MY MEMOIRS PRINCESS CAROLINE MURAT jm& YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY From the Library of IRVING GOODWIN VANN, '63 Gift of his children FLORENCE VANN FOWLER IRVING DILLAYE VANN, '97 j /'(.f/tc-cM &.jztcof&?t^^ytctfr6me, the Princess Mathilde's father. The woods of Meudon join those of Verrieres and Clamart and are some of the prettiest in the environs of Paris. Best of all, I loved my morn ing walks in the Bois de Boulogne, or more often my rambles in the park of St. Cloud. The Princess never made her appearance till breakfast : we were allowed to spend our mornings as we liked. At seven o'clock, one of the maids brought a cup of cafi au lait, drew back the heavy curtains and opened my window to the soft morn ing air. My room overlooked the garden, and from my window the view was a mass of flowers with the dark trees beyond. The perfumed air 59 MY MEMOIRS seemed to invite me to sleep again, and so I was often late for our run through the woods. Madame Desprez, M. de Nieuwerkerke, myself, and any guests staying at Breteuil formed the joyous band that ventured forth at that early hour in pursuit of pleasure. Days and weeks rolled on thus — August melted into September, and soon autumn tints gave the glorious colouring that bronzes the vivid brightness of green summer. St. Cloud was enfite. It was the week of the Great Fair, held in the public part of the park. It was our pleasure on these occasions to mix with the crowd. The organs grinding, drums beating, flutes playing, women singing, children shouting, men calling out their wares to sell — all the confusion and discordant din delighted me. Well I remember the booths filled with dolls, gingerbread men and women, crackers and clowns ; and the gipsy who told my fortune for the piece of money with which I crossed her hand ! How I longed for a ride in the merry-go- round on horse or in boat ! How I longed to join in the fun, often echoing the wish, " Ah ! if I were only the daughter of a charcoal burner ! " One morning in late October the Princess Mathilde decided on driving to Enghien to visit Mademoiselle de Courbonne, a very old friend, who had taken a villa on the borders of the lake. The drive was a long one. The Princess, M. de Nieuwerkerke and myself, with barouche and 60 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848 post horses, left Breteuil about nine o'clock, arriving at Enghien just in time for a twelve o'clock dejeuner a la fourchette. After breakfast we walked to the Chateau de St. Gratien, visited the chateau itself, and also a small pavilion just outside the grounds, which had at one time belonged to the famous Nicolas Catinat. The Princess was delighted with Enghien — so prettily seated at the foot of Montmorency, with the lake and all its surroundings. She could talk of nothing else during our journey home, and, indeed, before we reached Breteuil, she had made up her mind that St. Gratien and Catinat's sunny nest should be hers. At St. Gratien, when it became her property, she entertained a constant succession of friends throughout the whole summer. It was her greatest joy thus to receive and retain her guests. I have written of Breteuil as I knew it for so many years. What is it now ? 1 870 left it a ruin without roof or windows — its walls ribbed with the cannon balls of the enemy. I fancy the pavilion has been restored, more lucky than the Chateau de St. Cloud, still, in the middle of its pastures, a mass of ruins, throwing a sad gloom over what was once one of the gayest and brightest scenes of the country round Paris. The autumn found us once more in the Rue d' Anjou. My mother was still in very delicate health, not able to bear fatigue of any kind, so 61 MY MEMOIRS that, except when staying with friends at country houses, I was taken out entirely by the Princess Mathilde. The first week in November we spent at Grosbois, the seat of Prince de Wagram, to fdte the St. Hubert and the St. Charles, 3rd and 4th of November, in hunting with the famous hounds. It was a very cold month of November. The room I occupied was large and lofty. The wood fire, with huge smoky logs, threw out no flame and no warmth. The furniture was old-fashioned, and to me uncanny. The cold gloom of the room depressed me ; I felt chilled, morally and physically. To add to my discomfort the maid had forgotten to supply me with matches, and in this well-regulated establishment, by the Princess de Wagram's orders, nothing forgotten to be asked for in the morning could be had after twelve o'clock. I had to borrow the needful from a neighbouring room, and somehow I got into my evening dress. Suddenly I found myself conveyed by somebody into a long dining-room with a thousand lights, a table glittering with gold and silver, and a dozen servants standing round, some in the gorgeous Wagram liveries, others in black silk stockings and knee breeches with ribbon bows. For a moment I was dazzled by the splendour of it all, but I soon recovered, and found myself chatting gaily to the men on either side of me. This was my first day at Grosbois. 62 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848 The Princess de Wagram was a Mademoiselle Clary. She was short, inclined to be stout, with a pleasant face, dark hair, and small dark eyes, like two big jet beads. Such she appeared to me when I first saw her with her baby girl in her arms. She had two other children, a daughter a few months older than myself, and a son a year or two younger. Prince de Wagram was very fair, tall, with rather a German face. His son, Prince Alexander, was dark, like his mother and all the Clarys, but the girls in face and form were absolute Wagrams, or rather, I should say, Berthiers, for Berthier is the family name. Malcy, the eldest, who was destined to become my sister-in-law, always objected to being called anything but " Mam'selle Berthier," as she play fully called herself. The Prince was not a courtier or a great favourite at the Elysee, though on friendly terms /with the Prince President. He had sympathies with the Royalists, many of whom were intimate friends and relations, such as the de Mailles, who, like many others, never rallied to the Empire. Princess de Wagram's three brothers were my father's most intimate friends, the youngest, Nicolas, more especially. He lived in the Rue d'Anjou, quite near us, such a pretty bachelor residence, entre cour et jardin. The house was furnished with all the luxury that great wealth could give, and with all the taste of an artist. 63 MY MEMOIRS Pictures of old masters covered the walls — some of Greuze's heads were my delight. Baron Clary had bought two of these from the widow of my father's elder brother. Two heads of children — one, such a lovely face, was " Terror," the other, with golden locks, " Joy," both beautiful. Nicolas Clary was very proud of his pictures, his house, his garden, and his foot — the smallest foot, I sup pose, a man ever had. He boasted one day that he could wear my shoe, which was not a very large one. We had a bet. He certainly put it on and walked about the room : he won his bet, but I doubt if he could have worn my shoe all day. The garden, a very large one for the centre of Paris, ran back to the Rue Romford, a street now long disappeared. Like many others, it made way in later years for Baron Haussmann's improvements. The Boulevard Haussmann was cut right through this part of Paris, sweeping everything that came in its way, and taking a slice of Baron Clary's garden, for which the Ville de Paris, at the decision of the Prefect de la Seine and the Municipal Council, offered him a very poor remuneration. The little man's anger knew no bounds. In 1848, when Prince Louis Napoleon came from England with small resources to fight the great battle for the Napoleon dynasty, Clary proved himself a friend indeed. He was one of the very few willing to risk fortune as well as 64 THE REVOLUTION OF 1848 leisure in the interest of the cause. He lent at different times considerable sums of money to the Prince. In the day of victory, then, when at last, after the sharp struggle, the Prince was elected President, Clary was no stranger, and was able years after to defeat M. Haussmann by laying his claim before the Emperor ; with the success that an ample compensation was made to him for every foot of ground taken. But the boulevard had to run its course. To change the plans would have been next to impossible. September 4, 1901. My pen has been silent for some days ; some times — I cannot tell why — I cannot write, I cannot think, I cannot remember, I cannot put two ideas together. The ill-fated date at the top of my page brings back only too vividly all my recollections, and I must pause in the narration of the past to write of a nearer past. The 4th of September, 1870 — how can I tell the sad memories, the painful feelings, that overwhelm me ? — a date, only a date, and it all comes back to me as if it were yesterday. The news of the battle of Sedan, the sleepless nights, lying all dressed on our beds : the sudden order to fly, brought by an estafette from the Tuileries at four o'clock in the morning : the last good-bye to all we loved : the drive across Paris to catch the morning express : the rushing train E 65 MY MEMOIRS carrying us on, on, far away from Paris, friends, glory, fortune, rank — the steamer that waited to bear us once more into exile : the clasping of hands that might meet no more and, last, one long and lingering glance of adieu to France as the steamer sped on its way. The picture is before me as I write. I am no hypocrite, I wish I were : I would pretend, as some of us do, that I love England. No. I am grateful to England for the home it has given me, for the children that have blessed me. I admire England as a nation ; but the more I am forced to admire, the less I love it. No one who really loves France could honestly say he is devoted to the English. The few friends I have had the good fortune to make here in England are very dear to me, and I trust they and all who read these lines may under stand and forgive me when I add that not one day, not one hour, for twenty-five years have I ceased to regret, to love, and long for my country. Why have I remained in England all these years ? Those who care to know must have patience with me and follow me through these pages to the end of my story. I will take up my life to-morrow where I left it a few days since — I have no heart for it to-day. 66 CHAPTER IV NOTRE DAME DES ARTS Princess Mathilde' — My father is sent as Ambassador to Italy — I take lessons from Giraud — Receptions at the Rue de Courcelles — Prince Demidoff — The Princess and her friends — Madame de Solms One of our quiet evenings at the Rue de Courcelles comes back to my mind. The Princess Mathilde in her particular arm-chair near the fire with two or three of the great wits of the time around her, amusing her with their brilliant conversation ; the old Baronne de Rediny, who had been with the Princess since her school-days, knitting in a corner half asleep, waking now and then with a start as a laugh or a loud voice roused her ; Comte de Nieuwerkerke, seated at a long table which ran along one end of the room, drawing a monogram and design for a piece of embroidery ; Giraud, the well-known pastel painter, near him and working with him in the sketch they were both attempting ; near them Arago, so sharp, so witty, and so amusing, was composing odds and ends of rhymes, taking off all around him and keeping up at the same time E2 67 MY MEMOIRS lively repartees with Madame Desprez and the Ratoniskis, two Polish friends of the Princess — man and wife ; and last, myself and my fifteen summers on a stool at the Princess's feet, listen ing, wondering and admiring, with all the enthusiasm, all the sauvagerie of my nature. It must have been on such an evening that I was described, by one of those vicious-tongued wits who never open their mouth without taking a piece out of some one, as looking like " a turkey swallowing walnuts." The winter of 1849 my father was sent as Ambassador to Italy, where he remained till late in the spring of 1850. I am under the impression that, being Pretender to the throne of Naples, he found his position rather a difficult one at Turin, and he asked to be recalled, although the King, Victor Emmanuel, treated him with marked favour, as did Azeglio, the then Premier at the Court of Sardinia ; but this special favour created great jealousies among the representatives of other Powers. During my father's absence from Paris, my mother only attended the official receptions and the dinners and soirees tris intimes at the Elysee. To these I accompanied her, but with this excep tion I went with the Princess Mathilde every where and spent my days at her house. We generally passed our mornings in her studio, a delightful room on the first floor, leading out of 68 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS her boudoir, a room partly atelier, partly winter garden. I was learning to draw, and Giraud was giving me lessons. His despair was comic, for I made no progress, notwithstanding all his efforts. My drawing, like my singing, proved a failure. Indeed, I was no genius, and my only talent, if talent it can be called, was in dancing. In this I think I may say I excelled. The Princess was painting my portrait — she fancied painting me as a nun. The necessary costume was procured ; all around me agreed that it suited me to perfec tion. In truth it did, although I never realized it at the time: I have since. The head-dress of the nun's costume completely hid the worst feature in my face — a very ugly double chin. The portrait was finished, beautifully done and very like. It was presented to some one. I never knew whom. Princess Mathilde's evening receptions were of the very few remaining of the kind which in old days — far older days than those of which I am writing — were termed "salons." No salon such as I speak of exists in this fin de sihle. We must live with our times : chivalry, gallantry, sentiment, powder and lace, are things of the past. The perfect deference and respect of speech and manner that characterized another generation would be out of place in these days of progress when women ride bicycles, make speeches to crowded assemblies, take long drinks, smoke 69 MY MEMOIRS their cigarettes, and are anything and everything but womanly. The Princess received in the old-fashioned way, with all the grace and charm that so particu larly belong to her. She was at home to all her friends every evening, and was surrounded by all the literary and artistic world who had any claim to merit. She was often called by her favourites by the pretty name of Notre Dame des Arts, and so much did she win the loyalty of her friends that they were referred to as being, not Bona partists, but Matildians. Her manners, so simple and unaffected, so full of youth and happiness and sympathy, threw a magnetic influence on all around her. My girlhood's love for her was almost worship. Many of the happiest hours of my life were spent in the Rue de Courcelles. Dignified as Imperial Highness, the niece of two emperors, and the cousin of a third, she had more illustrious family connections than the Em peror himself, and she had the ambition and the faculty to rule. She must have been uncommonly beautiful in her young womanhood ; she was still very handsome when I knew her first, and she always remained a woman of distinguished pres ence. Unquestionably she was the most cultured and talented of all the Bonapartes ; and she was probably one of the most cultured women in France during her time. Her salon was a court in itself. Begun during the reign of Louis PRINCESS MATHILDE. From the Original Painting by Giraud. NOTRE DAME DES ARTS Philippe, it had no equal in the nineteenth century for length of ascendency. For fifty years it was an important institution, the home and centre of Parisian intellect, stamped with her own strongly-marked individuality. Her great wealth enabled her to entertain lavishly, and it was her desire to extend unlimited hospitality, and to make her home the meeting-place of the choice spirits of the day. I have said that she was the niece of two Emperors. These were Napoleon I and Nicholas I. During her lifetime Fate placed two crowns within her reach, yet never allowed her to wear one. She did not regret the irony. In her independence of character and originality, she was satisfied with her role as patron of the Arts. During her youth she spent much of her time in the Court of Wurtemberg, under the tutelage of that admirable woman Queen Catherine. She was a favourite of Queen Hortense, whose hospitality she enjoyed at the Castle of Arenenberg, and who looked forward to a marriage between Princess Mathilde and her own son Louis Napoleon. In the opinion of many it was a misfortune for France that this ambition on the part of Queen Hortense was not fulfilled. But while Louis Napoleon was lan guishing in the fortress of Ham, a " prisoner for life," Princess Mathilde in her sunny youth in Tuscany, with her charms of mind and person, 71 MY MEMOIRS attracted many suitors. Among them was the heir of the wealthy Marquis Aquado, who prof fered tens of millions if his son should succeed in winning the favour of the niece of the great Napoleon. Young Aquado was not successful. Refused by Princess Mathilde, he transferred his attentions to the beautiful Eugenie de Montijo, and lived to shed tears when he learned that Louis Napoleon had crossed his path. Whatever might have been her feelings towards Count Aquado, the Princess Mathilde had already manifested her preference. She had Russian sympathies, and her girlish fancy had been caught by the strikingly handsome person ality of the son of the Russian Ambassador to Rome and Florence. Count Anatole Nicolaie- wich Demidoff, Tuscan Prince di San Donato, had other recommendations than his rank and his handsome figure. He was heir to the fabulous wealth of the mines of Ural ; he had natural talent, a pretty taste in literature, an appreciation of art, and there is no doubt that he was deeply in love. Their betrothal had the sanction of the Emperor Nicholas, and their marriage took place in Florence on the ist of November, 1840. The union was not a, happy one. Prince Demidoff, who was himself something of a Don Juan, was afflicted with an extremely jealous disposition, and he treated her with great cruelty. The painful position came to a crisis in the 72 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS reception-rooms of the San Donato Palace, the scene of a brilliant gathering, when he suddenly, in a fit of savage and unreasonable jealousy, strode up to his young wife and slapped her on both cheeks in a manner so truly Caucasian, so publicly insulting, that forgiveness was impossible. The Princess hastened to her uncle in St. Petersburg. The Emperor Nicholas insisted upon the inevit able separation, and Demidoff, whose income was then ,£90,000 a year, was ordered to pay his wife £8,000 annually, and to abstain from going anywhere within a hundred miles of where she might be staying. This jointure, added to her private means, which were considerable, and her annual allow ance of £20,000 from the French Civil List, enabled her to support many charities with her bounty, to keep up a luxurious household, and extend her hospitalities with a lavish hand. Personally she was well equipped as a leader of intellectual society. Her ability as a painter was far beyond that of an amateur, and her criti cisms on art subjects were always searching and full of knowledge. Her collections of pictures and sculptures gave evidence of her cultured taste. Her private library was one of the best of its kind in Paris. Without being obtrusive or dictatorial, she shone in conversation, and her opinions on all subjects were always listened to with respect. Many are the witty sayings, the 73 MY MEMOIRS amusing anecdotes, which every one who knew her remembers and associates with her name. One subject the Princess banished — politics. In deed, no politician, as such, found favour in her eyes. It was not till after, or about, the year 1852 that of necessity her receptions became partly political. Although she was at home to her friends every evening, her companions differed in type with the days of the week. Sundays she reserved for current invitations and new introductions. Tuesdays were set aside for the reception of official personages, and Wednesdays for her chosen intimates, who were always exclusively artists. The Sunday soirees at the Rue de Courcelles were especially popular, attended by crowds of distinguished men and women, whose names remain familiar to a later generation. If I were asked to mention all those whom I saw at her house I should have to enumerate more than half of the celebrities in literature, science, paint ing, sculpture, and music in the days of the Empire. But I am neither a Goncourt nor a Viel- Castel, and I must refer my readers to their more ample chronicles. The large salon de conversation, whose walls were hung with choice examples of ancient and modern paintings, was always the most densely thronged. Princess Mathilde found little satis faction in frivolous dissipation and the empty 74 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS display of fashion. She preferred conversation to all other pleasures. Her customary place was at the corner of the fire-place, where she sat with one of her favourite dogs on her lap or with myself at her feet. Here she would engage in a general discussion with a group of such brilliant talkers as Edmund About, Octave Feuillet, Flaubert, Taine, Alphonse Daudet, and Barbey d'Aurevilly, who were all of her circle, as were Alexandre Dumas and Victor Hugo. She was fond of exercising her skill in argument with such thinkers as Ernest Renan and Monsieur Caro, who gave her assemblies a tincture of philosophy. Th^ophile Gautier received the Princess's warm est friendship. The Goncourts, Sainte-Beuve, and Prosper Me>imde were frequently to be heard joining in the sparkling talk on Sunday evenings ; and on Wednesdays one was sure to find among the company of her artist friends such men as Hubert, Giraud, Corot, Baudry, Fromentin, or Arry Scheffer. Always, on what ever night, there was a gathering of men and women of intellect — idealists, apostles of a^stheti- cism — each contributing his own personal note of sincerity, taste, sentiment. Princess Mathilde encouraged general con versation rather than tite-a-tite interviews, but often of necessity the crowded gathering would be divided into many groups. After a pause at the end of a discussion or anecdote, or while. the 75 MY MEMOIRS laughter lingered after a smart repartee or flash of wit, she would rise and pass through the various rooms, and whenever she broke in upon a conversation it was always with a shaft of sparkling wit or happy comment. In blending the congenial elements she was greatly assisted by her recognized lover, Count de Nieuwerkerke, superintendent of Fine Arts under the Empire, tall, bearded, handsome, who acted as a kind of master of ceremonies. One afternoon the Princess was receiving in the drawing-room when her favourite Italian greyhound curvetted up to her for her caress. The pretty dog was gently rebuked, but on making a second attempt was scolded more warmly. Some one interceded. "No, no!" said the Princess, " Chance is in disgrace to day. All through the night she kept me awake by jumping on my bed." She had hardly spoken when Count Nieuwerkerke entered the room. The greyhound, greeting him, was reprimanded. " Go away, you naughty dog. Thanks to you, I never got a wink of sleep last night. How dare you jump on people's beds!" The guests ex changed meaning glances. Doubtless they were engaged in making the natural inference. Her guests as a rule were carefully chosen to harmonize. They were guests whom every one was proud to meet ; every one, that is to say, excepting Count Horace de Viel-Castel. But 76 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS Viel-Castel was a bitter-tongued cynic, whom nothing could wholly satisfy. He disliked Giraud, he disliked the Dumas ; he objected to the Abbe" Coquereau ; the sight of Count Laborde inspired him with insensate fury, and he hated Madame Desprez like the plague, and called her " a disgrace to her sex " because she wanted to peep into the contents of his Black Book. I seem to have ignored that women took more than a listening part in these conversations. There were many who added brilliance to the play of wit. The Princess de Metternich was conspicuous. Madame Sardou was another, and I should not forget the Countess de Pourtal^s, the Marquise de Contades, the Countess de Beaulaincourt, Countess Walewska, the three sisters la Roche- Lambert,1 or the Countess Le Hon. It is true, however, that the salon de conversation was more usually thronged with men than women. Perhaps this was because so few women, apart from those I have men tioned, were at that time sincerely interested in art, in culture, and in new literary developments. "Amongst the many women one meets or re ceives," the Princess objected on one occasion, "how few there are with whom one can really converse ! If a woman were to come in now, I 1 These three sisters were the Countess de la Bddoyere, Countess de la Poeze, and Madame de Valon. 77 MY MEMOIRS should have to change the subject of conversation at once." It followed that while her men guests were mostly to be sought in the groups of talkers, the women overflowed the music-rooms. "What I love best about music is the women who listen to it," I overheard Jules de Goncourt remark once, as he stood under a palm by the door of the music-room. And he expressed the feeling of many of his sex. Those who had a preference for music passed on through other rooms to the semi-circular salon, where they might listen to the vocal virtuosities of Adelina Patti, or to Christine Nilsson singing some dreamy song of Sweden, to Miolau-Carvalho repeating an air from The Huguenots, or Gardoni interpreting the melodies of Verdi. That gifted amateur, Madame Conneau, might be heard sing ing " Son vergine vezzosa," or the Princess's orchestra, directed by M. Sauzay, would dis course their instrumental music. Occasionally Strauss himself would contribute to the enter tainment, and more than once the Abb6 Liszt came with the Comtesse d'Agoult, who claimed literary recognition. Marie de Flavigny, Comtesse d'Agoult, is perhaps better known by her literary pseudonym of " Daniel Stern " and her authorship of Esquisses Morales. She was born in Frankfurt, 1805, and married the Comte d'Agoult in 1827, but soon left him for Liszt, by whom she had 78 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS three daughters. The eldest of these married Emile OUivier, the second sister married the Marquis Guy de Chanace\ and the youngest, Cosima, was in turn the wife of Hans von Biilow and Richard Wagner. Occasionally the music salon was converted into a theatre, and some comedy, since become well known — some two-part trifle by Octave Feuillet or Theodore de Banville — would be enacted to give opportunity to Coquelin to dis play his marvellous gifts of characterization. These theatrical evenings were memorable. The Princess Mathilde had her imitators, of course. Princess de Metternich had a separate salon of her own, and also dabbled in art when she had a moment's leisure from her more lively occupations. Madame de Pourtal^s held re ceptions, Comtesse de Beaumont occupied herself seriously with literature and had a literary salon. Madame de Solms painted miniatures in the intervals of writing her romances, histories and magazine articles, and the Marquise de Contades and, afterwards, even the Empress herself sought to gain some reputation for skill in transferring their ideas to canvas or presenting portraits in pastel. Of these, Madame de Solms was the most flattering of imitators. She was also known as Madame de Rute, and better still as Madame Rattazzi ; but I knew her before she had con fused her identity in a multiplicity of names. I 79 MY MEMOIRS saw her for the first time at a ball at the H6tel de Ville. She was a very favourite niece of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, who lived so long in England that he became almost an Englishman. Prince Lucien, by the way, was devoted to Queen Victoria, who was always most gracious to him. He had not the right to be addressed as Imperial Highness, this title being reserved to those in direct succession to the throne ; but he always said after the downfall of the Empire that he was Imperial Highness by the courtesy of the Queen of England, who addressed him so when writing to him. Madame de Solms was a very beautiful woman — bearing some resemblance to the Princesses of the First Empire — her mother being the daughter of the Emperor Napoleon's brother Lucien. She married a Mr. Wyse, and her children have always called themselves Bonaparte- Wyse. Why ? They could have no possible right to the name. She was not only beautiful, but very clever, a very highly-educated scholar (as were all that branch of the Bonapartes) and bubbling over with the ready, sparkling wit that flows like champagne in France. She was slightly deaf — even in those early years of which I speak — the first years of the Second Empire. The ball was at its height when she passed me — a perfect picture — leaning on the arm of her uncle Prince Lucien, who was with her during one of his short stays in Paris. 80 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS She was in her way a very wonderful woman; and her career was a varied one. She contrived to dispose of three husbands of different national ities : Count Frederick Solms, who was a German ; Urbano Rattazzi, the eminent Italian statesman ; and ultimately Senor Luis de Rute, ex-Secretary of State in Spain. She offended the Emperor by the publication of her book, Les Mariages dune Creole, in which she seriously libelled M. Schneider the great iron-master and Walewski's successor at the Chamber. She made an enemy of the Empress, dabbled too dangerously in politics, and held a literary and political salon to which many persons not in favour at Court were admitted. In these and other ways, her conduct displeased their Majesties ; so much so that she was exiled from Paris and struck off the Emperor's list of annuitants with the loss of .£2,000 a year. At one time Madame de Solms declared her ambition to become the Madame de Stael of the Second Empire, but it was in vain that she piled up volumes of history, poetry, romance, travel, and politics. Few of her literary productions were read ; and I suspect all are forgotten. Nevertheless, her talents were considerable and versatile. While editing the Nouvelle Revue Internationale she was acting in plays written by herself and adding to her reputation as an accomplished musician. She rivalled Madame de Mirbel in the delicate art of miniature painting, and \h.zx admirers went so far as to say that she would have equalled Meissonier F 8l MY MEMOIRS himself in genre painting had she chosen to exert herself. Before she committed the offences which led to her dismissal from the Court, the Emperor once said of her: " My pretty cousin is the perfection of all the virtues. She has them all — the good and the bad," and he added, "She plays charmingly with the fan, but also, unfortunately, with the pen. It is pardonable that she commits herself to poetry, but she is also getting herself talked about, and that is much more serious." Ultimately the prohibition against her ap pearance in Paris society was removed and her annuity restored to her. When I met her she congratulated herself that she was " no longer contraband." I met her once again at Aix les Bains, where I spent a few weeks with my father, who had there a conference of a political character with Cavour. It was at the Casino. On leaving Paris, Mme. de Solms took a villa on the borders of the Lac du Bourget, where she lived surrounded by her little court of followers. The evening of which I speak she wore a beautiful lace skirt, the design of which embraced a number of bees — the Imperial Bee ; while she was conversing, some one dexterously cut out several of these from the back of her dress, leaving great holes in the valuable lace. Who did it, and whether by order, I never heard. I only knew her "by sight," as she was not supposed to be recognized at Court. On her marriage with Rattazzi, she 82 NOTRE DAME DES ARTS soon became as celebrated in Italy as in Paris. She established the famous " Matinees d'Aix les Bains." When she married Rattazzi her receptions became "Les Matinees Italiennes." It was later on, after the fall of the Empire, that she married M. de Rute. She then lived in Paris, and I believe a daughter was born when she was considerably over fifty. The daughter was, I heard, quite deformed, but Mme. de Rute gave incontestable proof of her originality, as well as of her tender maternity, by taking upon herself to nurse her latest offspring somewhat publicly. Jules Oppert, noticing the young child at one of her parties, inquired to whom it belonged, and on being told, he said, after a hesitation in which he seemed to calculate the mother's age, "After all, it is quite possible. She gets other people to write her music and her articles, and to carve her statuettes. She is quite capable of getting some one to have children for her." I never could understand the great influence she exercised over men of all ages, conditions and countries. Mme. de Rute had one sister, a protegee of the Empress Eugenie, by whose wish she was for some time at a convent in Paris. I forget if it was the Sacre" Cceur or Les Oiseaux. Later on she went to Italy and married General Tiirr. I think Madame Tiirr died before 1870, but I am rather vague on this point. But I am forgetting my chronology, and must now go back to earlier events. F2 83 CHAPTER V THE COUP D'ETAT Receptions at the Elyse"e — Mrs. Ridgeway's soirees dansantes — Madame Musard — I excel in dancing, and dance myself into an engagement with M. de Chassiron — The difficulty of getting married — My honeymoon — The Orleanist set — A bridegroom in a fix — The Imperial family — A duel by cards — The Coup d'lttat — My adventure at the Elyse'e Palace The winter of 1849-50 was a very gay one. The balls and receptions at the Elysde, where the Princess Mathilde did the honours as hostess, the soirees dansantes without number, filled the programme of our weeks till Lent put a stop to our festivities. The houses most in vogue in the unofficial world, whose doors were hospitably thrown open to their numerous friends, were those of Mesdames de Beaumont, de B6hague, Hope Bingham, and Ridgeway. The dances at Mrs. Ridgeway's were perhaps the prettiest. Her husband, her daughter and herself lived in one of the old hotels of the Noble Faubourg. She was a rich American, and could afford to pay a high price for the privilege of living in the middle cf the old aristocracy, with their frowns and airs and 84 THE COUP D'ETAT closed doors. Her balls were very select. The tilite of Paris, all the jeunesse dorde d'alors, crowded her rooms, and many well-known Ameri cans visited her, which was interesting to me, as I had myself been brought up in the United States, and was glad to meet any one who could talk with me of New York and Philadelphia, if not of Bordentown. Another wealthy American who dazzled Paris by the gorgeous luxury she displayed was Madame Musard. She was exceedingly beautiful ; her beauty was great enough to be resented by many who could not claim so large a share of that dis tinguishing quality at a time when to be beautiful was even more desirable than to be clever or wealthy. Those who envied Madame Musard, however, affected to console, themselves with remembrance of her origin. She had, I believe, been a maid-servant at a wayside inn in Ohio, when a French musician became infatuated with her dancing and her playing on the violin, no less than by her beauty. Her name was Eliza Parker, and soon after she became Madame Musard she crossed the Atlantic without taking the previous precaution of untying the matrimonial knot. For a time she played a prominent part on the stage of European gallantry, and at Baden her charms attracted the admiration of the phlegmatic William III of Holland, who invited her to take a position at his side in his palace. The strict 85 MY MEMOIRS moral code of the House of Orange might not have suited her in any case, but the husband left in the United States was an insuperable obstacle. When the beautiful American suggested to the King that she was willing to accept a professional fee, he hit upon a form of remuneration entirely in accord with his principles of economy. He gave her a bundle of share certificates which had never yielded a dividend, and which he believed to be utterly valueless. But as the bonds repre sented shares in an American petroleum oil company, it was in actuality a huge fortune that he was unwittingly bestowing upon Madame Musard. The shares quickly rose in value, and were materialized in a sumptuous mansion in Paris, with magnificent horses and carriages, powdered footmen, and a grand-tier box at the opera. Madame Musard's receptions and lavish entertainments attracted some literary celebrities and artists. I remember seeing Theophile Gautier and Arsene Houssaye at one of them. Houssaye, I believe, was a frequent guest of hers. Some of her footmen were negroes, who looked funny in their full-bottomed wigs, crimson plush breeches, buckles and silk stockings. Ultimately she retired from Paris society. The fatigue, I fancy was mutual on the part of herself and her guests. She bought a country mansion at Ville- guier, and her splendid landau, with its four 86 THE COUP D'ETAT horses, ceased to be seen as they had formerly been at the hour when the world drove through the Bois. A rival of Madame Musard was the Marquise de Paiva, whose establishment in the Champs Elys£es, where none but men were admitted, was kept up with the most insolent luxury. At the same time, receptions and balls were given by the Aguados in Rue d'Elys^e, by the Tascher de la Pageries at the Hdtel d'Albe, by the Metternichs at the Austrian Embassy, the Walewskis at the Ministry of Foreign affairs, and, of course, at the hospitable home of the Duke and Duchess de Morny. All through the carnival we met every night at one house or the other, danced and supped after the cotillon, and, as the song says, went home in the morning early. We rested all through Lent, only to begin again with renewed vigour after Easter. My father returned from Italy about this time, very much disgusted and decidedly annoyed to find that I had allowed myself and been allowed to dance myself into an engagement with the Baron de Chassiron. My projected marriage met with a good deal of opposition and some trouble. When we thought everything definitely settled, we found that the necessary certificates were missing. In France there is more difficulty in being born, in 87 MY MEMOIRS being married, or in dying, than in any other country in the world. The formalities to be gone through are so much more strict in France than elsewhere. My birth was registered at Trenton, New Jersey. Great was our astonishment on receiving a reply to the application for my birth certificate, made through the French Ambassador, to the effect that there had been, some years before, a great fire at Trenton, that the church and vestry had been burnt down, and that not the vestige of a register remained ! After much delay and many consultations, the officials declared it was impossible the marriage could take place unless four witnesses to my birth could be pro duced. Rather a strong order ! Luckily, my father's cousin, Prince Pierre Bonaparte, had visited America in 1833-4, and was in the house at Bordentown on the day of my birth. My mother's sister was a second witness, and we had to send to America to request Mr. Stevens and another friend to come to France for the purpose of identifying me, which they very kindly did. So in July 1850 I was married, on the ioth day of the month. My marriage took place at Vicomte Clary's country seat near Paris, called Le Pavilion. From the Pavilion we drove to Corteil en route for Nantes and a trip through Brittany. We wished to visit all the noted places of this country, so full of historical interest, where 88 PRINCESS CAROLINE IN 1851. From a Painting by Benedict Mason. THE COUP D'ETAT the wars of Vendee and the scenes of the Revolution had left so many and such lasting souvenirs. After a few days at Nantes, where M. de Chassiron had several members of his family whose acquaintance he wished me to make, we sped on our way in a post chaise to Clisson, to visit the ruins of the old castle, so well known in the history of Brittany. The country round there is lovely, and I was so interested that we decided to remain a day at the old inn, perched on the top of a hill, with the quaint little village at the foot. We strolled out : I found among the ruins of the castle a doorway, still in perfect preservation, and so beautiful that the fancy took me to make a sketch. I fear poor Giraud, could he have seen my efforts, would have thrown up his arms in despair. Luckily, however, M. de Chassiron, who could paint and draw well, came to the rescue, and I was able to take my door way with me in my portfolio when I left. I visited the donjon where, according to the traditions of the place, Abelard was at one time imprisoned. The next day we drove to Tiffauges, where we took rooms and remained for a week or more making excursions in the neighbourhood — one of the most picturesque of Vendue. From the inn to the valley below we went down a narrow path cut in a steep descent and filled with a mass of small stones, very pointed, on which we walked as if on eggs, the process being most 89 MY MEMOIRS painful to my feet, with Paris shoes, thin soles and high Louis XV heels. We hired rods and fishing-tackle to worry the poor little fish in the stream that ran through the valley : so we whiled away the summer hours till our return to Nantes, to do duty in family dinners and evening parties, given in our honour. M. de Chassiron, of whom I have said very little, was Nantais by his mother. The de Goulains, the Turennes — old Royalist families — were his first cousins. His father belonged to the Charente Inferieure. De Chassiron is the name of an old French family whose barony dates back to the days when barons were seigneurs. So his ancestors were Seigneurs de File d'01e>on et de File de Re\ His father was a staunch Royalist — Orleanist, I should say. M. Duchatel, minister of Louis Philippe, was M. de Chassiron's most intimate friend. Thus, by my marriage I was thrown into the Royalist and Orleanist set. I must say I liked them immensely. To me they were extremely courteous, especially the Dampierres, the Duchatels, and Puys^gurs. We travelled from Nantes to St. Brieux, C6tes du Nord, where we had been invited to stay with the Count and Countess de Turennes — dear old people who lived entirely in the depths of their wood, in rather a tumble-down old chateau, but picturesque and overlooking a wide panorama of beautiful scenery. 90 THE COUP D'ETAT We posted all the way from Nantes to St. Brieux. En route, about mid-day we changed horses at Dinan, a little village in those days, but the pretty country around has since attracted the attention of many English, who are always so prompt to discover a pretty foreign place and make it a little colony all their own. Pau, Cannes, Biarritz, and even Algiers and Ajaccio have their colony of English, and the people are quite accus tomed to English habits and English tastes. Batter puddings, suet dumplings, and hot cross buns follow them everywhere. Roast beef and plum pudding have become French as well as tea. From St. Brieux, we travelled back to Paris with a young couple on their honeymoon, but parted company at the Gare d'Orleans. The bridegroom was so fast asleep, we had some difficulty in waking him, and when we at last succeeded, he was unable to leave the carriage. He had taken off his boots to sleep more com fortably, and his feet had become such a size during his slumbers that nothing could induce them into the boots again. I nevei4 heard the end of the adventure. For some days past I have been too unwell to write. It is always, I feel, very difficult to take up the thread of my ideas where I left them. If I never stopped writing, I could go on for ever. This sounds very Irish. It is nevertheless true. 91 MY MEMOIRS When I have collected my thoughts and thrown myself once more into the dear past, the present all vanishes from my mind. I see, hear, feel nothing around me. I live over again the years from 1848 to 1870 — the years when I really lived — when each day brought some new pleasure, some fresh excitement, a wished-for jewel, a " sentiment " or a caprice. The days when the first thought in the morning was " what shall we do to-day to amuse ourselves ? " The last thought, " how shall we amuse ourselves to-morrow ? " In a word, the days of the Empire — days of glory, of luxury, of love, of folly ; with no looking back, with no looking forward — the retreat from Mos cow — the life and death of the King of Rome — the battle of Waterloo — the sad drama of St. Helena — all, all forgotten, disappeared in one round of triumphal glory and pleasure. Who thought of a future ? Who dreamt of a reverse ? The sovereigns in Paris — the nations at our feet — the Czar, the Emperor of Austria, the King of Prussia, the Prince of Wales by the side of the Emperor Napoleon — all smiled upon us : who could foresee 1870 — ? Had it been prophesied, who would have believed it ? We took up our quarters in a small pied-a- terre, which had been engaged for us in the Rue des Ecuries d'Artois. My father and all my family had left the Rue d'Anjou for a pretty villa near the Bois de Boulogne, on account of my 92 THE COUP D'ETAT mother's health. We remained in Paris for some months, till after the New Year, and then went on a visit to M. de Chassiron's father at the Chateau de Beauregard, near La Rochelle, Charente Inferieure. While in Paris, we were very gay, theatres and suppers — en petit comite". Prince Pierre Bonaparte, of whom I have spoken as being present at my birth, was with us at many of our festivities. He was like the Emperor Napoleon I in face and figure, much more so than any , other member of the family except Prince Napoleon, son of King Jerome, who, it will be remembered, married a Miss Paterson when on a visit to the United States, which marriage was declared null by the Pope (under pressure), as the Emperor refused to recognize his brother's union. Later, King Jer6me married the Princess Catherine of Wiirtemburg and had two children, Princess Mathilde and Prince Napoleon. This branch under the Second Empire formed the so- called Imperial family — the other branches and members composed the so-called famille civile. Prince Pierre, like ourselves, belonged to this last, also his elder brothers, Prince de Canino and Prince Louis Lucien, the savant, who died in England. Prince Pierre, like his brothers.had great literary talents — a very cultivated mind, and great powers of speech. Yet he was scarcely what you could call refined. He had very strong republican 93 MY MEMOIRS opinions, principles and prejudices. He had spent all the early part of his life in Corsica, and in character and manner was more Italian than French. I liked him, perhaps because I knew him more intimately than my other relations — perhaps because none of the others could tolerate him. Perhaps because he was considered the black sheep of the family on account of his ad vanced politics — and I thought him unjustly set aside.1 However that may be, I did like him, and had I been a little older, or had a marriage been suggested with him, instead of some other prince I will not name, my destiny might have been very different. Many anecdotes have been told me of his life in Corsica and elsewhere. One of these I must relate. 'Twas said that the two brothers, Prince Louis Lucien and Prince Pierre, in their early youth, when shooting mouflons in the mountains in 1 Princess Caroline appears to have forgotten Prince Pierre's unfortunate altercation with Victor Noir at Auteuil in 1870, an altercation which resulted in the impulsive young Corsican drawing his revolver and fatally wounding Noir. The sensa tion which this affair created in Paris was profound, and it involved the Government in serious trouble. Public sympathy was wholly with Victor Noir. Prince Pierre himself was arrested and sent summarily for trial at the High Court of Justice at Tours. He was acquitted of the capital charge, but sentenced to pay jQ 1,000 as compensation to the Noir family. There is no room for doubt that Prince Pierre was a black sheep. He was reckless, extravagant, quarrelsome, and became a continual thorn in the flesh of the Emperor. 