character readings” were guaranteed to “astonish you” (I felt sure of
it). “Afternoon, 2s. 6d.; evening, 1s.” I could not, unfortunately, stay
until the evening, or perhaps I might have made “Zara’s”
acquaintance--at the reduced fee.
And what else? A Pastoral Play--scenes from “As You Like it,” presented
by the “Marlboro’ Players”; a Venetian play, “The Honour of the
Joscelyns”; a Vaudeville entertainment, by “The Bluebirds,” an “amateur
association of ladies formed for the purpose of providing entertainments
for the poor in winter, and also assisting deserving organizations”; a
concert; Morris dances; a “display” by 100 boy scouts; daylight and
evening fireworks.
It was a two days’ Coronation Fête, given at Farnborough Hill, “by kind
permission of H.I.M. the Empress Eugénie,” in aid of the funds of the
county branch of the National Service League. Farnborough had never seen
the like, and rose to the occasion. I imagine that this garden festival
“at the Empress’s” will be, as it deserves to be, writ large in
Hampshire history.
Since the appearance of my first volume,[192] “the Empress’s
Church”--St. Michael’s, Farnborough--has received an addition. While the
Empress was on her unwontedly long cruise in the _Thistle_ during part
of May and the whole of June and July, 1910, a striking scene was being
enacted within the walls of St. Michael’s. For some months the quiet
which ordinarily reigns in the Mausoleum was disturbed. Sculptors and
masons--French and English--appeared, masses of stone were hauled into
the church, and the sound of mallets and chisels reverberated through
the great crypt, which extends beneath the choir and transepts. Entering
the crypt, I gazed at the transformation which had been effected. I saw
a third tomb! It is a graceful arch, rising from the back of and
surmounting the high altar. All who have visited the Catacombs at Rome
will recall the “table” tomb and the “arched” tomb, and will not need to
be told that the latter, from its shape, is the arcosolium. These tombs
differ only in the form of the surmounting recess. In the “table” tomb
the recess above, essential for the reception of the entombed body, is
square. In the arcosolium, a form of later date, the recess for the tomb
is semicircular, as at Farnborough. These modes of interment were
adopted by the early Christians. I leave it to the archæologists to tell
us whether or no the Empress Eugénie’s arcosolium is unique in this
country. I cannot recall anything resembling it. A space behind the
altar is occupied by a massive block of masonry, with a flat surface,
flush with the side walls from which the arch springs, and upon this the
Empress’s sarcophagus (assuming it should take that form, and so
harmonize with the granite tombs of the Emperor and the Prince Imperial)
will rest.
Here, then,
“In God’s own time, but not before,”
Eugénie de Montijo, Empress, will sleep her last long sleep with her
beloved Dead--Exiles all.
The historian who comes after us will find in this place of Napoleonic
sepulture ample materials for a moving chapter. He will have to
re-narrate, with the assistance of my modest records, the amazing rise
and the more astounding downfall of an Emperor and the deplorable end of
a Prince. But he will “use his best ink” in the endeavour to limn a
faithful portrait of her who held the world in thrall by her beauty, who
has endured her martyrdom with a resignation and fortitude so admirable
as to have compelled the affectionate solicitude of the nation whose
honoured guest she has been for forty-one sorrowful, yet not wholly
gloomy, years.
As I write these closing lines the air is full of processional melody,
the Town gay with colour. I think, not of the EMPRESS, when she, like
our own beloved Albert Edward and Alexandra, was the centre of
adulation, but of the WOMAN, in the not unkindly winter of her life,
kneeling before a tomb--her own. It is All Saints’ Day--the Jour des
Morts[193]--and in the crypt she mingles her prayers with the
Benedictines’ “pour tous les fidèles défunts.” So I had seen her
aforetime, and some words I heard then will not be kept back when the
sluices of memory are opened:
... And now, as in a strain of music, the theme comes back again,
and we end with the first notes with which we began, so, if our
thoughts have for a while run in another channel, they fall back
into the great deep of sweet sorrow, and, I will say, of
thanksgiving, for that noble, princely youth who has passed before
our eyes with the brightness of a ray of light, and from this world
has disappeared for ever.... What a morning in life it was when
that beautiful youth entered into this world! What a mother’s joy!
If ever son was worthy of a mother’s love, it was he. And if ever
mother loved a son as an only son can be loved, it was she. What a
desolation now! The solitary home. All alone. Yet not alone; for
they who believe are never lonely. They have come unto “Mount Sion,
and to the City of the Living God; to the company of many thousands
of angels; to the Church of the first-born, who are written in the
heavens; to God, the Judge of all; to the spirits of the just made
perfect”; to the great cloud of witnesses ever about them. And as
the Mother, who, when her Divine Son was in the grave, looked on
with certain confidence to the glory of the Resurrection, to the
future recognition in personal identity, and in the restored bonds
of Mother and of Son in all the perfection of maternal and filial
love glorified in eternity, so is it now. And this will be her
consolation.... And what is the longest life of waiting but a
little while at last?[194]
The light beats down, the gates of pearl are wide:
And she is passing to the floor of peace.
