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The Flight of Eugenie THIS lady, formerly styled Empress of France, and for years the most conspicuous woman in Europe, is now (1883) living in retirement in an English country house, a childless widow. Who else has had such a career as she ? She was born in Spain in 1826, in the province of Granada, the picturesque scenery and romantic traditions of which the pen of Irving has made familiar. Her father, the Count de Montijo and Tuba, was a grandee of Spain, from whom she inherited many titles of nobility. He died before her birth. Her mother, Maria Manuela Kirkpatrick, was a descendant of a Scotch family of the Roman Catholic faith, who emigrated to Spain after the fall of the Stuarts. Her childhood was passed in Madrid. The graceful self-possession which in after years characterized her demeanor was probably due to her early drill in the old Spanish etiquette. Washington Irving', who was then in Spain, knew her mother well, and was a frequent visitor at her house, where he soon made friends with the little Eugenie and her beautiful sisters, Maria and Henriquetta. In later years, when she was amazing Europe with the costliness of her costumes and the splendor of her court, he recalled with interest and amusement the many times he had held the future Empress on his knee, when she was an alert, dark-eyed little girl, doubtless very happy to be entertained with such stories of her native land as he could tell her. From Madrid she was sent to Toulouse, and afterwards to Bristol to pursue her education. When she left school she was a beautiful and accomplished young lady, easy in her manners and fluent in conversation, which she could carry on with apparently equal ease in Spanish, English, or French. She possessed more than the average information, and displayed a readiness and aptness of reply which on some occasions approached the brilliancy of wit. Her beauty was striking and exceptional ; her form slender and perfectly moulded; her complexion brilliantly fair ; her black eyes large and expressive ; her hair abundant and of a rich auburn color. It is not surprising that when she traveled with her mother she became successively the belle of the season in London, Madrid, and Paris. While in London she was introduced to Louis Napoleon, then an exile from France, and distinguished chiefly for the absurd and disastrous failure of his first attempt to overthrow the government of Louis Philippe. In 1851 she met him again. He was then called Napoleon III, and she was regarded as one of the leaders of fashion in Paris. In 1853 he communicated to the Senate his determination to marry her. "I come, then, gentlemen," he said in the document conveying this intelligence, "to say to France that I have preferred the woman whom I love, and whom I respect, to one who is unknown, whose alliance would have advantages mingled with sacrifices." This had rather a taking sound, and, in truth, the man did possess a small literary gift, adapted to his style of public falsehood. It was a purely histrionic style, designed to conceal the writer's thought, but often failing in that design. Unfortunately for the effect of these fine words upon the public, it was surmised at the time, and is now known, that he had been soliciting the alliance of He was married to Eugenie, according to the civil form, on the twenty-seventh day of January, 1853, at the Tuileries. On the next day, which was Sunday, the religious ceremony took place at Notre Dame, with every circumstance that could add to the splendor and impressiveness of the spectacle. The bride and bridegroom occupied two magnificent thrones erected before the high altar. It was observed that Eugenie betrayed much agitation during the progress of the rite, and that her husband endeavored to reassure her. If the duties of an Empress consist in dressing frequently, in behaving graciously, in bestowing picturesque charities, in giving showy entertainments, and in nothing more—then was Eugenie a model empress. Site was fitted by nature to play the part of Lady Bountiful and dwell in the House Beautiful. Her first act was in character. The city of Paris voted her a large sum for the purchase of jewels : she accepted the money, but requested permission to devote it to founding an institution for the education of young girls belonging to the working classes. She further bestowed in charity twenty thousand dollars of a present of fifty thousand given her at the same time by her husband; and her "reign" was marked by many other striking gifts to charitable and scientific objects. It was during this period that what I have elsewhere called "the clothes mania" raged throughout Christendom. It was within her province to decide what fashions should prevail in France, in Europe, in America, in parts of Asia. She might have claimed the privilege of introducing taste, elegance, and simplicity in dress. Instead, she aggravated the rule of cumbersome extravagance. Her own costumes were of the most elaborate construction, and were changed with a frequency that was ludicrous. She displayed three or four dresses in the course of each day, and even the most expensive were never worn more than twice. Many writers derived their income from describing in the journals of the day these