94 THE COUP D'ETAT Corsica, came across a beautiful peasant girl, with whom they both fell violently in love. Who she was, and whether she favoured both brothers or neither, I cannot tell. Be that as it may, they quarrelled. Les preux chevaliers of old would, no doubt, in similar occurrence have had recourse to lance and sword. The Corsican princes decided to play for their belle a game of cards. They went to the nearest inn and wrote and signed a paper agreeing that whichever won the game should marry the lady fair. Prince Lucien won and, faithful to his word, a short time after married her.1 She never left the island, as far as I know. Prince Lucien lived in England, securing to her a comfortable income which she received till her death, a few years ago, somewhere about the spring of 1891. On December 2, 1851, the Prince-President effected his celebrated Coup d'Etat. The pre sumption is that if he had not abruptly deposed the Assembly, the Assembly would have deposed the President. Whatever history may have to say of the occasion, there can be no doubt that Louis Napoleon held the trump cards, and that, spurred by De Morny, he played them with success. The big battalions were on his side. He made his power effective and solved for the time the difficulties in which France was plunged. 1 She was Maria Cecchi, of Lucca. He married her in 1833 and was separated from her in 1850. 95 MY MEMOIRS I am not a politician. I do not pretend to under stand the intricacies of political movements. My own recollections of the Coup d'Etat are associ ated only with a personal adventure. It was in the evening. The Elysee Palace, we heard, was being mobbed ; there was serious rioting ; blood was being shed ; the Prince- President was in danger. Princess Mathilde, with whom I was staying in the Rue de Cour celles, was extremely anxious. Fearing the worst, she had packed up all her valuable jewels, and was sitting on her jewel-cases. She implored me to drive to the Elysee and see what was happen ing, and bade me as a precaution to take a small loaded revolver with me. I drove through the crowded streets and arrived in safety in the court yard of the palace. But as the gates were opened the excited mob rushed in. As I stepped from the carriage I was startled by a shot quite close to me. In my terror I imagined that some one had attempted my assassination. I had for gotten my own revolver, and as I alighted the weapon had fallen to the pavement and been accidentally discharged. The people, on their part, thought that I was shooting at them, and the incident might have ended very differently had not the footman and one of the Elys6e servants hastened to my rescue and hustled me indoors. I returned to the Rue de Courcelles, but the Princess, still more and more uneasy, begged me 96 THE COUP D'ETAT to pass the night at the Elysee, in order to give her the news. So I was installed in a room at the porter's lodge. The night was undisturbed by the smallest incident, and I slept like an Englishman in his four-poster. 97 CHAPTER VI RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE The Imperial Eagles — The Prince-President's tour of the Provinces — His speech at Bordeaux — Miss Howard couples my name with that of the future Emperor — The Prince honours me with a visit to Beauregard — Restoration of the Empire — Matrimonial negotiations — Mademoiselle de Montijo — The Emperor's speech announcing his betrothal — The Empress Eugenie — Des Pierettes — Visit of Queen Victoria — English Beauties at Compiegne — Birth of the Prince Imperial — The Prince of Orange and the Mabille Gardens — A Royal arrest — Death of the Prince of Orange May n, 1902 A letter, a word, a tune, and old recollections come floating back, and things and scenes of long ago and long forgotten come suddenly before our eyes. A date — the nth of May, 1852, just half- a-century ago — brings back to my mind, as if it were yesterday, the imposing ceremony of the distribution of the Imperial Eagles to the army. The famous Eagles that had slept with the Emperor Napoleon, buried with him for thirty- seven years, were once again to carry our flags to victory, and, casting their shadows before, proclaim to the world a second Empire. Four 98 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE months of my nineteen winters had passed over my head when, accompanying the Princess Mathilde, I stood on the balcony of the Ecole Militaire. The Champs de Mars in all its glory was before me. Regiment after regiment in line, and every colonel of every absent regiment ordered to be present. . . . An immense chapel had been erected, open on all four sides, for the Mass and benediction of the Eagles. The Prince- President, King Jer6me, his uncle, Prince Napoleon, all the foreign princes and princesses of the Imperial family, the Marshals St. Arnaud and Magnan, and all the officers and great dignitaries of the State arrived as the clock struck twelve. The shouts of " Vive Napoleon ! " "Vive le Prince- Prdsident ! " rent the air as he passed along the front of each regiment of the garrison of Paris and Versailles. The sun, how brightly it shone 4upon us ! Weather and faces were alike radiant. The Prince-President entered a sort of stand reserved for him, and before presenting the flags to the colonels, all assembled before him, he addressed the troops. Then the Archbishop, after blessing the Eagles, delivered a short allo cution. And, the colonels receiving the flags, the air again resounded with deafening cries. The Prince, leaving the Champs de Mars, passed along a balcony where we stood. How we cheered ! We waved our handkerchiefs — we blew kisses in the air. Our enthusiasm knew no g 2 99 MY MEMOIRS bounds. We were wild with delight. My pen could never tell or give any idea of the picture that flashes before me as I am carried back to 1852. That evening Paris was splendidly illu minated. Most magnificent fireworks were sent off from the Place de la Concorde. Dense crowds filled every place and every street. And joy filled all our hearts at the Palace of the Elysee. Hearts that, with very few exceptions, will never beat again. The Princess Mathilde is the only one left of the older generation. She was born on May 27, 1820, one year later than Queen Victoria. Of the younger I alone am left to remember — of those old enough to be present. The members of the family present besides the Princess Mathilde and myself were, of the older generation — The Princess Bacciochi, The Princess Caroline Murat (my mother), The Princess Marie of Baden — Duchess of Hamilton ; And of the younger generation — Princess Julie Bonaparte — Marquise Roc- cagiovini, Princess Charles Bonaparte, nde Princess Ruspoli, Princess Charlotte Bonaparte — Comtesse Primoli, RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE Princess Augusta Bonaparte — Princess Gabrielli. On the nth of May this year, 1902, I wrote to the Princess Mathilde to ask her if she remem bered. This is her answer, written on the eve of her eighty-second birthday. 24 May, 1902. My dear Caroline, I remember everything. I think often of everything. I steep myself in tears and souvenirs. I thank you. I embrace you. Your affectionate aunt, Mathilde. In the autumn of 1852, having earlier in the year made a progress to Strasburg, the Prince- President decided to set forth on a visit to the provinces of Southern France, in order to ascertain for himself the sentiment of the people on the subject of the accession to the Imperial throne. After passing through several of the departments, where he was most enthusiastically received, he made at Bordeaux the well-known speech, " L'empire c'est la Paix," in the course of which he said : " I have conquests to make, but they are conquests of peace. We have vast waste territories to drain and cultivate, roads to open, ports to be deepened, canals to be completed, rivers to be made navigable, railways to be connected. . . . This is how I shall interpret the Empire, if the Empire is to be re-established. MY MEMOIRS These are the conquests which I meditate ; and you who surround me, who desire the good of your country, you are my warriors." I joined his suite at Bordeaux and was present with him on the gala night at the Opera House. The opera was Le Prophete. I had some trouble in preventing the Prince from going to sleep in the middle of the performance. He was not a lover of music, and the opera was a heavy one. We had seen it so many times before. From Bordeaux the Prince went on to An gouleme to pay his flying visit to Les Charentes, reputed to be the cradle of the dawning Empire. I went on to receive him at Rochefort. He was to be at the Prefecture Maritime. An official dinner and a ball was the programme. One of my horses went down as I entered the town. I deplored the catastrophe and the consequent delay, but, luckily, my best hat was the only sufferer. A postilion put his foot through it. I was doomed not to look my best, which, as may be supposed, slightly annoyed the bloom of eighteen. I was spared the dinner, however, and arrived at the ball just in time to take my place as the Prince's partner in the quadrille d'honneur. During the rest of the evening he paid great attention to me ; so much so, that remarks were freely made. Miss Howard, who always followed incognita in the Prince's suite, remarked to a friend, who, 102 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE of course repeated the propos to me, " Cette petite sotte would have been Empress of the French if she had had the good sense to wait — the only unmarried Princess in the family. And such a match would have had my approval." From a letter which came into my possession long afterwards, I extract the following — "What shall I say about the ball? Nothing very remarkable — except, perhaps, the presence of Miss Howard, the President's mistress who, like the favourites of olden days, was in a position of honour, although she was not too obvious. I approached her and, in the course of our talk, she spoke these words, which have never passed from my memory : ' Hasn't she been foolish, this little princess — to marry de Chassiron ? If she had willed it I myself should have made of her — who knows? — perhaps a future Empress.' " I repeated this the same evening to the Princess, who replied to me : ' Yes, I know. A great many people think the same— my family among others; but I'm not made to reign over France. My ambition does not go as far as that. One would have to reach a height of character to which I should never be able to attain. No, I will be content to rule over a few French hearts.' " Early the next day my maids and valet were sent on to La Rochelle. On my arrival, just in time to dress, I heard there had been another accident, owing to the careless driving of the 103 MY MEMOIRS postilion. The wheel of the travelling carriage caught the porte cochere, with the result that trunks, portmanteaux, boxes, travelling-case, etc., were sent flying from the top into mid-air, landing in various parts of the courtyard. Luckily the maids and jewel-cases inside took no harm — but the trunks were in pieces, and most of my belongings had been gathered up here, there and everywhere. Notwithstanding, I had to be in full battle array to receive the Prince. I put on my war-paint as best I could with the remains of the wreck, and just got to the hall as the Prince was signalled. Another dinner and another ball, and so ended a very trying and tiring day. Beauregard, our country seat, was six miles from La Rochelle, and the Prince announced his intention of honouring me with a visit on his way back to Tours. It was the fall of the year, 13th or 14th of October, I think, that the Prince and all his military suite breakfasted at Beauregard. After a 1 2 o'clock dejeuner and a smoke on the terrace, we planted a tree in remembrance of the day — a Polonius imperialis. Then the Prince proposed that the travelling equipages should be sent on two miles that I might accompany him in a constitutional. It was a perfect October day, and we all thoroughly enjoyed the walk. Sud denly the order " Pas gymnastique " was yelled in my ear, and I felt my arm seized by the Prince, who started at a little trot, all the suite forming 104 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE into line and following in regular military style. At the top of a long rise we stopped, out of breath. The carriages were drawn up a little ahead. All pleasant things come to an end, and so I bade adieu to the Prince, thanking him warmly for the honour he had done me, watched and waved till he was out of sight. I drove home, sorry to part with the Prince, but not sorry to rest. The hurry and bustle of the last few days had tired even my nineteen summers. The Prince, after visiting Tours, made a last break in his journey at Amboise. Abd-el- Kadir, the Algerian hero who had surrendered to General Lamoriciere in 1847, was imprisoned in the Chateau d' Amboise, and the Prince wished to have the pleasure of telling the prisoner himself that he was pardoned and free. On the 1 6th of October the Prince re-entered Paris. He was received by the Ministry, the Senate, and all the high dignitaries of State at the Gare d'Orleans. Amid the thundering of the big guns, the peals of ringing bells, the shouts of the people, the military music, intermingled with singing of cantatas, the Prince was almost carried in triumph to the Palace of the Tuileries. Later in the evening, tired of honours, of homage, of noise, fatigued by the journey, he drove to St. Cloud for a little rest and quiet. Meanwhile the Moniteur, the official paper, was preparing an article to appear the following i°5 MY MEMOIRS day, saying that all France was desirous that the Empire should be restored. The wish of the nation and the people had been enthusiastically manifested, and it was suggested that the Senate should be consulted. From this time the course of events made rapid strides. After receiving in great ceremony "Les grands corps de l'Ftat" at St. Cloud, on November i, offering him the crown, the Prince, either from superstition or sentiment, again chose December 2 for his proclamation as Emperor, and on that date he left St. Cloud and proceeded in state to the Tuileries. In the first days of November I had returned to Paris, the 4th being the " St. Charles," my f£te day, and also my mother's. We never missed being together. A note from the Princess de Wagram was brought me, saying, " Venez f£ter tous les Charles avec nous a Grosbois." We spent a few days with our amiable chatelaine — the two families being old and dear friends. The weather was bitterly cold and bleak — almost impossible to keep warm, notwith standing the huge forest logs that blazed on the hearth. Grosbois, beautiful chateau, one of the finest places in the department of Seine et Oise, belonged to Monsieur, brother of Louis XVI, then to some other, and afterwards to Moreau, before it came into the possession of Berthier, Prince de Wagram. The property is, I believe, 106 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE nine leagues in a ring fence and joins the forest of Senart, the hunting of which belonged to my brother during the Empire. The Court was at this time at Compiegne. The pretty, ancient town of Compiegne has many historical memories. Built in the time of the Gauls, it was here that in 1430 Jeanne d'Arc was captured and sold to the English, and where a statue is erected to commemorate the spot on which her arrestation was effected. The beauti ful castle was constructed during the reigns of Louis XIV and XV, and it has always since been the favourite residence of our sovereigns. It was here, in 18 10, that Napoleon I met Marie Louise of Austria ; here that Napoleon III met Eugenie de Montijo. The forest is a very extensive one of 30,000 acres, the hunting- ground of many of our French kings. The Chateau of Pierrefonds stands at its eastern ex tremity, and, having fallen almost into ruins, it was restored by orders of the Emperor, I think in 1862, the restoration being entrusted to the care of Violette-le-Duc, the eminent architect of the Second Empire, who enjoyed great favour with the Empress Eugenie. Prior to the Emperor's marriage, Princess Mathilde acted as hostess at the Palace of Com piegne, as she did at the Elysee. It is matter of history that Princess Mathilde was one of the first objects of Louis Napoleon's affections. They 107 MY MEMOIRS had seen much of each other in their youth at Arenenburg, and his mother, the Queen Hor tense, had the ambition that they should marry. He was sincerely fond of Princess Mathilde always. More than once he proposed marriage to her, and it is recorded that while he was a prisoner at Ham, hearing of her marriage with Anatole Demidoff in 1840, he wept and said bitterly to Barrot : " This is the last and heaviest blow that fortune had in store for me." It is possible, indeed very probable, that had my aunt been Empress of the French the Franco- Prussian War would never have taken place, and that many lesser errors of the Empire would have been avoided. She understood Louis Napoleon in a way that it was never given his consort to understand him, and she would have made an admirable Empress. Among Princess Mathilde's guests at Com piegne, in November 1852, were Madame de Montijo and her daughter Eugenie. Napoleon, always attracted by the sight of a pretty face and a graceful figure, saw Mademoiselle in the draw ing-room. " Who is she ? " he inquired of my aunt, indicating the beautiful girl. " A Made moiselle de Montijo, a foreigner from Andalusia," the Princess told him. " I would like to be introduced to her," he said. Madame de Montijo and Mademoiselle Eugenie were the Princess Mathilde's guests in the ensuing winter at a 108 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE dance and various dinner-parties at the Elysee Palace, and from that time onward, wherever the Prince- President stayed, whether at St. Cloud, Fontainebleau, or Compiegne, the Montijos were among the most frequent guests. Mademoiselle de Montijo was then no longer a mere girl in years, but she was still extremely beautiful, and she looked especially so on horseback, when taking part in the chase, as she often did at Compiegne. Napoleon did not disguise from Prince Jdrdme the fact that he was smitten by the fair Spaniard's charms. " Yes," responded Jerome, " it is quite natural and proper to love Mademoiselle de Montijo, but of course one cannot marry her." Her Spanish pride was observable, and al though it was secretly hinted by Fleury that she was ambitious to become Empress of the French, it was apparent that she was prepared equally to quit France and return to Spain at the slightest sign of disrespect. Rumours of all- kinds were afloat — among other " on dits " that friendly negotiations having failed to bring about an alliance with the Princess de Wasa, granddaughter of the Grand Duchess Stephanie of Baden and the present Queen of Saxony, Comte Waleski, then our envoyd in London, was endeavouring to arrange a union between the future Emperor of the French and Princess Mary Adelaide of Hohenlohe, niece of Queen Victoria. Meantime, the habitue's of the 109 MY MEMOIRS Court at Compiegne affirmed that Louis Napoleon, ignoring equally friends and Ambassador, was busily looking after himself and preparing his marriage according to his own fancy. Mile, de Montijo, whom he greatly admired, was again with her mother among the guests at Compiegne. No one who remembers her unsurpassed loveliness, her captivating charm, her graceful manner, could be surprised that the Prince fell a victim to the fascination of her beauty. Of course, gossip was rife with many stories, and every one had become familiar with the saying of Eugenie, that the only way to her bedroom was through a well-lit church. One incident I will tell, though I was not with the Court that year, and I know it only by hearsay. One morning, during a walk in the woods with him, Mile, de Montijo discovered and greatly admired a quaintly-shaped clover leaf, holding large drops of dew. The Prince sent it to Paris by special messenger, ordering a jewel to be made in perfect imitation of the natural leaf, large diamonds forming the dewdrops on the green emeralds. The jewel was presented to Mile. de Montijo two days later, having been beautifully and so rapidly executed. I forget the name of the jeweller — perhaps Meiller, of the Rue de la Paix. It was by this pretty means that he first revealed his love to her. When the Court had returned from Compiegne, RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE conjectures as to the Emperor's matrimonial in tentions formed the subject of general conversa tion. The conjectures were often ridiculously wide of the mark ; but we in the inner circle of the Tuileries knew that decidedly Mile, de Montijo was to be our future Empress. Every one was talking and whispering about it at the Rue de Courcelles. Some blamed, some admired the courage of the Emperor, who was certainly showing a firm determination to please himself and consult no one. He was no doubt rather sore on the subject of an European alliance. That France would soon need an Empress and an heir was felt by all the nation. Would that the Empress Eugenie had crowned France with as many " hopes " as the Queen has bestowed upon Great Britain ! The betrothal was announced on January 22, 1853, m a speech made by the Emperor to the Grands corps reunis — the speech so well known, in which he said — " When in the face of ancient Europe, one is carried by force of a new principle to the level of the old dynasties, it is not by affecting an ancient descent or endeavouring to push into the families of kings that one claims recognition. It is rather by remembering one's origin, by preserving one's own character, and by assuming frankly towards Europe the position of a parvenu — a glorious in MY MEMOIRS title when one rises by the free suffrages of a great people. Thus, compelled to part from precedents, my marriage becomes but a private matter. It has remained for me to choose my wife. She who has become the object of my choice is of lofty birth. French in heart, by education, she has, as a Spaniard, the advantage of not having a family in France to whom it would be necessary to give honours and dignities. Gifted with every quality of the heart, she will be the ornament of the throne, as in the hour of danger she would be one of its most courageous defenders. A pious Catholic, she will pray with me for the happiness of France. I come to-day to say to France, ' I have preferred a woman whom I love and respect to an unknown woman.' Soon, on my way to Notre Dame, I shall present the Empress to the people and the army. The confidence which they repose in me secures their sympathies towards her whom I have chosen, and you, when you have learned to know her, will be convinced that once again I have been inspired by Providence." The Moniteur next day announced what was already to us an open secret, that the lady whom the Emperor had chosen was Mademoiselle Eugenie de Montijo, Countess of Teba. Apart ments were hastily prepared at the Elysee for the reception of the Montijo family. The Duke de 112 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE Morny, who knew well in advance the formal intentions of his brother and master, gave a great dinner in honour of our future sovereign, and Eugenie de Montijo never looked more charming than on that occasion in her simple toilette. It was on that evening that Madame Walewska surprised those who were not in the secret by greeting Eugenie de Montijo with the words, " I congratulate you, Madame, upon the brilliant future in store for you." On the evening of the 29th of January, 1853, we assembled at the Tuileries. Mademoiselle de Montijo was received on the threshold by the Court dignitaries, who ushered her into the draw ing-room in which we awaited her coming. The Emperor then led his bride to the Hall of Mar shals, where the civil ceremony was duly performed by the Minister of State. After the signature of the marriage contract, the wedding party adjourned to the theatre, to hear Auber's cantata. The scene was splendid, and seemed to presage the splendour that was to appertain to the new regime. On the conclusion of the cantata; her Majesty was conducted by the Grand Master of the Cere monies back to the El see. The following morning saw the pair setting forth in great pomp for Notre Dame, the Empress wearing the Imperial crown which Napoleon I had placed on the head of Marie Louise. In front of the high altar in the thronged cathedral, h 113 MY MEMOIRS the State chairs of their Majesties were prominent on a raised platform under a high canopy, and as the notes of the Wedding March swelled through the lofty building the congregation rose to watch the procession of the clergy approaching slowly from the porch of the altar. Then the Emperor himself appeared, leading his bride, with the Regent diamond sparkling on her bosom. It was only when they were actually approaching the throne that the Bishop of Nancy discovered that the person who ought to have brought the wedding-ring had forgotten it. What was to be done ? I was one of the nearest of the company assembled about the throne, and, seeing the Bishop's distress, and learning its reason, I offered my own wedding-ring, which fortunately hap pened to be small enough. The ceremonial rites were then performed by the Archbishop of Paris, and the Bishop of Nancy presented the pieces of gold and my ring on a gold salver. The Empress moved from the throne to the altar, and after the benediction, in the Spanish fashion she crossed her brow, her lips and her heart with her thurrfb. At the close of the gorgeous ceremony, the Arch bishop conducted the Emperor and Empress back to the cathedral porch, and Napoleon and his Consort returned along the quays to the Tuileries, the rest of us following. Mademoiselle de Montijo was certainly beauti ful, and no one was astonished at the caprice of 114 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE the Emperor. People especially admired her fair hair. It will be remembered, no doubt, that it was for her that the famous hairdresser, Felix, invented the coiffure which has been so long worn — the large bow of silk or of velvet which, arranged like a chignon, hid all the back of the head, and thereby also concealed the lack of hair. It is not commonly known, but Mademoiselle de Montijo had at this time her hair absolutely short. Gossip has given a good many different accounts of the reason for this deficiency of coiffure. A certain Due d'Ossuna, and the Due d'Aumale were mentioned in turn as being the happy mortals who had profited by the Spanish beauty's loss of her tresses. But the truth was whispered to me a long time ago by the blue bird to whom, they say, the Empress herself must have confided it in a moment of indiscretion. She had been madly in love with her cousin, the Due de and believed herself loved by him. When, presently, she learned that he loved and was loved by her sister, for whom she had a warm affection, her despair was such that she took poison. She was ill for a long time. Her head was shaved ; her hair was still short when her mother brought her to France. She became Empress, but, they say, she always kept hidden away in her heart the souvenir of her first love, although she felt no resentment against her rival, who came often to visit her in her exalted position, h 2 115 MY MEMOIRS and who died in Paris in a house which belonged to the Empress : a house which Eugenie had herself christened with the name of the Hdtel d'Albe, and which she had razed to the ground on her sister's death, not desiring that any other person should ever inhabit it. To-day, in the place where were situated this house and its vast garden, one sees the Rue d'Albe, which belongs to the Empress, although the property is held in the name of General B^ville. After the Empire was proclaimed, we lived for some years in a small house in the Rue Pigalle, to be quite near my father, whose large mansion was in the Rue de Tivoli. Here the reception-rooms were exceptionally fine, a long suite of which were reserved for entertaining, being quite separate from, though communicating with, the wing in which were my mother's private apartments. We entertained largely : dinners, balls, routs, followed each other in rapid succession. One ball remains engraved on my memory : the fancy ball, " Des Pierrettes." All invitations were sent in my name, and I decided that every dancer should be a Pierrot with a Pierrette to match, in couples of blue and pink, " chacun avait sa chacune." The wall-flowers were in dominoes of every colour and hue. My sister, the Princess Anna, who was then not yet "out," led the couples of pink Pierrots, and I the blue. We made our entrie about forty couples, making our obeisance to our 116 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE hostess as we passed to the ballroom. The quad rilles and different dances, under the direction of Cellarius, the leading dancing-master of Paris at this time, went off to perfection, especially the Russian mazurka, one of the prettiest of the many pretty Russian dances recently introduced in Paris by Markowski. The orchestra of the ever-famous Strauss carried us through an intoxicating whirl of delight, till the cotillon ended with the first rays of morning light, and we found ourselves in a large supper-room built out from the ballroom on the first floor, and enclosing the whole courtyard. A hot supper was prepared for the guests, who fully appreciated the preparations made for their entertainment. The cotillon had quite exhausted our powers, being led by M. de Chassiron with his usual entrain. He was the favourite leader of the cotillon at every ball. Who his partner was on this particular occasion my memory cannot tell me, nor do I find my own inscribed on its pages. One couple, however, are still pictured in its depths — Prince Richard de Metternich and his charming Pierrette, Mme. de Lowenthal. Nor must I forget Baron de Heckren, a Russian by birth and Prussian at heart. We danced the mazurka together in true Russian fashion. I felt myself taking an irresistible sweep from one end of the room to the other, regardless of more timid couples, whose slow, dreamy pace did not suit our impetuous dance. No other individuality stands 117 MY MEMOIRS out before me, and so this little account of the Pierrettes' ball must end. I wish I had the gift of telling as well as feeling. My writing seems to me like a melody that one sings so beautifully inwardly, but when the sound comes it is all out of tune, and not a single note is true or gives an idea of what you vainly try to render. To-day is the 3rd of July, 1902. The storms so prevalent everywhere reached us yesterday. Last night was fearfully boisterous, and the wind is still howling and cold as in early spring. The seasons seem almost as changed as my life : the atmosphere as full of clouds. My souvenirs of Queen Victoria's visit to Paris in 1855 are vague. I only remember the ball at Versailles and the great display of diamonds, which flashed even more brilliantly in the gilded salons than did the illuminated fountains in the gardens. The Queen danced, opening the ball with the Emperor, while the Prince Consort and the Princess Mathilde were their vis-a-vis. The Empress was not permitted thus to disport herself, as it was only a few months before the birth of the Prince Imperial. Nor have I anything special or individual to say of the other Royal personages who were the guests of the Emperor and Empress from time to time. The year 1867, year of the great exhibition, brought scores of them into our midst. One might almost have said, as Count de S£gur 118 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE said in excuse to the great Napoleon, "Sire, pardon my being late, but I could not get along, for the streets are crowded with kings." First arrived Oscar of Sweden, and then the young Prince of Orange — " Citron " as he was nicknamed by Gramont — and in turn the King and Queen of the Belgians, the King and Queen of the Hellenes, Queen Pia of Portugal, the Duke of Leuchtenburg, the Grand Duchess Marie of Russia, the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Edinburgh. In June came the Czar Alexander II with his sons, and King William of Prussia with Prince Frederick, and attended by Bismarck and Moltke. Later still, King Humbert of Italy and his brother, the Duke d'Aosta. We saw, too, the Khedive, the Sultan Abdul Aziz, a prince of Japan, and I know not how many besides. Subsequently the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria visited us, and stayed for some days at Compiegne, where he held long conversations with Napoleon, doubtless on the subject of a possible alliance between Austria and France which might enable them to withstand the threatening enmity of Prussia. The time spent at Compiegne was one year, enlivened by the presence of some beautiful Englishwomen whose acquaintance the Empress had made while on her visit to Queen Victoria in 1855. The lovely Duchess of Manchester, the Countess of Westmorland, and poor Lady Mary 119 MY MEMOIRS Craven, a long way the handsomest and most charming of them all, formed part of the joyous band which arrived from perfidious Albion. I remember that our Prince M. fell so hope lessly in love with the famous Duchess that when she left he swore to follow her. He obtained an invitation from the fair lady and, with the Emperor's consent, spent a week at her castle in England. On his return the Prince accepted an invitation to supper at the Cafe Anglais. His friends then proceeded to make innumerable jokes of varying good taste concerning his recent expedition ; they demanded vociferously that he should tell them some anecdote to enliven the supper. This is what the Prince finally confided to them. His visit had been a fiasco ! It was not that his inamorata had been unkind, not even that the husband had been indiscreet ; it was a question of accommodation ! The likelihood of a visit from the lovesick Prince, needing foreign hospitality, had not been foreseen. I need hardly add that the story was received with acclamation, and that the Prince was congratulated on having remained a good and faithful husband, even while overseas ! One evening, just before my brother's marriage to the Princess Salome1 of Mingrelia, he said to Lady Mary Craven, " I am going over to Eng land next week to see about my servants' liveries ; is there any commission that I can do for you? " "Bring me back a little earth from Rotten RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE Row," she requested. Achille had a beautifully carved jardiniere made for her, and brought it back filled with the earth she wished for. How well one knows the feeling ! I have often longed for a breath of French air ! I have explained why the Empress was not permitted to dance at the State ball at Versailles. The news soon got abroad that an heir to the throne was expected. The fair Eugenie was enceinte. Comment! How did this happen? you will ask, when it had been affirmed that this hope was little likely to be fulfilled. In any case, by the grace of God, the skill of Sir Charles Locock, a visit to Eaux Bonnes, and by what other means I know not, the fact was certain. It was on the 16th of March, 1856, that the salute of twenty-one [? a hundred and one] guns announced the birth of the Prince Imperial. All night long the illustrious patient was in agony. Dubois had no light task. Child-bearing at the age of thirty is not so easy as at twenty. It fol lowed that, in spite of all his skill, Dubois only succeeded in bringing the Prince into the world by making a slight sacrifice of the mother, who never completely recovered, so it is said, and who for a long time had to wear a plated birth-belt, si bien, que l'Empereur, en y mettant le cadenas, aurait pu partir en guerre comme nos rois d'autre- fois, sans crainte pour son honneur. MY MEMOIRS I have just been skimming through a few lines of the book written by Mme. Carette, Admiral Bouvet's daughter. This lady had no fortune whatever, and the Empress suggested to the Admiral that his daughter should come to her as companion and reader. Mile. Bouvet, who was a very lovely person, was not long in making a rich match, thanks to her sovereign's favour. A certain Monsieur Carette — a man of no great worth, I believe, unless it be the worth due to an income of a hundred thousand francs — sought the hand of the young lectrice and was duly accepted. Reading the few words which Mme. Carette devotes to the Prince of Orange reminds me of a little anecdote which finds its place naturally in here. I do not know, and, besides, it is not for me to say, whether or not the Prince of Wales had an affection for him whom Mme. Carette calls the Prince Citron. I will not say, as she does, that the Prince of Orange " was worth more than his reputation." I will only state that he was pleasant, witty, a good comrade, a good friend, and, if I say a " bon-vivant," I must add that he was no more so than those who surrounded him and who formed the gilded youth of the Empire. The Empress used to give him maternal scold ings, on account of his fastness ; scoldings which he received with the politeness and good taste of a man of the world, coupled with the wheedling manner of a spoilt child. For who would be 122 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE daring enough to deny the incontestable beauty of Mile, de Montijo ? A beauty which no French man can deny, since it was this fatal beauty which swept the Emperor off his feet ! It is to this charm of which Mme. Carette speaks, and to her cleverness, that Mile, de Montijo owes her twenty years as Empress of the French ! But, having myself lived with her so often, I see as I read that the writer has ignored parti cular faults of hair, of teeth, and of certain details which exist even among the Venuses of to-day. Is it that Mme. Carette has wished to immor talize herself by immortalizing the Empress? Every one knows that at Court Mme. Carette was reputed to bear an extraordinary resemblance to Mile, de Montijo. Is this why, in all the accusa tions levelled against the Empress in her book — serious accusations against the woman, accusations of ingratitude towards her saviour and towards her friends — Mme. Carette has not dared to raise these questions of personal defect ? Is it because, being a woman, she has not been able to forgive M. O' [?] for not having recognized in the Empress a taste in furniture which, I should imagine, no one would be prepared to dispute? Madame Carette glides over many events in Napoleon's reign, barely touching on them, with a reticence which commands admiration. But before the last crucial years she arrives at an 123 MY MEMOIRS abrupt stop. Indeed, when one comes to think of it, what could she say of this woman, whom she is trying to paint in most favourable colours ? Did she not lay down her pen before reaching that fatal year 1870 ? But to return to my story. It was on an evening in spring, I no longer remember in which year, that two Princes of royal blood and a certain Duke, after one of the most gay and exciting of dinners, betook themselves (I know not why) to the Mabille Gardens, at that time notorious for exhibitions of the cancan dance. I am not aware of what then ensued. Perhaps on that evening the high kicking of Rogolbosche had been even more expressive and even less respect able than usual. Be that as it may, the police inter vened, and the poor Princes, as well as the Duke, were haled off to the " loek-up." What was to be done ? Should they give their names and betray the incognito of the Crown Princes of two great nations ? It was not to be thought of! The Duke, therefore, resolved to sacrifice him self; he asked for writing materials and sent a letter to a Prince who was a friend of his, begging him to come without delay to extricate him and his companions from their awkward situation. The Prince (a relation of the Emperor, and, con sequently, all-powerful in such a matter) went instantly to the police-station and liberated the culprits. 124 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE The Prince of Orange, one of the two con cerned, never forgot this service, and, in his turn, was able to assist the Prince in the matter of the " cabaret " related by Madame Carette. If I am silent as to the name of the other party it is that I bow respectfully to his incognito. I cannot ter minate this without saying a few words about the sad death of the young Prince of Orange. I was no longer in France at the time of his death, but I have been told that he had an attack of typhoid fever, that he was getting better, and that the doctors thought him out of danger. A ball was being given at which he had promised to appear. In spite of the doctors, in spite of the sick-nurse, he went there in very cold weather. Alas ! He had a relapse, from which he did not recover. It is said that the Prince had a superstition. He always avoided any undertaking on the sixth or on the eleventh of a month. These two numbers, so he declared, were invariably fatal to him. He never made a wager at the races on horses bearing these numbers on the card. He was right, poor Prince ! He died on the i ith at 6 a.m. I2S CHAPTER VII THE COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE Strauss — Visit of the King of Piedmont and the marriage of Princess Clotilde and Prince Napoleon — Character of Napoleon III — Example of his wit — Family dinners and Sunday evenings at the Tuileries — How Senators were chosen when the Empress Eugenie reigned at the Tuileries — A Shrove Tuesday cavalcade — Sur la branche — Perilous gymnastics and inconvenient crinolines — Madame Biadelli — Casabianca and his family — Madame Heine's legacy — General Galliffet — His duel with Prince Achille — The notorious Rochefort — Madame de Galliffet — The Dinner of the Twenty Beauties — Princess de Metternich — A Lenten Ball — The Comtesse de Castiglione — The Ballet of the Bees — Tableaux Vivants — The Emperor's escape from assassination — Gossip and scandal — The shadow of tragedy — The mysterious death of Camerata and its sequel — The Court at Biarritz — Letters from Princess Anna — Her marriage with the Duke de Mouchy These pages are at best only a tangled jumble of reminiscences intermixed with feelings caused by passing events, and so it is, as I read the Figaro to-day [5th June, 1902] and see recorded the death of Strauss/ How the name before my eyes brings back pictures of brilliantly-lighted rooms, of happy faces, of joyous sounds of music, of youth and grace and swiftly-flying feet ! I hear the 126 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE well-known echo of Strauss's waltzes — oh, the merry, laughing nights of long ago ! And now the orchestra plays the ever-famous waltz which tells that the ball is drawing to its close — now the cotillon begins — then the little hot supper reserved for the dancers — after which the curtain goes down, more often as day is dawning. The ball is over only to begin again the next night, and so on all through the carnival, year after year. And year upon year, no doubt, the "Blue Danube " will still be played and the Strauss waltzes will guide other feet in their mazy whirl, though Strauss himself is laid low, never again to give the signal ever so impatiently looked for of yore ! An old letter ! a few black lines on paper, yellow with age. How vividly they bring back things, scenes, faces, from the loved past ! All seem to rise as out of a fog and stand before me. Then memory rushes to the long ago and I live again those years of youth, of joy, of gladness — years of triumph, Imperial pomp and splendour ; days of glory and delight, nights that ran into day. A date and two words have set me dream ing, and I must try to tell all they recall to my mind. The date is 1859 — the words Guerre dltalie. Still further back my thoughts must take me to the autumn of 1855, to Compiegne — it was November. The King of Piedmont was to be our guest. It was thought that a visit to 127 MY MEMOIRS France would be the means of consolidating friendly relations between Paris and Turin, and secure the desired marriage of the Princess Clotilde with the Prince Napoleon. Monsieur de Cavour, one of the two great statesmen of our century, did not, for political reasons, deem it advisable to accompany his King. His presence would give a different and more official character to the visit. It fell therefore to the Marquis d'Azeglio, a very popular man and the most honest and straightforward — a very difficult quality to find in politics — to attend the young monarch during his stay among us. The Marquis d'Azeglio was an intimate friend of my father's, who, as I have said, was sent during a short time in 1850 as Ambassador to the Court of Turin. I remember hearing that Cavour had said that the presence of Azeglio at the King's side would convince Europe that Piedmont was not infected with revolutionary ideas. It was November, and some hundred guests were invited for the Royal visit, many distin guished English statesmen, Lord Palmerston, Lord Cowley, Lord Clarendon, and Sir Robert Peel among others. The King was only to remain three days at Compiegne. A royal hunt was the principal attraction. The meet was at the Puits du Roi. We were much astonished that the King, instead of driving with their Imperial Majesties, arrived on horseback like any ordinary 128 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE mortal. It would be difficult to imagine, and quite impossible for me to describe, the enthusiasm, the shouts, the noise, the confusion which announced our arrival at the meet. The whole forest of Compiegne seemed alive, and every tree echoed back the cheers which greeted us. The King was delighted with the stag hunt, with its fanfares and old-world ceremonies, so different in every way from the hunting customs of England and Italy. On leaving Compiegne, the King and Emperor appeared to be on terms of the most intimate friendship. M. de Cavour no doubt had obtained the result he desired. Cavour and Bismarck were both destined to accomplish the great aims of their lives — the Unity of Italy and the Empire of Germany. But Bismarck, more fortunate than Cavour, lived to see his work accomplished. Cavour found in Prince Napoleon a strong ally who exercised an influence with the Emperor few persons could boast of. The Emperor cherished a true and sincere friendship for Prince Napoleon — friendship formed in the days of their youth, which the Emperor never forgot. The marriage of Princess Clotilde with Prince Napoleon, although an outcome of this visit, was not an absolute condition of the Franco- Italian alliance, but the Emperor's insistence on the point made it practically such. His quiet insistence upon a desired measure or policy often resulted in his gaining his point ; but later there came the i 129 MY MEMOIRS influence of a will stronger and more insistent than his own. The Emperor Louis Napoleon's was a character difficult to read, understood by few. He will appear in history, to generations to come, as a sphinx. He was so to us, though we knew him so intimately. We were at Compiegne in June 1861 when an officer arrived with the intelligence of the death of Cavour. It was a surprise to us all. I looked to see how it affected the Emperor. I shall never forget my astonishment and the far-away look of dreamy; satisfaction that stole over his face as, with a sigh of relief, he expressed his deep regret. Cavour, whose energy and genius had prepared the Unity of Italy, died at the moment when he hoped to crown his efforts by giving Rome to Victor Emmanuel for his Italian Capital. So our occupa tion of Rome guarded it for the Holy Father. Any one who knew the Emperor as well as I did could not fail to see the perfect truth of the following portrait of his character written by one of his most devoted subjects, from whom I beg to borrow it — " When one approaches him closely, when one sees him in his private life, as simple and as modest in the sunshine of the most brilliant suc cess as the least and meanest of his subjects ; when one finds oneself confronting this fortune- favoured man, who is so distinguished in his 130 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE manners yet without the shadow of pretentious ness, of personal arrogance, or of vanity ; when one sees him apply his high and noble intelligence and his most upright and perfect good sense to all questions at issue, one easily understands the greatness of his reign. Then again, when one has seen him in moments of peril show himself the most intrepid of men, it is impossible not to be completely won and charmed by him. But if one penetrates deeper still into