And Mary of the seven times wounded heart
Has kissed her lips ... the Light of Lights
Looks always on the motive, not the deed,
The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone.
THE TIME WILL COME WHEN WE SHALL BE ABLE TO UNVEIL THE WHOLE TRUTH
TO THE WORLD.
I SHALL CONTINUE TO HOPE FOR A FUTURE OF TRUTH AND OF JUSTICE.
THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE.
THE PRINCE IMPERIAL
(THE POET LAUREATE’S SONNET)
FELIX OPPORTUNITATE MORTIS.
_Exile or Cæsar? Death hath solved thy doubt,_
_And made thee certain of thy changeless fate;_
_And thou no more hast wearily to wait,_
_Straining to catch the people’s tarrying shout_
_That from unrestful rest would drag thee out,_
_And push thee to those pinnacles of State_
_Round which throng courtly loves, uncourted hate,_
_Servility’s applause, and envy’s flout._
_Twice happy boy! though cut off in thy flower,_
_The timeliest doom of all thy race is thine:_
_Saved from the sad alternative, to pine_
_For heights unreached, or icily to tower,_
_Like Alpine crests that only specious shine,_
_And glitter on the lonely peak of Power._
ALFRED AUSTIN.
_June, 1879._
INDEX
A
Abdul-Aziz, 387
Aguado, Mme., 63, 153
Albany, Duchess of, 83
Albe, Duc d’, 4, 47
Duchesse d’, 57, 62, 107, 153
Mlles. d’, 293
Albuféra, Maréchale d’, 47
Duchesse d’, 353
Alcanises, Marquis d’, 60
Aldama, Mme. de, 153
Alexander II., Emperor, 297
Alexandra, Queen, 388, 389
Allsop, Mr. (Orsini), 83
Alten, Count von, 206
Alvensleben, General von, 208
Ambès, Baron d’, 24, 270
André, M., 269, 270
Angely, Marshal Regnault de Saint-Jean d’, 78
Aoste, Dowager Duchesse d’, 349, 351, 354, 358
(late), Duc d’, 380
Duc d’, 382
Duchesse d’, 382
Arcos, Mme. de, 73, 153, 386, 389
Argyll, Duchess of, 388
Arnaud, Mme. St., 37
Auber, M., 79
Augusta, Queen of Prussia, 291
Aumale, Duc d’, 201
Austin, Alfred (Poet-Laureate), 400
Austria, Empress of, 148
Emperor of, 168, 356, 371
Autemarre, General d’, 192, 193
Auvergne, Prince de La Tour d’, 194
Azeglio, Marquis d’, 230
B
Bacciochi, Comte, 100, 269
Baden, Grand Duchess of, 31
Bapst, M. Germain, 168, 184, 186, 190
Baroche, M., 271
Barron, Mrs., 155
Barrot, M., 271
Bartholini, Mme., 133, 134
Bassano, Duc de, 300
Mlle. de, 352
Bassano, Duchesse de, 40
Battenberg, Princess Henry of, 377, 388, 392
Prince Henry of, 377
Bazaine, Marshal, 181, 183, 192, 193, 196, 199, 201,
202, 203, 210, 294, 304, 305
Beaumont, Comtesse de, 149
Beckwith, Miss, 155
Bedmar, Marquis de, 45
Belgiojoso, Princesse, 154
Marquise de, 60
Benedetti, Comte, 282, 291
Beneyton, Monsieur H., 352
Bernhardt, Mme. Sarah, 385
Berryer, M., 26
Bertrand, M., 306
Beust, Count, 166, 298
M. and Mme. Maurice, 385
Bigelow, Mr. John, 108
Billault, M., 271
Bischoffsheim, Mme. Ferdinand, 155
Bismarck, Count von, 69, 75, 125, 208, 218,
220, 221, 275, 278, 291, 292, 332, 333
Blanchet, M., 379
Blessington, Lady, 19, 22, 28
Bojano, Duchesse de, 154
Bonaparte, Louis, King of Holland, 8, 9, 28, 29
Prince Pierre, 21, 336
Prince Roland, 385
Princesse Jeanne, 385
Princesse Marie (Princess George of Greece), 385
Princesse Lætitia, 385
Prince Lucien, 385
Princess Lucien, 385
Boulanger, General, 370
Bourbaki, General, 291
Bourgoing, Baron de, 75, 133
Brown, Mr. John, 392
Bruat, Admiral, 328
Mlles., 328
Brunswick, Duke of, 80
Buguet, M., 393
Burdett-Coutts, Miss, 31
Burgoyne, Lieut.-Colonel Sir John, 231, 233, 234, 235
Lady, 231, 233
C
Cabanel, M., 135
Cabrol, Dom, Lord Abbot of St. Michael’s, Farnborough, 377