successive " creations" of the Paris milliner and dressmaker. At one time we were told that the Empress wore to mass a blue satin trained dress trimmed with Russian sable, and a bonnet of iris velvet adorned with an aigrette. Again it was recorded that an evening dress in which she appeared was "an apricot silk, puffed all round the bottom with apricot tulle; flounces worked with silver, fuchsia pattern, and trimmed with Venetian fringe of white silk Over this an immense train of white satin, softened by apricot tulle, worked with silver fuchsias and fringe round the borders." Another writer called attention to the fact that the sentiment of her attire was suited to the occasion upon which it was worn. Thus for attending a council of ministers, she selected a robe of "a grave, reflecting tone, on which hues of steel-gray meet rays of studious brown, the ensemble being burnished armor." She accumulated a collection of fans, furs, laces, and jewels that probably surpassed any other in existence. During the period that. elapsed between her marriage and her flight, she received twenty thousand dollars of pin money every month, and this sum she never failed to spend to the last cent. The example which she set was followed only too willingly by many women of France and other countries. Never in modern times have the fashions been more elaborate, extravagant, and senseless than while Eugenie occupied the palaces of France. During this portion of her career she figured in many scenes and pageants which found a place in journalism. Her visit with her husband to the court of Queen. Victoria will be at once recalled, as well as the visit which the Queen and Prince AIbert made to Paris in return. Both these occasions were marked by expensive festivities and much interchange of compliment. At the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869, she was present in the yacht l'Aigle. and played a chief part in the celebration. It was probably at this time that she acquired the friendship of M. de Lesseps, who in her hour of danger proved a friend indeed. The Aigle formed one of the " inauguration fleet" of forty-five vessels, and took the lead in making the passage to the Red Sea, where, with the Empress on board, it arrived on the twenty-second of November, returning the next day to the Mediterranean. Twice during the absence of her husband, once in 1865, while lie was in Algeria, and again in 1870, during the Franco-Prussian War, Eugenie was left the nominal head of the state with the title of Regent. Her political feelings were influenced by her religion, for she was a Spanish Catholic. In the struggle which ended so disastrously for herself and her family, she took the liveliest interest, and it is even said that she was accustomed to refer to it as " my war." The last four weeks of her abode in France, Eugenie spent at the Tuileries. Of those days of confusion and distress the public has recently learned many details through a gentleman who was at that period an attache of an important personage connected with the court. His position enabled him to observe all that took place, and lie was afterwards one of the trusted few who assisted the empress to escape. The series of defeats which culminated in Sedan had already begun, and a proclamation had appeared declaring Paris in a state of siege. Still Eugenie was hopeful. She thought "with a lady's romantic ideas about military possibilities," says the narrator, "that everything could be retrieved by a grand coup." She was by no means afraid to criticize, and expressed her opinion of certain generals with great freedom, placing all her faith in Marshal Bazaine. The minister of war, Count de Palikao, concealed front her the gravity of the situation, and kept from her all the disagreeable news that he could. But it was soon observed that her husband's secretary busied himself in collecting the most important papers of his office as if for removal, and not long after-ward her friends advised her to collect her own valuables and prepare for departure. "In a fortnight," records the observant attache, " Her fair face became haggard, and streaks of silver showed themselves_ in her hair." Meanwhile she was obliged as usual to give audiences and hold receptions, and to conduct herself as if all was going well. Once again, too, her hopes were raised by a despatch announcing as a victory an engagement which really resulted in defeat. On this occasion she was so overcome with joy that she ran from her apartments to the guard-room, and appeared suddenly among the soldiers who were lying upon camp-beds smoking or playing cards, waving the telegram in her hand and crying, "The Prussians are beaten ! " Court etiquette and the rules of audience were insensibly relaxed, and strange visitors were admitted to the Tuileries. Eugenie found herself besieged by men deter-mined to bully or coax her into giving countenance to their plans for a new campaign, new implements of war, new policy, or new officials—the latter represented by themselves. The servants of the palace, too, perceived their opportunity and did not let it slip. Many absconded, carrying away with them valuable bronzes, statuettes, and articles of clothing ; others invited their friends and held feasts in the kitchen. Once, owing to their