his heart and becomes a witness of the struggles of his reason against his natural goodness — struggles which were always defeats and often disasters — one pities this prince, so good, so generous, and so indulgent for his inability to strike and punish those who deserved to be punished. One under stands with what fatal facility this noble spirit can fall a victim to intrigue, and one recognizes from external as well as internal signs the secrets of his errors, the weaknesses and shortcomings of his statesmanship." Does not this show only too plainly what I have tried to make clear in all I have said ? I wish I could recollect some of the smart sayings and witty repartees of the Emperor. They were many, but only one occurs to me as I write. A large dinner-party preceded one of the " Lundis " of the Empress. Each week during the winter season till Lent, there was dancing at the Palace, called "les petits bals de l'lmpdra- trice," or " Les Lundis." On a particular Monday the Archbishop of Paris was one of his Majesty's 1 2 131 MY MEMOIRS guests. After dinner he and the Emperor were conversing when the Archbishop suddenly became aware that ladies in laces and diamonds surrounded him — that dancing was about to begin. " Ah ! Sire," he exclaimed in alarm, " permettez moi de me sauver bien vite." . . . The Emperor de taining him, " Mais, Sire," objected the Arch bishop, " voyez, je suis chassd par les epaules." The Emperor, with the quick wit we all knew so well, then smiled as he said : " Alors les saints (seins) doivent vous retenir " — and the Archbishop ran the faster, laughing on his way. The New Year was always the occasion of a special family gathering at the Tuileries. One was busy from early morning. At mid-day there was mass, while the afternoon was spent in paying and in receiving calls. In the evening there was a family dinner-party, from which none of us was allowed to be absent on pain of giving serious offence. This was the great family reunion of the year. But every Sunday evening also we were expected to be present at the dinner strictly confined to members of the family. The Princess Mathilde frequently excused herself. She had no great sympathy with the Empress, and avoided as many of the Court functions as her rank and position would allow, while the Empress made no secret of her coldness towards the Princess. Sometimes, too, the chair reserved beside her Majesty for Prince Napoleon was vacant. But I 132 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE had not the privilege of so absenting myself ; and every Sunday evening I was obliged to take my place at the table. Oh ! the boredom of these gatherings, which lacked gaiety and life, which were absolutely void of witty conversation, and in which there was no thought save as to who should have precedence — a struggle which was renewed every Sunday during the fifty-two weeks of the year! How tired I grew of all the jealousy, of the empty life, the formality, of these Court intrigues and of these petty vexations ! Only when the hour came to retire could I breathe freely ! After dinner it was more agreeable, for other people were received, and something amusing would happen. The Empress used to go into her favourite corner of the drawing-room, and there, surrounded by her most intimate friends, she used to get the Prefect of Police to tell anec dotes. The Prefect's tales, as you may imagine, were highly spiced ; and her Majesty enjoyed the most adventurous situations. The more highly- flavoured was the story, the more did our Sovereign appreciate it. There was music, of course. Sometimes we played at hide-and-seek, hunt the slipper or blind man's buff, sometimes at "clumps," or guessed riddles, of which her Majesty was particularly fond. Eugenie de Montijo always had the reputation of possessing a ready, if somewhat 133 MY MEMOIRS cruel, wit. This attribute did not desert her when she attained Imperial rank. It contributed greatly to the gaiety of the Court, but to it she surely owed her most influential enemies. Many anecdotes narrated in this connection are exag gerated or wholly invented, but one instance I remember of a jest, too indelicate for publication, which, originating from the Empress herself, went the rounds of the Court circles, and had the effect of keeping Baron Haussmann away from the Tuileries for a considerable time. These references to the Sunday evening entertainments at the Tuileries bring back an incident to my memory. There was to be a nomination of senators, and the number of vacancies was limited to three or four seats. The list of candidates was a long one, for the Empress, the ministers, the male and female favourites, all had their own man in mind. One Sunday night the Emperor drew from his pocket a list of the most fancied candidates, among whose names was that of M. Prosper Merimee, a protege of the Empress, for the honour. I say "a protege of the Empress," for that, I believe, was his sole claim to the Emperor's choice. What was to be done ? Some had incontestable rights to favour, others had the favour without the rights. Suddenly the Empress decided the matter. Taking a hat belonging to one of the gentlemen, she wrote with her own hand all the names on little slips of i34 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE paper. These she placed in the hat, which she handed to the Emperor. He drew a name. Fortune once more favouring beauty, he held that of Prosper Me>im6e. That is how the great dignitaries of State were appointed when the Empress Eugenie reigned at the Tuileries. Why speak of merit ? Wit was the only requisite — especially the wit which enabled a man to please the Empress. I had spent part of the winter and spring of 1865 in Italy. We came back to Paris at the end of the carnival. The Duke de Morny had just died and the Court was plunged in grief. The Empress, who only thought of fetes and amusements, asked herself what was to be done for Shrove Tuesday, without balls, fancy dress, or masks. A council was held. I can still see her surrounded by her intimate friends at about five o'clock — the hour of tea, served in her study. It was the same study which a few hours before had been littered with all the private papers of M. de Morny, seized by order of the Empress. Suddenly in her natural exuberance of spirits, her Majesty had a quaint idea ; doubtless some fancy, a memory of her bohemian youth passed through her brain. Sitting astride a chair and grasping its side bars as if they were the reins of a horse, she by her looks invited the others to do the same. Soon ladies and gentle men alike mounted their wooden steeds, and a 135 MY MEMOIRS regular Shrove Tuesday cavalcade ensued, going round and round the large room after the Empress, to the accompaniment of the trumpet ing and boisterous calls of the hunting-field. There was no fatted ox, even Cupid was absent, but the enthusiasm of the mimic chase was at its height when a little door was heard to turn on its hinges and a huge setter dog rushed up the little spiral staircase and bounded into the room. It was the forerunner of his Majesty the Emperor ! As if by magic, there was a dead silence. The ladies returned demurely to their arm-chairs, the men stood upright to salute — all save one, who would not face the master with deception. Hence poor Dupuy was hastily pushed under the table, which was covered by a large cloth reaching to the floor ! The Emperor entered, made amiable remarks to those around him. There was a glance for Madame Walewska, a smile for Madame de Cadore, a kindly word for the Princess Anna Murat, while we all trembled, watching Nero's inconvenient persistence in scenting out his hidden quarry and standing " on point " at the table to attract the attention of his master, who suspected nothing as yet. What was to be done ? The Emperor had to be enticed away at all costs, and one of the ladies sacrificed herself. As far as my memory serves me, it was Madame de Persigny. In any case, I shall injure no one by naming her. On prite aux riches. 136 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE And that is how Shrove Tuesday was cele brated at the Palace of the Tuileries in 1865. I could tell many anecdotes of this nature to illustrate the levity which underlay the formalities of the Court. I can no longer remember the year, but we were at Fontainebleau in the springtime. We were engaged in a paper-chase, and the man who is called " the fox " had done his work so well that we who were " the hounds " had strayed a long way from the chateau and were utterly tired out with running. I still seem to feel my poor legs scarcely bearing my weight, while the Empress, wearing high heels, was obviously exhausted. Suddenly I saw Comte de Castel- bajac, and another man, perhaps the Marquis de Toulongeon, bringing forward a long branch from one of the trees. Going down on their knees and placing the bough between them across their shoulders, they invited the Empress to take her seat upon it. This she did readily, and rode it astride at that ! Certainly she is a plucky woman, for she rode back the whole way to the chateau like this, without uttering a single sigh or com plaint. Nevertheless, the branch was not won derful enough to preserve the Imperial imprint. Doubtless if it had done so, the gentlemen would have kept it as an ancient but precious souvenir. I had just finished my fortnight's stay at Fon tainebleau and gone back to Paris, when I received 137 MY MEMOIRS the order to return at once. It would be going too far to say that this order was pleasant to receive. Nevertheless I obeyed. I arrived at five o'clock in the evening and found her Majesty in her dressing-room with Princess Bacciochi and a few other intimates. She was in a short flannel petticoat with a pink dressing-jacket trimmed with lace and reaching a little below the knees. She had sent for me, acting, as always, on the spur of the moment, because she had just discovered that Princess Anna Murat, who was then only seventeen years old, had been (and I use her own words) stung by a tarantula and insisted on marrying the Marquis de Massa. The poor Marquis was certainly one of the many admirers of my sister, but the young Princess did not favour him to this extent. She used to call Massa her mocking-bird. Later on he became the author of a little unpublished comedy which was played at Compiegne, and the Empress, who was a very good dancer, performed several Spanish dances in a short skirt between the acts. Massa had a pretty turn for verse-making. Here I copy an acrostic which he addressed to myself. C 'etait un reve hier que ce ton familier, A ujourd'hui qu' entre nous cet aimable jeu cesse, R eprends ton rang, ton titre et redeviens princesse . . . O u le respect commande il faut toujours plier. 138 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE L is ces vers que j'ai faits en franchissant ta porte, I 1 faut pour leur itoffe avoir quelque pitie-, N 'y pas voir de vains mots qu' au loin le vente emporte E t qu'il en reste au moins le plus doux : l'Amitid. I remained several days at Fontainebleau endeavouring to calm the anxiety of the Empress as to the idea of the Emperor's young relative having any matrimonial desires towards the Marquis. The day after my arrival, a long country walk was suggested. It was not a hunting day, and there was nothing particular to do. A certain number of the guests accepted the walk with the Empress. The Emperor was working that day and did not accompany us. We started off on this picnic expedition. Her Majesty Eugenie went on ahead with her intimate friends Duperre and company. When we arrived at the rocks, it was suggested^ that we should lunch on the grass, and during the preparation of the meal every one wandered off, more or less in couples. As I sauntered along, imagine my astonish ment at seeing the Empress, Madame de Cadore, and one or two other ladies climbing up a very steep path in the precipitous cliff Each lady, led by the Empress, was supported by her cavalier, who from time to time helped the difficult ascent by pushing from behind, thus also preventing a retrograde movement and averting a catastrophe when the wind interfered with the inconvenient crinolines. i39 MY MEMOIRS I do not know if the ladies found amusement in this, but I imagine so from the exclamations and laughter which reached me. In any case, it was a very amusing and certainly a very curious sight for an ordinary passer-by to see these perilous gymnastics introduced to the Court of France by this young girl who had suddenly become Empress, and who very naturally had preserved the customs and tastes of her youth passed in Spain in running about the country on her mule with her young friends. A letter has just brought me the news of the death of Mme. Biadelli, sending my thoughts back to people and events of long- forgotten years. It was in the autumn of 1849 that I first made her acquaintance. My father was proceeding to Turin as Ambassador at the Court of Victor Emmanuel. My mother, slowly recovering from a long illness, was unable to accompany him. We were living at that time in the Rue d'Anjou St. Honore\ M. Biadelli was the officer selected as Attache1 Militaire on the Ambassador's staff. A true Corsican, military to the backbone, both in man ners and appearance, and to the day of his death — which occurred some years after the downfall of the Empire as the result of a fall from his horse — proved himself a most devoted follower and friend. His wife was young, tall, and no doubt some would say pretty — a brunette with rather regular features and eyes, the most in- 140 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE teresting feature, brown with a yellow tint in them, and, standing out in her face like a poached egg, the sort of thing we in our flowery French language call a fleur de tite. She also was a Corsican, daughter of Comte de Casabianca, of whom I have spoken somewhere as made use of by the Emperor for the purpose of forming a Ministry after the "deux Ddcembre" — with title of Ministre d'Etat, what is here called Premier. He was only a short time in office, I fancy for two reasons. The first, he was too honest, looked far too strictly into things and people. The second, he had a large family in the woman line : three old unmarried daughters, who interfered in all political and State matters, undertook to open dispatches, to give orders in the offices, to the Secretary and Chief of Office ; a horde of young Corsican cousins who all were given employ ment, and a wife, good woman, absolute cipher, neither intelligent nor highly educated and put entirely in the background by her daughters. Madame Biadelli was by far the most amiable and the most liked. The youngest daughter, then called "petite Eugenie" because young in comparison with the others, married a fellow by name^Ferry d'Escland, a clerk in the Cours des Comptes. I hear of late years he has come greatly into favour. Why, or wherefore? He helped Madame Heine in her charities, and was left by her a legacy. The Pope created him 141 MY MEMOIRS Duke Ferry d'Escland, one wonders for what services ! Speaking of Madame Heine and her legacies, an amusing story occurs to me. A very old and intimate friend at Court, and one we all liked, Admiral Charles Duperr£, became after the war un des intimes at Madame Heine's, and a real friendship grew between them. Duperre, as honest as he was poor, had hoped — perhaps this is saying too much, yet I believe he had reason to think — that in the disposal of her immense fortune he would be remembered. He received a beautiful old clock, with a line in her hand writing saying she had left him the timepiece which had marked so many hours of charming intercourse. It has always been interesting to me to observe the readiness of Certain friends of the Empire to take service under the Republic ; as in the case of the Marquis de Galliffet when he became Minister of War in 1899. There was, I suppose, a feeling of danger ahead, and all parties saw the necessity of making a sacrifice for the country. Otherwise, could General de Galliffet have accepted office in such company ? Galliffet ! how familiar it sounds — and oh ! how strange it all seems to me looking back — Captain, chef d'Escadron, Colonel — how well I knew him through his long career ! He was a great Court favourite. Many are the amusing anecdotes told of this " Poseur pour la Galerie," 142 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE who was at the same time one of the most reck lessly brave and daring of soldiers ! He behaved brilliantly during the Mexican Campaign, and at Puebla was severely wounded in the lower part of the stomach. It is told how, no one being near to give him help, he, with admirable courage, took and held with both hands his protruding insides while he dragged himself along to the nearest ambulance. His life was in danger for some time — ice was required, but none was to be found. When the news of his critical condition reached us at the Tuileries, their Majesties were dining. The Empress held an ice in her hand. She slowly put it on the table, saying : " I will never eat another ice till Galliffet is restored to us." Some time after the gallant general's return to Paris my second brother, Prince Achille, took offence at a letter written by Galliffet in which he wrote slightingly of a member of the Imperial family. Achille sent his ttmoins, Col. Jer6me Bonaparte and Antoine d'Espeletta, to challenge Galliffet, whose own seconds I forget. Rendez vous was arranged for the next day. It was a most anxious time for us all. Galliffet was a brilliant soldier — my brother a young fellow just entering life and about to fight only his second duel. At the Avenue Montaigne we each had our suite of private apartments ; my father's overlooked the Avenue, mine the Rue Jean-Goujon, just opposite where the great fire of the Bazaar de la 143 MY MEMOIRS Charit6 took place some years ago ; my brother's room looked over the court-yard, and, as it were, made the link between my rooms and my father's. Looking out of my dressing-room, I saw into my brother's. All that night I watched ; the noise of the clashing swords seemed unceasing. I could hear Espeletta's voice as he coached his pupil for the coming fight. Espeletta was reckoned the best swordsman in Paris. Great was our joy when we received the news, sent by Col. Bonaparte's courier to the effect that the Prince was safe and that Col. Galliffet had received a slight wound in the thigh. He was lame for about a fortnight, perhaps less. My brother's first duel he fought in a shed with the notorious Rochefort, who had publicly insulted him in the theatre. The meeting was in the forest of Saint-Germain, in the presence of the Emperor and his suite, who went there ostensibly for a day's shooting, but in reality to watch the duel. I have heard the seconds tell how, driven to the wall, giving way before the attacks of the Prince, Rochefort turned round and received his wound where the toe of a boot is a more usual weapon. Madame de Galliffet, a woman of most amiable and gentle disposition, was one of the foremost beauties of the Empire. Opinion was divided as to whether she or Madame de Pourtal^s was the more beautiful.1 They were both inevitably 1 " I remember," writes Madame Carette in her Souvenirs, 144 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE selected by the Empress on the occasion of the celebrated Dinner of the Twenty Beauties, given at the Tuileries to the Emperor in fulfilment of a lost wager. The invitations, so far as the feminine section was concerned, were confined to the most beautiful women of the Court circle, twenty in all. Of these a half were French women : the Duchesses de Montmorency, de Cadore, and de Persigny, the Marquises de Canizy and de Las Marimas, the Comtesses de Pourtates and de Montebello, and the Baronnes de Pierrebourg and de Bourgoing. Two of them, the Duchesse de Morny and Madame Leopold Magnan, were Russians ; the Comtesse Walewska and Madame Bartholoni were Italians ; Baroness Alphonse de Rothschild was a Jewess, the lovely Marechale Canrobert was a Scotchwoman, the Marquise de Chasseloup-Loubat was a Creole; and to these were added my sister Princess Anna, a semi-American, the Marquise de Galliffet, who was half English, and the Princess de Metternich, who had to be included, not for her looks, but because of her incomparable wit. Finally, of course, to complete the international galaxy, there was the Empress herself, who was a Spaniard. "that I then [about 1859] saw the Countess de Pourtale's and the Marquise de Galliffet for the first time. They faced each other in the first quadrille. Impossible to see a prettier pic ture than that of these two persons, entirely different in their type of beauty, but equally graceful, lively, and elegant." K 145 MY MEMOIRS Princess de Metternich, whom I have just mentioned, was one of the most prominent of the women at the Court of the Second Empire. Her husband, Prince Richard de Metternich, was First Secretary to the Austrian Embassy, in all the glory of youth and social success — an amiable companion, a graceful dancer, a delightful causeur de salon. Later on, he had come to Paris as Ambassador with this ugliest jolie laide for wife — the daughter of the renowned Johannesberg wine, Comtesse Pauline Sandor — whom he married in June 1856. Young, clever, witty, ambitious, with a daring, reckless spirit and a sharp tongue, she carried all before her. She made the brilliancy of Metternich's diplomatic career. A great favourite at the Tuileries, she held her influence with the Empress even after the downfall of the Empire. Princess Metternich was bon garpon, very amusing and entertaining. Therasa's songs and Rogolbosche's kicks1 were 1 Therasa was a notorious music-hall star variously referred to as " the Patti of the People " and " the diva of the wine shops.'' Her repertoire of libidinous lyrics, composed for her by the poets of the Latin Quarter, included "La Gardeuse d'Ours," " Le Sapeur," " La Reine des Charlatans," and " C'est dans le nez que 5a me chatouille " — a ditty that was for a long time the craze of Paris. Rogolbosche was the real name of Marguerite Badel, a girl famous at the cabarets of Montmartre for her eccentric dancing and high-flung kicks at a time when the cancan was coming into vogue. Her Memoirs, which were said to be written by herself, but of which she had penned no single line, went into six large editions in one year. The 146 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE equally familiar to her, and her burlesque imita tions of both were so clever that they became a huge advertisement of the originals, sending people flocking in night disguise to the Mabille gardens and the Petit Moulin-Rouge. But with all her recklessness, her love of adventure and her knowledge of the world, she was herself a model of propriety, and her name was never coupled with any love intrigue. She was a woman of refined taste, a fervent partisan of Wagner long before his music became accept able to the Parisians generally, and it is well known that it was she who prevailed upon Walewski to allow the performance of Tann hduser at the Opera in 1861. She introduced Liszt to the Tuileries. She was the first to recognize the genius of the English costumier Worth, who made most of the brilliant and original costumes in which she appeared, and caused admiring astonishment at the Court entertainments. Her love of private theatricals added to the pleasures of the time, and she fre quently appeared in the tableaux, short comedies and charades that were performed in the long Gallery of Maps at Compiegne. Octave Feuillet and Massa often engaged her help in devising volume consisted of the most irresponsible and intimate gossip about women of her own class, and seemed designed especially to prove that it is easier to ride in a gilded coach than to starve on a crust. K2 J47 MY MEMOIRS such entertainments. She was by nature gay, and her gaiety was infectious. She was not beautiful ; her nose was bad, her lips were too thick, her ears too pointed ; but one forgot her unloveliness when the Princess spoke, for she was the wittiest woman of her age. She was said to be eccentric. I should rather call her original. She once shocked her more demure friends by giving a ball at the Austrian Embassy during Lent. Such an infraction of religious duty was amazing ; but no invitations were declined. Dancing went on until midnight, and we were getting hungry. Suddenly the orchestra ceased playing and the hostess, standing in the middle of the room, reminded the assembly that this was a Lenten ball, that Lent meant fast ing, and she warned her friends not to expect any supper, although they might stay as long as they pleased. We imagined that it was merely a joke made to hide the fact that a supper would presently be announced, and the reputation of the Embassy for hospitality be magnificently maintained. No supper was served, however, and the company dispersed to get food elsewhere. On another occasion Princess Metternich gave a dinner to a company of Court and diplomatic guests who, on their arrival, were amazed at the behaviour of some half-dozen of her servants, who not only announced the names wrongly, but indulged in the most outrageous pranks. There came a 148 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE climax when these flunkies actually seated them selves at the dining-table and opened their napkins. But at this point the Princess broke into peals of laughter, and it was only then discovered that the offending servants were all young men of high position and that the whole thing was a got-up farce, which had its desired effect in putting the guests into good humour. Her husband, Prince Richard de Metternich, was a principal in a famous fourfold duel, fought with cavalry sabres at Kehl in the autumn of 1869, when he received an ugly gash in the right arm. The encounter concerned a woman's honour, but it had no connection with marital infidelity on the part of Metternich. The beautiful Countess de Beaumont, sister of Marshal MacMahon, was the cause and object of it. Count de Beaumont was inordinately jealous. No man could even glance with admiration at la belle Madame, or say a word to her, without incurring the Count's displeasure and arousing his jealousy, and on this occasion he had the temerity to call out four adversaries in succession. Duels at that time were seldom fatal, and there were many men who held themselves ready to risk an encounter for the sake of women whom they innocently admired. M. de Galliffet, for example, was a recognized champion of Madame de Metternich, as Paul de Cassagnac was champion of the Empress, and M. de Metternich and many others of the lovely Countess de Beaumont. The 149 MY MEMOIRS gallantry did not imply any closer relationship. Of the Metternichs, it must be said that they were exemplary husband and wife. No scandal of love intrigue or incontinence was ever breathed in their direction, and the Princess, with all her reckless buoyancy, was personally a paragon of virtue. I will not say that such a reputation as hers was altogether exceptional. There were many women of the Court quite as free from blemish as Madame de Metternich. But, on the other hand, it cannot be denied that there was a large number whose private lives and conduct would not bear scrutiny. In this connection, one naturally thinks of Virginia de Castiglione, who hardly ever attempted to cover herself with a cloak even of assumed modesty. The Countess de Castiglione was frivolous as well as frank, and in breaking the bounds of conventionality she was infinitely more daring than Princess de Metternich. She could take liberties when no one else could. Entirely reck less of people's opinion, she sought only to please herself by creating an impression. She was a Florentine, daughter of the Marchioness Oldo'ini, and she came to Paris about 1856, when she was twenty, already married and a mother. Walewski, in recommending her to Count Castiglione, de scribed her rather too flatteringly, I consider, as " the loveliest woman in Europe." She had beautiful blue eyes, rich, abundant brown hair, a 15° COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE perfect mouth and dimpled chin, and an indescrib ably graceful and statuesque figure. I saw her first, I think, at Compiegne in 1857, when she was a guest at the same time as the surpassingly beautiful Duchess of Manchester, whose refined elegance and soulful face with its profile like an antique cameo were a constant enjoyment to all who beheld her. No one who knew them both could hesitate in according to the Duchess the priority for charm and loveliness. Afterwards I saw the Countess de Castiglione frequently. The Princess Mathilde received her with cordiality at her dinners and receptions, and admired her beauty so much that she commissioned Giraud to paint a portrait of her. The picture was the artist's masterpiece ! For some time, too, she was to be met at the Empress's Mondays as well as at the Court balls and entertainments, both at the Tuileries and Compiegne. It was rumoured that she came to Paris on some sort of political mission of intrigue, at the instigation of Cavour, and that she had the avowed ambition of taking the place formerly occupied by Miss Howard in the amorous atten tions of the Emperor. That Cavour, who was a statesman of discernment, should have selected her as a political emissary is manifestly unlikely. Virginia de Castiglione did not possess the subtle mind of a diplomatist. Her mental attributes, indeed, were insignificant. Her attractions and 151 MY MEMOIRS abilities were solely those of a woman who knew she was beautiful and took every opportunity to display her physical charms. She danced well, she dressed well, she excelled in the art of posing ; but she did not shine in conversation ; she had no wit, no natural intelligence, and even when she made a desperate effort at verbal smartness she came dangerously near to being impertinent. At one of Prince Jerome's entertainments at the Palais Royal, she arrived at one o'clock in the morning, as the Emperor and Empress were leaving. They met at the head of the stairs. "You arrive very late, Madame la Comtesse," said his Majesty. " It is you, Sire, who leave very early," she made retort. She took pleasure in surprising people with her pranks and adventures. Her boyish love of mischief was notorious. Her fancy of climbing to the roof of the Louvre at midnight to hear the chimes of the city was only one of her many caprices. It was in her costumes at fancy dress balls that she most succeeded in creating astonish ment. At one, held at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in February 1857, when Madame Walewska was hostess, she appeared arrayed as Queen of Hearts in an exceedingly ddcolletd costume, en tirely open at the sides from the hips downwards. She wore her hair flowing loose over her neck and shoulders. Her conspicuous ornaments were crimson hearts thrown as it were at random upon 152 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE the dress, some in positions that were decidedly unexpected. The Empress, congratulating her upon her achievement, added, looking at one of the symbols which was particularly conspicuous, " But your heart seems a little low down." She was conscious of the beauty of her person, and veiled it as slightly as she dared. In her, people condoned audacities which in other women would only have been shocking, as they did at the carnival ball at the Tuileries in 1863, when she startled the company by coming as Salammbo in a costume of transparent gossamer, her bosom and ankles as bare as her beautiful arms, of which she was excusably proud. "Would you like to see my arm ? " she would ask, drawing up her sleeve. It was said that she incurred reprimand for her freedom in dress. It might have been expected, for she was certainly audacious. But I only know of one occasion of hesitation in admit ting her, and that was when she had the question able taste to present herself at a ball as Marie de Medici, attired in funereal black. At the carnival ball of 1863, to which I have just alluded, the Emperor and Empress both were dressed magnificently in the Venetian style, in colours of gorgeous crimson and white. Princess Mathilde represented Anne of Cleves, carefully prepared after Holbein's picture in the Louvre. One of the most admired costumes was that of Madame Alphonse de Rothschild, repre- 153 MY MEMOIRS senting a bird-of-paradise. This was the occasion when, in compliment to the Emperor, Comtesse Stephanie Tascher de la Pagerie produced her famous Ballet of the Bees. It had been rehearsed for weeks, and twelve of the best dancers of the Court had been drilled under M^rante, the ballet master of the Opera. Four huge beehives were carried in and, at a signal from Strauss's orchestra, the hives opened, and from each three " bees " flew out, carrying garlands of violets, emblem of the Bonapartes, as were also the bees. Their Majesties were exceedingly fond of theatricals, and command performances were often held as an addition to the after-dinner entertain ments at Court. The Emperor favoured light comedies and farces ; the Empress preferred romantic drama and tragedy. The companies of the Comedie Francaise and the Gymnase per formed at frequent intervals at Compiegne, but the performances given under the direction of Princess de Metternich were more popular with us, and one knew the artistes so well. Even more attractive were the tableaux vivants, for which there was quite a rage at one time. In these Mme. de Castiglione excelled, and she was always in request, inventing some new extrava gance to exhibit her faultless shape under such favourable conditions. At one time she would appear as the central figure of a classic or historic group, or the curtain would rise to discover her i54 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE alone in some well-studied pose to represent an emotion, a phase, a sentiment. She was less varied in her conceptions than Madame de Met ternich, less original than Stephanie Tascher de la Pagerie. Where she gained in grace and beauty of pose, she lost in expression. But it was enough that she had a beautiful figure. Brave Marshal Magnan's daughters often assisted in these tableaux. One of them, the prettiest, I forget her name, was asked by Madame de Metternich to represent the classical figure of Eros, the little god of Love, a figure for which her childish, roguish face and rounded form were especially suited. Doubtful concerning her cos tume, she sent a message to her military parent : " Dear Papa, I am playing Love to-night (jefais I 'amour ce soir). I implore you to send me all I shall need for the part." " Certainly," he responded promptly, and of course he sent her nothing. Madame de Castiglione was one of the pretty women to whom the Emperor was fond of making offerings of his inevitable sugared almonds. (He ran up large accounts with Gouache, the Court confectioner.) At one time her name was coupled with his, as it had formerly been coupled with that of King Victor Emmanuel, and there are some persons still living who might throw light on the hidden incident of " the Compiegne night dress of cambric and lace," so conspicuously i55 MY MEMOIRS mentioned in her will. It was known to all the Court that the Emperor's visits to her house in Rue de la Pompe had no official or political significance. The liaison was too obvious to be disguised. One visit in particular was talked about pretty freely, for the reason that it was in connection with it that he narrowly escaped the knife of an assassin. He had gone incognito in his small coupe\ entering by the secret door reserved for his exclusive use on such nocturnal occasions, and was leaving the house at three o'clock in the morning, when, as the carriage was being driven out from the courtyard, "three armed men leapt from the darkness and -made an attack upon him. It was said that the Emperor was saved only by the promptitude of his faithful coachman, who, assuring himself that his master was in the carriage as yet unharmed, lashed at his horses and galloped them in hot haste to the Tuileries. It is impossible to overlook the fact that during the Second Empire there was abundant cause for gossip and scandal ; but much that has been written in irresponsible Memoirs is either wholly false or grossly exaggerated. The Empress Eugenie was herself too strict and circumspect to permit any looseness of talk or of conduct, and scandal was rigidly discouraged «ven if it could not be suppressed. At a ball given at the Tuileries early in 1865 156 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE a guest of the scandal-loving type dared to bring into question the character of a certain very good- looking unmarried girl, daughter of one of1 the functionaries of the Court. The narrator declared that the girl was absent because she was occupied with her baby, born only a very few mornings previously, adding unblushingly that the Emperor was the father. One of the Empress's ladies-in- waiting, the Marquise de Latour-Maubourg, stood near, and heard this attempt to ruin an innocent girl's reputation. " One ought to be quite certain of one's facts before circulating a story like that," she intervened. " Oh, but it is true," the other retorted warmly, "the accouchement took place at the residence of an intimate friend of mine." "You astonish me," returned Madame de Latour-Maubourg. " And the more so since there is the young lady herself, dancing ! " Covered with confusion, the scandal-monger watched Madame de Latour-Maubourg advance towards the Empress. Presently a chamberlain approached her to inform her that her carriage was waiting, and thereafter her name was missing from the list of those received at the Tuileries. The gaiety of the Court of Napoleon 1 1 1 was more than once darkened by the shadow of tragedy. The murder of the Archbishop Sibour in the church of St. fitienne-du-Mont is well remembered. I will refer to another crime which i57 MY MEMOIRS caused more than a passing sensation in Paris and which cast a gloom over every one who had known the modest and lovable young prince who was its victim. I have alluded to the Princess Bacciochi as one of the older generation of the Imperial family. She was the daughter of the first Napoleon's sister Eliza. She lived in the Rue de la Ville L'Ev£que. Her only son, the young Count de Camerata, was beloved by all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. He greatly distinguished himself at Court by the tact and ability which he displayed as State Councillor. This position he attained, not by mere favour, but through his undoubted merit, which every one recognized. One morning my valet de chambre came and knocked at my door saying that they wished me to go without delay to the Rue de la Ville L'Ev6que. I feared a misfortune. Alas ! my fears were too well founded. The young Count Camerata was dead. I was taken in to see him. Never shall I forget the sight of his lifeless body stretched out on his little iron bedstead, the eye blown out of his head, his fearful wound still open and bleeding. But no ; I stop here. I cannot write down the horror of that morning. What were the facts of his tragic death ? They remain a mystery. It is known that on the night before, he had a private audience with the Empress; but who can say what took place at 158 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE that interview, or what was its object ? There are two versions of the story. The current rumour was that Camerata was deeply in debt, that he had speculated heavily on the Stock Exchange, and that neither the allow ance that the Emperor made him nor his mother's resources at the moment would be sufficient to cover the enormous deficits that settling day must reveal. It was said that the poor boy had lost a very large sum : that he had to find 200,000 francs by the next morning. He was believed to have had recourse so often to the Emperor's generous and frequent goodness that he dared not in these circumstances make an appeal to him. What could be done ? At the end of his resources, half mad, he went, it was said, to the Empress at the Tuileries and threw himself at the feet of her Majesty, entreating her help. Nothing came of it. It was reported that she received him coldly, refused him all assistance, threw in his teeth the generosity of the Emperor, of which he had, she said, so often taken unfair advantage. Then, in a frenzy of despair, he flung himself out of her private boudoir, leaving her as a fare well the words, " If I do not find two hundred thousand francs this evening, I shall blow my brains out ! " Even supposing that these were his words, do you think that the Sovereign was in the least affected by them ? No, certainly not. He was 159 MY MEMOIRS not a Spaniard who had spoken. He was only a relation of the Emperor's. The Count Camerata received no money that night. He went to bed. He awoke early, asked for his coffee, had his hair dressed, and sent his valet to fetch a newspaper. During his servant's absence, the thing happened. How ? The Emperor was on the throne ; Camerata was his cousin ; and nevertheless — thanks always to her who decided on his life — they buried him like a dog. A military van came to take the body of the most amiable, the most charming of youths, and they carried it away in this manner. I do not believe that they allowed even a prayer ! There is another version of the tragedy. The two stories are not contradictory. I am not prepared to say which represents the truth. No one else was present at the interview in the boudoir to say on whose side the appeal was made. I have not access to the records of the Secret Service, and if Monseigneur Bauer knew all the details of the case, it was not to be expected that he would disclose the secrets of the con fessional. " Three of us knew this secret," he is known to have declared, " and two of us have gone to their graves without revealing it. I shall do likewise." But the mystery of Camerata's death was discussed in the boudoir and the smoking-room by people who were usually well 1 60 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE informed, and the incidents, whether true or false, were pieced together in dramatic order. It was stated that on a certain evening, at an important Court function, as he stood with the hand of a very great lady on his arm, Camerata was indiscreet enough to say to her in Italian, " / love you," in tones so audible that they were overheard by one of the ladies-in-waiting. The indiscretion — the insult, it was called — was perforce reported to the Emperor, and forthwith the young prince was marked by the secret police. He was alleged to have in his possession certain letters addressed to him by the great lady who had been the object of his too-public declar ation. They were not perhaps of a seriously compromising nature ; but it was enough that they existed. The police endeavoured to recover them. Led by the zealous Zembo, they raided his apartments in the Rue de la Ville L'Eveque. Naturally, Camerata declined to deliver the documents or betray where they were deposited. He was ready to defend the lady's honour with his life. A dispute arose. There was a struggle ; and Zembo, his hot Corsican blood being aroused, or his zeal overmastering his prudence, shot Camerata through the head. Next morning, all Paris talked of the suicide of one of the most favoured of courtiers. It was freely said that, not being able to meet his liabilities, he had taken his own life. We who l 161 MY MEMOIRS knew him were well aware that he was not a moral coward. Whether he was really in debt at that time or not, I cannot tell ; but it is certain that his mother was wealthy. At her death the fortune which she left to the Prince Imperial yielded in interest alone something like ;£ 12,000 a year. The Princess Bacciochi was having a marble bust made of her son, and she requested me to go and see this bust and give her my opinion as to the likeness. I went, then, one day to the studio of the sculptor. There was a beautiful young person there who inspired the chisel of the artist in the work that he was engaged upon when I entered. I learned that she was Eliza Letissier, an actress of the Varietds who was known professionally as Mile. Marthe, and who had been entirely devoted to poor Camerata. She could not be consoled for his death. A few days later on, she was found dead in her room. In her hand was a paper, not in her own handwriting, stating that she did not want to live longer without her lover. She had chosen to follow him. And this is how, for lack of a movement of goodness, for lack of a little tender feeling and human pity, one may have to answer for two lives. All the theatrical notabilities of Paris followed the young artiste to her grave. The newspapers announced that she had destroyed herself by means of a pan of charcoal ; but it transpired that the 162 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE secret police had visited her rooms, and that she had stubbornly resisted their efforts to secure certain documents entrusted to her protection by her friend Count Camerata. What documents were these ? Whether there was any direct connection between this double tragedy and its sequel, I cannot say, but immediately after the death of Camerata, Zembo disappeared from Paris. He had escaped across the channel, and within a week he was found under Hungerford Bridge with a dagger in his heart. His assassin was Griscelli, a member of the secret service, who had dogged him to London, presumably with instructions to avenge the death of Camerata. I have been told that after the proclamation of the Republic on September 4, 1870, Gambetta and Rochefort, members of the Government of National Defence, were instructed to secure all documents abandoned in the flight from the Tuileries, and that during their search they came upon a photograph of a handsome young man whom they believed to be Count Camerata. On the hack of it was written in Spanish the words, " One must know how to love in secret." Had this any connection with the circumstances of his death? I wonder. I have mentioned my younger sister, Princess Anna, as being present at the Empress's Dinner of the Twenty Beauties. She was a great l 2 163 MY MEMOIRS favourite at the Court, with her delicate features, sparkling eyes and golden hair, often adorned with diamond marguerites, less brilliant than the freshness of her complexion, and she has always been the Empress's one acknowledged and in separable friend. Whether the Court was in Paris, at Compiegne, at Fontainebleau or Biar ritz, my sister was always with the Empress. It was early in the reign that the Court first went to Biarritz, residing at a villa erected by the Prefect of Bayonne; but in 1854 the Villa Eugenie was built on the terraced slope, washed at high tide by the waves, whose spray often lashed the windows. The rooms were very small after the great salons of the Tuileries, and many of the ladies-in-waiting were dismayed at sight of their limited quarters, especially designed for their accommodation by the Emperor himself. " Mais, mon Dieu ! " exclaimed Madame de la B&ioyere, as she was shown to the room that was assigned to her, " this is not as large as a cell in the convent where we were brought up." " No, indeed," agreed her slim and sinuous sister, Madame de la Poeze ; "we shall never be able to squeeze into such cabanons ! " My sister wrote to me constantly from Biarritz, and her letters were sometimes amusing, while they gave a girl's impressions of her surroundings. Here is one she wrote on the first evening of her arrival at the Villa. 164 c^fancedo S^n^x^^ca/ui/ "/ ^/iccAaku COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE Biarritz (no date). My dear Bibi, I am in a dreadful state, I am coughing terribly, and the Empress absolutely refuses to allow me to ride to-morrow, because Mamma before our leaving begged her not to allow me to do anything imprudent. But, anyhow, I will see how I am to-morrow. I thought of you yesterday evening as always, and I think I may almost say I had a presentiment of the matter. I hope that you have only said what is good, what is very good of me. Why are you sad, my darling? It is very wrong of you, you have no reason to be so. Everybody is at your feet, and this is quite right, for you deserve it (word of honour). This week we have delightful company — the Princess Mathilde, Napoleon, the Cadores, la Bedoyere, Brincard, Clermont-Tonnerre, Arcos, Walkonski, Reincourt, Walewski, in fact every one who is nice ; one misses only ! It would be very kind of you, my dear Bibi, to send me two pairs of evening gloves. The Empress has just sent me some very hot infusion ; I must drink it at once and then go to bed, in order to be able to see a performance of marionettes that the gentlemen are going to give to-night to enliven our first evening. A thousand kisses to all. Anna. I do not remember what " matter " it was con cerning which my sister had the "presentiment." Another letter I quote because of its reference to a suggested marriage. 