carelessness, a lunch set out for the Empress was devoured by a crowd of people awaiting audience, who swooped down upon it from a neighboring ante-chamber. At last came the news of her husband's surrender at Sedan. Eugenie was up all night council after council was held, as new reports and scraps of information arrived. Finally, at five o'clock in the morning, it was decided that she should ride on horseback through the streets of Paris, and herself proclaim to the unpopular Legislature its dissolution. This resolution, however, was never carried into effect, for lack of a riding dress ! A plain black habit with the cross of the Legion of Honor pinned upon her breast was what she had made up her mind to wear, but among the three hundred dresses then hanging on their pegs in the Tuileries, there was only one riding habit to be found, and that was neither black nor plain. It was a dress of gorgeous green, embroidered with gold, and designed to be worn with a three-cornered Louis XV hat—the costume of the imperial hunt at Fontainebleau. This was pronounced, with evident justice, to be too theatrical, and the enterprise was consequently relinquished. Upon the fourth of September, the mob so long feared at length made its appearance. But it was not a mob such as had threatened Marie Antoinette; it was not bloodthirsty ; it was not violent ; the spirit of destruction latent in it was not aroused. It advanced slowly, over-flowing from the streets and squares where it had been gathering all the morning, into the beautiful gardens of the Tuileries, and dividing into two parts, streamed down upon the palace itself. Eugenic, standing behind a curtain in the drawing-room, viewed its approach through an opera-glass, and remarked with sorrow and surprise that it was apparently led by M. Victorien Sardou, the great dramatist. This gentleman had indeed placed him-self at its head, but only that he might control it, and it was largely owing to him that the building was not sacked when it finally fell into the hands of the populace. "At twenty minutes past two," says the writer of the article in Temple Bar to which I have referred, " Signor Nigra, the Italian ambassador, passed through the white drawing-room with a rather jolly air on his face, as though nothing were happening. ' What news ?' asked somebody. 'Mais rien,' he answered cheerfully, and strode off, erect and long-legged, into the Empress's rooms. He had come to tell the Empress that it was time to fly. Her fortitude forsook her at this (luring a few seconds, and she could not articulate, but she made a sign that she wished to show herself to those who had stood by her faithfully to the last. The door of the white drawing-room was thrown open, and the Empress appeared for a moment on the threshold—an inexpressibly touching little figure in her simple black dress and white collar. She made a curtesy and waved her hand, trying hard to smile, while many—not all of them women—were sobbing aloud. Then, with gentle persuasion, Prince Richard Metternich, the Austrian ambassador, drew her back and the door was closed again." A cab was waiting on the Quai du Louvre, with the Emperor's master of horse, disguised as a coachman, upon the box and a fast trotting-horse between the shafts. Soon Eugenie and her lady-in-waiting, Madame Carette, approached it, both veiled and escorted by Signor Nigra; Prince Metternich, and M. Ferdinand de Lesseps. Just as Eugenie was entering it a street boy recognized her and shouted, There is the Empress ! " But M. de Lesseps, with ready presence of mind turned promptly upon the astonished lad and gave him a kick, exclaiming: Ah, you're crying Vive l'.Empereur are you ? That will teach you ! " These words at once directed the feeling of the bystanders against the boy, and meanwhile the Empress was driven away. As she departed, she was obliged to pass by a crowd of over a thousand persons who were making violent outcries against the Emperor and herself. Her destination was the house of her American dentist, Dr. Evans, where she passed the night. Next morning he drove her out of Paris in an open phaeton, and accompanied her to Belgium, but not finding any safe opportunity to embark thence for England, he soon returned with her to Trouville, in France. In the harbor of Trouville there was then lying a little English yacht of forty-two tons, named the Gazelle ; the property of Sir John Burgoyne. It was determined by Dr. Evans that if possible the Empress should be conveyed to England in this vessel, and on September sixth he went on board of her, accompanied by his nephew, to confer with her owner. Sir John Burgoyne would not at first believe that Eugenie was indeed in Trouville, and laughingly told the two Americans that he was not to be fooled by a pair of Yankees ; then, observing their agitation, he became more serious and requested them to descend into the cabin and talk the matter over with Lady Soon after their departure a French police spy came on board and searched the vessel thoroughly, but found nothing suspicious. It was never known what information led him to make the search. A little before midnight Eugenie, accompanied by Madame Lebreton, left the furnished apartments provided for her by Dr. Evans, where, at his suggestion. she had been passed off as an