165 MY MEMOIRS Biarritz, Sunday. My dear Bibi, We have just come home from the inauguration and benediction of the promenade of Bayonne ; it was a very fine ceremony, and I am sure that the illustrious hole of a place will take note of it. The Prince Imperial arrived this morning. We went to meet him after Mass ; he is very well. We have got a ball to-night, but I know very few people, and I think it will not be wildly hilarious. (For your private ear.) Everybody in the house, so Marie tells me, is convinced that I am going to marry the Prince de la Moscowa. What do you think of it ? Per sonally, I confess I should not be astonished if that were the idea of the Empress. Her Majesty insists on my calling her Aunt, so that I have begged her to say " tu " to me, as without that I should never dare to do so. There will be company here, so be prepared for it. I have just received your letter and that of dear Loulou, who tells me that you are an angel. I hope you miss me very much. I should be heart-broken if it were otherwise. I will write to Mamma to-morrow, if I have time, for I can assure you we are living at express speed, and that we do nothing but hurry from morning to night. There is hardly time even to bathe in the lovely sea. Kiss Mamma a thousand times for me, and tell Aunt Jane that I will write to her. I kiss you as I love you. Anna. Write to me in French, they don't open my letters. 166 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE At Biarritz there was more freedom and less display than at Compiegne or Fontainebleau. Nevertheless, the emulation of the ladies of the Court was such that they did not fail to take as many summer toilettes to the seaside as they could afford to buy and find accommodation for. The result was an endless amount of luggage. That of the Princess Metternich alone necessi tated a whole van for itself. The ostentation in dress and jewellery and the general rivalry in display no doubt weighed heavily upon those whose means were limited, and an invitation to a special Court function came often as a calamity which could not be avoided. One of the lady guests of the first series was heard to say, " I have been bidden to Compiegne, and have had to sell a flour mill to meet the expense." The person to whom this was confessed remarked that Madame had no doubt spoken the truth, but that she had, nevertheless, taken care to reserve plenty of flour for her face. Here is a letter of my sister's concerning some extra dresses that were sent to her to Biarritz from Paris, with which she was not altogether satisfied. Biarritz, Sunday, 4.30. Dear Bibi, What bad taste I think you have ; how could you think my dresses pretty ? They are horrible — as for the green one, I shall be obliged to have the ribbons changed, so ugly is the colour. 167 MY MEMOIRS Mr. B. came this morning to speak to Tascher about his proposal. He told me their conversa tion ; it appears that Mr. B. behaved very well, and said that the Emperor was perfectly right, and that he had made a very serious mistake, which he is paying for at this moment. The Empress had ordered Tascher to tell him that the year of mourning for the Duchess of Orleans was not ended, and the Emperor declared he would have degraded him, if he had not been the son of his father — it was a little hard, but it appears he took it very well. I thank you once more a thousand times for the dress ; it is charming. Keep an eye on the dresses that Mamma is going to send me. Let them be pretty, for if they are in the style of those I have just received, they might as well not be sent. I beg you not to tell Mamma that I think them ugly, for it might hurt her feelings, as she wrote to me that she thought them charming. The Empress is working with her secretary. The Emperor is walking in Biarritz. The Prince de la Moscowa is suffering from an inflammation ; he has gone to bed, so that I was left alone with Madame de la Poeze, which was not very amusing. I wish you were here, so that I could chat with you a little. Madame de Metternich is waiting for Metternich, who is to arrive to-morrow. Madame de la Poeze has a little Spaniard, Madame de la Bedoyere has the Prince, the Emperor Madame Walewska, the Empress will be paired off with the Duke of Alva, and all go for a walk on the terrace arm in arm, and I, as I have got no one, am obliged to content myself with M. Mocquard, or with M. Tascher — who are both, it must be admitted, very amusing, but 168 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE really it is rather sad to have come down to that I will send you my letters in an envelope addressed to Victoire ; I think that is safer. What do you think of it ? You don't tell me if he has arrived, and if you have seen him. The Empress affirms that when Mr. B. was told that he was mad to think of marrying me, he answered : "It seems to me that I am worth at least a Chassiron or a Cam baceres." They chaff me a good deal here ; they pretend that the State Consul is in love with me. The Emperor is to leave shortly ; I am very sorry for it, for he is so nice, so amusing, that it will be very dull when he has gone — and, besides, he is carrying off all the gentlemen with him. Good-bye, dear Bibi, I am so hot that I can't go on writing. I kiss you a thousand times. Anna. The M. Mocquard referred to by Anna was the Emperor's chef de cabinet and for many years the recipient of his most secret confidences. He was a very tall, slim man with a long nose, very dark eyes, and twitching lips. Excepting on State occasions, he invariably wore a grey frock coat. He kept a pair of American trotters which I envied, and was a familiar figure in Paris as he drove behind them on his way between the Tuileries and the various embassies. His official salary amounted to about .£2,600 a year, and he added to his income by writing melodramas. He died in December 1864. 169 MY MEMOIRS A letter bearing the postmark of Constan tinople written to me while she was cruising in Eastern waters with the Empress on board L'Aigle on their way to Egypt for the opening of the Suez Canal is quite characteristic of Princess Anna. Mouth of the Dardanelles, September 20, 1869. My Darling, I wrote to you so hastily the other day that I very much doubt if you were able to under stand a word of my letter ; but you must forgive me, I had so little time. Mamma was going to write you a long letter from Athens, so I have little to tell you. Our journey is really delightful ; the sea is a lake, impossible to be ill, even with the best intentions in the world. You cannot imagine what a hideous country Greece is ; I pity the poor little King very much — he is charming. We have had a surfeit of attentions for a year, but Papa likes it ; big dinner at Court, expedition to the Panthelicon, ball on the French ship, the Magicien, reception of the Corps Diplomatique, royal salutes, " partant pour la Syrie," and I don't know what else — and to say that we have got to begin all this again at Constantinople. We shall very shortly meet the mail which left Constantinople yesterday, and we count upon stopping it to give in our letters. I have already bothered you with a commission, but it will be very kind of you to see to it a little ; but I am anxious that it should be very pretty — it is a tiny little pocket pistol that I want ; by telling Desvaines that it is like the one that Cora gave 170 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE Achille, he will understand what I want. I am going to see the poor old man ; I am not sure that the prospect pleases me ; I fear not, for he will wish to monopolize us and show us all his belongings. If I go to Smyrna, I will bring you a carpet. I saw a charming one at Athens, at the house of the Charge d'Affaires, 250 frs. I kiss you a thousand times over. Anna. The Empress was anxious that my sister should make a good marriage, and the idea of the Prince de la Moscowa being dismissed, in 1861 there seemed a probability that the Comte de Flandres would be the husband selected for her. Later in the same year, much against her will, her marriage with — shall I say Don Carlos? — was urged. Apropos of this latter projected match, I received in October the following letter from the Empress : — Fontainebleau, October 26, 1861. My dear Caroline, I expect to be back in Paris about the first days of next month, so I shall see you there. As for the project in marriage, of which you write to me, I am much afraid that there will be too much insistence used to make Anna overcome an antipathy of the strength of which I have my self been able to judge. She will lose nothing by waiting a little. If nothing better can be found for her, I am of opinion that she ought to marry 171 MY MEMOIRS him ; but why this haste ? I cannot forget that Anna has begged me to insist upon it that she shall not be worried about the matter. A marriage against one's heart is a very serious thing. So you had better all consider, and I beg of you not to come to any decision. Who knows what may happen ? and by the end of the winter everything may be decided. Believe in my affection for you all. I embrace you. Eugenie. I find that I can receive and accommodate you, if you will come with Anna. I have two rooms side by side. I await you to-morrow.1 Greatly to my sister's satisfaction, this project of an alliance with the Pretender to the throne of Spain fell through, and in 1865, with the approval 1 Fontainebleau, October 26, 1861. Ma chere Caroline, — Je dois 6tre de retour a Paris vers les premiers jours du mois. Je vous verrai done la. Quant au projet de mariage dont vous me parlez, je crains trop qu'on mette trop d'insistence aupres d'Anna pour lui faire dominer une antipathie dont j'ai pu juger moi-mSme la force. Elle ne perd rien a attendre un peu. Si on ne trouve pas mieux, je suis d'avis qu'elle l'epouse, mais pourquoi cette hate ? Je ne puis oublier que Anna m'a prie" d'insister pour qu'on ne la tour mente pas. Un mariage a contre-cceur est une chose bien seneuse. Re'fle'chissez done tous, et je vous en prie ne de"cidez rien. Qui sait ce qui peut se presenter ? et & la fin de l'hiver tout pourra etre decide". Croyez a mon affection pour vour tous. Je vous embrasse. EUGfSNIE. J'apprends que je puis vous loger, si vous voulez venir avec Anna. J'ai deux chambres c6te a c6te, je vous attends demain. 172 COURT OF THE SECOND EMPIRE of their Majesties, she married Antoine de Noailles, Duke de Mouchy and Prince- Duke de Poix, one of the most brilliant young men of the period, with pleasant features, very polite and unaffected, and altogether charming. Since the fall of the Second Empire, the Duchess de Mouchy has been the constant and inseparable companion of the Empress in her exile in England, first at Chislehurst, and now at Farnborough. i73 CHAPTER VIII THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR Death of my uncle, Je"r6me Bonaparte — "The sou between two Napoleons " — The Duke de Morny — M. de Persigny — Conflicting influences of the Empress Eugenie and the Prince Napoleon — Ill-health of the Emperor — The Duke of Gramont's loyalty to him — The declaration of War — Action of the Empress — The Prince Napoleon's unpopularity — The Empress as Regent — Metternich and Nigra — Disastrous progress of the war — The Regent's messages to the front — Treachery of Trochu — Sedan — Our flight from Paris — Flight of the Empress Eugenie — "Such a nice man!" — Her arrival in England It was the month of May 1870. I had been very much out of health all the winter, and my doctors urged my going to the baths at St. Gervais. I left Paris feeling ill and depressed — a foreshadow ing, no doubt, of all the misery that was to follow. My uncle Je>6me (of the Paterson branch) was dying at Baltimore of the terrible malady which to-day occupies the minds of all our great physi cians. I was very fond of my uncle. I had helped nurse him through a dangerous illness in Paris, when he would allow no one else with him. He had a faithful old negro valet who often came 174 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR quite late at night to implore me to come to them — when he was restless and could not sleep. Mrs. Paterson, his mother, was with him at that time as well as his son. They stayed at the Westminster Hotel, Rue de la Paix. Mrs. Paterson's quaint American sayings were a source of great amusement to me during that winter. She was very bitter against King J6r6me, which was perhaps only natural. They never met, and she always alluded to him as "the sou that had slipped in by mistake between two Napoleons." It was so clever or I should have felt annoyed. I was particularly devoted to my great uncle, with whom I often stayed at the Palais Royal. He was all kindness, and I only remember to have incurred his displeasure once, when I was late and kept an official dinner-party waiting. Mrs. Paterson was very handsome, even when I knew her. She was rather disturbed about her nose, as she considered it the special feature of her beauty, and she had met with an accident on board the steamer, missing a step, and her nose was all scraped and bruised. Although she was immensely rich, she was very careful of her money. On leaving Paris to return to the States, she sent her largest hatbox as a present to her grandson. When opened, it was found to contain loaf sugar, with a line from her explaining that the sugar had been collected from the trays sent to her room with her tea and coffee. She i75 MY MEMOIRS had gathered two or three lumps each morning and evening during her stay at the hotel. When she died she left all her money between her two grandsons, favouring, I believe, Charles the younger, who never came at any time to Europe, and still lives in the family residence at Baltimore. J6r6me, after the war, lived principally at Washington, where he built a beautiful house. He died in 1893 at a place called Pride's Crossing, leaving one son and one daughter. My uncle's malady, which developed very suddenly, was a tumorous cancer on the side of the face and throat. Photographs were sent me by his son that consultations might be held in Paris, but nothing was of any avail. In this dis position desprit I travelled to Geneva, and after a few days at the H6tel Beaurivage, celebrated now by the murder of the Empress of Austria, I posted on to the baths of St. Gervais. On my arrival at the hotel I found letters telling me of my uncle's death. My life was very quiet, uneventful and full of rest. I had my dame de compagnie and servants, otherwise I knew and saw no one. I walked to and from the dtablissement des bains morning and evening through a lovely mountain road, the hotel being some distance from the valley. I only made one excursion during my stay, to Chamounix. I had never seen the Mont Blanc. I found the hotel there crowded with holiday tourists, mostly English. I was 176 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR cross, tired with the long drive of several hours, and altogether disappointed and sorry for myself. I slept badly in a strange and not particularly comfortable bed, and woke to a morning of drizzling rain and heavy mist which did not improve my temper. I watched from my window the different parties starting forth for the exciting climb, the women with short skirts, waterproof capes and Alpine sticks. The afternoon was without rain, though the mist was still hanging over mountain and valley. I walked a short distance up the Mont Blanc, just far enough to say I had been to it, and returned to the hotel to find carriage and postilions waiting to take me back to St. Gervais. Numerous letters were on my table — those from Paris telling me that I had better return. Rumours of war were afloat. One from America, from my cousin, Je>6me Bonaparte. A few days after his father's death he received orders to join his regiment, Dragons de L'lm- peratrice, without delay. He was sailing by the next steamer. It was now the end of June. I was undecided, hesitating as to what I should do, lazily letting the days slip by, when a funny incident determined my departure. On my return one morning from my bath a letter was handed me. I knew no one in the place, and felt rather curious. The letter, which was accompanied by a copy of verses, bore no signature, not even an initial, and to this day I have not the faintest M 177 MY MEMOIRS idea who my unknown correspondent could have been. He said we were on the verge of war with Prussia. He was ordered to rejoin at once. He was in despair that he should not have the pleasure of seeing me again. He had seen me each morning at the baths, where my graciods smile in recognition of his salutation had won his heart. He wished to say that if he returned from the war he would make himself known, and asked permission to be presented to me. I have often wondered if he came back to Paris after we had disappeared, or if he met his fate at Prussian hands. How strange it all seems now, as I look back through a long vista of years — look back to see myself as I was then — when the sun seemed never to set — the very air full of caresses, youth and joy in my train. Was it all a dream ? Meanwhile things in Paris were ominous. We were rushing madly on to a disastrous end. The OUivier Ministry was in full swing — Gramont was Foreign Secretary. Benedetti, the clever, astute and vindictive Corsican, was Ambassador at Berlin. Marshal Le Bceuf was Secretary of War, Monseigneur Bauer confessor to all the great political society world of Paris. When reading a novel, how I dislike the author who says, " Now I must take my reader back." Yet I, too, must go back some few years. After the withdrawal of our troops, and the disastrous termination of the Mexican campaign, 178 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR some one said somewhere, " There now remains no further folly to be committed." But there still remained the fatal war of 1870. Who could have foreseen it? There is little doubt that the death blow to our prosperity was the passing away of the Duke de Morny in 1865. He was the heart and soul of the Empire. He alone held firm against the all-invading influence of the Empress ; an influ ence always so sinister for France. His loss was irreparable. He died under the treatment of the English physician, his doctor and his friend, and, I believe, medical man to the English Embassy, who administered very freely blue pill to an already weakened constitution. In the early years of the Empire, the Duke de Morny was, without doubt, the king of fashion, of elegance, of refinement. He looked a grand seigneur, his manners savoured of the old regime. He was a perfect courtier, sparkling with the esprit which is said in France to run the streets. He acquired great influence with the Prince-President, with whom, by his position, he was a great favourite. He was also what people call lucky in all he undertook. Had it not been for his clever conception and manoeuvring, I doubt if the Coup d'Etat would ever have taken place. Persigny was great only in his absolute devotion. Though he contributed largely to the first building of the Imperial fortunes, a stronger and wiser statesman M 2 179 MY MEMOIRS was needed to complete the edifice. Persigny had a casual way of doing things, and an inco herence in his ideas which astonished and did not always please. Morny, on the contrary, was thorough in all he did, and it was he who, as Home Secretary, prepared and carried through the Coup d'Etat of December 2, 1851. The Duke de Morny was a natural son of Queen Hortense, and therefore half-brother of Napoleon III. His father was General Count de Flauhault de k'Billarderie, King Je>6me's aide- de-camp at Austerlitz. Born in Paris, October 23, 181 1, and brought up by the Countess de Souza, De Morny was a perfect homme de salon, a de lightful causeur. In politics he was clever, calmly resolute, inflexible, but with a certain charm of manner, a rare delicacy and finesse, which served to gain his ends. He was the Emperor's most intimate adviser, and his friendship with the Empress guided her influence from the wrong direction as long as he lived. Monsieur de Morny withdrew from office on the rendering of the decree which confiscated all the property of the Orleans family — a decree to which he was abso lutely opposed, and which was carried through the influence of M. de Persigny, who succeeded him as Home Secretary. The Duke de Morny married, in January 1857, the daughter of the Princess Troubetskoi',1 whose acquaintance he 1 And daughter of the Emperor of Russia — dit on. It was therefore almost a family alliance, and certainly a natural one. 180 LE DUC DE MORNY THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR made when sent to Russia as envoyd extraordinaire to represent the Emperor. She was young and very fascinating, with the most lovely pale golden hair, and the darkest blue-black eyes. On the evening of Morny 's death she thought him looking more ill and suffering, and pleaded with him to be allowed to stay near him. But it was the date which had long been chosen for a fancy dress ball at the Tuileries, and the Duke insisted on her attending. She returned as early after the Imperial supper as was possible, but too late to see the Duke alive. Her sorrow and remorse that she had been at the ball when he died was so great that she had the tresses of golden hair he so loved, cut off quite close to her head, and herself laid them in his coffin, and every day a cover was laid for him at the table as if he were still alive. She was ill for some time. When she was convalescent I went to see her. She looked so altered with her shortened hair, so delicate and white in her crapes, seated in a large arm-chair with a small table and tray before her. She excused herself for receiving me while taking her broth. I stayed only a few moments ; she soon seemed weary and unable to talk. She was grieved and distressed at things which took place immediately after M. de Morny's death, when breath was scarcely gone from him. What these things were I am afraid I cannot venture to disclose in detail. All I can say is, that if political questions 181 MY MEMOIRS were at stake and involved the necessity of such measures, they should have been dealt with by the Emperor's orders and not by a woman's hand. But it was by order of the Empress that all the papers of the Duke de Morny were seized. The most private papers, the most secret documents were taken. Nothing was respected. Vainly Madame de Morny revolted against the outrage. The order was formal (official). She had to resign herself and to await the hour for taking her revenge. That hour struck at last, as it always strikes for those who know how to wait. Three years later, in the spring of 1868, Madame de Morny married the Duke de Sesto, the same Duke de Sesto who was the unique love of the Empress Eugenie's life. The history of the Duke de Sesto, if told, must be a record in other pages than these ; but if revenge is sweet, Madame de Morny certainly had hers. De Morny was above all things reasonable. But his successor as Home Secretary, M. de Persigny, was a fanatic — madly devoted to the Emperor and his cause, but impetuous, rash, over zealous, excitable to frenzy, so carried away by his feelings that his blunders were numerous. Later on he was sent as Ambassador to England. Had the Duke de Morny lived, would the war of 1870 ever have taken place? I think not. The OUivier Ministry would never have been. It was the first step on our downward way. Morny 182 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR gone ; two antagonistic powers : the Empress at the Tuileries, the Prince Napoleon at the Palais Royal, fought to influence the Emperor. Poor Emperor — the best, the kindest, but weakened in body, enduring constant suffering with heroic calm. Whose influence would prevail was the point at issue ? The question which would decide the fate of the Empire, the fate of France. The Emperor and Empress were at St. Cloud, having this year decided to give up the usual visit to Fontainebleau. The Emperor, whose foresight and judgment did not mislead him, alone of all his Court felt that indefinable malaise desprit shadowing some coming evil. He was suffering, tired, weary, despondent. The public were kept in careful ignorance of the state of his health. Life went on at St. Cloud much as usual. The Empress had with her two nieces, the daughters of her sister, the Duchess d'Albe. The gilded youth that surrounded her as guests, and the staff of those in waiting on their Majesties, carried on their games and round of amusements, seemingly totally unaware of the serious and agitating rumours, the disquieting whispers which filled the air, the coming events that were casting their shadows in advance. Suddenly, like a cry of fire in the night, the declaration of war fell upon us. I arrived in Paris on the 8th of July : on the 1 5th war was declared. The Empress was one of its most fervent 183 MY MEMOIRS adherents. The Emperor, some say the Duke de Gramont himself, deplored the idea of war. Remember, the Emperor was now no longer the powerful monarch that he had been. His wings were clipped. All that a constitutional sovereign could do, he did, but his endeavours to renew friendly relations with Prussia failed. It was said that the Duke de Gramont, differing from some of the Cabinet Ministers, offered to resign, and only continued in office at the request, I may say the entreaty, of the Emperor. Seeing his sovereign suffering, and trembling at the thought of a Ministerial crisis at such a time, M. de Gramont was overwhelmed by an immense pity. The Emperor ! Yesterday so great, so powerful ! to-day so humble and imploring ! A Cabinet Council was held at St. Cloud almost immediately. This was on the evening of July 14. Napoleon expressed his scruples and difficulties. He repeatedly asked his minis ters what guarantees they could offer him. Of course, it was a guarantee of success that he re quired. He did not believe in the prospect, and it was only a spurious comfort that he got from Le Bceuf, the War Minister, who asserted that the army was perfectly supplied in every respect, and that it would not require the purchase of a single gaiter-button for a year to come. The war party was certainly in the ascendant that night. They discussed the situation, they planned, 184 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR they persuaded ; and finally a decree with declara tion of war was presented for his Majesty's signature. After some further discussion, the Emperor, so calm, so self-controlled, for once carried away by his feelings, rose from his seat in strong emotion and, tearing the decree with violence, he scattered the pieces about the floor, left the council-chamber, and, gaining his room, threw himself on a couch to try to sleep. All was now confusion in the palace. The cause of the disturbance soon reached the Empress, who of late, for some political reason, was not present at the State councils. The ministers, in consternation at so unpre cedented an occurrence, were still debating, un certain what to do, when the door opened and the Empress appeared. In an instant they understood that with her aid the day could still be won. The Duke de Gramont bowed his head. He knew the day was lost ! At the suggestion of her Majesty a second document was hastily prepared, similar to the one that lay torn in bits on the floor. The ministers now implored her Majesty to "save the honour of the Empire " — to obtain the signature ! Little wonder that, thus solicited, thus entreated, she felt inspired. Taking the paper, she sought the Emperor. Still on his couch, half-asleep, half- dazed, he took the paper and signed as in a dream. The die was cast. 185 MY MEMOIRS I have said the Ministry was very divided. Emile OUivier himself was opposed to war. Why was the Empress so determined to allow of no concessions ? Some said her Spanish blood, her devotion to her country, could not brook the thought of a German Prince on the throne of Spain. Prince Hohenzollern and his candidature was the ostensible reason given for war. Was it the true reason ? I much doubt it. I have always thought that personal feeling, the attitude and hostile words of our Ambassador at Berlin, were responsible for the opportunity given to our foe Bismarck. The smouldering fire, so long re pressed, at last burst forth. All those, and I was myself among the number, who had been with the King of Prussia during his visit to Compiegne, when Bismarck accompanied him, could not fail to see the hidden enemy behind the courteous manner. At home, the partisans of the Empress fanned the flame. I have been told that at St. Cloud, a certain general, in a moment of rage, swore to break his sword and fling the pieces at the Emperor's feet, if the honour of France was not avenged. At Tromsoe, en route for the North Cape and Spitzbergen, the Prince Napoleon received, on the 1 2th of July, the news that war was imminent. He was in despair. Why, oh why, had he left Paris ? To escape futile agitations, 1 86 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR useless political intrigues, he had left the Emperor — the dearest friend and companion of his boyhood and of all his life ! He ordered a gun to be fired, recalling his suite and officers dispersed for a holiday in different parts of the island. And now his yacht is under way. See ing the Prince walking the deck, sombre and agitated, one of his party ventured to ask, "Where are we going, Monseigneur?" The answer came brusque and short : " To Charenton " (Bedlam) " as fast as we can." In years to come, when the history of the Second Empire is written and read, the Prince Napoleon will, I know, be falsely represented and wrongly judged. He was not a popular man. Too cold, too indifferent, too haughty to please the multitude ; too independent, too out spoken, too crushing, to be liked in society : too intellectual, too honest, too far-seeing, to be appreciated at Court. He hated flattery ; he had few friends, but they were sincere ; fewer still were his admirers, but in my modest opinion he had more cleverness in his little finger than was to be found in all our statesmen put together. Through all his political career Prince Napoleon felt the hostility of the French nation. They never forgave or forgot his hasty retreat from the Crimean War. It is well known that cholera broke out in the ranks ; some said owing to St. Arnaud's occupying with his troops a tract 187 MY MEMOIRS of country against which he had been warned as unhealthy. The Prince Napoleon, though not actually attacked with cholera, felt the effects of the insalubrity of the camp. He was so weakened and ill that for days he could not remain on horseback. In this condition he handed over the command of his corps d'armde and left for France. It is true that he was morally hooted by society and by the nation at large. This one act of his life cost him the confidence of the people, and gave the semblance of a pretext to the Empress and the Imperialist party, who, after the death of the Prince Imperial, proclaimed his son, Prince Victor Napoleon, successor to the Imperial throne. It was said that the will of the Prince Imperial designated his cousin Prince Victor as his successor, and that therefore the Empress had no choice or voice in the matter. I am relating facts and leaving my readers to draw their own conclusions, as I wish to be as lenient and throw as little blame as possible on those who have suffered so cruelly for their mistakes. Prince Victor was now pretender to the throne as well as his father. The party was divided : Prince Victor and his father were political foes. He left his father's house and established himself at Brussels, the Empress and the Imperial party providing the funds. In 1891, when Prince Napoleon died at Rome, he refused on his death- 188 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR bed to receive his son. He had also taken measures — although the French law does not allow a parent to disinherit a child — to dispose of his entire fortune in favour of his younger son and daughter. Prince Louis, now General Bona parte in the Russian Army, inherited Prangins and all personalty. The daughter, Princess Letizia, married her uncle, the Duke D'Aosta, who for a time occupied so unfortunately the contested throne of Spain. On his return to Italy, and after the death of his wife, Princess Letizia and her mother's brother were much thrown together. They became greatly attached, and, obtaining the assent of the Pope, they were married ; but their married life was a short one. The Duke's health after his Spanish " fugue " was in a bad state. He died, leaving one son by his second marriage. At the time when the controversy arose as to the right of succession, it was rumoured that Charles Bonaparte, as well as his brother Colonel Bonaparte, had written renouncing all claims or pretensions to the throne of France. I wondered if this could be true, although it seemed to come from well-authenticated authority. Remembering the famous lawsuit of 1861, in which Maitre Berryer, the legitimist organ and orator, and Maitre Allou fought for their respec tive clients — the former for Prince Jerome of the Paterson branch, the latter for Prince Napoleon 189 MY MEMOIRS — lawsuit gained by Prince Napoleon, inasmuch as the American Bonapartes were enjoined to add " Paterson " to their name — I could not quite understand that any renouncement was called for, unless their name was allowed to be put forward as that of a possible President of the Republic. During the Crimean War the Prince Napoleon took objection to his nephew being in the Army, and before the enemy, as "Bonaparte." It was almost on the battle-field that the Prince made his requisition to the Minister of War — Marshal Skinner — then commanding the troops. The question was without delay submitted to the Emperor at the Tuileries, proposing that the name should be changed " d'autorit'e" by an Imperial decree. This might possibly have been done had not Jerdme, on hearing a rumour, sent a telegraphic message pointing out that they would force him to resign on the eve of a battle. The matter was therefore discussed in Council, and the Empress — not from any love of Jerdme, but from her everlasting antagonism to Prince Napo leon — violently opposed the measure, which was abandoned. It has always been a question in my own mind whether this circumstance, as well as the illness, had not a great deal to do with the precipitate return of Prince Napoleon from the war. After the fall of Sebastopol, the Te Deum at Notre Dame, and the triumphal entry of the 190 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR troops into Paris, the Emperor sent for Jdrome and offered him the title of Prince de Montfort, or Duke de Sart^ne, at his choice, with an apanage of .£4,000 a year. King Jer6me, his grandfather, had borne the title of Comte deMontfort in exile, a title he took after the Battle of Waterloo, on retiring to the Court of Wurtemberg. J£r6me refused both title and apanage, saying he was born and baptized Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, and that Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte he would remain till his dying day. And so he did ; for notwithstanding the lawsuit of which I have spoken, he never took the name of " Paterson " in addition to his own ; but, of course, in all official documents it was bracketed with " Bonaparte." King Jerdme died in i860 at his country seat Vilgenis. The funeral, as will be remembered, took place from the Palais Royal. The cortege, with Prince Napoleon as chief mourner, walking with a long black cloak thrown over his shoulders, proceeded to the Invalides, where the burial service was performed. His grandson was not allowed to take his place in the procession behind Prince Napoleon. He was ordered to the family tribune, where all the princesses of the Imperial family had their reserved seats, and there to be in waiting for the arrival of the funeral car. Jer6me was the only man among us, every prince being in the procession. I felt dreadfully sorry for him. I confess I admired his courage in 191 MY MEMOIRS obeying the order, all the more that I knew, had I been in kis place, wild horses would not have dragged me there. Of course, I reasoned as a woman ; a soldier knows only the word of command. I had left Paris for a few days in order to see to things at a small place I had in the country, not far from Triport, on the ligne de l'Est route de Strasbourg, where, a few months later, the Prussians were destined to hold their sway. I found all the stations crowded with soldiers, the passing trains full of troops, all shouting " A Berlin ! Vive la France ! Vive l'Empdreur ! " as they rushed past us. I held in my hand the Emperor's farewell proclamation, so full of sadness ; such an under current of misgiving, of despondency ran through it. No one could read it and doubt the presenti ments of ill that filled his heart. Our Paris residence was 2 Avenue Montaigne. The garden overlooked the Cours la Reine and the Seine, forming the extreme point of the Avenue and the Rue Jean-Goujon. When war broke out I was alone here with my father and mother. My eldest brother, Joachim, married to Princess Wagram, was at Grosbois, my sister Anna at Mouchy ; my second brother, Achille, married to Princess Dadiani of Mingrelia, with his regiment, Chasseurs d'Afrique, at Algiers ; my youngest brother Louis, only eighteen, a sailor at the Mauritius ; my cousin, ]6r6me Bonaparte, in 192 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR charge of the depdt of the Dragons de l'lmpera- trice, quartered at the Champ de Mars — Ecole Militaire. The Emperor, the Prince Imperial, the Prince Napoleon, and Joachim, had now left Paris for the seat of war. Achille, leaving his wife and child at Algiers, joined Marshal MacMahon's staff. Louis, recalled, reached France only to come on to England. He left an Empire — he found a confused chaos. My own days passed, I scarcely know how, in feverish excitement and expectation of news from the Tuileries — from the Champ de Mars — listening for the gallop of a horse, watching for the first sight of an orderly in the distance, bearer of dispatches. The Empress was now alone at the Tuileries — - Regent, all powerful. In one thing only she had been disappointed. All her charm, all her influence had failed. Through Metternich and Nigra, the respective ambassadors, she had hoped to induce Austria and Italy to join arms with France. Devoted as were her two admirers, they dared not compromise their countries, their sovereigns. Metternich reminded her of Sadowa. He also told her of his conviction that even the united forces of France and Austria against Germany would have no chance of success ; he strongly deprecated war. Nigra, on his part, affirmed that the interests of Italy precluded any alliance with France at that moment, notwithstanding the great N I93 MY MEMOIRS personal friendship existing between Victor Emmanuel and the Emperor Napoleon. If we could have penetrated his inmost thoughts, we might have read, " On France's war with Prussia depends the unity of Italy. Her troops withdrawn — Rome is ours ! " Prince Metternich, Austrian Ambassador, I knew well in my younger days, when he was Secretary of Legation, and I just out of my teens. He was handsome, a charming companion, a delightful danseur, but, as I have said, his great and successful career was due almost solely to the brains of his clever wife. As for Nigra, how well I remember him! Tall, slight, fair, curly hair and a blonde mous tache, with the face of a ferret, and the look of a Machiavel ; an adorer of the Empress, or apparently so ; always welcome, with petites et grandes entries to the palace : an ardent courtier, a dangerous friend. Our troops were at the front. On the summit of a mountain interspersed with deep ravines and wooded slopes, on the left bank of the Saar, commanding a view of the valley, in the distance on the other side of the river, sur rounded by gardens, Saarbriick rose before them. A radiant sun inundates mountain and valley. Eleven o'clock — two hours since the fighting began. Suddenly the great, thundering voice of the big guns rends the air. Almost at the same 194 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR moment the Emperor appears, accompanied by the Prince Imperial and one or two officers. He looks careworn, with hollow cheeks and deep blue circles round his eyes, his whole aspect one of suffering and fatigue. He follows the movements of the troops through his field-glasses . . . not a word is spoken between father and son. . . . At last the Prussians are beating a retreat ! The Prince can no longer contain his enthusiasm. Turning to the Emperor, he cries — " See, they fly — we are victorious ! " Alas ! how dearly we were destined to pay for this first victory ; this little battle of Saarbriick, made so much of in our insane determination to blind ourselves ! On the 6th of August the disaster of Reichsoffen fell upon us. With the news of the battle lost came a private dispatch. Marshal MacMahon was sending my brother back to Paris. He had carried the Marshal's order to charge, to the regiment of cuirassiers. He stood by and saw them mown down like grass with a scythe. Fatal charge — scarcely a man or officer or horse left standing. For days and nights, the vision still before him, I nursed him through fever and raving. His wife did not arrive from Algiers till he was convalescent. Following Reichsoffen, Gravelotte, one of the most deadly battles, was fought on August 16. My eldest brother, a general in Bazaine's army corps at Metz, advised the immediate return of n 2 i9S MY MEMOIRS the Emperor to Paris ; his retreat from the Camp de Chalons at that moment could have been so easily effected. The Emperor, since our first reverses, had been anxious to return to Paris. Prince Napoleon urged it. He implored the Emperor not to hesitate. The Emperor once more at the Tuileries, the country, the Empire, might yet be saved ! Marshal MacMahon arrived at the camp with the remnants of his half-slaughtered regiments. Seeing them, the Emperor decided to regain Paris and give his generals time to recruit. Alas ! From Paris, the Regent and the Cabinet violently opposed the idea. The Em press sent dispatches assuring the Emperor that the feeling in the capital was so strong against him that he would not reach the Tuileries alive. In vain her true friends, in vain my father, in vain Je>6me, implored her to repent — to believe — to trust them ; Jerdme sought a private interview and entreated her to allow him to go with her despatches and escort the Emperor back to the Tuileries. He swore to her that there was no danger: he swore to answer for his Majesty's safety with his own life. The Emperor would be acclaimed, he told the Empress ; she was being deceived by those whose interest it was to keep the Emperor away. Fatal illusion ! Nothing — nothing could persuade her. After sending letters, messages, during twenty-four hours, she 196 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR insisted on sending M. Rouher himself to point out how impossible it was to think of a retreat. " A prompt advance to the East can alone save the country," she declared. Forty-eight hours already lost. A decision was imperative. Too much time had already been spent in wavering — giving the Prussians the advantage of rapid marches. Alas for France ! The Emperor was vanquished, power less. Could he have foreseen Sedan as in a nightmare ? Before leaving the Camp de Chalons one of the Emperor's last acts was the nomination of General Trochu as Governor of Paris. Trochu proved as great a traitor as ever lived. In swear ing to protect the Empress, he said, " Trust me — je suis Breton, soldat, et catholique ! " It was said that, finding all other arguments insufficient to deter the Emperor from retreating on Paris, the Empress wrote : " If you leave the Army, all Paris will say you fled from the dangers of war. Do you forget that Prince Napoleon has never lived down the rash act he committed in returning from the Crimea ? " General Trochu, whom I have just called a traitor, managed to gain the entire confidence of the Empress. Almost his first act was to change the troops guarding the palace. Her dragoons were relieved of their office. Jerome, horrified, rushed to the Empress. Trochu 's soldiers sur rounded the palace. On being admitted to her 197 MY MEMOIRS Majesty, Jerome said : " Madame, I am here to inform your Majesty that you are a prisoner — Trochu's soldiers guard the Tuileries. You are a prisoner in your own palace — I can no longer protect you." She laughed. " And am I not safe with General Trochu?" she questioned. "I have confided myself to his honour ! " No doubt, if the Empress ever writes her memoirs l she will not neglect to explain how Jerome implored her to reflect — how he entreated her to order the return of her dragoons — to entrust him once again with her safety. She was not to be moved — Fate, I suppose, willed it so. Jerome was in despair. He came to the Avenue Montaigne and bade me from that hour to be pre pared for the worst that could befall us — a revolu tion in Paris. Alas ! we had not long to wait — Sedan was close upon us. . . . 