insane lady, traveling to England under his charge and that of an attendant. Escorted by the faithful doctor the two ladies, closely veiled, proceeded to the dock. Sir John Burgoyne's entry in the log of the " Gazelle " describes their meeting as follows "Went on to the quay and met shortly afterwards two ladies walking together, with a gentleman who carried a bag after them. One of the ladies came up to me and said, 'I believe you are the English gentleman who will take me to England. I am the Empress.' She then burst into tears, and I told her my name and offered her my arm, which she took, and walked on board the Gazelle,' where I presented Lady Burgoyne to her. She at once asked for newspapers and begged Lady Burgoyne to give her tidings of the Emperor and the Prince Imperial." Fortunately, there were on board papers from which she learned of the safety of her son, who had gone to England, as well as further details of the surrender of Sedan, the subsequent revolution, and the flight of the various dignitaries of the state. Lady Burgoyne showed her every kindness, and listened with the deepest interest and sympathy to her account of her last days in the Tuileries and her escape from Paris. In telling the story Eugenie frequently gave way to tears, but assured her hostess that she now felt herself perfectly safe, as she was under the protection of Englishmen; indeed, she imagined herself safer than at that moment she really was. At a quarter to two in the morning Sir John, who had been on shore, returned to the yacht and entered in the log-book : "Mob at the cafes began making great noise, singing the 'Marseillaise.' Woke up men and got ready to slip. Went myself to the cafes and found drunken Mobiles." The outcries of these demoralized soldiers against the Emperor and Empress were so violent that Sir John, remembering the visit of the French spy, considered an attack upon the yacht quite within the limits of possibility. He therefore thought it best to tell his crew the name of the lady he had taken on board, and added that they might be called upon to defend her, which they at once expressed their willingness to do. No attack was made, however, and at the break of dawn the " Gazelle" prepared for sea. The night had been black and stormy. It had proved fatal, as was afterwards learned, to the man-of-war " Captain," the most powerful fighting ship in the British navy, commanded by Sir John's cousin, which went down with all on board. Nor did the morning promise better weather—squally, with ragged clouds flying across the sky, and a high sea; a bad day for the little cutter. Nevertheless, a hour or two later she sailed, and Sir John entered in the log-book : Poor Eugenie, who had been at length persuaded to lie down and take some rest, was soon rudely awakened. The wind rose until it blew a gale ; the sea became rougher and rougher ; at noon a heavy squall burst, carrying away the spinnaker boom, and, a few minutes later, the wind veered suddenly, and the little yacht with sails close-reefed, prepared to beat slowly to windward. At half-past five the Isle of Wight was sighted ; and at half-past seven, the log records: " Made but little way. Sea too heavy for yacht. Took another reef in sail and triced up tack. Yacht behaving splendidly. Tacking frequently ; all hands on deck and frequent thunder-showers." There are no further entries in the log until the vessel anchored off Ryde at half-past two in the morning. But, during the night, the storm became a tempest, masses of water fell upon the deck with loud and terrifying sounds, and the little cutter was pitched from one great wave to another. It was a night of peril and horror, and many times Eugenie gave up all hopes, and expected to find her grave at the bottom of the English Channel before morning. She bore herself, however, with coolness and courage, and drew some comfort from the calm and matter-of-fact demeanor of Lady Burgoyne, which excited her wonder and admiration. Once, when, as Madame Lebreton expressed it, " All cracked around us," she observed that she had just passed through a worse storm in Paris. But at length the danger was passed, and at three in the morning a breakfast was served in the cabin of the yacht, at which Eugenie was quite cheerful and at times even gay, making a joke out of many things which some hours before had seemed to her shocking and even terrible. Her health was drunk in champagne, and she returned thanks in a little informal speech, brief, but full of gratitude to Sir John and Lady Burgoyne. She also expressed a desire to present some little token of remembrance to the crew of the yacht, who Were accordingly summoned to meet her in the cabin, where each man received from her hand a Napoleon, and acknowledged the gift with an "I thank you very much," spoken in English. The coins were afterwards punched and worn by the sailors as mementoes. At half-past seven in the morning, accompanied by Sir John Burgoyne, she left the yacht and went to a. hotel, whence she departed next day for Brighton. She was attired, when she landed in England, entirely in clothes borrowed from Lady Burgoyne, since she had brought with her but a small traveling bag, and her own garments were ruined by storm and travel. She remained for a short time unknown. Indeed, when Sir John communicated to Lord Granville the circumstances of her arrival, he received a polite reply to his letter, in which Lord Granville inquired if he was sure he had not been imposed upon.