1 In January 19 10, the following letter appeared in the Times : — Sir, — The Empress Euge'nie, wishing to contradict persis tent rumours about the publication of memoirs attributed to her, which are to appear after her death, instructs me to apply to the Times in order to state that she has not written, and is not writing, any memoirs, and that any publication of that kind would be apocryphal. In requesting you to give this letter the requisite publicity, her Majesty hopes to put an end to those false rumours and make known the truth. Please accept, Sir, the assurance of my distinguished con sideration. Franceschini Pietri, Secretary of H.M. the Empress Euge'nie. 198 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR The Emperor had abdicated his government in Paris into the hands of the Regent. At Metz he abdicated the command of the Army. A sovereign dethroned — an emperor without the command of his army — was there ever a monarch in such a position ? He knew that unless he regained Paris, all must be lost. History will no doubt tell some day why he was kept away — but we shall never know the secret feelings which prompted him to disregard the warnings of Prince Napoleon — the voice of his heart — and obey instead the instructions from the Regent — instruc tions forbidding even the return of her son the Prince Imperial. The Emperor wished to send the Prince, already ill with fever, back to Paris, but this also was most strongly objected to. I have no diary, no notes, no letters, to help me to precise dates. Three are graven for ever on my memory — on my heart : Reichsoffen — Gravelotte — S edan. It must have been about the 20th of August that Achille — now convalescent — determined to send his wife and child safely out of France. He confided them to Mr. Garden, an Englishman whom he had known for some years, and who offered them the hospitality of one of his English homes. Mr. Garden kindly accompanied to England my mother, my sister-in-law and Aunt Jane, my mother's sister, who had never left her. She was eighty-four but stronger, younger, braver 199 MY MEMOIRS than any among us in this dreadful crisis of our lives. A summons came for " Lieutenant Prince Murat " to join without delay, and so I was left alone with my father. Guy was a great source of comfort to me — his childish chatter was the only diversion in our misery, though he was far more serious than most children of his age ; brought up almost from his babyhood with people much too old for his years ; no romps, no games, no shouts such as English children enjoy ; no noise, no loud speaking, no boisterous laughter was allowed in his nursery. My mother suffered terribly from nervous head ache, and the whole house was silent from every noise. On this, Guy's seventh birthday, August 1 8, I had sent him in a victoria for a long after noon in the Bois. The Pre Catalan was one of his favourite drives ; he often went and drank his milk just hot from his pet cow. On this day, how ever, he did not reach the Bois. In the avenue leading to it (Avenue du Bois de Bologne) his carriage was run into by a clumsy, drunken driver. He was thrown out, as well as the woman with him, and brought back to me in what seemed an alarm ing state. His head was seriously cut, one eye not to be seen ; bruised, swollen and covered with blood. He was convinced that the driver was a Prussian who had knocked him over on purpose. He certainly looked as if he had come from the war. 200 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR The doctor ordered us to have his hair cut. The long curls fell around me — the curls that had reached nearly to his waist. He looked a sight, and I was, oh ! so vexed ! Is it not strange that at a time when the fate of an Empire was at stake, at a time when a day, an hour, might mean exile, when we slept all dressed ready for a flight by night, so small a thing as a child's curls should trouble me ? Yet, I was much troubled, and, gathering a few of the fallen locks, I sent them to Meiller, our jeweller in the Rue de la Paix, who formed them into a cluster under glass, with a silver rim. I still have them. Days went slowly by. On the 31st of August we heard of the Emperor at Sedan. " He seemed agitated, restless, preoccupied ; those around him gave him from time to time details of the opera tions of the Army. He walked up and down the room unceasingly, answered by monosyllables, and relapsed into long silences." It was not till the afternoon of the 2nd of September that we heard of the dreadful and never-to-be-forgotten battle. On this afternoon I was particularly nervous and anxious. Instead of our accustomed drive to the Bois we drove along the Boulevards to the Chateau d'Eau. I wanted to see the people and judge of the look of things. On our way back, as we reached the Boulevard des Italiens, we saw some one waving from the top of an omnibus. The carriage stopped MY MEMOIRS and drew up on one side. M. de Chevarier, a cousin of M. de Chassiron's, came quickly forward. Speaking low, he told us of the dreadful disaster of Sedan. So far, the fatal news was only known to her Majesty and the Government. Every thing was in a frightful confusion. Chevarier had been to the War Office to hear of his brother, an officer with MacMahon. We drove home as fast as possible and found Jerome waiting for us. He attempted to see the Empress, but was not able to break through the orders — or rather the members of the Imperial household who filled the ante-rooms and constituted themselves into a sort of bodyguard through which no member of the family, no real friend, was allowed to penetrate. He was obliged to return immediately to the Ecole Militaire. He left us with a heavy heart, and the certainty that a more dire catastrophe than had yet befallen us was at hand. On September 4 — it was Sunday — about five o'clock in the morning, an estafette came thundering full gallop from the Tuileries. Orders to leave Paris without delay. My father deter mined to remain till the evening train, in the hope that he might see and be of some service to the Empress. As I write, the scenes come so vividly to my mind — I seem to be myself — to live again those days of anxious waiting, hoping, dreading one 202 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR knew not what — days now bereft of all feeling save the deep regret, the longing to go back, the sorrow that I am no longer myself except in a vision of the past — a dream that has no morrow. . . . Thirty long years have passed over my head since then, bringing great blessings, great joys, great happiness ; sorrows, too — grief for the loved ones lost ; yet through them all, deep down in my heart, night and day, there is a voice that whispers with a sadness that knows no words, and I stretch out my arms as if they were wings and could carry me over the seas, back to France and years that can never return. . . . Ah ! A knock at my door — a slate handed to me — I see boiled beef, roast chicken, curried rabbit — I am on earth again . . . my visions have fled. . . . The reality of life is before me. . . . My brain struggles down to the ordering of beef and mutton — with a variation of veal ; what old Mrs. Paterson called " menial occupations." On this same 4th of September the gates of the Palace Royal opened wide, and the Princess Clotilde, in her barouche, with four horses and outriders, as if she were going to some official ceremony, drove through. Crossing the Place du Palais Royal to the Rue de Rivoli, she drove on through the most crowded parts of Paris to the Gare de Lyon, en route for Italy. Some man, 203 MY MEMOIRS running towards her, called out, " La Chambre est dissoute — la decheance est proclame^ ! " With an English passport taken in the adopted name of Mrs. Fraser, procured from Lord Lyons by Mr. Garden, with Guy, and accompanied by an old friend who had been for years accustomed to travel with my father, I drove to the Gare du Nord in my father's carriage, with liveried ser vants. With the exception that there were per haps more people about than was usual at so early an hour, that no hats went off as we passed, that groups of people stood here and there talking, agitated and gesticulating, I noticed nothing in any way disturbing, and arrived at my destination without the slightest hindrance. At Creil, my sister, the Duchess de Mouchy, joined the train coming from Mouchy. She stayed at Boulogne with her two children. I went on to Calais, where I spent the night in hopes the Prince might join me. I had left him going to the Tuileries. The Government was now incapable of stem ming the torrent. The insurrection threatened the palace — already filled the gardens. Another moment and the Tuileries would be invaded by the populace, shouting, clamouring, for the fall of the Empire — for a proclamation declaring the downfall, the banishment of Napoleon III and all his dynasty. The Empress was gone. Even while my 204 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR father was trying to force his way through the crowd, her Majesty, persuaded at last that she could not rely on Trochu, who, only the evening before, kneeling at her feet, swore that if her palace was invaded it would be because Trochu was dead — swore that order should be maintained, that she was safe as long as he lived ; seeing now, too late, the folly of putting her trust in such a man, she consented to fly. Between Metternich and Nigra, between Austria and Italy, with her lectrice, Mme. Le Breton, and a hat and cloak taken hastily from one of her ladies-in-waiting, the Empress — the Regent — was hurried along the underneath galleries of the Louvre. Passing out on to the Place de St. Germain l'Auxerrois, she leant, thickly veiled, against the iron railings just opposite the old church of St. Germain l'Auxer rois — the old church from which was given the signal for the massacre of the St. Bartholomew. The Empress waited for M. de Metternich's brougham. Nigra, fearing she might be recog nized, hailed a fiacre. As it drew up, a street boy — gamin de Paris — ran by, calling out, " Cest l' Impdratrice ! " Nigra quickly helped the Empress into the fiacre, and gave the order to drive to a house in one of the Faubourgs, where a room had been secured by Prince Metternich. They had only gone a few yards when the Empress saw it would be impossible to reach the Faubourg St. Antoine. Mme. Le Breton put her 205 MY MEMOIRS head out of the window and cried to the driver, "Turn your horses and go up the Champs Elys^es to the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. Drive as fast as you can ! " They reached the Avenue and stopped the fiacre at the house of the American dentist, Dr. Thomas Evans. He had attended the Empress for many years, and, indeed, all the crowned heads of Europe. Such a nice man ! I knew him well — he had tortured me since my earliest girlhood. The Empress threw herself on his mercy, implored, almost in hysterics, his help. It was a serious undertaking. Already, he feared, it was too late to attempt flight. The Empress urged that she must leave Paris or be arrested or torn to pieces by the infuriated mob. Dr. Evans no longer hesitated. He ordered his carriage, and, placing the Empress and Madame Le Breton inside, he took the reins from his coachman, and himself sent his American trotters along at full speed. At a dashing pace he drove through Paris, determined to gain a seaport from which her Majesty could get to England. He drove his horses till they fell — broken down. Luckily, thirty years ago, post-horses could still be had, and they were able to reach Deauville. Not a moment was to be lost. They were still in France. Hearing that Sir John Burgoyne's yacht — the Gazelle — was in harbour, Dr. Evans went to him and explained the position, asking him to take 206 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR charge of the Empress Eugenie and her com panion. Sir John, I believe, was persuaded with difficulty. The sea was rough, the responsibility great. However, he at last consented and, taking the fugitives on board, set sail for England as quickly as possible. After a very rough passage — the Empress, fortunately, is a very good sailor and loves the sea — they landed at Hastings. All this I heard later on. Meanwhile I left Calais on September 5 by the early boat. Mr. Garden met me, and we arrived at Fairlawn, his place near Walton-on- Thames, where my mother, aunt, and sister-in-law had been for some little time. My sister, the Duchess de Mouchy, crossed from Boulogne a few days later, made her way to London, and occupied a suite of rooms at Fleming's Hotel, Half-Moon Street. Almost on her arrival she received a telegram from the Empress. " Send your maid with all I need. I have not even a pocket-handkerchief." The Empress was in England several days without tidings of the Emperor, but the Prince Imperial was with her. We knew that the Emperor had capitulated, that he was a prisoner at Wilhelmshohe. We were anxious to have news of my brother Achille. It had been his misfortune to carry, by the Emperor's orders, the white flag through the 207 MY MEMOIRS streets of Sedan. He was taken prisoner to Germany, and never left the Emperor. The Prince Imperial was safe — Commandant Duperr6 had charge of him, and was able to reach Arsenes _ on the road to Landriens. It was there, at an inn just out of the town, that they heard of the battle — of the capitulation — of the Emperor, prisoner of the King of Prussia. The poor little Prince, ill, scarcely able to stand with fatigue, implored Duperre to retrace their steps. He must join the Emperor. " Duperre\ why am I here ? They are fighting. I want to return to the Army. I must fight, too. I am not ill. I am well. I must go back. I must fight ! " Saying this, he tried to stand up, but his strength failed him and he fell back in his chair. At this moment, a dispatch arrived from the Emperor. " Je suis prisonnier du Roi de Prusse. Emmenez le Prince en Angleterre." This telegram, sent two days before, never reached Arsenes till the morning of the 4th of September. A carriage, or rather a one-horse conveyance, was procured, and the Prince, in slight disguise, left, escorted by Duperr£ — almost at the same moment that the Empress entered the fiacre that was to take her to the house of Dr. Evans. About midnight the Prince, with Duperre" and Adolphe Clary, reached Namur. He spent the night at the Chateau de Chimay, house of the governor of the province. Leaving Namur, they 208 THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR reached Ostend on the evening of the 5th. They stayed the night at the H6tel d' Allemagne. In the Prince's state of health some hours' rest were indispensable. On the 6th they took the boat for Dover and went on to Hastings to meet the Empress. Scarcely a month had elapsed since he left the Palace of St. Cloud — a proud and happy boy. He little dreamt he was going to defeat ... to ruin ... to exile. . . . 209 CHAPTER IX EXILES IN ENGLAND Camden Place, Chislehurst — Miss Howard — The Emperor a prisoner of war — The Prussians in possession — Prince Leopold v. Hohenzollern — Buzenval — Monseigneur Bauer — Paris in London — The Princess Mathilde — The Empress's suite at Chislehurst — The price of a horse — The Empress visits the prisoner at Wilhelmshohe — General Bourbaki — Marshal Bazaine's plan to place the Prince Imperial on the throne rejected by the Empress — Her policy discussed — A winter shooting party — " Brab " and others — Lord Granville's solicitude — The ex-Emperor's release and retreat to England — Mr. Gladstone — A railway adventure — Princess Metternich i At Fairlawn we had a restless, unsettled life. My father had taken rooms, a first floor in Half- Moon Street. Part of my days were spent with him. My sister was to find a suitable residence for the Empress. We visited a great number of country places. The one we preferred belonged to the Sassoons, a pretty place near Weybridge. It was all settled and the agreement nearly signed when the Empress wrote to say she had decided on a house offered her by a Mr. Strode, who had known the Emperor well when Prince Louis Napoleon, and who urged the acceptance of Camden Place, Chislehurst, at a nominal rent. 2IO THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON III. [Photograph by Downey EXILES IN ENGLAND Mr. Strode had been trustee and guardian to a very beautiful and wealthy young woman, a Miss Howard, whose acquaintance Prince Louis Napoleon made when he lived in England. Her real name was Elizabeth Ann Haryett. Why she assumed the name Howard I do not know. Her London house was the resort of many fashion able men of the time, the Duke of Beaufort, the Earl of Chesterfield, the Earl of Malmesbury, and Count d'Orsay being among others of her favoured admirers. She was a woman of exquisite pro portions and classic beauty, with regular features and magnificent shoulders. Louis Napoleon first met her, I believe, at the house of Lady Blessing- ton in Kensington, and was at once attracted by her. She put her wealth, as well as her person, at his disposal, and advanced large sums of money towards the equipment of his historic adventure at Boulogne. She is said to have visited him when he was a prisoner in the fortress of Ham, and on his escape their liaison was renewed. She followed his fortunes to Paris when the Revolution of 1848 and the fall of Louis Philippe opened the doors of France to the exiled. She resided at first at the Hdtel Meurice in the Rue de Rivoli, but afterwards, when the Prince became President, a little house in the Rue de Cirque, near the Elysee, was provided for her and here Napoleon spent many evenings, and met his intimates. Few women were found there, but o 2 211 MY MEMOIRS several Englishmen, among them the Marquis of Hertford, were often visitors. Miss Howard never made her appearance in official or family entertainments. She accompanied the President, however, in all his tours through the provinces, having her private suite and escort. She was made much of by all courtiers, and liked by most of the Princes of the family. Recognizing the futility of aspiring to a higher position, she intimated that she would favour an alliance between the Prince- President and myself. I suppose it might have been seriously thought of, but I was then — end of 1849 — just sixteen. The idea of marrying the Prince filled me with dismay. He was not young, he was not handsome, he danced badly, had no ear for music, could never keep time or measure. I was qualified by Miss Howard as cette petite sotte who might be one day Empress of the French : the last thing in the world I should ever have wished to be. After the Coup d'Etat Miss Howard was given the title of Countess de Beauregard, two millions of francs, a beautiful place at La Belle St. Cloud, called " Beauregard," and an allowance of some thousands a year. In 1854, a year after the wedding of the Emperor, she married Mr. Clarence Trelawney, an officer in the Austrian Army.1 Her marriage, however, ended in a divorce. She died in 1865. 1 " One night I went to the opera with Cardigan, and we saw Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Trelawney in a box. Mrs. Trelawney EXILES IN ENGLAND Her former guardian, Mr. Strode, was a constant visitor in Paris. When he bought and restored Camden Place, he is supposed to have said that he did so foreseeing that the day would come when it would be required for the fallen Emperor. The place had been unlet for several years. I have heard a legend that an old couple to whom the house belonged had been one night mysteriously murdered, it was supposed by their only son, with the aid of their one servant, but nothing could be proved against them. The Empress occupied, I believe, at Camden Place, the room in which this double murder was committed. It is said that these circumstances being told at Chislehurst cast an additional gloom over the first days of their arrival in their new abode. Mr. Garden offered to be the bearer of letters and dispatches to Wilhelmshohe, and his offer was accepted. He took a friend with him, and at his own expense made his way to Germany. was the famous Miss Howard, once the mistress of Louis Napoleon, who paid her ^250,000 when he renounced her to marry Eugene de Montijo. Mrs. Trelawney annoyed the Emperor and Empress as much as she dared by sitting opposite the Royal box at the opera and driving almost immediately behind them in the Bois de Boulogne. She was a very fat woman, and her embonpoint increased to such an extent that the doors of her carriage had to be enlarged to allow her to get in and out with comfort."' — My Recollections, by the Countess of Cardigan, p. 104. 213 MY MEMOIRS He was allowed to go to the Emperor, whom he found very ill and suffering. He brought letters back to the Empress, and also letters from my brother, telling us of the pain the Emperor was in day and night, both physical and moral. They were so miserable themselves that they did not know how to cheer him. Mr. Garden said that Achille read to the Emperor for hours together. The book he read — strange to say — was Alex andre Dumas' Trois Mousquetaires. The Emperor had never heard of it, and finding the book at Wilhelmshohe, my brother read it to him, reading for hours without stopping, when it seemed to soothe the nerves and take the prisoner's mind away — for a time at least — from the remembrance of Sedan. He could not forgive himself that he was still alive. He had vainly sought death all through that agonizing day. The Empress and my sister had both sent their most valuable jewels to Mr. Gladstone for safe keeping long before the fatal 4th of Septem ber ; but many of their personal possessions had been left behind. The Duke of Hamilton offered to go to France. He crossed in his yacht, the Thistle, and applied to General Trochu for per mission to rescue from the Tuileries some of the Empress's things. Trochu sent one of his officers with the Duke, and they were able, notwithstand ing the upside-down condition of everything and everybody in the palace, to pack furs, laces, fans, si4 EXILES IN ENGLAND jewels, knick-knacks, and a large quantity of her wardrobe, with which Hamilton arrived at Camden Place. I am rather vague as to dates, but I think it was on the 19th of September that Paris was closed. The siege began. After this we had no communication except by pigeons, by balloons, or through the Prussian lines. The Duke de Mouchy remained in France — never left Mouchy for an hour. Everything there was kept up as in the days of our prosperity. Later on a Prussian General and his staff were quartered at the chateau. They were assigned rooms in one of the wings, and they behaved with the utmost discretion, using the back stairs, and never once in any way intruding their presence upon the Duke. My own place near Meaux was very differently treated, owing, probably, to my absence. I had for ten months a regiment of cavalry, or part of one, in possession of my dear home. They began by breaking into the cellars, and were for days in a state of intoxication. They looted everything. They masqueraded about Meaux in my dresses, tea-gowns, cloaks, hats, to the great amusement of the populace. They burnt for fire wood my orange-trees, the old oak sideboards, chairs and other furniture. At last my agent let me know that they threatened to set fire to the house. My patience was at an end. I had suffered in silence, not wishing to cry mercy ; but I now 215 MY MEMOIRS determined to write to my cousin, Prince Leopold von Hohenzollern, and ask his intervention. I did not tell him that at the last extremity only did I consent to accept aid and protection at the enemy's hands. He wrote me a charming letter, which I have kept, and regretted I had not sooner appealed to him. Versailles, October 29, 1870. Ma chere Cousine, Je m'empresse de r^pondre a votre lettre que je viens de recevoir, en regrettant de ne pouvoir y ajouter deja le laisser-passer que je n'ai pu obtenir avant de pouvoir presenter un signale- ment exacte de la personne que vous voulez envoyer. Veuillez done avoir la bonte" de me le faire parvenir aussitot que possible. Voila beau- coup de formalites, mais il faut compter avec des inconv^nients de ce genre pendant la guerre. Je pense que vous voulez diriger le valet de chambre a La Ferte sous Jouarre, pres de Meaux — si vous m' indiquez le nom du chateau, cela lui ferait gagner du temps. Veuillez accepter, ma chere cousine, l'expres- sion de mes sentiments les plus respectueux. Leopold von Hohenzollern.1 1 Versailles, October 29, 1870. My dear Cousin, I hasten to reply to your letter which I have just received, while regretting my inability to include with it at once the passport which I have not been able to procure before presenting an exact description of the person whom you wish to send. Will you then be so kind as to let it be sent to me 216 EXILES IN ENGLAND The Prussian soldiers were removed, but they left bare walls behind them. They killed and ate my dogs ; they took my horses : I had four dark brown mares, a perfect team. Prince Leopold von Hohenzollern, whose candi dature to the throne of Spain was the ostensible reason for the Franco-Prussian war, was my cousin on the Murat, not the Bonaparte, side. The families had thus intermarried. My father and Prince Hohenzollern's mother were first cousins, and his sister, Princess Frida, married my first cousin, the Marquis Pepoli. We were very intimate friends, she and I. Although she lived in Italy, she came frequently to stay with us in Paris. His brother, the King of Roumania, when Prince Charles Hohenzollern, spent, as I did, the winter of 1862 at Algiers. He was there for the sake of his health. His rooms were quite near mine, and his cough, which I constantly heard, was a source of great distress to me. I left the hotel and travelled up into the interior of the Province as far as Miliana. On my return the Prince had gone, and we never met again. as soon as possible ? What a number of formalities ! But one must reckon with inconveniences of this kind during the war. I fancy that you wish to direct your servant to La Fert^ sous Jouarre, near Meaux — and if you inform me of the name of the castle, that would save him some time. Believe me, my dear cousin, Yours sincerely, Leopold von Hohenzollern. 217 MY MEMOIRS On the other side of Paris, in a park of 400 acres clos de murs, joining on one side the Bois de Versailles, on the other the woods of St. Cucupha, stood Buzenval, the home of our happy days, twenty minutes' drive from St. Cloud, facing the Mont Valerien, within a walk of the Malmaison. There the last great battle round Paris was fought, on the 1 8th of January. The walls all riddled with cannon balls, the house much damaged. I have tried to get a photograph of the place to my memory so dear, but I suppose none have been taken. It now belongs to the Cadores — I hear the Duchess lives there the greater part of the year. The architecture of Buzenval, with its round towers ending in a point, was somewhat spoiled by the building of a huge wing. The Emperor, who often visited us there, always said he could not call it a " wing." It was more like an " enormous thigh." How little we dreamed that one day Buzenval was destined to be the centre of a mighty battle — the park crowded by a corps d'armde — General Ducrot's — and the walls partly knocked down by Prussian big guns ! Almost while writing the above I receive a letter and learn that Buzenval, my old home, is now " l'&ablissement de Freres Saint Nicolas." How altered the place must be ! Outside Paris, at Courbevoie, between Neuilly and Rueil — the station for Buzenval, Jerome was 218 EXILES IN ENGLAND quartered. He had orders to take command of a regiment of francs-tireurs. The first time he reviewed them, when they realized who their Colonel was, they laid down their arms and de clared they would not fight under a Bonaparte. Brought up in America, a West Point Cadet, Jer6me had been through all the wars of Texas. He proved himself equal to the occasion. He was calm and coolly determined. He told them he would shoot down every man who refused to fight. They felt he would keep his word, and were soon under splendid discipline. He com manded them through the whole of the campaign, and officers and men became devoted to their Colonel, who did not leave them till peace was signed and M. Thiers was President of the Republic. Monseigneur Bauer was, during the last few weeks of the Empire, in the habit of saying Mass for the Empress in the private chapel of the Tuileries. He was, as I have said, confessor and almoner of her Majesty, but he was not chaplain of the Tuileries. L'Abbe Lain6 was the Em peror's private chaplain. Monseigneur Bauer was a converted Israelite. Every one knows that he played a great part in the politics of the Second Empire. His influence in private, as well as in public affairs, was most pernicious. His remorse must have been deep. I saw him for the last time at Chislehurst. We were all waiting in the 219 MY MEMOIRS long gallery for the Empress, as she passed down the centre of the gallery, lined on either side by family officers of the household. A great number of guests had come over from France. The guilty priest advanced alone, and implored pardon. I could not catch the words, but his humble attitude — that said enough. I found it in my heart to be sorry for his humiliation, although I had reason to be personally opposed to him. I felt, too, the situation must not be prolonged, so, all in a moment, without reflecting, I went up to the Empress and, bending, kissed her hand. She kissed me and passed on. Some one said near me, " You have saved the situation," and then only I realized what I had done. I must leave others to tell what his crime was. He was accused of many things, but one person alone can say where truth ends, where fiction begins. Of one thing, I think, there is little doubt : the Empress con sidered he had behaved in a way to deserve the gravest reproach. About November my father took a large house in the Cromwell Road. My mother's health had suffered very much from all our troubles. She was now constantly obliged to keep her room, and the greatest care was taken to avoid noise. Some days, poor Guy, when coming in from his walk, would take off his boots before going, on tiptoe, to her room. My sister wished to be with the Empress, so EXILES IN ENGLAND rented the Old Hall, quite near Camden Place, which she occupied for some months. Princess Metternich was at the Clarendon Hotel. Going to see her one afternoon, I was shown into her sitting-room. I suddenly heard a splashing of water, as if quite near me ; raising my eyes, I saw a high screen across one end of the room. Presently the Princess laughingly explained that the Prince had just arrived, and that the hotel was so full that the end of the sitting-room had been given him for a dressing-room — and he was in his bath ! London for the time being had turned into Paris. On every side a chatter of French was heard. The Faubourg St. Germain and the Faubourg St. Honore\ the old and the new aristocracy of Paris, filled London. There was not a house from end to end of Clarges Street and Half- Moon Street without familiar faces. Brighton, too, was crowded with our friends. Princess Poniatowska lived over a baker's shop in the King's Road. I found her there when I went on a Saturday to Monday visit to some friends at the Bedford. I was then looking for a house for Princess Mathilde, who had escaped from Paris just before the siege with the aid of Alexandre Dumas the younger, who offered her the hospital ity of his chalet at Dieppe till she could leave France. I could find nothing suitable that was not exorbitant in price. MY MEMOIRS From Dieppe she went to Mons, and there I wrote to her, giving her what news I could. She wrote to me in response : — Mons, October 9, 1870. My dear Caro, I thank you for your kind letter, which I found waiting for me here. I have been for a few days to the Hague with the Queen, and she has, I think, been even more affectionate than in days gone by. In spite of all the marks of affection and devotion that I received, and which I hardly had the right to expect, I am horribly sad, and my heart is broken. I remain here, not knowing where to go, and not wishing to leave ; besides, I really do not care. Everything is indifferent to me, and I feel so overwhelmed in every way that I have not the courage nor the desire to form any plan. I should like to know Caponni and Paris saved ! — all the people I have left there in safety, and have no fresh grief to weep over. I often see faces I know passing through here. There is nothing but lamentation, regret — and winter is coming with all its horrors. Here it is less foggy than in England, and living is cheaper. I have not received a single letter from the Empress ; I do not know her address, and I do not know if she cares to hear from me. I hear sometimes of the Emperor, and my thoughts often turn towards the dear little Prince, who must be very unhappy, far from his father. Can you give me any news of Aunt Jane ? Where is Malcy ? What are they all going to do ? EXILES IN ENGLAND If you are able, return to France, but not before the end of the siege of Paris. Where is Loulou ? Give me all the news you can get from any one. Write to me here. Letters are quite safe in envelopes addressed to Monsieur de Galbois or to M. de Giraud, Poste Restante, Mons. As for me, I embrace you, my heart torn and sad unto death— most discouraged and asking myself if life be desirable, when it has to witness such disasters. Yours affectionately, M. Other letters which I received in quick succes sion show her yearning for news and her despair at our disasters. Mons, October 15, 1870. Dear Caro, Your letters have given me great pleasure, since they give me news of events and of persons. I did not know of the death of Friand and of that of Mme. de la Redorte. They are perhaps happier than we ! We are not at the end of our sufferings, and I very much fear that when we see Paris again, it will be one heap of ruins. That will be the crowning touch. Here the letters are not opened. You can write what you wish. Have you see Napoleon ? x They say that he passes his evenings with Madame , a pretty pastime ! Tell me if the Empress has been able to save 1 Her brother, Prince Napoleon : not the Emperor. 223 MY MEMOIRS her jewels, her wardrobe, and all the possessions she had in the rooms at the Tuileries. I should like to know about it and how matters stand. And Anna, is she not anxious about Mouchy ? Of course, I mean the chateau. St. Gtatien is invaded by a German staff; all this grieves me intensely, and our ruin, which is so complete in every way, is the cause of the most terrible despair. Tell me all that She does from morning till evening. Is she settling down where she is ? How far from London is Chislehurst ? Is Metter nich with her ? And the dear child, where is he ; at Hastings, or with her ? Will she not go to see him ? I kiss you, I embrace you with all my heart. All kind regards to all with you. M. I had found a house which I thought would suit her, and she wrote requesting further in formation concerning it. Mons, October 17, 1870. My dear Caro, I am just sending you a line and shall be glad of an answer, if it is not troubling you too much. Tell me with what furniture the house is let. Is it clean ? And, further, are there kitchen utensils? linen? plate? I n fact everything ? Or ought one to see to all that for oneself? I shall be coming to London on Sunday, that is why I should prefer the outskirts, but quite near, so as to be able to come into town for trifles, as easily as I did from St. Gratien. I shall 224 EXILES IN ENGLAND not leave Mons until the 15th November, and have made no plans. I am beginning to get anxious about it. Get me all the news you are able to ; here, no one knows anything. I only get the Independance. What is the Emperor Napoleon doing ? And Pierrie ? Whom of our circle do you see ? And what hopes have they? What is Anna doing? Does she go into society ? And where will she spend the winter? Do you expect to return to Paris after the siege ? And your people ? This general dispersal is very hard. Shall we ever find ourselves again — not in the same conditions, but at least united ? I can only tell you one thing, which is, that I cannot conquer my feelings, that every day I become more sad, and that I am in despair. I kiss you from my heart. Your affectionate Aunt, M. Do not speak of my plan, before I am quite decided about it. Our hopes that the Princess Mathilde would come to London and settle down in the house that I had chosen for her were not realized, as will be seen by the following letter. Mons, October 28, 1870. My dear Caro, I thank you for your kind information, but I could not profit by it. I do not wish to go away, and after the capitulation of Metz I am awaiting that of Paris. I am sadder than ever ; p 225 MY MEMOIRS there is nothing left but our complete ruin, and I have not even the hope of better days. All is lost, and I do not yet know how all this can have happened. Well, we must bow our heads. I hear that Anna is profiting by the fine weather in London. I receive letters which deal only with her dresses and her gaieties. How happy it is to be able to be like that, and how much better it would be for us all, could we follow her example. But my heart is broken. I saw Fleury in Brussels. He told us of the departure of the Empress ; it is he who made all arrangements as far as England. Give me all your news. I heard of the down fall of Napoleon and of the Empress ; what are the Rouhers doing ? I am as sad as it is possible to be, and daily expect to hear that St. Gratien has been sacked, if this has not happened already. The innocent pay for the guilty. I embrace you. M. Princess Mathilde's chateau was indeed sacked and left in ruins, without roof or windows. Eventually Princess Mathilde went to Brussels, where she spent the winter, and where I suggested visiting her, since she could not come to London. Brussels, November 28, 1870. 15 Rue d'Artois. My dear Caro, I shall find much trouble in putting you up here. There is no room — not even in the hotels, and I know persons who are watching all the departures, to have two rooms when they would need at least six ; it is very hard. 226 EXILES IN ENGLAND Believe me, have patience over there, until the relief of Paris. I cannot believe it will be much longer in coming. I should like to know the story of Persigny. Why does not the Duchess de Mont : (?) go to her mother at Chateau Margot? I received a visit from the Count and Countess of Flanders, though I have done nothing for them ; they made many inquiries after the Emperor and Empress and after the little Prince. . . . I go out very little and see few people ; the weather is not bad, nor very cold ; there is no news. Time goes slowly when one is waiting, and uncertainty makes it still more cruel. Mme. Machin is writing a nice long letter to the Em peror. It does one good to see that one is remembered somewhere. Nevertheless, I notice that the animosity of the first days no longer exists . . . and although the faults may be serious and we pay for them cruelly, the memory of eighteen years' prosperity cannot be wiped out. All has been caused by Her, they tell me ; let us hope she will be better inspired and happier than on the 4th September. She gave up a game which was still playable ; but after all ! Write to me, give me some news ; especially if you have any from Paris by balloon. What bad luck to be unable to make anything reach its destination ! I embrace you and beg you to remember me to all yours. Where is Malcy? Again a thousand affectionate messages. M.1 1 Her friendship with Thiers enabled Princess Mathilde to return to Paris during the early days of the Republic. She p 2 227 MY MEMOIRS Her brother, Prince Napoleon, had taken one of the large houses facing Hyde Park, a little lower down on the Marble Arch side. The house was secured under the impression that the Princess Clotilde would come to England, but she remained at the Chateau de Prangins, till the Emperor's death brought her for a short time to this country. Prince Napoleon's visits to England were short, and not very frequent. He preferred Prangins, on the lake of Geneva, where the Princess and his three children had joined him some little time after Sedan. The few people who composed the Empress's suite were the Duke de Bassano, Commandant Duperre\ Adolphe Clary, Pietri, private secre tary, Dr. Corvisart, Madame Clary (who with her husband had a house at Chislehurst), Mme. Le Breton, and Mademoiselle Lermina. A French butler, three French cooks and the Prince Imperial's valet, the faithful Uhlmann, composed the French contingent of the household. I knew them all, but best of all I knew Clary. Long before he belonged to the Emperor's entourage he was the dearest friend of my cousins, and I saw a great deal of him during the winter I spent lived then in the Rue de Berri and at the restored chateau of St. Gratien. She received a great deal in an intimate way, though she did not give large functions. She died in Paris, January 1904, the Empress visiting her on her death-bed. 228 EXILES IN ENGLAND at Algiers, where he was quartered with his regi ment. I asked for him at that time, February 1862, an appointment on the staff of Bazaine or some general nominated to take part in the Mexican Campaign. My telegram making the request was sent to the Emperor at Plombieres, and I got my answer, " Impossible," before my message reached the person to whom it was addressed. Adolphe Clary had a pretty country seat not very far from Paris. The same agent in Paris was acting for us. Finding it urgent to send to La Charloterie, on Clary's business, he took from my stables one of my best horses and dispatched a messenger. Both horse and rider were cap tured by the Prussians. The agent immediately wrote to both of us, informing us of what had happened, blaming himself for what he had done, and saying that without doubt Clary owed me the price of the horse. I should certainly at any ordinary time not have claimed any indemnity, but we were living from day to day without the possibility of getting money except by selling valuables and jewels. I asked Clary through the agent for ^"40, a small sum, as I did not wish to ask more than was paid by Government for other horses. Clary refused, and rather an uncomfort able feeling arose in consequence, feeling which a year later was destined to take the form of a serious litigation. Large cases were packed and 229 MY MEMOIRS sent from Paris in the spring of 1871, containing pictures and many other things which had been saved from the wreck. One of these cases, sent to me by mistake, contained a very valuable family painting, the portrait of a lady, one of Clary's ancestors. He immediately wrote and requested that the case might be sent on to Chislehurst. I replied that I had no desire to keep the picture, and that on receiving a cheque for ^40, the price of my horse, the case with his property should be sent. He was very angry, threatened legal pro ceedings, and I put the matter into the hands of my English solicitor, with the result that I received my cheque and he his portrait. Some years after, when the Empress went for a winter to Florence and Rome, Comte Clary accompanied her, took the fever and died. Duperre, the old, devoted and faithful friend, could not stand Clary and his overbearing ways. He constantly complained to me, and one day told me with tears in his eyes that he must leave the Prince and return to Paris and to his career as soon as it was open for him to do so. He said he had intended never leaving their Majesties, but Clary had found such favour in the eyes of the Empress, and interfered and made it so un comfortable for him (and indeed for all of them) that he had decided to go. He told me among other things that since the residence at Camden Place he had had the catering. Clary persuaded 230 EXILES IN ENGLAND the Empress that it could be done on a much less expensive scale. That morning she had sent for Duperre\ and had ordered him to reduce expenses — to use his expression, " a cinq francs par t£te de negre," meaning to five francs a head. Of the other members of the household at Chislehurst I have very little to say. Franceschini Pietri was a Corsican, very devoted, no doubt, nephew of Pietri, the well-known Roman Prefect of Police. When at the Tuileries he was of little note, as he was scarcely ever seen. Under-Private Secretary, I suppose, was his title, but as a matter of fact he worked apart in a small room, where the Emperor's hand-bell could call him at any hour. He was the Emperor's private messenger, entirely outside politics. In the general break up he sprang into more prominent existence, and was one of those sent to England by the Emperor to accompany the Prince, with and subordinate to Commandant Duperre\ At Camden Place, he became Private Secretary to the Empress, and at present still retains the same position. I shall have occasion to speak of him later on in connec tion with the Emperor's death, as well as of Madame Le Breton. Mademoiselle Lermina was daughter of a penniless general, as was the wife of Comte Clary (a Mademoiselle Marion). The Empress was always most good and kind, and never failed to have one or two girls as lectrices, and married 231 MY MEMOIRS most of them well. Mademoiselle Lermina is still with her, unmarried. Notwithstanding the narrow strip of water that lies between England and France, one cannot help being struck by the difference in ideas, habits and customs of the two countries, less so now than when I first came to live here, just twenty- three years ago. There is still one point, how ever, which has not changed — the immense preponderance of unmarried women in England. At the French Court I can only — after a long search in the depths of my memory — record two who could no longer claim to be girls. One of them lived at the Tuileries and was conspicuous by her connection with the Emperor on his mother's side. Her father was Great Master to the Empress's household, her brother was chamber lain. They occupied a suite of rooms in the Pavilion Marsan, the part overlooking the Rue de Rivoli. I refer to the Countess Stephanie Tascher de la Pagerie. She was a Canoness in Bavaria, and therefore bore the title of Countess. In Germany, being Canoness gives a right to this title. Countess Stephanie was an amiable bluestocking, very witty, very amusing, and, contrary to the general rule of old maids, not ill-natured. She was a general favourite at Court, much appreciated by the Emperor, who had known her in his younger days at Arenenberg. She was often in 232 EXILES IN ENGLAND demand at the Pavilion de Flore, their Majesties' petits appartements. Her lively conversation and droll way of telling the anecdotes of her life in Germany amused the Empress Eugenie. The second " femme de trente ans " was daughter of Comte de Casabianca. I have nothing to tell of her except that I knew her very well. She had been unfortunate in an unreciprocated love. I knew him too. He made an unhappy marriage. She thereafter devoted herself entirely to her father. She became his right hand in every way, acting as his private secretary in many affairs of political importance. M. de Casabianca, a dear old man, a Corsican Napoleonist to the backbone, honest too, and not altogether a nonentity, was most useful in difficult moments when an intelligent and devoted man was required to play a risky part, or in a financial crisis. In this way poor old Casabianca was dotted about as the occasion demanded. At the critical moment of the Coup d'Etat he occupied at the Rue de Rivoli the Ministere des Finances. Then, at the proclamation of the Empire he found himself Secretary of State — when it was necessary to form and organize the new Cabinet. He was also member of the Privy Council and, lastly, senator for life. Casabianca was a very intimate friend of my father's, who was able to render him a service he never forgot, by obtaining that his son-in-law should be sent as military attache" to 233 MY MEMOIRS the Embassy at Turin. M. de Casabianca's daughter was young and pretty, and did the honours of the Embassy when required, as my father was there alone, my mother being too delicate to undertake the duties and fatigues incumbent on the wife of an Ambassador. Casabianca was a true friend, and was able to prove himself so many times. No one who has not lived at Court would easily realize the great jealousies which invariably exist. The influence and power of certain members of the household, who have the great advantage at Court that a lady's-maid has in private life, in possessing the ear of the mistress, are as a rule very antagonistic to family. The influence of the entourage of which I speak may have been more felt at the French Court, and perhaps existed to a greater extent, as at the Tuileries there was no immediate family. Dr. Corvisart was one of the doctors at Chislehurst called par quartier. They were four in number, and took service in turns under Dr. Conneau. The Duke de Bassano, who was Grand Chamberlain at Court, was only in attendance at Camden Place on occasions of official receptions or ceremonies, but always held himself in readiness to obey the Empress's commands. I am now speaking of the time during which the Emperor was a prisoner at Wilhelmshohe. 234 EXILES IN ENGLAND In the month of December the Empress left England and, travelling as Comtesse de Pierre- fonds, paid a short visit to the Imperial prisoner. The Prince Imperial was most anxious to accompany the Empress : he pleaded that he had not seen his father since before Sedan, and en treated her to allow him to go to the Emperor. Father and son were wrapped up in each other. The sorrows of the last few months had brought them still more closely together. The poor little Prince was, I heard, really heart-broken at the rejection of his wishes, but the Empress, who no doubt had her good reasons, was determined in her refusal. I may say here that, before the fall of Metz, Bazaine, thinking he could treat advantageously with Prince Frederick Charles, sent an emissary — no other than General Bourbaki — to Chislehurst, asking the Empress Regent for a blanc seing authorizing him to treat in the name of the Regent and put the Prince Imperial on the throne of France. The whole incident is, I believe, well known. General Bourbaki arrived at Camden Place one afternoon, had a prolonged interview with the Empress, and returned to Bazaine with an indignant refusal. Many were the comments, as you may imagine, among the entourage and the members of the family then in England. What was her reason for declining Bazaine's offer ? No one can say with certainty — at all events I cannot. 235 MY MEMOIRS Would Bazaine have been Regent ? The Prince was only fifteen. The capitulation of Metz followed, August 27. Bourbaki had been able to leave Metz through the Prussian lines with a sauf conduit delivered by Prince Frederick Charles himself. In an ordinary time it would have been without doubt a dangerous, reprehensible and unprecedented act to have abdicated her powers as Regent into the hands of Bazaine by giving him the "signature in blank" he required, but here the position was desperate. The honour of France, the Empire, the throne, were in the balance. To hesitate was pertain ruin, for France, for the Emperor, for the Prince Imperial. Had a treaty been signed by Bazaine and Prince Frederick Charles, it would probably not have involved so great an indemnity as the loss of two Provinces and five thousand millions of francs, but it would have meant the abdication of the Emperor and the loss of the Regency in favour of Bazaine. Perhaps the Empress's mistrust of Bazaine might have been caused in part by the remem brance of the treachery of General Trochu, in whom she had so recently blindly believed. Perhaps the trials she had gone through had left her without nerve for so daring an act — or was it Fate ? On leaving Metz, Bazaine proceeded to Wil- 236 EXILES IN ENGLAND helmshohe, where he drew up, in conjunction with the Emperor, a report on the military facts of the war. And the events which followed ? His fall and that of his dynasty, proclaimed during the insurrection on the 4th of September in Paris, and again by the National Assembly sitting at Bordeaux the first days of March 1871. It was whispered that they discussed the possibility of a restoration. Every one knows that, later on, Marshal Bazaine was declared a traitor, tried and condemned. If being faithful to the allegiance sworn to his sovereign constitutes a traitor, then certainly Bazaine was one. I cannot admit that he was traitor to France. He would undoubtedly have restored the Empire had he been allowed, and the world would not have witnessed the gradual decay and downfall of a great kingdom. How great is the fall of France those alone can feel who, like myself, lived on the steps of an Empire's throne and have now, a voluntary exile, watched for thirty years on England's shores the political and religious decline of my country. The Emperor was an Angloman — he loved and admired the English ; he never forgot Prince Louis Napoleon and the cordial reception given to the outlawed Prince who sought refuge in this country. The Emperor dreamt of an English alliance. Russia paid the penalty. We knew the English heroes in the Crimea who bravely fought by our side ; we knew some of the pretty 237 MY MEMOIRS Englishwomen who flirted at Compiegne ; but we had no experience in those halcyon days of a Dreyfus ! of insults heaped upon us by the English Press, of the injurious and hostile language of English statesmen, of the attacks on the French Army, qualifying our generals as dishonest, questioning the integrity of our magis trates and their power to render justice. For such a state of things to be possible, how de graded we must have become ! Poor France ! Yet the Empire, or a monarchy that would save us, seems as far away as it was thirty years ago. In this year, 1871, I received a telegram announcing the unexpected death of M. de Chassiron. Mr. Garden, whom I have already mentioned, was unceasing in his attentions and his endeavours to make our life less sombre. He was also indefatigable in the service of the Empress. Going up and down from Chislehurst to London with dispatches in cipher, sometimes as late as twelve o'clock, he would take our messages to Charing Cross. He planned parties to Rich mond, drove us to a fish dinner at Greenwich, and the first week in December persuaded my father to pay him a four days' visit at Redisham, his place in Suffolk, for the covert shooting. He secured a saloon carriage and we went down — a party of seven — I was the only woman. The 238 EXILES IN ENGLAND shooters were the well-known "Brab,"1 the handsomest Englishman I had seen ; Tommy Trafford, so renowned for his painted face, so envied as a prot£g£ of the Prince of Wales ; Percy Barker, who was never sober, but a kind, good-hearted fellow ; and Captain Powell, who had been through the Indian Mutiny and told funny stories of shooting into moving bushes and old women rolling out. How strange their talk, their manners, their ideas, all seemed to me, fresh from the Court of the Tuileries ! We arrived at Redisham about six o'clock. Snow lay heavily on the ground ; the cold was intense that fatal winter of 1 870-1, and I thought I had never felt so cold a house. Stone outer hall, stone inner hall, stone staircase, stone land ing with only one or two small rugs. It sent a chill to the heart. Big fires in the drawing-rooms that scorched without warming you, and, if you moved away, fearful draughts from under every door and window ; bare furniture against bare walls — not a cushion to be seen, not a flower, not a plant. It all looked so cold and miserable. Plenty of smoke, however, from fires and men ; they smoked all over the house. Miss Garden said when she returned after our visit that the curtains and furniture were an essence of smoke, and had to be put out on the lawn for a week before she could again use them ! 1 Major-General J. P. Brabazon, C.B., C.V.O. 239 MY MEMOIRS Notwithstanding the cold, we had a very pleasant week. All the men were full of fun, and played practical jokes on each other. One morning, about two o'clock, I heard shouts of laughter, and, peeping out of my door, saw the unfortunate Percy Barker being rolled down stairs in a feather bed . He had established himself on the floor in Brab's room, who objected to keeping him, the loud snoring preventing his sleeping. I liked Brab best of all the guests. He was more like what I was accustomed to. The very first evening at dinner, I remarked that he wore his hair parted in the middle, a thing I particularly dislike. It gives a man such an effeminate look. Turning to him, I said something of the kind in a low voice. To my horror he called one of the men-servants and bade him fetch a comb ; then and there at table, the man holding a mirror, he parted his hair at the side, and I never saw it parted in the middle again, although we remained great friends and often met in London till, with the courage and pluck which characterized him, he volunteered for the Ashanti war, and the smartest soldier ever in the Guards re-entered the Army as a trooper, and left Waterloo with his buttonhole and lavender kid gloves to join his regiment, amid the cheers of his numerous friends, about May or June 1873. How sad our days, and sadder still our nights. 240 EXILES IN ENGLAND One of our greatest trials, in the absence of any reli able news, was the shouting in the streets ; the call ing out by newspaper men and boys of most terrible battles — massacres — horrors of the siege. We were so absolutely unaccustomed to anything of the kind that we believed all we heard. I scarcely know what would have become of us during those dreadful months had it not been for the friendship of Lord Granville. We had not yet left Half- Moon Street. My sister came up constantly to her rooms at Fleming's, and often after leaving the House at twelve or one o'clock at night, Lord Granville, who was then Foreign Secretary, would come with the latest information he could obtain. One evening I remember well. The shouting had been more distracting than usual, when suddenly we heard a babel of thundering voices, " The King of Prussia killed ! " Oh, what a relief! A thrill of joy went through me. The Emperor prisoner, the King dead, surely the war was ended ! I never took time to reflect. Of course my hope was shattered. Mrs. Thomson Hankey, whose husband was at one time under-governor of the Bank of England, had just come in. She had also heard the news. My delight shocked her immensely. She said reprovingly, "My dear, you forget poor Queen Augusta and her grief." Indeed, I had! In those hours I had no thought for any grief but our own, but, alas ! no grief was needed. Lord q 241 MY MEMOIRS Granville soon arrived and dispelled my short lived joy. Some personage had been killed (I cannot call to mind who it was), a general, I think, and the war would go on, the dreadful war, without suffering even a check. And day followed day, each more weary than the last, with its cold, its damp, its dense black fogs. Would the sun never shine for us again ? At the beginning of January I left Cromwell Road, and took with Guy a tiny but pretty house in Walton Place, belonging to Ginger Durant. He was kindness itself, left me two servants, his plate and linen. I now had news more frequently from Je>6me, sent through the Prussian lines. He was still at Courbevoie. He had been very ill. To add to all the rest, small-pox broke out among them. Though vaccinated, he contracted the disease, which he had more slightly than others, and it very fortunately left no marks. As soon as peace was signed he came to England. His mother was most anxious. She had no means of communicating with her son, and only received what little news I could send her. My uncle had married a Miss Williams, a Virginian heiress. Jer6me and I had known each other since our earliest infancy, but I lost sight of him for many years, as he never came to France till just before the Crimean War. He was an only child till he was twenty-one, when a brother 242 EXILES IN ENGLAND was born. They were the only two children of the Paterson branch of the family. My aunt was always known to her husband and children as " Miss Susan," and so we all called her — a habit contracted, I imagine, from her old negro servants, who had been with her from her birth. After the war, Jer6me came to London for some weeks. He told us of the hardships and privations of the siege. He brought me a piece of the hard black bread the officers and men had to eat. His description was most amusing of the luxury and treat it was to eat a rat from the gutters or from the spouts. " They are far more delicate," he said, "than young chickens." Our St. Bernard dogs had been eaten, taken from the Avenue Montaigne, when it was turned into a hospital for the wounded. During the siege a rat cost 2 francs, a rabbit cost 50 francs, a cat 15 francs, a turkey 150 francs, each egg, fresh (?) 5 francs. Every animal in the Jardin d'Acclimation was bought and eaten. The prices paid were fabulous. A wild boar 1,000 francs, a wolf 500 francs, a bear 800 francs. All the peacocks were bought between the well-known author Arsene Houssaye and the eminent surgeon Ricord. I wonder if peacocks are a great delicacy or if they are good and easily digested. Jerdme sailed for America some time early in Q 2 243 MY MEMOIRS March, and intended proceeding to Baltimore to join his mother and brother. When at New York he was waylaid by the two brothers of a Mrs. Newbolt Edgar, a very rich young American widow, who had lived for a long time in Paris, and to whom he had, no doubt, paid a certain amount of attention. She had taken advantage of this, and written several letters through the medium of some Prussian officer. Her brothers chose to consider her entitled to become Princess Jer6me Bonaparte (but Jer6me always declined the title), and through the intervention of her brothers she became Mrs. Bonaparte. Jerdme announced his engagement with these few details in a letter addressed to Achille. I fear the marriage was not a very happy one. The last years of his life, I believe, they lived a good deal apart. I understand that Monseigneur Bauer, and his wish to make a convert, was not unconnected with this sad affair. His influence weighed heavily in the balance. I should have said, but have neglected to do so, that after Sedan the Emperor Napoleon could have treated directly with the Emperor William. Bismarck, in an interview which he sought, said to the Emperor these words : " Sire, do you surrender your own sword, or the sword of France ? " Without doubt, he expected the Emperor to reply, " The sword of France." His answer was, " I am prisoner of the King of 244 EXILES IN ENGLAND Prussia. You must treat with the temporary Government in Paris." The armistice was concluded on January 26, and signed between Bismarck and Jules Favre. I am puzzling my poor brain about the precise date of the Emperor's release from Wilhelmshohe.1 Was it after the signature of the armistice in January, or a little later when the treaty of peace was signed? However, it matters little. I remember the meeting and reception at Dover. He had grown old, grey and worn. I remember the arrival in London and the reception and loud cheering of all the French Napoleonists then in England. I remember the home-coming to Chislehurst — a home-coming so sad in a stranger- land — and last of all, I remember our indignation, that knew no bounds, when, a few days later, the Emperor went to Windsor by the Queen's invitation, accompanied by the Duke de Bassano and the officers of his suite, and found that only a small pony carriage had been sent to meet him — all that was thought necessary for a fallen sovereign ; yet very different was the reception given the Queen of Spain at the French Court. The Empress was loud in ex pressing her outraged feelings. The Emperor alone was smiling and calm, and tried to stem the torrent of words. Lord Granville and Mr. 1 March 187 1. 245 MY MEMOIRS Gladstone were, I know, horrified when they heard of the blunder. I think, but it is so long ago I cannot be sure, that an apology was sent to his Majesty, blaming some official of the Court etiquette and protocol for the tactless incivility. Speaking of Mr. Gladstone reminds me of the afternoon when a number of people had come to the Empress's tea, and were sitting round her traditional hot brioche. The last comer, Prince Lucien Bonaparte, after some little time listening and talking, asked the Empress in a loud (apart) whisper who was the gentleman talking to the Emperor ? On being told it was Mr. Gladstone, he said, " Mais comment done ! " and went on, " I didn't know a Liberal could be a true gentleman." We heard from the Empress that Marlborough House was " closed for repairs," but the Prince and Princess of Wales much wished to come to town for a few weeks. They had thought they could have a suite of apartments at Buckingham Palace. For some reason the Queen did not care to consent to this arrangement, and the Prince accepted the Duke of Sutherland's offer of Stafford House. My sister wished to see the Princess or write her name, and we went together. The Princess was out, and while Anna was writing I looked round. It seemed so strange to see a house lent to the Prince and Princess of Wales only partly prepared for their occupation, half- 246 EXILES IN ENGLAND smothered in brown holland, as one is accustomed to have one's own house when out of town and only going up en camp valant. We were very frequently at Camden Place ; some one of us might always be seen travelling on the line up or down. I recall to mind one afternoon I found the Emperor alone in the drawing-room they generally lived in, a small table in front of him, and a patience laid out " La Gerbe," his favourite patience. He greeted me with a smile and said, " Je fais une reussite." We played the patience together — alas ! I forget for what success it was played, or if it was a success. I stayed to tea. The Empress came in from her drive, charming and gay — charming as she alone can be when she chooses. My sister and the Princess Metternich came in. They had had an adventure. On arriving at Charing Cross they found that neither of them had any money. They lost one train while arguing at the ticket office, the man refusing to trust them. They went to the station master, who at last succeeded in getting them tickets on condition they would deposit a jewel till their return. The Princess Metternich took off a valuable bracelet and handed it in at the office, in exchange for which two return tickets to Chislehurst were delivered to her. At Camden Place she borrowed a sovereign and redeemed her bracelet on her return to London. 247 MY MEMOIRS Princess Metternich was celebrated for all sorts of extraordinary experiences during her stay in England. She made an excursion to Gravesend with two or three men, and Mr. Garden told me that she insisted on buying shrimps from a woman who passed the carriage, and spreading out her handkerchief, she proceeded to eat them, not withstanding his protesting that it was a thing unheard of in one of her rank and position. But she only laughed. She was always defiant of convention. He took her to the Alhambra (the Alhambra was not then as it is now). He described himself as feeling quite hot when she said to him in a very loud voice, speaking of a man he had just introduced, " Ah ! your friend is as familiar as a flea ! " 248 PRINCESS CAROLINE. CHAPTER X DEATH of NAPOLEON III A trip to Italy — My second marriage — Redisham — Return to Paris — Effects of siege and Commune — The Cote d'Azur— The Emperor's illness — His death — Sir William Gull's opinion — Mme. Rouher's experiment — Palmistry After the Commune my father and mother determined to return to France. The Princess was to go to Mouchy with my sister, who had left England some few days earlier. Mr. Garden and one or two friends accompanied them to Dover, where they proposed taking the night boat to Calais. How it happened that the Princess and the lady who was always in attend ance on her got separated from the rest of the party, never seemed clear ; but in the confusion and fear of missing the boat she was hurried on board, and it was not till an hour had elapsed and they asked if the boat was nearing Calais, that the Princess discovered that she was on the Ostend boat on her way to Belgium ! It was a terrible shock to her in her delicate state of health, with no luggage, no maid and Madame Dutour, the lady with her, a very bad sailor, a 249 MY MEMOIRS very rough sea, and the prospect of five hours' passage instead of an hour and twenty minutes. The Due de Mouchy was waiting for her at Creil, where you change on the line du Nord for Beauvois and Mouchy. On arriving at Ostend the Princess could not be persuaded to rest. She telegraphed her mishap, and took the first available train. Mouchy said that she was almost hysterical when she reached Creil, and nothing could persuade her it was not a practical joke played on her by the English locals, or by Mr. Garden and his friends. At the end of March I came to Redisham for a short visit, and then went over to Calais and Brussels, where I stayed a few days before pro ceeding to Strasbourg. I very much wished to go to Meaux and see if I had anything left — I should rather say if any of my things had been saved. I made my way to Reims, leaving Guy, his governess, and the servants there. I went on with Mr. Garden, who had kindly undertaken to accompany me. Our purpose was to find the solicitor who had had my business in Gharge during my absence. After many inquiries, we at last succeeded in getting the address of his private residence, and there we found him in his study, seated in one of my best large armchair lounges. He had not expected to see me. He explained in rather a confused and embarrassed way that he had taken some of my property as a 250 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III means of saving it from the Prussians and the francs-tireurs, who really did as much damage as the Prussians themselves, if not more. His attitude, so different from what it had been a few months back, was the truest sign of the times. It positively smelt of the Commune. He offered me a cup of broth and a biscuit — which notwithstanding his familiar manner, being very weary, I might have accepted had there been anything brought for Mr. Garden, but the hospitality did not reach to a brandy and soda, or even a glass of sherry ; so after some in structions and the request that what remained of my property should be sold, with the ex ception of a few things which I ordered to be sent to England, we took our departure to the hotel for a little refreshment before taking the late train back to Reims. Mr. Garden was amused. I felt ill and thoroughly disgusted ; the change was so great. Was it France ? And who was I ? Oh, my pride, what a fall ! Since then the falls have been so countless — I accept them as my normal state. On reaching Reims, where I rested for a few days, we planned a trip to Italy : I asked two old friends to join me, and, travelling leisurely through Germany, we found ourselves one bright morning at Verona. We were quite a small caravan, and the amount of luggage with which I had left England was so great, that we dropped on our 251 MY MEMOIRS way here a large trunk, there a portmanteau, and lastly a caisse with bed-linen, pillows, cushions and chamois leather sheets, so that for the first time since I could remember I was travelling without what I considered in those days the necessaries of life when going through foreign countries — more especially Germany — as I had had some experience of the hotels in different German towns. At Verona we made a short stay. I was anxious to see the tomb of Romeo and Juliet. I do not know what I had thought and dreamt of — certainly not what I saw. We drove some dis tance out of Verona, and in an uncared-for bit of ground or garden was a grave, the primitive sim plicity of which seemed to carry away a world of illusions. My principal object in wishing to visit Italy again was to go to Naples — to Venice. I had spent winters at Genoa, Florence, Milan and Turin — I had posted from Genoa to Florence among groves of olive and orange trees — I had changed horses at four o'clock in the morning at what might have been an opera comique decora tion. I had been across the Apennines on the most glorious of Italian nights with a moon brighter than England's sun. I had crossed the Mont Cenis in a sleigh, deep in snow, rushing down to catch the train at St. Jean de Maurienne. But I had never seen Naples ! This was my 252 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III ambition ! In 1861 I was at Turin and wrote to ask the Emperor if I might go on to Naples — he telegraphed " Remain at Turin ! " In a day or so I received a letter telling me the question of my visit had been submitted to the Italian Govern ment and the communication in answer was to the effect that I could be at Naples for forty-eight hours under the supervision of the Neapolitan police. Now, with an English passport, my wish could be realized. We spent ten days at Venice at Danielli's and left for Trieste ; there we took an Austrian Lloyd, and, after touching at Ancona, we landed at Brindisi and went immediately on to Naples. The Adriatic is the only sea on which I have never been ill. The weather was perfect — it was the end of May. Naples de lighted me. I loved the noise, the joyous bells, the songs of the lazzaroni, the blue sky, the lovely bay — I loved even the dirt and the heat and the beggars. I loved everything and every body. After the darkness and the misery of the past months, it seemed once again a pleasure to live and feel the sun shine on you. Each night a sweet gentle rain cooled the atmosphere and enabled us to spend our days in excursions without feeling the heat too great. We went to Portici, my grandfather's preferred country residence ; we went to Castellamare and sat for a moment in the Queen's boudoir, all capo di monti china. We went to Vesuvius, to Pompeii ; 253 MY MEMOIRS we went up the Monte Nuovo. Three days in succession we just missed the train to Sorrento. We saw the train still there, we heard the whistle — we had plenty of time had we not been penned in like sheep. We never caught the train, and so we left without seeing Sorrento, Mr. Garden very angry, and using ugly English language and swearing he was thankful he was an Englishman. I was so sorry to leave Naples. We travelled back through Germany and stayed at Munich, at Stuttgart, at Ulm. Prince Hohenzollern, to whom I wrote, gave us some permissions for fishing, and we spent days and weeks whipping the streams and pools for trout. It was very amusing and exciting to me, as it was my first experience of anything of the kind. I remember catching a trout and a grayling on my line at the same time. I managed to land them after a feverish struggle on both sides, I at one end, the fish at the other. I did not feel quite certain which of us would land the other. We got back to England some time in Sep tember, after making a stay at Aix-la-Chapelle and Brussels. Everything at Camden Place was in the statu quo I had left it. I went to report my return and to obtain his Majesty's consent to my marriage with Mr. Garden. This consent he readily gave in writing, which I have preserved. 254 c^~$. £_ t v ***J c *?/ FACSIMILE OF LETTER FROM THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON III. TO PRINCESS CAROLINE. DEATH OF NAPOLEON III Camden Place, October 28, 187 1. My dear Niece, I have no reason whatever to oppose your marriage, if it is to make your happiness, and I pray that it may do so. Receive the ex pression of my good will. Napoleon. The Prince (my father) and my youngest brother came over from France, and we took rooms at the Pulteney Hotel, in Albemarle Street, where we remained for a few weeks, afterwards moving to the Alexandra. And one fine morning I was married by special licence at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, sans tambours ni trompette. One in cident occurred. I had wished to have a double wedding-ring. The Princess Mathilde always wore the only one I had ever seen. One was ordered at Hancock's, the old jewellers, who were often in Paris and whom I had known for many years. When the moment in the ceremony arrived, the clergy man vainly endeavoured to put on the ring, not knowing that it was made for the little finger. On that finger I have always worn it. I heard it caused the Suffolk yokels to question the validity of my marriage, which greatly amused me. We went back to the hotel to a big luncheon, and intended taking the afternoon train to Redisham. By this time I was feeling dreadfully ill — morally and physically. The prospect of a country life in England was before me. But the die was cast, 255 MY MEMOIRS and I determined to face the future bravely — what a future ! ! We missed the train and took a special from Ipswich, as the eight o'clock train from London went no further. The officials omitted to telegraph along the line to expect a special. From Ipswich to Beccles we stopped at every station, and the guard and men opened and shut each gate. We could not afford to do as Lord Dudley did some years later when he had Benacre. For him they put steam on and never stopped, smashing every gate they went through all along the line. It was late at night when I at last reached my future home. Now, my friends and my foes — whoever travels thus far with me on my journey — I ask you to realize, if you can, my position — realize what it meant to me to exchange France for England — Paris for Suffolk — the court of the Tuileries for Redisham — life surrounded by father, mother, brothers, sister, relations and friends, to a life in, perhaps, the most stupid of English counties, the most prejudiced of English families. Those who have never left a loved country and voluntarily transplanted themselves — too late — among strangers, can never know how hard it is to be content. It has just come to my ears that some little gossiping people of small note have done me the honour of discussing and criticizing me. Mr. 256 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III — shall we say Smith or Jones ? — who stayed for a few days last year with me in the house of an American friend, and a Miss Cooke's companion, whom I had to tolerate some years ago canvassed my devotion to my country and complained of my not being " sufficiently English." Even to the ignorant I should have thought contemporary history would suffice to show that nothing from the hour of my birth to the present day could ever make me English in thoughts, feelings, ideas or ways. I rather love my English home, I am devoted to my English children, I have great affection for the few friends I have made in this country, I admire and respect — I should not venture to say more — my English King ; but how could I love the English nation ? How could I care for a people I have always been taught to consider our greatest foe ? — not because I was born in America at a period when Americans were anti- English, whatever they may be to-day; not because, as a child I roamed on the borders of the Delaware, where King Joseph, the Emperor's brother, lived in exile at Point Breeze, as did my father, his nephew, whose constant companion I was. From their lips I learnt to worship the great hero who madly confided himself to England's honour — a great Emperor, trapped and treacherously be trayed, tortured, until he died. Not because I found in France, in later years, any love for England. The only person who might have R 257 MY MEMOIRS inspired me, the Emperor Napoleon III, lost his throne in his rash desire to imitate the Parlia mentary Government of this country, and later gave up his life at the hands of an English surgeon. The Prince Imperial, so beloved by all who knew him — the hope of France ! — need I tell how he went to fight for England, how he was abandoned by England's soldiers, how he was left to die alone, fighting the enemy, while officers and men turned tail and fled, never looking back to be able to tell how the Prince bravely died, facing the foe ? Is it for all this that Mr. Smith or Jones thinks I ought to love England ? Or is it because I married an English man ? After Christmas of 187 1 I went to Paris for a short time en route to Nice. We stayed in the Rue St. Honore, at the Hotel St. James, the house that had belonged to the family de Noailles, called " L'Hdtel de Noailles," in those days, with a pretty garden and most of the rooms still with the old carved white panelling, and " trumeaux " over doors and mantelpieces. All my family were in Paris, and once again we were all together, but it was almost more pain than pleasure, everything was so changed. The Avenue Montaigne, my old home, was bare and dilapidated. The Prince's rooms alone were made habitable. Turn which way I would I felt pained and heartsore. Paris seemed no longer Paris, the gay city I had known. 258 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III Every one, even les cockers de fiacre, had so familiar a tone in speaking, that I wondered they did not say " tu " as in the days of the great revolution of 1793. Leaving Mr. Garden in Paris to attend to some business and collect the remnants of my belongings, I went on to Nice. At Marseilles, I was obliged to break my journey. I was too ill to go further. I stayed at the H6tel de la Paix till Mr. Garden could join me. Marseilles was so well known to me, so full of recollections ; so many years it had been my resting-place on my way to and back from our cdte d'azur which the English call the Riviera. From there, too, I had sailed for Algiers, and the joyous winters, the merry party we were, all came back so forcibly to my mind, that I had not the courage or the strength to struggle any longer, and for weeks after I got to Nice I was ill with low fever. We changed from the H6tel de France to the H6tel des Anglais, where we had rooms with a little garden running on to the Promenade des Anglais. I was thus enabled to be in the open air each day and slowly I regained my usual health. We went on to Italy in May. We stayed at Geneva, at Turin. We came back by the Mont Cenis, and lunched during the twenty miles through the tunnel. I found myself at Aix look ing as of yore at the huge mountain like a sugar cone, called "Le dent du Chat " and the deep R2 259 MY MEMOIRS waters so intensely blue of the lac du Bourget recalled to memory such happy hours — all gone never to return. I asked to be brought back to England, to forget — I have never forgotten — and now in my old age I can echo the words, " A sorrow's crown of sorrows Is remembering happier things,'' for my greatest pleasure is to live again in the past. It is June and from the windows of the Alexandra Hotel I watch the park, so thronged with the gay lovers of the London season. My brother Achille is in town and gives me news of Chislehurst. The Emperor so suffering, so patient, so resigned, had been during the cold weather to Torquay. The place did not agree with him, he felt it too relaxing and dull and was glad to be again at Camden Place, where he was constantly surrounded by friendly and familiar faces, coming, going, changing, like a living panorama before him. Before leaving for Redis ham I went to pay my respects. The Emperor asked me in what part of Suffolk was Redisham. "Not very far from Yarmouth, Sire." "Oh! Every other town I hear of has a ' mouth ' — pronounced ' mowse.' " We spent the summer at home. In Novem ber, Mr. Garden took General White's house in Lowndes Square, a very large house, but not 260 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III larger than we required. My father, mother and brother were to be with me for the New Year of 1873. Late in December Mr. Garden took a party of shooters for a week's banging at the poor pheasants. They stayed over Christmas and Boxing Day, and gambled all night and slept all day, so I was told. It was very characteristic ! I spent, for the first time in my life, Christmas alone with my old French maid, who had never left me. I was very seedy and felt miserably out of spirits, and at war with all the world. I drove to Chislehurst as often as I could ; but the drive was a long one, and my state of health did not allow of any exertion or fatigue. The Emperor had been suffering more than usual. The past few months his illness had made great strides. At times the pain was almost unbearable. The Empress now urged an immediate operation. Sir Henry Thompson assured her that it could be done by degrees, and without danger to the illustrious patient. The Emperor consented, more to please the Empress than because he had any faith in its success. He knew the risk must be great, but the position must be critical, the malady had made such rapid progress in the last year. More than once, when in intimate conversation with those he trusted, he deplored that he had been kept in total ignorance of the gravity of the report made in consultation by the surgeons some 261 MY MEMOIRS days before the declaration of war ; consultation in which the surgeons concurred in the opinion already given by Professor Lee, that an operation was urgent and should not longer be delayed. It was not till at Metz, when in positive agony, that the Emperor insisted on knowing the truth. He bore the revelation with admirable fortitude. My brother told us that throughout the campaign he suffered severe attacks without a murmur. It was a most anxious time for us all. We heard that the first operation had done satisfac torily what was required of it. I went to make inquiries and found a number of people surround ing the Empress Eugenie, who, seated at the tea table in a large bergere, was talking excitedly to those near her. As I came in, she turned, saying to Dr. Corvisart — " Has Sir Henry arrived? Put him in cotton wool. I beg you to take great care of him. He has the life of the Emperor in his hands." We talked and drank our tea, and tried to appear gay and unconcerned. I watched the hands of the clock. How slowly they seemed to move ! After a long time Corvisart came in again and, approaching the Empress, handed her a Sevres plate on which were several small pieces of crushed stone. The second operation had also been successful. The Empress was delighted and more desirous than before to wrap Sir Henry in cotton wool. I went home with a lighter heart. 262 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III A few days later my mother and father came over from Paris. The operations continued and everything promised a happy termination, when the news came that the Emperor was weaker and that the final operation had been decided upon for the next day. This was January the 8th. At eleven o'clock on the 9th a courier was dispatched to inform us of the Emperor's death. Before he arrived the cries of the men and boys in the streets had already spread the news. It would be impossible to picture our consternation. I could not believe it to be true. I ordered the carriage and drove to Camden Place as fast as my horses could take me. The day was bitterly cold, the sky all grey, and the roofs black with dirt and melted snow. Past Blackheath and Lewis- ham we flew. The way had never seemed so long, and all the time I tried to persuade myself that it might be a faint, a trance, anything but death. On arriving, the first person that I saw was the Prince Imperial. He was walking up and down the long gallery with Davilliers. He came forward to meet me, neither of us could speak. With a gesture of despair he turned away and left me that I might go on to the Empress, who was in the inner drawing-room. Then I heard from her lips the dreadful truth in all its details. She told me that, wishing to secure for their patient, in view of the proposed operation, a good night and quiet sleep, the doctors had ordered a 263 MY MEMOIRS dose of chloral, which had been administered by Corvisart ; that, no doubt, in his anxiety he had given a larger dose than was absolutely required. Was it by mistake or ill judgment ? Certain it is that from that dose — double dose, some said — the poor Emperor never woke. The doctors arrived from London too late. Nothing could be done. The Emperor still breathed. Sir William Gull did all in his power to rouse him. He spoke of Sedan, of the capitulation, in the strongest terms, in hopes of awakening some feeling, some con sciousness. They sent for the Empress, who prayed him to live for her. She called him every endearing name. At last he opened his eyes, looked at her and smiled. She took his last breath in a kiss. When she lifted her head he was dead. All this she told me as we sat together in the drawing-room. On leaving the Empress I found the Prince still walking up and down. His grief not to have been with his father at the last was heartbreaking. He had entreated to be allowed to remain. The Emperor had expressed the wish that the Prince should be near him. The Prince had been sent back to Woolwich, accompanied by Adolphe Clary, the day before. No doubt the Empress feared any emotion or agitation for the Emperor, but I was not surprised that the Prince, in the first moment of his despair, declared he could never forget or forgive.264 DEATH OF NAPOLEON HI My mother was anxious to hear Sir William Gull's opinion. She wrote to him. His answer was most courteous, but he evaded giving any decided opinion. Long years after, in 1884, when attending my little girl, who was dangerously ill with peritonitis, he asked me if I remembered writing to him. He then said, " It was impossible. I could not sign the certificate of that post-mortem examination. You know, madam, in olden days the devil was said to go about the world as a roaring lion — now he goes about in the guise of a dispensing chemist. This message I sent you eleven years ago " — a message, which as far as I am aware, was never delivered. I should say here that the prescription ordering the dose of chloral was said to have been signed by 'Sir William Gull. The Emperor was very averse from taking it, saying the dose taken on the previous night had made him feel ill and heavy. It was a contre coeur, and as if under a presentiment, that he at last gave way to the Empress, who implored him to drink, and swallowed the nauseous stuff. Rouher, his wife and daughter, had been for some weeks at Chislehurst, having taken a small house in order to be near the Emperor. Madame Rouher was a small, nervous woman and very easily upset. The Emperor's illness and death told on her nerves, and, hearing that she was suffering, Mr. Garden went to inquire. He was 265 MY MEMOIRS met first by a terrible smell of roast mutton and of garlic ; next by M. Rouher himself, who said that it was with some difficulty they had saved Madame Rouher's life. What had happened was this : she could not, would not, believe the dose of chloral had killed the Emperor. She wished to try the experiment on herself. "She persuaded one of the doctors to give her the same amount of chloral that had been given to the Emperor. At twelve o'clock the next day she showed no signs of waking. Doctors were sent for in every direc tion, and at length succeeded in bringing her round. A dangerous experiment. I suppose, being younger and in better health, she had a greater chance of life. The news of the Emperor's death was imme diately telegraphed abroad, and London was once more crowded with relations — friends — Napoleonists. Prince Napoleon had given up his house in Hyde Park and was at Claridge's. The Princess Mathilde was at Thomas's in Berkeley Square, very cross and very sorry for herself. She has always hated England. The Duke and Duchess de Mouchy were at the Pulteney. The Duke disliked the cooking at the Pulteney and requested that, as the hotels belonged to the same proprietor, the chef at Brown's should be sent to the Pulteney during their stay. The exchange was made after pressure, much to the annoyance of the visitors at Brown's. 266 DEATH OF NAPOLEON 111 Mouchy had particularly wished for the change, as so many French people were in London that my sister was obliged to receive a great deal, more especially in invitations to dinner. My eldest brother, Joachim, was also at the Pulteney, and Achille, though at Camden Place, was constantly in town. He brought to Anna's first big family dinner a Russian Baroness, whose name I forget. Like all the Russians I have ever known, she had great charm of manner and was a perfect linguist, French and English being as familiar to her as her own language. She had the gift of palmistry to a wonderful degree. This was my brother's principal reason for bringing her. He thought it would be a pleasant and amusing diversion at a time when we were all so miserably out of spirits. Alas ! It did not prove the success he had intended. At first the Baroness was gay and witty and told us two or three fortunes very cleverly. Presently Clement Duvernois came up and asked her to tell him his future. She looked at his hand and becoming suddenly very serious, declared that she would not reveal anything she saw. Prince Napoleon laughed and his mockery annoyed her. She said she would speak in private if Monsieur Duvernois chose. They went into the other room. What was told we never knew, but we noticed how white Duvernois was. He looked as if he was going to faint, and asked for a glass of wine. Prince Napoleon chaffed him 267 MY MEMOIRS and turning to the little Russian he said: "Now it is my turn, Madame." When the Prince came towards us again, he was whiter even than Duvernois — but with anger ; almost speechless with anger. He asked for his carriage and drove away : so the evening came to a sorry end. My brother and the Baroness dined next day with me at Lowndes Square. Mr. Garden took a great fancy to her. She read his hand, and he said she had told him some very curious things, both events in the past and predictions for the future. She told him he would die alone with no one near him — a prediction which came true on the 2nd of June, 1892, when he was found dead alone in his room, his arms on a table, his head fallen forward and resting on them. The Baroness said Russians always used cigar ash for their teeth and asked Mr. Garden to keep all the ash from his cigars and send it her in a year's time. He sent her the following year a small gold box filled with ashes. I have often wondered what has become of her, and if she still tells her friends and acquaintances how they will live and how they will die ! I have never heard of her since we parted. As I have already said, my health was not very good just then, and I was able to go to Chislehurst only once more before the funeral. I wanted to pay my respects to the Empress, but I much deprecated the thought of seeing the lying in 268 DEATH OF NAPOLEON III state. I had no idea that the Chapelle Mortuaire would be so placed that it was impossible to go through the gallery which ran all along the house without catching, at least, a glimpse of the chapel. It occupied a small room in a recess about the middle of the gallery and almost facing the entrance- hall ; a room belonging, as it were, to the gallery, as it was without doors or curtains of any kind. I passed on as quickly as I could, but not without the sight, for a second, of the figure lying there with the face like yellow wax. I can see it as I did then — a sight one never forgets. I did not go to the funeral, I was the only member of the family absent, with the exception of my father and mother and Prince Napoleon. There was an immediate stampede after the ceremony ; every one left for France ; and London — for me — was empty once more. 269 CHAPTER XI the ex-empress The Emperor's will — The Prince Imperial — "Papa, she's pinching me ! " — Daniel Home — Coming-of-age of the Prince Imperial — The box of chocolates — An enterprising princess — Anecdote of the Empress of Austria — Lord and Lady Stradbroke The following morning the Prince Napoleon went to Chislehurst to put himself at the disposal of the Empress. She pressed him to take at once cognizance of all papers, letters, documents, in the Emperor's working-room. She mentioned that seals had been affixed to every drawer and cabinet. Prince Napoleon naturally imagined that this had been done by some legal authority. On entering the study he saw a profusion of seals everywhere, on everything. On approaching, he saw the seals were all those of M. Franceschini Pietri, who accompanied him. The Prince opened one or two drawers and then withdrew. He refused to act as guardian to the Prince Imperial, or take any responsibility as regarded the Em peror's will. Certain papers of importance, historic deeds of great value which early in October he 270 THE EX-EMPRESS had seen the Emperor put into the drawers he now opened, had disappeared. These papers Prince Napoleon had read, and knew to be of political importance. One of them had been a treaty signed between the Emperors Francis Joseph and Napoleon III promising the help of Austria to France in case she went to war with Prussia. Had not other documents even more immediately important and private gone likewise ? How could he tell ? This is what occurred — or, to be more exact, what was rumour at the time at Camden Place. I cannot in any way answer for the truth of what I am going to say. M. Pietri, accompanied by Mme. le Breton, had the night before, as had been done in the case of the Duke de Morny, gone through all the papers and documents, private and political ; after which the seals had been placed. Every one knows, as it is at Somerset House, that the will found in the Emperor's desk was dated April 1865 — five years, therefore, before the war. In his will he leaves the whole of his private fortune to the Empress, only mentioning his son in recommending to him — their future Emperor — the people of France. From his very infancy the little Prince Im perial was brought up very strictly. It was according to the Empress's wish that it should be so. She always spoke of herself as mere 271 MY MEMOIRS romaine. I recall to mind several incidents of his childhood which it may be interesting to relate, as some of them took place in my presence. Every Sunday we dined at the Tuileries — les diners de famille, none others present except the service. The circle formed, the doors were thrown open to announce their Majesties — "L'Empereur — L'lmp^ratrice." The Emperor held the hand of the little Prince. He had been taught to kiss the hand of the Princesses of the Imperial family. On one particular Sunday he made a dreadful mistake, he forgot, and also kissed Prince Napoleon's hand. The Emperor laughed, but the Empress was angry. She seized the child, who cried out " Papa, elle me pince " (" Papa, she is pinching me "), and the poor little fellow was dispatched in disgrace. The Prince was between four and five years old at this time. In the spring of the same year, I was at Fontainebleu, with a large series of guests. The Prince Imperial came in after breakfast, before going out for his walk, delighted to show the Empress a beautiful box of chocolates which had been sent him. She told him to go round the room and offer his chocolates to all the guests. Going from one end of the room to the other, handing his treasures, the child gave way to the great temptation of putting one in his mouth. Immediately he felt his neck clutched from behind, 272 THE EX-EMPRESS and he was made to spit out the chocolate and have the box taken from him. I was so sorry for the child ; I have never forgotten the scene, nor the look of pain on the Emperor's face. It was at Biarritz, three years later, the Prince, then about eight years old and not a very good sailor, was dreadfully nervous and frightened on so rough a sea as the Bay of Biscay. Nevertheless the Empress insisted — no doubt very rightly — that he should go with her on some very short cruises. The child, terrified one day when the sea was behaving tempestuously, sought Duperre\ who said: "Voyonsdonc, Monseigneur, vous n'avez pas peur ? Mais vous n'etes qu'un marin deau douce." ^ The Prince between his tears and his fears — much to the amusement of all around — answered : " Et vous, Duperre, vous n'etes qu'un marin d'eau filtrie." 2 One morning about the middle of February I received a message from the Empress telling me to find Mr. Daniel Home and bring him to her. We had all known him in the days of France. I knew him better perhaps than most, as he thought I was more in sympathy with his spirits and was anxious I should be present at a stance. He was in high favour at the Tuileries. Long evenings were spent — and entertaining 1 " I say, Monseigneur, surely you are not afraid ! You are only a sailor of fresh water." 