Louis Napoleon passed the remaining years of his life at this place, living quietly and chiefly occupied in writing and in planning the recovery of his power. He died in 1873. All the hopes and affections of his widow then centred in her son, called by some the Prince Imperial. In the year 1866 he had been officially associated with his father in imperial power. He was then only ten years old,a sweet and gentle child, with more likeness to his mother than to his father. On that occasion the throne-room of the Louvre was crowded with the great officers of state, of the army, and of the imperial household, who made their obeisance to the child. Five years later he was a cadet in the English military school at Woolwich. There he was studious and virtuous, and seemed oppressed with his imperial birth and destiny. He was a Napoleon—he might yet be an Emperor. When he reached manhood, still frail and delicate, yet with a determined spirit in a gentle soul, he longed for an opportunity to prove that he too belonged to a race of heroes. He longed to practice that game of war which he had studied. He could not do so in Europe—he could not enlist in the army of France, for its government would not allow him, and he dared not fight against the flag which represented his country. But afar in Africa there was a war against savages, and in it he found his opportunity. His feelings are shown in some letters which have been published : " I desire to dispel the doubts which have on some occasions been manifested concerning the energy of my will. . . . When one belongs to a race of warriors, it is only with the steel in your hand that you can prove what you are." So the little Prince, with soul too great for his delicate body, went forth to meet his fate—so different from his dreams. Lord Chelmsford, the English commander, was charged to take special care of the adventurous knight. Nobody believed that there was any real danger. But in his first encounter with the Zulus, the Prince was separated from his companions, and fell under the spears of the ruthless savages. He, the least warlike of' the Bonaparte family which had deluged Europe with blood, was the only one to fall on the field of battle. His will shows how difficult it is for a family that has once tasted power to accept the common lot, or even to believe that they are unnecessary. " I have no need," he says, " to recommend to my mother to neglect nothing in order to defend the memory of my great uncle and of my father. I beg her to remember that as long as there shall be Bonapartists, the imperial cause will have representatives. The duties of our house toward the country will not cease with my life." To defend the memory of either Napoleon, after the light thrown of late years upon their career, might perhaps be difficult. Eugenie's willingness to marry the usurper and share the plunder of France, can be forgiven only because it is so plain that she understood nothing of the situation. She enjoyed the fruits of a crime, but she was not herself depraved. Looking back upon her career we can say that, if she never rose to be anything better, she was never anything worse than a woman of fashion with her hand in the treasury of a nation. There was seldom a day in what is called " the reign" of Louis Napoleon when either he or she felt secure in their position. Both did what they could to make themselves less unsafe. He penned histrionic papers; she changed her dress four times a day. To whom shall this shadow of a kingly crown descend ? Napoleon III. had not been long on the throne when the French Senate declared his cousin, the son of Jerome, King of Westphalia, his heir, and though the subsequent birth of the Prince Imperial deferred this claim, it did not in the feelings of the Bonapartists destroy it. But that Prince Napoleon, who by way of distinction is generally called Prince Jerome, from his father's name, afterwards grievously offended the Emperor by some republican speeches. He was in fact an excellent orator, but very indolent, a man of talk and not of deeds, as the witty Parisians indicated by his nickname Plon-Plon. The Emperor, who was in Algeria. when the Prince made some bold utterances in Corsica,caused the official newspaper to publish a rebuke. Immediately the Prince resigned all his offices and honors, though he still retained his life-membership in the Senate, where he made severe comments on the administration of affairs. The coldness between the Emperor and his shrewd but lazy cousin continued to the end. The Prince Imperial, in the will already mentioned, passed over his uncle Plon-Plon, and declared Plon-Plon's eldest son Victor the head of the party and heir to the Imperial pretensions. Prince Jerome, however, quietly ignored this will, and declared himself head of the family, but refused to become an Imperial pre-tender. For a few days in 1883 it seemed as if he were about to renew the claim to the leadership of France, and the Republican government put him in prison, where his unusual ardor soon cooled. Related:
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