2 "And you, Duperre", you are a sailor of filtered water." s 273 MY MEMOIRS ones — in listening to the spirits he evoked, in seeing the wonderful things they did. To tell you all I saw and heard would be impossible, and no reader would believe me if I did. I will only say that one so impressionable, so impulsive as the Empress could not fail to be deeply moved and painfully excited. This power, which Mr. Home certainly had, gained such an influence at Court, he worked so skilfully on the feelings of the Empress, he evoked for her the past, the present, the future, in such a terribly con vincing way that the Ministers at a Cabinet meeting requested that Mr. Home should be re quired to leave France. I was sorry, for I really liked him. Our interesting evenings were over — no more wonders to subjugate and surprise us — no more suppers after the Opera, with unseen hands playing the tunes on accordion or piano — no more tables covered with glass and plate lifted suddenly above our heads — no more noise as if every window and mirror in the room was ringing with sounds that told us that Home was coming, was in the house. The message from the Empress must be obeyed. I hesitated, very much perplexed. It was such a terrible responsibility. I knew what she wanted. I knew what a fatal effect it might have on a temperament so nervous, so excitable. Nevertheless, I could not refuse. I sent for Home. He responded to my first call, though 274 THE EX-EMPRESS years had passed since we two had met and for one of us, at least, the world had changed. When I saw him I thought him looking dread fully ill. We talked a long time, but nothing I could say would persuade him to go to the Empress. He knew, as I did, that she wished to see the Emperor. He told me of his broken health, and said he did not dare venture on a trial which, if he succeeded, must use his strength and weaken him considerably. He told me of his wife's death. He told me a great deal about his little boy, a child of seven, who said he saw his mother constantly and held long conver sations with her. Home had married a Russian. I wrote and expressed all my regret that I was unable to do as the Empress wished. She was much grieved and disappointed. Prince Pierre Bonaparte, younger brother of Prince Lucien Bonaparte, of whom I have spoken, married, in 1853 — without the Emperor's consent — a young Corsican, Justine Ruffin. The marriage was never acknowledged during the Empire and de facto was not legal in France. The Prince was not received at Court and he went to Brussels, where he lived till the Republic was proclaimed, the Emperor granting him an allowance of ^4,000 a year. In 1872 he came to England with his wife and two children, a boy and a girl. The allowance failing him, he had very little to live on, and his wife, a handsome woman with all her wits s 2 275 MY MEMOIRS about her, started a large dressmaking and mil linery business in Bond Street, under her hus band's name, much to the indignation of the Empress. All London flocked to Princess Pierre Bonaparte to be gowned, to see, I sup pose, what a princess could do as an amateur dressmaker. Prince Pierre had asked help from the Emperor before consenting to the step his wife proposed. It was unwise to put before their Majesties the alternative. It was considered a threat, and the refusal to receive them or in any way assist them was the natural consequence. I had from my earliest girlhood been fond of my cousin (uncle a la mode de Bretagne). On my arrival at Lowndes Square, I went to see Prince Pierre at his private residence, 9, Hyde Park Place, and met his wife for the first time. I asked them to dine with me one evening when I was sure of being quite alone, as I was certain of a severe reprimand, if not my conge", from the Empress should my indiscretion reach her ears. The Princess Pierre told me her enterprise was a great success, and that she was able to send her son to one of the high English schools, not Eton, I forget which. For some years she prospered, then failed, I believe, and Prince Pierre returned with his family to France. I had lost sight of them after 1873 and was much surprised when Prince Lucien came to me one day during the winter, I think of 1876, and asked me to go to 276 THE EX-EMPRESS Chislehurst with him to implore the Empress's aid for his brother. He had great hopes ; I had none, but I was most anxious to second his endeavours. The position was such a sad one. Prince Pierre had written that he was in the greatest distress — that they were almost without bread — that if no one would help him, he was determined to shoot himself. He could no longer bear the miserable existence to which he and his family were reduced. Prince Lucien in telling me all this was so comical in his manner and comments that, sad as the position was, I could not refrain from laughing, when throwing up his arms he said in tones of despair — " II faut obtenir un secours ! Mon Dieu ! si mon frere se tue, je ne pourrai plus jamais me montrer a l'Athenasum ! " As I had foreseen, nothing was to be obtained from the Empress. She was very angry, with me especially ; though she kept Prince Lucien to dinner, she said to me : " Ma chere, je ne vous retiens pas a diner, nous serions treize." It was Sunday. I returned to Claridge's by a late train, no dinner ordered, a weary, hungry, but not a wiser, woman. I may console myself that I am not the only guest who has had the experience of being sent away dinnerless from Chislehurst. I was staying at Claridge's in the early spring of 1876. I had my usual rooms on the ground floor of the Davies Street entrance ; a charming 277 MY MEMOIRS suite of rooms, so much more quiet and private than the Brook Street houses, the first floor of which this particular year was occupied by the Empress of Austria and her suite. I dare say many people remember the awful storm of the last days of March, when in a few hours the ground was heavily covered with snow, telegraph wires and posts torn down, trees blown about and trains impeded. The Empress of Austria and two of her ladies had gone by appointment on a visit to the Empress Eugenie. They were in the train en route for Chislehurst when the storm broke over them. On arriving at the station the hurricane had already made such havoc that it was almost impossible to cross over and get to the carriages in waiting. One of the ladies, being in delicate health, was wheeled to the carriage on a porter's luggage truck. The storm continued with such intensity that it was nearly eleven o'clock at night when they again reached Claridge's, having been away since three o'clock. No dinner had been offered to them at Camden Place. They were very hungry, very tired, almost ill, and they complained bitterly of the want of hospitality shown them. Miss James, the housekeeper, an old friend of mine, was eloquent on the subject. I spent part of so many winters and springs at Claridge's in those days that it was almost like home. I had known the hotel well in my halcyon days 278 THE EX-EMPRESS when it was Mivart's and I— a somebody incognita. In spite of his threat, Prince Pierre did not kill himself. He died, however, and after his death his widow was taken up and helped by members of the Bonapartist party, principally, I am told, by M. Paul de Cassagnac. Her son, Prince Roland, is now well known in England as in Paris, a great scholar, as were most of the Lucien branch of the family. He married an heiress, Mile. Marie Blanc of Monte Carlo fame, who died at the birth of her first child, a daughter,1 leaving Prince Roland all her fortune. As I have mentioned M. Paul de Cassagnac, I may say here that he and Prince Napoleon were at one time at daggers drawn. There was some very serious political misunderstanding between them, the Empress holding entirely with M. de Cassagnac. I cannot remember what the details were sufficiently to do more than register the fact. In April, Mr. Garden and his younger brother went on a shooting expedition to South Africa. My mother remained with me and I took a house at Brighton, where we spent the month of May. I went down to Southampton with Mr. Garden, as I wanted to see him off. During my two days' absence I left the Princess with Miss Garden, Mr. 1 Prince Roland Bonaparte's daughter lately married Prince George of Greece, brother of Queen Alexandra ; but this, of course, is since Princess Caroline's death. 279 MY MEMOIRS Garden's eldest sister, at a hotel in Albemarle Street where we often stayed. The house in Lowndes Square had been given up. On my return to town I found the Princess very bored and rather haughty. She complained that she had not been properly treated at the hotel. She was not accustomed to an omelette for dinner — and no sweet. She supposed it was because she was alone that a breakfast mets had been served for dinner. I had unfortunately neglected to order for the Princess during my absence, and Miss Garden did not know that it was not correct. I remember when I first came to Redisham on a visit, I could not get accustomed to the Suffolk repasts, and Mr. Garden very kindly sent to London for our old chef Francois, who stayed with my father through our troubles, and came and taught them how to order and how to cook a dinner. Now I can eat anything or nothing indifferently.1 In January 1874 I went to meet my father, who came over from Paris and was staying at Brown's Hotel for a few weeks. Then I went on, in February, to Mrs. Hankey, a very old friend of my mother's, for the festivities given for the Duke of Edinburgh's wedding. We went to see the illuminations and I thought 1 In point of fact the Princess Caroline was rendered indifferent in this matter by the necessity of living mainly on a regimen of dry toast during the last few years of her life. 280 REDISHAM HALL, SUFFOLK. The English Home of Princess Caroline. THE EX-EMPRESS them the poorest I had ever seen. Several dinner-parties we had with Lord Monson and Alfred Rothschild. I lingered on at Portland Place, as I had Tim and her nurse with me. I drove to Camden Place to introduce my daughter to the Empress. I had asked the Empress to be her godmother, but she hesitated and said, after consulting Cardinal Manning, she did not think she could accept unless I would allow the child to be a Catholic. Mr. Garden had not objected, but on reflection I did not think it wise, and so it was decided that she should bear the Empress's name and she was accordingly christened Eugenie Jacqueline ; my mother, who at that time had not become a Catholic, standing godmother. The Empress was working at her embroidery- frame when I arrived, and, as we wanted to chat, I sent the nurse away and we put the child down to roll and crawl about the floor. I was much interested in what the Empress was saying. She had heard different reports respecting some busi ness transactions of my second brother, Prince Achille Murat. She, as always, had been told very exaggerated accounts by her entourage. I really knew nothing very authentic about the matter, but I promised to make inquiries at the fountain head and let her know the truth. As it happened, I was able to ascertain. Mr. Garden had a lawsuit about a horse with one of the Paris 281 MY MEMOIRS horse-dealers and had sent his English solicitor over to attend to the case in court. I told the Empress this and assured her that I would in struct Mr. Frome to see the Prince and would let her know as soon as possible, but I felt sure she need not be too anxious as I was certain that nothing of the kind she anticipated had occurred. The following two letters, one from the solicitor, one from the Empress, will show how right I was in defending my brother from the accusation wrongfully brought against him. Grand Hotel, Paris, le 3mo- Febry, 1874. My dear Princess Caroline, Your letter of Friday was sent on to me here, where I have been staying since Saturday. I saw the Prince Achille on Sunday and found that both he and the Princess have been all heavy losers by the Spanish Bank. I shall see the Count de Choiseul and also the Prince Achille again this afternoon, when I shall learn more par ticulars. But I hasten to answer your letter lest you may think it has not reached me. On my return to town I will call and give you all the information I can learn on the subject. As far as I can at present make out, the Princess has lost over ,£3,000. I believe it is a very bad affair. I return to England to-morrow night. Believe me, I remain, Very faithfully yours, Charles T. Frome. The Princess Caroline Murat. 282 THE EX-EMPRESS Camden Place, Chislehurst, 7 fevrier, 1874 Ma chere Niece, Je vous renvoie la lettre que vous m'avez envoyde. D'apres mes renseignments, ce n'etait pas seulement une perte d'argent que nous devions craindre, mais encore, ce qui est pire, un scandale. Dieu veuille que ce ne soit pas ! . . . Ma pauvre cousine est bien a plaindre ! Je vous prie de me tenir au courant de l'affaire, si vous le pouvez. Embrassez votre jolie petite fille et croyez a tous mes sentiments affectueux. Eugenie. [Translation.] Camden Place, Chislehurst, February 7, 1874. My dear Niece, I send you back the letter that you sent to me. According to information given me, it was not only a loss of money that we had to fear, but also what would be still worse, a scandal. Please God that this may not be! My poor cousin is very much to be pitied ! I beg you to keep me au courant of the affair, if you can do so. Kiss your pretty little girl for me and believe in my affection. Eugenie. Before leaving I was curious to hear about the Prince Imperial's coming of age, which would be on the 1 6th of March. I learnt that great re joicings were in preparation. It was proposed that a pilgrimage of some thousands of people 283 MY MEMOIRS should come to Camden Place. The Prince Imperial had himself written to ask the Prince Napoleon to be present, but the Prince had re fused. His withdrawal after the Emperor's funeral, the attitude since preserved towards him, the enmity with which the Prince himself had been taught to regard him, his misunderstandings with the Empress, all made it easy for me to see the motives which had prompted him to decline the invitation. I regretted his decision for many reasons, but I held my peace ; speaking would be of no avail. What could the "pot de terre contre le pot de fer " do but break ? After tea I took leave of her Majesty, deciding to remain in town till after the 16th. I sent child and nurse back to Redisham a few days later and moved to the Pulteney Hotel, where some of my friends from France where staying — Prince Alexander de Wagram, Marquis d'Herisson — and on the 1 6th we journeyed down to Chislehurst in com pany. Eight thousand people of all classes had come from every point of France to greet the Prince Imperial. Willis's Rooms had been chosen for the purpose of distributing permission to enter the grounds of Camden Place. During all day on the 14th and 15th crowds had assembled at the doors, pressing, pushing for admittance, eager to get the cards for the 16th. The cards were very simple, bearing only the inscription — 284 THE EX-EMPRESS N Camden Place, N. Chislehurst. March 16th, 1874. Admit M. The 1 6th was a perfectly heavenly day. I never saw a brighter English sky. " Queen's weather " as we say here. In the old days of France I should have said " soleil d' Austerlitz," but there is no "soleil d' Austerlitz " in these days. At ten o'clock a Low Mass was said at the little Church of St. Mary to the memory of the late Emperor. The Empress and the Prince walked back side by side. On the lawn in the shade of a large cedar tree two tents had been placed, one large enough, I should say, for two or three thousand people, with an estrade in the centre, the other, a smaller one, was reserved for buffets and tables that groaned under the weight of the preparations for the entertainment of such numerous guests. Round these tents eighty-six posts were affixed at intervals, each post bearing in large letters the name of one of the eighty-six departments of France. An unfortunate idea, it seemed to me, as it brought so forcibly to every mind the two missing ones, Alsace and Lorraine. Standing on the estrade in the centre of the tent, the Duke de Padua addressed the Prince in the 285 MY MEMOIRS name of all those present and absent who were still faithful to the name of Napoleon. The Prince Imperial, standing with the Em press and family and officials of his household grouped around him, replied in calm, measured tones, speaking so distinctly that each word could be heard by all. This was his maiden speech ; I thought of our dead Emperor. How proud he would have been could he have heard, could he have seen the son he so worshipped, on this his eighteenth birthday ! We caught a late train back to the Pulteney, and had a gay dinner and evening. The next day all my friends left for Paris, and my heart was like a ballroom when all the guests are gone and the lights are put out. I returned drearily to Suffolk, envying those who, more fortunate than myself, could breathe the air of France. News from South Africa came very rarely, and at long intervals. Mr. Garden was travelling up-country in pursuit of big game. His last letter had intimated that he should be away nearly a year longer. As the year 1874 was drawing to a close my patience gave way. I felt weary and homesick. I determined to go to Paris and regain a little courage for the fight with life. I stayed in Paris over the new year, and saw the dawn of 1875 from a pied a terre in the Boulevard Malesherbes. What a change ! How 286 THE EX-EMPRESS different it all was from what I had known. We were all dispersed ; no Tuileries, no New Year festivities ; no bouquets, bonbons, trinkets from devoted admirers. My mother was with my sister at Mouchy, my eldest brother at Grosbois, my brother Achille in the Caucasus, but my father was with me. We both wished we might go away any where — to be thus in Paris was greater pain than pleasure. Also " Dattie,"as Tim was then called, was a young lady of not quite two years. She disliked everything around her, would eat nothing, called French bread sour, cried for batter pudding and gravy and beer, said it was all nasty when it was with difficulty procured, and proceeded to be sick every time she touched food. I decided to go to Pau for the remainder of the winter. I took a small pavilion belonging to the Hdtel de France, and there, with rather a large suite, Mr. Garden found us on his return in the month of April. He was rather put out at my being abroad, as he had telegraphed from Madeira for me to meet him at Southampton, and not very pleased at finding me settled with a retinue of servants, as I had thought it necessary to take two nurses as well as a maid and a lady companion, also my own and my father's valet, and a gentleman who always accompanied the Prince. Soon after Mr. Garden's arrival the men went off together on a fishing expedition to 287 MY MEMOIRS Germany, and I returned to England, and went for a few weeks to Richmond. Mr. Garden wrote and gave me their address, " Pike Hotel, Lucerne." They wrote and wrote again and complained that no letters had reached them. I might have known that it was one of an Englishman's practical jokes ; but I was younger in those days, and very unaccustomed to jokes being played on me. Yet I honestly confess I was more than stupid not to see that the address should have been " H6tel du Brochet," and that " Pike Hotel " would not be understood by German locals, and so my letters came back with "Insufficient address." I was very angry, and remained in indignant silence till their return. I have omitted to relate three things which took place in the summer of 1875, while Mr. Garden was away. The marriage of Colonel Bonham with Gina Sheriff comes first to my mind. It was a pretty country marriage — tents on the lawn — refreshments, toasts and speeches. The people in great form were Lady Stradbroke and Colonel Chester, who told me he had been to Chislehurst in 1872 and had had a very long political conference with the late Emperor — a conference in which the Emperor had spoken very openly of his hopes and plans for the future, not disguising the fact that he was organizing things for the restoration of the Empire, and his abdi- 288 THE EX-EMPRESS cation in favour of his son. I was highly enter tained, as I knew there was not one word of truth from beginning to end. Whatever the Emperor's ideas may have been I am sure he never confided them to Colonel Chester, nor do I think Colonel Chester was ever at Camden Place. The Misses Clarke from Worlingham were in their highest spirits. I had gone over with a pair of percherons — French post-horses — and a postilion. I drove away a few moments before the bride and bride groom. Presently, about two hundred yards down the road, Miss Garden and myself were literally pelted with rice, slippers, and every con ceivable horror. The horses shied across the road, and the man had some trouble in controlling them. We thought it rather a bad joke, but the Clarkes were highly delighted at their success and shouted with laughter. Lady Stradbroke gave a dance to celebrate the wedding. Fireworks were going on at some little distance in front of the house. I talked for some time to Lord Stradbroke, quite a type of the old school, and to Lord Waveney, whom I knew very well ; I so often went to Flixton, which, according to my ideas, was by a long way the best kept and the finest place in these parts ; and he spoke of de Caux and Patti. Lord Waveney said he met de Caux at dinner, he was a good talker — yes, very sufficient for himself, but very insufficient for others. He was for a long time in the j. N 289 MY MEMOIRS Emperor's household, but had to give up his position on account of his marriage, as no one could marry a singer and hold their position at Court. I asked for my carriage early, and had my foot on the steps when a sudden rocket startled my horses and they bolted with door open, steps down, and footman nearly knocked off his feet. Lady Stradbroke shouted for the police, who arrived, but were not of much avail in arresting my two runaways. Eventually the coachman mastered them and they were brought back. Miss Garden was already in the carriage, and a Miss Arnold whom I had brought to Henham ; I had also offered a seat to a man staying with us, who had been to Southwold for the day, and walked back to Henham and got into the carriage before it drove up for us. Miss Arnold, not knowing any one was in the carriage, was rather frightened when the horses bolted, and being thrown forward, clutched the unfortunate man by the head, knocked his hat off, and left a very serious impression on it before she could regain her seat. Two or three nights later we went to a ball at Mr. Doughty 's. I danced once with the master of the house. There was supper par petites tables, as we say in French. Every one pushed to try to get to the top of the room to Lady Stradbroke's table. I thought it very vulgar behaviour, and wondered why Suffolk people 290 THE EX-EMPRESS seemed so ignorant in comparison with London and the people I met in town. I was told Suffolk had been asleep and needed waking up. Two people were most rude and ill-mannered — a Mr. and Mrs. H . I suppose it was in some way intimated to them, for a day or two after they came to call. My carriage was drawn up and I was just coming out of the door. I looked at them, bowed and smiled as amiably as I could and, stepping into my carriage, drove off. I am glad to say we never met again, nor do I know if they are now alive. Miss Garden was slightly fluttered, as she had known them all her life. t 2 291 CHAPTER XII THE PRINCE IMPERIAL I am rebuffed by the Empress — The Prince Imperial at Cowes — The Orleans Club — Spiritualism — Death of my father — A crowning blow — The amiable qualities of the Empress Euge'nie — Her superstitions — The Zulu war — The Prince Imperial volunteers — General Fleury — The Prince's equip ment — The question of his will — His last night in England —"Too late!" — The Duchess Malakoff— Zizi d' Arcos— "The Four Widows" — Funeral of the Prince Imperial — Queen Victoria and Princess Beatrice — Incidents in the Highlands — " Je Suis Louis Quatorze " The Empress was at all times — even in exile — very strict with regard to etiquette. I forget, but I think it was for the ist of January, 1896, that I received an invitation to dinner at Camden Place. I went up to Claridge's, thinking it rather an expensive command. The train was somewhat late, and by the time my maid had unpacked and I was dressed, we were too late to think of catching the train to Chislehurst by which the other guests would travel and find carriages at the station to meet them. Mr. Garden ordered a landau, and we posted full speed, but the driver, as ill-luck would have it, lost his way. The night 292 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL was dark. Mr. Garden got out and looked around to take his bearings, and put us on the right road. All this lost time, and it was nearly nine o'clock when we arrived at Camden Place. As the dinner hour was 8.30 our reception was more than cool, although I was profuse in apolo gies. The Empress said she would never ask me to dinner again. She could not understand why I could not come by train like other people. It was only that I liked to give myself airs, she added. I mentioned that I had come up from Suffolk ; but this observation was ignored. At last I was allowed to take my seat by the Prince Imperial, who was, as always, amiable and kind. Mr. Garden was too furious for thoughts, and I so confused I could not eat. The Prince chatted, and after a while I recovered and chaffed him about his flirtations with a Spanish lady, a Mme. , a great friend of the Empress. He said she was still a very pretty woman. I laughed and said, " Monseigneur, je ne savais pas que vous aimiez les jambes de bois." He answered, "En effet je les preTeres plus legeres — en bouchon par example." It was said that the lady had a cork leg. It was the last New Year I ever spent with her Majesty and the Prince. In the summer of that year I was asked to go for the Cowes week on board Mr. N. Wood's yacht, the Corinne. Something went wrong with 293 MY MEMOIRS the yacht, at the last hour, and we took rooms at the Marine Hotel, Cowes, to wait for the neces sary repairs. At the hotel, which was crammed, I found I was next to Lady George Lennox. Our balconies touched. She had a Miss Melita Ponsonby with her, an old maid who always did duty for the different members of the Lennox family. I made her acquaintance many years after at Brighton when she was with Lady Alex ander Lennox. Some of her sayings are tradi tional. On the other side was Mrs. Standish, a very pretty Frenchwoman, married to Henry Standish, half English, half French, being the son of the Duke de Mouchy's aunt, Mile, de Noailles, who married a Mr. Standish, very rich, but for some reason, after the birth of her second son, Cecil, they separated, and she lived entirely in France with her two sons, who were brought up with the Duke de Mouchy, whose mother died when he was quite young. Henry Standish had always remained on the best of terms with his father, came often to England to visit him, and inherited a large fortune at his death. On the evening of my arrival I heard from my maid that rooms had been retained for the Prince Imperial. I thought I was clever at guessing, but I was mistaken this time. Before the Prince came, Mrs. Standish had the honour of a visit from H.R.H. the Prince of Wales. I was reading on my balcony when my attention was suddenly 294 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL drawn to two gentlemen laughing and talking below. I was surprised to see Henry Standish and Mr. Francis Knollys. They walked up and down, I should say, for nearly an hour. I was so astounded at what I considered Henry Standish's inconceivable behaviour that I expressed my opinion openly. I was told that it was correct etiquette for the husband to entertain Mr. Francis Knollys, or any one else in attendance, when so august a personage did a lady the honour of a visit. I had a large basket of beautiful grapes put in the Prince Imperial's room on his arrival. Two things disappointed me : First, the person who accompanied the Prince was Adolphe Clary, and I knew he would make himself as disagreeable as he dared. Next, the yacht was longer in repair ing than had been expected, and I was not able to entertain the Prince on board as I had wished to do. The Prince, on the morning after his arrival at Cowes, sent for me to come and see him. We were on the point of sitting down to lunch. Mr. Garden was a person unaccustomed to Court life, and thought an Englishman's luncheon waited for no man. I had to make my excuses and say I would come an hour later. This put Clary in a rage. He ordered the Prince's carriage for the hour I had named and scarcely allowed us ten minutes' conversation. I was grieved to find the Prince looking ill 295 MY MEMOIRS and tired, with his arm in a sling. I asked him if he had been to the wars. He told me he went down to Aldershot with a very gay party. After dinner they called on him to make a speech. He said he would rather give them a song, which he did, standing on a table. There was much laughing and cheering, but some young fellow, gayer than the rest, tipped up the table suddenly. The Prince lost his balance and fell backwards on to the grate where a big fire was burning, the table falling on him. Before any one could reach him, his arm was badly burned. He said he felt still very unwell, although several weeks had elapsed since his accident. Clary was knock ing at the door for the second time, so we took our leave. The Prince said he had only come for a day or two for a garden fite being given at Eaglehurst, the pretty place occupied by the Bathyani's. I knew Mme. Bathyani slightly, having met her once or twice on her visits to her sister, Mme. Bornemann, who was one of my oldest friends in Paris. Mme. Bathyani had her niece, Anna Bornemann, with her. Rather a pretty girl, who married Comte Lutzow. When the Corinne appeared in the waters of the Solent I went on board and spent a day or two off Ryde. On returning to London I went to Camden Place before burying myself in Suffolk. The Empress was in excellent spirits, with quite a crowd of French people round her, all strolling 296 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL. [Photograph by Bassano. THE PRINCE IMPERIAL or sitting on the lawn. Princess Poniatowska among others, who seemed in one of her frivolous moods, was catching the Empress's hand and biting, or pretending to bite, her little finger. There was evidently some joke I did not under stand. The Prince Imperial was practising athletic sports with two of his friends. While all this was going on the Empress was endeavouring to read me some passages of a letter she had just received from King Oscar of Sweden, which related to my youngest brother, who after 1870 was sent by the Emperor to King Charles, and was given by him a position in his military household. He remained with the King, who became very fond of him, and wished for him constantly during his illness. The King died in September 1872. My brother told me his greatest trial had been keeping watch through two nights of the lying in state of the dead sovereign. He left Sweden when King Oscar came to the throne, and shortly after, in November 1873, married a Russian, Princess Orbeliani. It was about the christening of their first son to whom he was to stand godfather that King Oscar had written. Finding it quite impossible that I should hear or understand what she was reading to me, the Empress handed me the letter, saying, " Put it in your pocket. You can read it at your leisure and copy the parts that interest Louis — bring it back 297 MY MEMOIRS the next time you come." I was rather tired in the evening when I got back to Claridge's, and thought no more of the letter. The next morning, long before the usual hour for my maid to call me, I heard a great knocking at my doqr. I was afraid something had happened to the children left in the country. I called out to know, and was angry but relieved when the porter said it was a note from Camden Place and that an answer was required. I told him the messenger must wait or return later, as I objected to being disturbed before my usual time. When my maid came with my breakfast she brought me the note. As I had suspected from the first it was from Clary, saying he was directed to ask me to return the King's letter per bearer. Gamble, the head of the stables, was the messenger. I told him I had not taken notes from the letter according to the Empress's wish, and would send it by mes senger some time in the afternoon. Gamble said his orders were not to return without it, so the poor man, much to his disgust, had to wait a considerable time. What capital Clary thought we could make out of a letter of no particular interest to any one, I could not fathom. Mr. Garden was more than annoyed. I said I was sure it was Clary's usual spite, but Mr. Garden considered, and rightly, that having made use of him in every possible way all through the autumn and winter of 1870, having allowed him to go to 298 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL and from Wilhelmshohe and elsewhere, as her courier, taking her dispatches without her ever offering to pay one farthing of the expenses, having herself many times given him a number of cyphered telegrams to send off, which had cost him a small fortune of which no payment had even been suggested, he was entitled to a certain amount of courtesy, and at all events civil treat ment "from her paid flunkeys," as he put it. How little he knew the Empress ! How little he knew the systematic rudeness which was carried on by her Court officials at the Tuileries and which continued on a small scale at Chislehurst ! Many others, like Mr. Garden, felt and said they had never received the most trifling acknowledg ment of all they had done and spent for her Majesty at the time of her flight and afterwards.1 The very first free day I went to see the Empress and hoped to have some light thrown on the incident, but I was able to elucidate nothing. The Prince and I talked together a 1 At the time of Napoleon's death the fortune of the Empress was considerable. Apart from the value of her jewels and her properties in Spain, she owned three houses in the Rue d'Elysee computed to be worth £80,000, two build ings in Rue d'Albe worth £36,000, estates at Solferino £60,000, Jouchere £20,000, Biarritz ,£40,000, the Imperial palace at Marseilles £64,000, an estate in the Basses-Pyrenees £48,000, and £75,000 in cash, which, increased by legacies and thrift, gave her a total income of not less than £80,000 a year. 299 MY MEMOIRS long time. He said how dull life was at Camden Place. We were going to take a party to Greenwich for a fish dinner on the Sunday fol lowing. Mr. Garden was to drive us down on a coach. I told the Prince it would give me real pleasure if he would join us. He said he was too sorry, he would have enjoyed it immensely, but it was impossible. I pressed him, asking why. Had he a previous engagement ? He said he was certain the Empress would object. " Do let me ask," I ventured to say. " I am sure I can induce her to let you come." The Prince got rather red and said, " Non ! ma cousine, je ne demande jamais rien, parceque je n'admets pas que Ton me refuse." I was grieved and surprised, I had no idea of the state of things, though of course I had heard rumours that the Prince was not his own master. The next day I went to Bayswater to see my old uncle a la mode de Bretagne, Prince Louis Lucien. I wanted to talk the matter over with him. He was absolutely devoted to the Prince, and strongly advised me to accept his decision and keep what he had said to myself. It was good advice, and I strictly adhered to it. He said at times the Prince was wonderfully young and gay, and amused me by relating that the last evening he had spent at Chislehurst there was a great hue and cry because the Prince was nowhere to be found. Clary had announced dinner and 300 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL the Empress was waiting impatiently while the search continued up-stairs and down, inside and out, high and low. The Empress at last was going in to dinner with Prince Louis Lucien, when passing through the door, they heard a cock crow. Looking behind them they saw the missing culprit seated on the top of a very high screen. He jumped down, begged pardon for his joke — pardon which it seems was not as cordially given as he had anticipated. I can understand it, as personally I should have been perfectly furious if one of my children had ever played such a joke on me — more especially on a guest night. For me 1877 was a very quiet year. I cannot remember any event worth recording except the birth of my second daughter. My father and mother passed the summer with me, my father leaving a week or two before the child's birth. All through the fall of the year I was ill. My mother did not return to France till August. Early in 1878 we engaged rooms at Claridge's and spent the winter in town. I saw a great deal of Miss Sykes — and of her friends, Lord Ranelagh, and his daughter, Emmy Jones. One of Lord Ranelagh's daughters was married to Mr. Le Breton, Mrs. Langtry 's brother. The other was unmarried at the time I knew her but married, later on, Mark Napier who went out to Egypt, as it may be remembered, as the chosen barrister to defend Arabi Pasha. Miss Sykes 301 MY MEMOIRS was also very intimate with Lady Archibald Campbell. She was anxious I should give them all a dinner at the Orleans Club which was just then the great fashion. To dine at the Orleans was the proper thing to do. Lady Archibald was a firm believer in spirits. She had been converted by a Mr. Williams whom I thought a very second-rate medium — certainly no one who had known Daniel Home could be in the least impressed by him. At dinner the conversation turned to this topic and some one sitting by Lady Archibald said, " I will believe in your spirits if they will tell me the winner of this year's Derby." She turned angrily to me and said in a loud voice : " Princess, I had no idea you would ask so commonplace a person to meet us." I was rather annoyed, as the commonplace person happened to be the member of the Orleans who was giving me the dinner. A day or two after we went, Lady Archibald, Miss Sykes and myself, to a stance at Mr. Williams'. We were ushered into a dark room, very small, with a table in the centre and curtains behind, with a door which led evidently into a small room or closet. Lady A. had a cold, and a familiar spirit was evoked who seemed quite at home and proved to have a soothing effect. I confess I saw absolutely nothing, and went away very disappointed. I had heard such wonders talked of in advance. In the evening I went to Princess Malcolm Khan, 302 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL and we had a good laugh over my adventures. Another friend of Miss Sykes she introduced to me, was the sister of a man called Jacobson whom I had known in the carbineers when they came to Norwich. Col. Napier brought him once to shoot at Redisham. I liked the sister better than the brother. She was handsome and very good company. Colonel Nassau Lees, who had a pretty house in Piccadilly, was a friend of Lord Ranelagh's. At one of his dinners I had next me Baker Pasha. To my surprise he did not look in the least like a Don Juan, nor did he talk like one. I thought him of Arcadian simplicity. I was more and more convinced he had been un justly treated, and I longed to tell him so. It was not till later that he became Pasha. I made the acquaintance of Sir Samuel Baker and his two unmarried daughters at a concert at Sir Henry Rawlinson's. The house was very small and crowded. The staircase — as in most cases in English entertainments — being the most com fortable place. The Misses Baker thought they could sing, and were among the performers of this amateur concert. The Empress was much inter ested in Sir Samuel Baker's travels, and both he and Lady Baker were very kindly received at Camden Place. The winter had slipped away, and we were all planning a large party and luncheon on board a steam launch for the boat race, which that year 3°3 MY MEMOIRS was, I fancy, to take place on the 13th day of April. My father, who had for a long time been in delicate health, was not so well, so my letters said, but the English newspapers were giving rather alarming accounts — I was preparing to go to Paris, when I received a letter, saying my father was very much better, and there was no occasion for my presence. I still was undecided, feeling half inclined to ignore the advice and go and see for myself. I sent a telegram and heard he was better. This was Tuesday, the 9th of April. On Wednesday about eleven o'clock I got a telegram saying my father had died that morning at nine o'clock. I will not attempt to speak of my sorrow — nor will I accuse any one. Mr. Garden thought that I was not in a frame of mind to go to Paris. It was alas ! too late. He strongly urged my remaining in London and letting him go without me. I could not bear to do this, and decided to see the children at Redisham before crossing to France. I came here, arriving by the last train, and was forced to leave to catch the night boat from Dover the next day. I was after all prevented going. When I reached London I was feeling so ill I had to let Mr. Garden go alone. I cannot describe my solitude. I could not help thinking that I might have had a line, a word of sympathy from the Empress, the only person of the family in England. None came, but knowing what had 3°4 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL been done in cases of less near relatives I was certain a Mass would be said at Chislehurst on the day of the funeral. No words can express what I felt on being told that the Empress was lunching at Marlborough House with a large party of guests invited to meet some foreign Prince. This at the very hour of the funeral service in Paris. It was the crowning blow. I was wounded to the heart. Such public disrespect to the dead — such disregard for the living. Yet the Empress Eugenie is one of the most devout, one of the most fervent of Catholics. With her, religion, as with most Spaniards, is rapturous, exalted fanaticism. To hurt, to wound, to crush those over whom you have power ? She was the Empress — the mother, as we hoped, of our future Emperor. From that day to this no mention of what I am relating has ever passed my lips. It has been buried in my heart during all these long years. If I could have cried my indignation to the world I might perhaps have felt less bitter. Nevertheless, let me say that the Empress Eugenie has many great and noble qualities. Otherwise how could she have so endeared herself to the Emperor, who trusted her implicitly, and gained over him the influence which carried us to our ruin? With the Empress everything is impulse. She is always swayed by the feeling of the moment. She can be most generous to a fallen foe. She forgives with admirable forbear- u 3°5 MY MEMOIRS ance and sweetness an injury done her by one she loves. She can be gracious and fascinating as no one else when she chooses. She can acknowledge an error, make an apology, say mea culpa with infinite charm. I am going to tell two instances of her enviable power of humiliating herself. M. Achille Fould was Prime Minister. At this time the Empress was present at all Cabinet Councils held at the Tuileries in the Salle des Conseils. On the day of which I am speaking some very important political question was under discussion. The Empress was more than usually excited. Without reflecting, allowing her feelings to get the better of her prudence, she addressed M. Fould in a tone and manner which he con sidered offensive. He left the room, and im mediately afterwards sent in his resignation. The moment was a critical one ; any change of minis try would in all probability have occasioned most serious results. It would, of course, be interest ing if I could say what the question was ; but that belongs to history, and I could not trust my memory sufficiently to mention it in memoirs. The Emperor was greatly disturbed, what was to be done ? M. Fould refused to remain in office. Neither the Emperor nor his colleagues could persuade him to overlook this public offence- Everything was at sixes and sevens when the Empress herself came to the rescue. Nobly sacri ficing her own pride, she wrote a most charming 306 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL note to M. Fould, asking his forgiveness, and hum bling herself to request as a personal favour and token of his pardon that he would withdraw his resignation. He answered her appeal, thanking her, and at once begged of the Emperor that he might retain his portfolio. I admired the Empress for this act, the more so that I did not feel quite sure I should have had the courage so to lower my pride. Again, when Regent, the Empress was wrongly informed as to a certain person in an official position of some importance in one of the departments. With a stroke of her pen, and by telegraphic dispatch, she revoked him. The accusation had been that he was acting the part of a traitor. The unfortunate man, who was entirely devoted to the Imperial cause, was struck with horror at this sudden blow : we were told that his hair became white in one night. Years after, at Camden Place, in 1874, on the occasion of the coming of age of the Prince Imperial on his eighteenth birthday, the Empress ordered that an invitation be sent to M. , and before hundreds of Frenchmen assembled, who had come over to greet the Prince, she went up to him and pub licly made amende honorable for what she had done, acknowledging, I believe, that she had in haste misjudged him and committed an act of cruel injustice which she deeply regretted, or something to this effect. I was not near enough U2 3°7 MY MEMOIRS to hear the actual words, nor should I perhaps remember accurately. Achille Fould, Minister of Finance, was much favoured at one time at Court. He took ad vantage of his position to give himself airs and behave in a most ridiculously patronizing way to the Emperor's family. I remember at the marriage ceremony of the Emperor, Fould coming into the so-called salon de famille, where all the Princes and Princesses of the family as well as all the Ministers and dignitaries of the Empire awaited the entrance of Napoleon and his bride. He seemed himself to want to claim the dignity of Majesty, bowing graciously to right and left and offering his hand to some of the more highly favoured. He stopped to speak to my father and held out his hand with a very condescending air. The Prince only shrugged his shoulders, saying : " Pass on, I never give my hand to such as you." Fould, somewhat surprised, hesitated and asked for an explanation ; but the Prince, not being of a very enduring nature, said : " Pass on, and quickly. Take care that you do not make me repeat it." The Emperor wrote to my father remonstrating with him and complaining that he had ill-treated one of his Ministers at the wedding. The Prince replied that to oblige the Emperor and avoid offending him in future, he would refrain from being present at the Tuileries on official occasions. The Emperor did all in his Jo8 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL power to make my father see things in a different light, but failed. All the Prince answered was : " I will obey and come to the Tuileries, but not even you, Sire, can induce me to shake hands with a man I despise." Like most persons who have experienced the world's reverses and vicissitudes, the Empress Eugefiie yielded to a belief in omens and super stitions. She wore a beautiful emerald. Where it came from, or who gave it her, I never knew, but after the death of the Emperor and the Prince, she became very superstitious about it. She did not wish to dispose of it, yet she did not care to keep it in her possession. My sister said, " Oh, give it to me ; I am not in the least superstitious." The Empress, I believe, hesitated and refused, so certain did she feel that the stone brought ill-luck. She, however, yielded to persuasion and gave the emerald. Little Imore than a year elapsed when my sister lost her only daughter, a lovely girl of thirteen, carried off in a few days by malignant fever. Most people dislike opals on account of the evil influence they are supposed to have on the lives of those who wear them. The will of my grandmother, the Queen of Naples, brought me the gift of two bracelets — one a wide band of black and white enamelled snakes holding a cameo of my grandfather, the other a plain gold band with a huge opal in the centre. Snakes as well as opals are said to be unlucky. 3°9 MY MEMOIRS The snake bracelet, however, I was allowed to keep, but the opal was immediately sold by my father's orders. I have often wondered what influence these doubly unlucky gifts have had on my life. While I am on the topic of opals and superstitions, I must relate one more instance. After my mother's death, among the few things sent me was a ring with three opals, a large one in the centre and a smaller one on either side, with a circle of black enamel round the ring. I was foolishly annoyed that this ring should have been selected to send to me. One afternoon in London, a year later, the spring of 1880, Mrs. Waldo Sibthorpe — a friend of Lady North's whom I often met — came to see me, and in our chat over our cup of tea I told her of the ring. She said, " Do give it me ; I should so like to havei it." After discussing my feeling that it might bring her ill-luck and my unwillingness to run the risk, I allowed^ myself to be persuaded. She carried off the ring in triumph. From that time misfortune seemed to pursue her. For years now she has been an invalid. . No one knows how she has suffered ; no one sees her. Two or three nurses are in constant attendance. Before falling ill she had, I believe, three deaths in her family — her father, her mother, and her husband. How absurd these superstitions seem ! Yet one cannot help thinking that certain stones, like certain dates, are unlucky to different people. 310 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL I spent the summer of 1878 at Redisham, with the exception of paying one or two short visits. In the autumn we had some shooting parties and a house party at Christmas. I went to town during the winter and spring of 1879, staying at Claridge's. I saw a good deal of Prince Louis Lucien and we went several times to Camden Place together. The war was the one topic there as it was two years ago — the war with the Zulus — war that cost France and us one life worth more than the thousands that have been cruelly sacrificed in this South African War, that has lasted nearly two years. As I write these lines, June 1, 1902, I hear peace has been declared to London by the Lord Mayor, from the balcony of the Mansion House. The Prince Imperial was determined to take part in the Zulu War. He was tired of an idle life at Camden Place ; tired of waiting, longing to be doing something, longing to show them in France that he was a soldier and worthy to be their Emperor. In the first moment of surprise when his wish was communicated to the Empress she opposed it violently. Soon, however, whether by the Prince's persuasive powers or by her own changeable mood — who can say ? — she became more eager than the Prince himself. The Duke of Cambridge demurred. He said the responsi bility would be too great — the presence of the Prince would create anxieties and difficulties for 3" MY MEMOIRS Lord Chelmsford. The Empress and the Prince sought the Queen, and it was by Queen Victoria's express permission that the Prince was allowed to join the troops leaving for Zululand. It was said that the Queen wished to give the Prince an opportunity of distinguishing himself. M. Rouher, chief of the Imperialist party, came on wings to Chislehurst to prevent so mad a thing. Alas! he was over-ruled. It was then proposed that our Prince should be accompanied by thirty young . soldiers, many his own friends with whom he had been brought up. My nephew, Prince Joachim Murat, Conneau, Corvisart, Bourgoing, all his own age, would have defended him with their lives. The Empress de clined. She said if her son was to go to the war it must be alone like any other soldier, trusting himself, giving himself, to England. General Fleury, among others, was eloquent in putting before the Empress that the Prince belonged to France — that he had no right to risk his life. Nothing availed. The Prince was sent alone. M. Rouher, who had been one of the principal agents in creating for the Prince Imperial the false position which made his life at Camden Place so painful a one, now knelt, and prayed the Prince, using every argument in his power to induce him to abandon his project. The Prince replied that the Queen had his word, and that, having asked a favour, he would not 312 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL break his promise. I am told that General Fleury's Memoirs, left to be published after the death of the Empress, will throw light on all these questions. I wonder if they will explain the parsimony which her Majesty exercised towards her son. It is certain that the Prince was constantly so short of money that he was forced to refuse to join his friends at Woolwich on many occasions, being unable to pay his share of expenses. I remember during one of my visits to town being told by Madame B the following — She said she had dined the day before with General Fleury, with whom she was most intimate — that he deplored the position almost of penury in which the Prince lived. He said that a luncheon was given by the Prince to several guests, himself among the number — that when the account was brought the Prince saw that it was much higher than he had anticipated, and not having sufficient money by one or two sovereigns, turned to the General and asked if he would be his banker. The luncheon was in the public room at the St. James — now the Berkeley. All those who lived more or less at Court under the Second Empire knew that General Fleury, so devoted to the Emperor, was con stantly at variance with the Empress. After the Emperor's death the General made a claim for payment for some horses he had bought for 313 MY MEMOIRS H.M., which caused some displeasure. He also at one time, later on, urged that the Prince should be allowed a house in town for a season — himself remaining with the Prince and seeing that everything was on a proper footing, such as befitted the Prince's position in London en gargon. But the appeal was in vain. The question of the Prince's equipment had been a very serious one. General FJeury was of opinion that the first makers in England should receive orders for saddles, bridles and everything that could be required. Money was, or should have been, of no importance. The arguments and discussions on the subject tired the Prince. The Empress thought that the Stores could supply ready-made saddlery at much less cost. She had most probably been impressed by some of those around her that the ready-made goods were in every respect equal to those suggested by General Fleury and others. Therefore the Prince's entire outfit was bought at the Stores. My readers will soon see why I insist on these details, seemingly of little interest. The Prince always did in every way just as the Empress wished. Could he have given a greater proof of this than the will he left behind him— of which, at all events, the political part was dictated if not, as some affirm, written for and copied by him ? The few lines of legacies added the night before he left Chislehurst alone emanated from the 3*4 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL Prince himself. No one who knew the Prince as we did could believe him capable of express ing sentiments and naming a successor which would, and must fatally disunite a party and separate a father and son. The heir to the dynasty, failing the Prince Imperial, was by right of succession, the Prince Napoleon. Could the Prince Imperial have wished to set aside the father in favour of the son? He, so honest, so just, so true in every action of his too short life ; he who worshipped his father and had been the Emperor's pupil in all political matters ? Comte d'Herisson says in one of his books that two wills written out by M. Rouher, the political leader of the party, were handed to the Prince. Seeing that he must choose one or the other he selected the one he considered the more moderate. Putting everything else aside, the Prince Imperial knew that he had no right whatever to designate a successor. The Prince Napoleon was de facto rightful heir to the throne of France — if we ignore divine right ! The Prince never wavered in his decision. The die was cast . . . irrevocably. M. Quentin Bauchart tells in his book, Fils d ' Empereur, that one day a short time before his departure, the Prince and his friend Conneau were walking together when suddenly, as if inspired, the Prince stopped, and looking up at a radiant sky said half aloud, as if to himself, " This is perhaps 3iS MY MEMOIRS my last Spring." The evening before leaving Camden Place the Prince requested that all the servants in the place — many of whom had been with him in France — should assemble in the hall, that he might bid them good-bye. He passed along, shaking hands with each and saying a few words of farewell. They were all agitated, and most of them in tears. The Prince alone was cheerful, encouraging the old servants he had known nearly all his life — bidding them look forward to his return. I was not present, but I heard all I am relating from different persons at the time. This month of February I was in Paris. I had been rather anxious about my mother's health, and a friend of mine who had gone over with Lady North and her daughter en route for Nice, wrote me, saying from what he heard, he thought I was left in ignorance of the serious illness of the Princess, and advised my coming immediately. I got this letter on Saturday, the 8th of February, and left by the first available boat, wiring for my brother to meet me, as Mr. Garden was prevented leaving with me. I heard on my arrival that there was little, if any, hope. On Monday my mother died. I cannot write all the sadness of her sufferings — it was awful. I cannot dwell on these souvenirs, but will only say that in consequence we were all unable to be in England at the time of the Prince's departure for South Africa. The night 316 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL before he left there was a large dinner party at Camden Place for relations and friends. My uncle, Louis Lucien, who was present, often told me about that dinner, and his praises of the Prince were without end. He said his anxiety for him on this perilous expedition was very great. He mentioned how touching on this evening were the Prince's attentions to his mother, with what grace and spirit he endeavoured to make the last dinner cheerful — a difficult task when the depres sion of each heart shows itself so plainly. It was not, I believe, till twelve o'clock that the Prince sought his room, glad to be alone, glad to be able to think. The night was a dull and rainy one, not unlike the night of years ago, his first night at Camden Place. M. Quentin Bauchart in his book tells us with infinite charm of imagina tion all the thoughts and feelings of the Prince, in the few hours of solitude of that night. He tells us that the Prince reviewed his whole life, saw it all pass before him as in a panorama, saw himself riding up the Champs Elysdes, passing through the triumphal arch, acclaimed by the multitude — heard once more the cries of " Vive l'Empereur! Vive le Prince Imperial!" Saw himself the hero of a short-lived hour at Saar briick — saw himself flying for his life, after Sedan 1 — his arrival in England after the conflicting 1 It will be remembered that the Prince did not accompany the Army to Sedan. 3X7 MY MEMOIRS dispatches from the Emperor on the one hand and the Empress on the other — his meeting with his mother — the arrival of the Emperor at Dover after the signature of the Versailles treaty. His nine years at Chislehurst — melancholy years of exile — the agony of his arrival from Woolwich too late to see the Emperor alive — his rush to the chamber of death, madly hoping to catch a last breath, a sigh ! then his coming of age — the brightness of the scene, the gay crowd, the thousands of French voices lifted in cries of " Vive l'Empereur ! " and through it all the voice in his heart whispering, " Oh, that the dead could hear ! could see ! . . . " Turning from the window where he had been standing, he sits at his writing- table, his one lamp lighting the room : leaning his head on his hands he tries to collect his thoughts: to shut the dream from his mind : to face what is, not what has been — taking his pen he writes his will. He leaves the fortune left by the Princess Bacciochi — about £12,006 a year, which by some reason he was not to enjoy for several years to come — to his mother, and legacies to four of his young friends of "100 mille francs chaque," and other lega cies. He recommends his cousin, Prince Victor Napoleon, to the Empress — then throwing down his pen, he prays. . . . Perhaps, who can say that he loses heart in these moments of despair — at bidding adieu to all 318 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL heretofore so loved, going forth alone to the great Unknown. . . . Perhaps a presentiment of evil falls upon him. . . . Perhaps at last, the folly of his act overwhelms him. Perhaps, he remembers St. Helena . . . too late ! He, a Napoleon, has promised to be a soldier of the Queen ! To fight for England ! To wear the English uniform ! You see, like M. Bauchart, I am letting my imagination wander — and here I must stop, as I am sure that no such thought as the last expressed was ever the Prince's. Such might, such would have been my feelings had I been in his place — but he was the beloved pupil of the Emperor, who devoted the two years of his exile at Chislehurst to the Prince's education politically, and to forming the Prince's ideas and fashioning his mind according to his own. The Prince's one ambition was to re semble the Emperor in every way. He even tried to copy his walk. . . . The father's love of England lived again in the son, and, speaking of love, was there not another English love which weighed in the balance ? Was there not the Princess Beatrice ? But love is too delicate a subject to be touched upon lightly, so saying good-bye to conjectures I return to facts. The dawn of February the 27th saw the Prince en route for Southampton where he em barked for Natal — embarked in a campaign to fight and deprive of their liberty a people who had once belonged to his race. It is probably not 319 MY MEMOIRS well known that the Cape of Good Hope belonged to Holland and was taken from King Louis by the English at the time when the Prince's grand father was King of the Netherlands. The Prince took, I believe three horses with him. One died during the voyage or was in some way disabled : another died soon after his arrival in Natal. He bought two horses almost immediately on landing, one, a grey, bore the name of Fate — a quiet animal without vice, but restless and difficult to mount if other horses were moving on. Strangely, this was the horse the Prince was riding on the day of his death — the day when Lieutenant Carey, saying he knew the country well, was sent to select a new en campment, and the Prince asked and obtained permission to accompany him. So much has been written, so much was said at the time that every one knows all that I could tell of the sad event that followed. Comte d'Hdrisson, in his book on the Prince, reminds us that history repeats itself in the Napoleon dynasty. The two Emperors, Napoleon I and Napoleon III, found their death on English soil. Of the two sons of the Imperial race, the Duke of Reichstadt and the Prince Imperial, one it is said died poisoned in Austria, the other by treachery in South Africa ; both far from France in stranger-land ; leaving a problem for future generations to solve. It was published in the English papers of the day that 320 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL in a London hospital, a Communard, when dying, confessed that he had been given "50 mille francs " by the French Government to go to Zululand and bribe those round the Prince to betray and entrap him, and that it was thus that the unfortunate Prince was led to his death : that something of the kind had been proposed before he left England, but that their victim was too closely guarded. The Prince Imperial left England with his faithful French valet, Uhlmann, and two English grooms recommended to him by some military man in London. On a certain morning he ac companied a small reconnoitring party into the bush where they made a halt. While they were dismounted they were surprised by a body of Zulus and surrounded. The Prince was marvel lously skilful in vaulting into the saddle without touching the stirrup, even when his horse was moving. This he no doubt attempted on the fatal day, but owing to a twist or strain from which he had been suffering he probably failed, but succeeded in putting his left foot in the stirrup. As he threw his leg over, the stirrup leather gave way, broke in two, and he fell back wards. ... I saw the saddle and examined it. It bore the traces of what I have tried to de scribe. The leather was cut or deeply scratched all across the saddle by the Prince's spur as he fell back. Now, when too late, it was recognized x 321 MY MEMOIRS and bitterly deplored, that had the Prince's equip ment been of different make he might have es caped, although alone, abandoned, and unaided, the terrible death that awaited him.1 I was not surprised that the Prince had wished to stop and sketch. It was a pastime of which he was particularly fond and he did water colours rather prettily : a talent he no doubt inherited from the Emperor, whose principal amusement it was during his captivity at Ham. In 1839, when returning to the United States from Florence after the death of the Queen, his mother, my father obtained permission of the French Government to visit his cousin, Prince Louis Napoleon ; he brought back a charming souvenir, a small land scape painted by the Prince. It was mounted in tortoiseshell — a card case and memorandum book combined. It took my six-year-old fancy and I have never forgotten it, though I cannot remember seeing it after we left America. It was to Lord Sidney that the Queen confided the saddest of all missions — to acquaint the 1 This statement is confirmed by the late Dr. Archibald Forbes, who was in Zululand as a war correspondent and knew the Prince Imperial well, and who wrote — "No doubt he made a desperate effort, trusting to the strength of his grasp on the band of leather crossing the pommel from holster to holster. That band tore under his strain. I inspected it next day and found it no leather at all, but paper faced. So that the Prince's fate really was attribut able to shoddy saddlery." — Century Magazine, June 1893. 322 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL Empress Eugenie of the death of her only child, the Prince Imperial of France. On arriving at Chislehurst, Lord Sidney was received by the Duke de Bassano, who, on hearing the news, asked to be allowed to convey to the Empress the presence of Lord Sidney and prepare her for the dreadful message he bore. It was there fore in reality the Duke de Bassano who told the poor mother of her loss. The Empress was not totally unaware that some accident had happened to the Prince. A letter had come early in the morning from a club friend to Pietri, who was away on a holiday. The Empress opened the letter — she scarcely knew why — no doubt a presentiment, an anxious feel ing prompted her. The letter was marked " Immediate," and had been sent by train and taken up to Camden Place by a railway porter. So it was that, seeing the Duke approach her, she cried, " You have bad news of the Prince — I know — I will start at once — I am getting ready — giving orders — we leave immediately for Cape Town." In her precipitation she was going to ring the bell to send for her women. Poor Empress ! she had not grasped, she could not grasp, the truth. The Duke, beside himself with grief, summoned all his courage to his aid and faltered out the irrevocable words, " Trop tard — Madame, trop tard." The Empress gave one despairing cry and fell in a dead faint at his feet. x 2 323 MY MEMOIRS As far as I remember, this was on Friday. On Saturday, by the earliest train I could, I left for London, and took rooms at the Albemarle Hotel. My sister the Duchess de Mouchy, my brother Prince Murat — the two real and most devoted friends of the Empress Eugenie, who had been at her side in all her troubles both before and after our downfall — had already arrived from France. They came over by the night boat and went on to Camden Place. Before the next day all the hotels round me, Brown's, the Pulteney, Claridge's, were full of what in old days I should have called nos intimes. The Duchess Malakoff and her daughter had rooms at the Albemarle just above me. The Duchess was a Spanish woman, a very old friend of the Empress. They had been girls together. It was to her friendship that Mile. Pariega owed her marriage with Marshal Pelissier, Duke of Malakoff. Rather a rough diamond, but with a splendid career behind him. Stephanie Tascher de la Pagerie says, " Le titre de Duchesse de Malakoff eut dte beau s'il n'eut fallu devenir la femme du Marechal Pelissier pour y avoir droit." When I arrived at Camden Place I was in doubt if I should be able to see the Empress. My sister and Zizi d' Arcos were the only two persons who had been allowed access. The poor woman had neither slept nor rested and 324 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL scarcely eaten a mouthful since the terrible news had reached her. Unfortunate mother. Her remorse must have been as great as her grief. I pitied her from the bottom of my heart. Could a greater misfortune have befallen her ! I can conceive no deeper sorrow than the loss of an only son, and such a son as the Prince Imperial. To her it meant death to every cherished hope. Zizi d' Arcos was another one of those most intimate at Court although she had no official position. Mrs. Vaughan brought her two pretty daughters to Paris, and through the patronage of the Duke de Morny and Mme. Le Hon had invitations to Court. Zizi, the eldest, became a great favourite with the Empress, who conceived the project of a marriage with one of her oldest friends and admirers — a Spaniard, Domingo d'Arcos. Many years after the marriage, about the time of which I am writing, Domingo, who had been in a very critical state for some time, went out of his mind. The war and his removal to England seemed to give him the finishing stroke and be the torment of his ravings. He died in a London hotel, I think Brown's, I cannot be quite sure. Every one spoke of the devotion of his wife. Her sister, who married a Vaughan, a cousin, could not find words to express Zizi's admirable conduct in nursing her husband through so painful an illness ; people were much 32S MY MEMOIRS impressed. She was welcomed more warmly than ever at Chislehurst. Zizi and her sister usually accompanied the Empress to Windsor, and played the part of ladies-in-waiting whenever their services were required. On these occa sions the "four widows," as those on duty with the Queen called them, put their heads together. They had a great deal to say, and the Court looked on in trembling for the gale that usually followed. At Camden Place on her frequent visits Mme. d'Arcos was like a watch-dog, although I am not sure that she always slept on the mat outside her mistress's door. None of the Empress's dames du palais — twelve in number — followed her to England. Most of them belonged more or less to the Faubourg St. Germain. Foremost among these were Mme. de la Bddoyere, whose arrival in a room was often likened by the Tuileries set to the lighting of a chandelier, and her willowy sister Mme. de la Poeze, daughters of the Marquis de la Roche Lambert, more noble than rich. The emoluments were worth accepting, and they lowered their pride to be ladies-in-waiting at the Tuileries. One other I will name — the Marquise de Cadore. She was charming — so lovely to look at. We were always delighted when it was her tour de service. So many of the household of the Empress, both men and women, without reason made themselves perfectly odious 326 THE EX-EMPRESS EUGE'NIE. From a. Photograph taken in Paris, 1906. THE PRINCE IMPERIAL to the members of the Emperor's, family. One day in particular, I remember, some one of them more venturesome than the rest (who were wise enough to confine their incivilities to the younger members such as myself) dared to be discourteous to Princess Marie de Bade, Duchess of Hamilton. She wrote asking the Emperor to come and see her. She afterwards told us that she had com plained of the disrespectful attitude of the entourage in general — and she added that if the Emperor chose to allow his family to be put under the Empress's slipper she, for one, had no intention of submitting to such treatment.1 "My dear Marie, what would you have me do ? " exclaimed the Emperor. " I give her my family to govern, as I cannot give her the State." The State followed, however, for shortly afterwards the Empress was present at all the Cabinet councils. What a fearful revelation ! How in those hours of solitude and anguish she must have deplored the fatal mistakes, the ill-judged severity, the desire to keep all authority in her own hands, both political and at home ! Her very affection and anxiety for her son and the restoration of the Empire led her to exercise over him a control against which his independent spirit was con stantly in rebellion. No doubt she now, too late, realized her error — error into which her very love had betrayed her. I was going back to town ; I felt I could not 327 MY MEMOIRS trespass on the heart-rending misery of that hour. Just then the Empress sent my sister to fetch me to her. The door opened and shut, we were left alone. The room was in profound dark ness. It was a trying moment ! I could see only to grope my way to a figure seated in the middle of the room in a high arm-chair with a bureau table alongside, a footstool under her feet, and a large rug thrown over her. This was what I saw when my eyes became accustomed to the clair obscure. I went forward and, kneeling, kissed her hand. My heart was full of sorrow and pity — such utter hopelessness, such anguish, was in every feature of her face, in every movement of her hands, in the few words she spoke. I remained a few minutes only ; understanding what an effort even those few words must cause her. I could be of no use to her. In such a case nothing could be of any avail, vain words a mockery, sympathy almost an offence. All this and more I felt as I left her with her despair. The next day I returned to Redisham. We had a long-standing engagement for the first week of the July meeting at Newmarket. Mr. Garden was anxious not to disappoint our friends, as a suite of rooms had been reserved for us at the Rutland Arms. I went with him, but was careful not to show myself at the races or anywhere in public. So the week was rather a dull one, and I was not sorry when it came to an end. On the 8th 328 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL I travelled back to the Albemarle Hotel. The funeral ceremony was to take place on the 12th. My youngest brother, Prince Louis, had arrived from Russia and was staying at the Pulteney. His wife — in delicate health — had been unable to accompany him. We went to Chislehurst the next morning, with no intention of seeing the Empress, but to hear what had been settled about the ceremonial and if we were to be at Camden Place on the previous day for the reception of the cortege from Woolwich. We learned that our presence would not be required on Friday the nth. My sister told me that the Empress thought of nothing, spoke of nothing, but the Prince and his sufferings during the African campaign. She never inquired as to any of the arrangements for the return and reception of the body, nor even asked the day on which it would reach England's shores. The only wish she expressed was that my brother Prince Murat should, with a suite designated, meet the Orantes at Portsmouth. Those designated to accompany H.H. the Prince Murat were H.H. the Prince Charles Bonaparte, the Comte Davilliers, the Marquis de Bassano, the Baron de Bourgoing, the Comte de Turenne, the Vicomte Aguado. To the astonish ment of every one, General Fleury, so intimately associated with the Prince's life, more especially during his exile, was not designated to be either 329 MY MEMOIRS at Portsmouth or at Woolwich on the occasion of the ceremonial of identifying the body. I have already said that the General was not a favourite with the Empress. On many occasions he had ventured to oppose her will both on private and political questions. General Fleury had been one of the first to come over from France to put him self entirely at the Empress's commands, and, I heard, felt most deeply being set aside and allowed no part in the ceremonial. I suppose some observa tion was made on the subject, as when the Queen entered the Chapelle Ardente on the day of the funeral, General Fleury was ordered to take his place with other generals near the coffin. All the night of the nth the coffin was guarded by officers of the household or relatives, each hour the guard being relieved. The Duke de Mouchy remained many hours with the dear remains of our lost Prince, and the Empress spent nearly all night kneeling in prayer. The dawn of Saturday found her still clinging to the coffin, saying between her sobs : " Voila, tout ce qui me reste de mon fils ! " The opening of the coffin had taken place at Woolwich. The features of the poor little Prince were so disfigured as not to be recognizable — one eye was gone and he was covered with wounds — seventeen, I believe — all received facing the foe. Was it the Prince ? Who could be sure ? Two things only proved his identity. Dr. Thomas 33° THE PRINCE IMPERIAL Evans was present at the opening of the coffin. He swore to the teeth he had filled, to the mouth that he had attended for so many years. The scar the Prince had on his left side was there, and gave the second proof required. When quite a boy he fell from a trapeze in the gymnasium and hurt his side. A large abscess formed, and an operation became necessary. The scar left was the one I refer to. My brother was so overcome during the exam ination of the body that he nearly fainted, and had to summon all his courage to go through with the painful duty imposed upon him : not to leave the coffin for one second till it was again closed. The dawn of the 12th of July of the year 1879 was full of golden light and sunshine, seeming such a mockery to the feeling of deep sorrow that invaded my heart as I was roused from my sleep at an early hour. We were under orders to be at Camden Place before thearrival of the Queen, who was due at 10.15. A friend of Mr. Garden's, a Mrs. Crawley, was anxious to get into the grounds to see the funeral procession. I always wonder so sad a sight can attract any one. She had not been able to get a ticket of admission, and I had none to give her. I did the only thing I could do, which was to pass her in in my carriage. At the last moment, just as we were ready to start, it was observed that Mrs. Crawley (who went by the distinguished name of Teddydine) had not 33 1 MY MEMOIRS understood that she was required to be all in black. I hastily supplied some few articles of mourning, but Mr. Garden's gloves had to be requisitioned, as mine were of no use ! How comic her hands looked ! I could not help laughing, though I was in no humour for mirth. The drive from London to Chislehurst seemed paved with heads, especially as we drew near the latter place. At the stable entrance of Camden Place we drew up to put our passenger out before driving to the house. I knew I was late, and I was getting rather nervous, as no carriage could pass after the hour at which the Queen was expected. The Prince Napoleon, his two sons, his sister the Princess Mathilde, and the Princess Eugenie Murat, my brother's eldest daughter, waited in a small drawing-room overlooking the front of the house reserved for the reception of the Queen, and in which the saddle and every thing which had belonged to the little Prince in Zululand had been placed. The room was literally smothered in flowers — wreaths, crosses, bouquets — and the floor covered with roses. As the clock marked twenty minutes past ten, the Queen's approach was signalled, and at 10.25 the Prince Murat, the Duke and Duchess de Mouchy, the generals and officers of the Imperial household, moved forward to receive her Majesty. The Queen carried an immense wreath, which she wished herself to place on the coffin. 332 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL She was followed by Princess Beatrice bearing a large violet-coloured crystal cross, with garlands of violets around it — so heavy that General Fleury, I think it was, took it from her and handed it to the Duke de Mouchy, who advanced with her to where the Queen was standing near the catafalque, which was raised by three steps with black and white draperies. An English flag was thrown over the coffin. The Queen's emotion was evident when she said, " Poor child, you well deserve my crown of laurels." The Duchess de Mouchy then conducted the Queen to the room of which I have spoken. Prince Napoleon himself presented his sons to her Majesty. A few moments later, eleven o'clock, the Queen and Princess Beatrice left the house, crossing by a pathway of black carpet to the stand erected for the Royal Family. At the same moment the Princess Mathilde and Princess Eugenie proceeded to the little Church of St. Mary, where the funeral ceremony was to take place. I remained in the room, looking at, touching the treasures which were all that remained of our beloved Prince. Meantime the procession was forming slowly beneath the window. ... Of this I need not speak, as every paper of the day, if referred to, would tell far better and more accurately what took place than could my memory. I knew nothing, saw nothing, 333 MY MEMOIRS as I stood transfixed, gazing vacantly at the thing before me — one thought, one feeling filled my mind and heart : Had all these hundreds of French people come over the water to see the sight of a Napoleon, a son of France, their Prince Imperial thus carried to his last resting-place ! A great tribute was paid, a high honour intended, and had I been the Empress I should have been, as she no doubt was, deeply touched and grate ful : but if she had had one drop of our blood in her veins no English flag would have covered his coffin, no English princes would have carried him to his grave. Years after, when this country cried out with one voice that they would have an English princess for their future Queen, one born and bred with them — English heart and soul — how well I understood the wish. . . . Marie Louise and the Roi de Rome — Empress Eugenie and the Prince Imperial — what a lesson for genera tions to come ! I plead forgiveness, oh my English readers, if ever my Memoirs fall into your hands. Remember then that the writer, who loved her country, loved her race beyond expression, had for nearly thirty-two years been wounded every day by some heathen, who purposely or ignorantly had wantonly crushed her heart, crushed her spirit, hurt her pride, abused her country, stamped upon her race. . . . Presently I woke with a shudder — the pro- 334 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL cession was moving off. Pietri was standing a little way from the window pointing with his arms thrown out in a great gesture of despair to the line now slowly winding through the grounds. At that moment the door opened and Mr. Garden walked in. So great had been my pre-occupation that I had never noticed that he had not taken his place in the funeral procession. He asked if he might order the carriage — he wished to leave immediately. It was neither the time nor place to ask any questions : I only said, " I cannot leave before the Queen." As soon as the procession had left the grounds the Queen and the Princess Beatrice walked across the lawn to the house. The Queen sent for the Duchess de Mouchy, who accompanied her to the door of the boudoir up-stairs where the Empress had expressed the wish to see her. The room was dark, as when I had seen it. The opening of the door just gave sufficient light for the Queen to see the Empress standing to receive. She threw her arms round her and they mingled their tears and sobs in a long embrace. The Princess Beatrice, finding herself alone, left the drawing-room and went with me to the Chapelle Mortuaire. All was as it had been an hour before. The candles were still burning ; the rose leaves — all roses from France — still covered the floor : flowers were thrown here and there, lilies mingling their sweet scent with the perfume of 335 MY MEMOIRS incense. The Princess knelt and gathered a few flowers — a handful of the roses on which the coffin had rested — all that remained of her short poem of love. In the autumn, about the second week of September, I was advised by Dr. Playfair that I needed rest and quiet and he suggested either Braemar or Pitlochry. We were very fond of salmon fishing, so we decided for Deeside. The early summer must have been a very rainy one, as on my return home to prepare for my Scotland trip I found the haymakers still in the fields and spent two or three happy days with the children romping in the hay. I left for Braemar on the 1 8th of September, with two or three friends — Mr. Garden, being detained for a few days on business in town, promised to join us almost immediately. We travelled by the night express to Aberdeen and stayed one day and night there before going on to Ballater. My first experience of a Scotch train — stopping so often and going at a pace that my American trotters of old days would have been ashamed of. On arriving at Ballater, we found a carriage and post-horses waiting for us, and late in the evening we reached the Fife Arms, where rooms had been engaged. We made excursions every day to some spot of the pretty country round us. Old Mar Lodge and the Quoich were among our favourite resorts. 336 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL We had taken luncheon with us one lovely warm morning and intended to do some sketching near the Quoich, when we were disturbed by the sight of the Royal carriages in the distance. Being accustomed to the strict etiquette of the Tuileries, I hastily gathered together all my belongings, live and dead stock, and made a retreat. The Queen often drove through Braemar during my stay. The Empress Eugenie was daily expected at Abergeldie, lent to her by the Queen. One Sunday morning I saw from my window the Empress and her suite drive past to the little Catholic chapel a hundred yards from the hotel. Considering it my duty, I went to the chapel and waited outside till Mass was said in order that I might present my respects to her Majesty. She was most gracious and talked to me for some time, and we walked back to her carriage together. I then took my leave of her and stood waiting till she had driven off. How often in my life I have done an unwelcome, irksome thing to find that I was unjustly accused and wrongly blamed ! So it was in this case. I remained some weeks longer at Braemar, and then went further north. On returning to town I announced my intention of going to Chislehurst to say good-bye to the Empress, who was then about to undertake her voyage to Zululand to see the spot where the poor little Prince lost his life. She replied "that, being on the eve of her y 337 MY MEMOIRS departure, she was too busy to see me." Knowing the Empress, I was not the least surprised, and should have thought it quite ordinary had I not by the morning's post received a letter from my sister, who was staying at Camden Place, telling me that her Majesty was greatly annoyed at several things I had, or was supposed to have, done during my stay at Braemar. I puzzled my brain in vain to discover in what I had incurred her displeasure. From that day to this I have held myself aloof — only performing such obligations as my position imposed on me. Some year or two later, when talking of different things to my uncle Prince Lucien, he"suddenly asked me why I had been so foolish at Braemar ? I asked in what. He was astonished to hear that I was absolutely ignorant of the crimes imputed to me. To be true, I had never even taken the trouble to inquire. The Emperor and the Prince both gone, I more or less, alas ! English — what could it matter ? I was wrong. Everything matters, if not for oneself, for others dear to you. Prince Lucien told me my offences — trivial enough — but here they are. In my haste to leave the Quoich that day when sketching, I had dropped my handkerchief. It had been picked up by one of the Royal party, and the story which reached the Empress was that my handkerchief bore the Royal arms of Naples embroidered in the corners. If it had been true, would it have caused disagreement between 338 THE PRINCE IMPERIAL England and Italy ? Certainly the French Republic would not have interfered. My handker chief had a single crown in one corner. The other misdemeanour was that I had been seen with race glasses bracketed on the Queen while her horses were being changed at the hotel. The Queen, it was asserted, had caused inquiries to be made as to who occupied the rooms. She was informed they were mine. The moment it was mentioned to me I re membered hearing of the incident at the time, for it made quite a sensation in the hotel. Two old maids, who had probably never seen the Queen, had stood, not in any room, but in the doorway of the hotel and annoyed her Majesty by staring at her through eye-glasses. The Queen called one of her attendants and gave some orders, saying, I believe, that if she were to be subjected to such impertinence she should in future change horses elsewhere. I need scarcely say that I attempted no defence. We all who lived at Court knew too well that a pretext is easily found when wanted. Had not the candidature of Prince Leopold von Hohenzollern to the throne of Spain been made the transparent pretext for the Franco-German war of 1870 ? I treated the imputation cast upon me with the silent contempt I felt. My uncle urged me to write, but I refused, and, taking a page from a book of greater suffer- y 2 339 MY MEMOIRS ings than mine, I withdrew, like the snail, into my shell, carrying my disgrace with me. My mother, who was always very lenient towards the failings and errors of those around her, indulgent to her children, and more especially partial to her sons, ventured once to expostulate with the Empress on the harshness of her judgments and the severity of her decisions. Carried away by her feelings, the Empress answered, " Ah ! ma cousine, vous etes Louis Seize — n'oubliez pas que je suis Louis Quatorze ! " In these few words we may read the history of the Second Empire and its reverses. 340 INDEX About, Edmund, 75 Achille Murat, Prince, 26, 143, 281-283 Agoult, Comtesse d', 78 Aquado, Count, 72 Arago, M., 67 Arcos, Zizi d', 325-326 Argaiz, Joseph d', 37, 39 Aurevilly, Barbeyd', 75 Austria,Emperor of. See Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria Austria, Empress of. See Eliza beth, Empress of Austria Azeglio, Marquis d', 128 Bacciochi, Princess, 138, 158, 162 \ Baker, Sir Samuel, 303 Barker, Percy, 239-240 Bassano, Duke de, 234, 323, 329 Bathyani, Mme., 296 Bauer, Abb£, 219-220, 244 Bazaine, Marshal, 235-237 Beatrice, Princess, 333, 335 Beaumont, Countess de, 79, 149 Beckett, Hamilton, 41 Belliard, General, 17 Bertrand, General, 37-38 Beville, General, 116 Biadelli, Mme., 140-141 Bismarck, Prince, 186, 244 Bonaparte, Emperor Napoleon. See Napoleon-Bonaparte Bonaparte, Prince Charles. See Charles Bonaparte, Prince Bonaparte, Prince Jer6me. See Jer6me Bonaparte, Prince Bonaparte, Prince Lucien. See Lucien Bonaparte, Prince Bonaparte, Prince Pierre. See Pierre Bonaparte, Prince Bonaparte, Prince Roland. See Roland Bonaparte, Prince Bonham, Colonel, 288 Bourbaki, General, 235 Bourgoing, Baron de, 329 Brabazon, Major-General, 239- 240 Breton, Mme. le, 271 Burgoyne, Sir John, 206-207 Cadore, Marquise de, 326 Cadoudal, Georges, 20 Cambridge, Duke of, 311 Camerata, Count de, 158-162 Campbell, Lady Archibald, 302 Carette, Mme., 122-123 Carey, Lieutenant, 320 Caroline, Queen of Naples, 16, 21-22, 27-28 Casabianca, Comte de, 233-234 Cassagnac, Paul de, 279 Castelbajac, Comte de, 137 Castiglione, Virginia de, 150- 156 Cavaignac, General de, 54, 57 Cavour, M. de, 128-130, 151 Cecci, Maria, 95 Charles Bonaparte, Prince, 329 Chassiron, Baron de, 87-91, 238 Chester, Colonel, 288-289 Chevarier, M. de, 202 Clarendon, Lord, 128 Clary, Adolphe, 64-65, 228-230, 295-296, 298 Clotilde, Princess, 128, 203 Contades, Marquise de, 79 Corvisart, Dr., 234, 262 341 INDEX Courbonne, MUe. de, 60 Cowley, Lord, 128 Craven, Lady Mary, 120 Daudet, Alphonse, 75 Demidoff, Prince, 72 Desprez, Mme., 68 Dumas, Alexandre, 75 Duperre\ Commandant, 142, 208, 230-231, 273 Duvernois, M., 267 Elizabeth, Empress of Austria, 278 Enghien, Due d', 19, 22 Eugenie, Empress, 108, 110-116, 118-119, 121-123, 131-140, 154, 156-159, m-172, 182- 183, 185-186, 193, 196, 204- 207, 220, 235-236, 245-247, 261-265, 270-286, 292-293, 296-301, 304-307, 309, 311- 314, 322-335, 337-338, 34o Evans, Dr. Thomas, 206, 330 Ferdinand, Emperor of Austria, 22-23 Feuillet, Octave, 75 Fleury, General, 31 3-31 4, 329- 33°, 333 Fould, Achille, 306, 308 Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria, 119, 271 Franco-Prussian War, 183 et seq. Fraser, Carolina Georgina, 25 Frome, Charles T., 282 Galliffet, Marquis de, 142-144 „ Marquise de, 144-145 Garden, Mr., 204, 213, 238, 248- 251, 254-255, 259-261, 265, 268, 279-282, 286-288, 292- 293, 295, 298, 300, 304, 328, 335-336 Giraud, M., 67, 75 Gladstone, Mr., 214, 246 Goncourt, Jules de, 78 Gramont, Duke de, 184-185 342 Granville, Lord, 241-242 Gull, Sir William, 265 Haussmann, Baron, 134 Heine, Mme., 141-142 Home, Daniel, 273-275 Hopkinson, Charley, 29 Howard, Miss, 102-103, '5'i 211-212 Hugo, Victor, 75 Imperial, Prince. See Louis Napoleon, Prince Imperial Irving, Washington, 27 Jdrome Bonaparte, Prince, 174, 191, 197-198, 218-219, 242- 244 Joachim Murat, King of Naples, 15-23, 26 Joseph, King of Spain, 25 Kemble, Fanny, 44 Latour-Maubourg, Marquise de, 157 Lennox, Lady George, 294 Leopold von Hohenzollern, Prince, 216-217 Lermina, Mile., 231 Letissier, Eliza, 162 Liszt, Abbe", 78, 147 Louis Napoleon, Prince Impe rial, 121, 193, 195, 270-273, 283-286, 293-297, 299-300, 3H-334 Lucien Bonaparte, Prince, 56, 80, 94-95, 246, 276-277, 300- 301, 3U,3i7,322,339 Macdonald, General, 19 MacMahon, Marshal, 195-196 Maillard, Adolphe, 36 Malakoff, Duchess, 324 Manchester, Duchess of, 151 Manning, Cardinal, 281 Mary Adelaide of Hohenlohe, Princess, 109 Massa, Marquis de, 138 INDEX Mathilde, Princess, 56, 58-60, 67-79, 96, 99-ioi, 107-108, 132, 151, 153, 221-227, 332- 333 Menmee, Prosper, 75, 134 Metternich, Prince de, 146, 149, 194 Metternich, Princess de, 77, 79, 146-150, 221, 247-248 Mocquard, M., 168-169 Morny, Duke de, 113, 135, 179- 180 Momy, Mme. de, 180-182 Moses, Rebecca, 43 Mouchy, Duchess de (Princess Anna Murat), 138, 163-172, 204, 266, 324, 335 Mouchy, Duke de, 330 Murat, Prince Achille. See Achille Murat, Prince Murat, Princess Anna. See Mouchy, Duchess de Murat, Princess Caroline, birth and childhood, 24 ; life at Point Breeze, 29 et seq. ; removal of family to France, 48 ; arrival in Paris, 51 ; companionship of Prin cess Mathilde, 67 et seq. ; marriage with Baron de Chassiron, 87-91 ; recollec tions of the Coup d'Etat, 96 ; at Napoleon Ill's marriage, 113 ; anecdotes regarding the Court entertainments, 131 et seq.; visit to Switzerland, 176 ; relates incidents concerning the Franco- Prussian War, 183 et seq. ; flight from Paris, 204 et seq. ; exile in England, 207 et seq. ; death of her husband, 238 ; at Redisham, 238 et seq. ; visit to Italy, 251-254 ; marriage with Mr. Garden, 255 ; return to England, 256; illness at Nice, 259 ; relates account of Napoleon Ill's death, 263 et seq.; death of Mr. Garden, 268 ; entertained on the Corinne, 293 et seq. ; death of her father, 304 ; death of her mother, 316; pre sent at the Prince Imperial's funeral, 331 et seq.; visit to Braemar and its unpleasant consequences, 336 et seq. Murat, Joachim. See Joachim Murat, King of Naples Murat,Napoleon Lucien Charles, 22, 24-25, 27, 30, 53, 68 Musard, Mme., 85-86 Musignano, Prince de, 33-35 Naples, Caroline, Queen of. See Caroline, Queen of Naples Naples, Joachim, King of. See Joachim Murat, King of Naples Napoleon-Bonaparte, 15-21 Napoleon III, 27, 48, 53-57, 64, 95, 99, 101-115, 118-119, 129- 131, 134-136, 154-156, 183- 185, 193, 195-197, 199, 201, 207-208, 211, 214, 237, 244- 245, 247, 260-266, 268-269, 271, 288-289 Napoleon, Prince, 186-188, 228, 267, 270, 279, 284, 315, 332- 333 Nieuwerkerke, Comte de, 59-60, 67, 76 Nilsson, Christine, 78 OUivier, Emile, 186 Orange, Prince of, 124-125 Oscar, King of Sweden, 297 Padua, Duke de, 285 Paiva, Marquise de, 87 Palmerston, Lord, 128 Paris, Archbishop of, 131-132 Paterson, Mrs., 175-176 Patti, Adelina, 78 Peel, Sir Robert, 128 Persigny, Duchess de, 136-145 „ Duke de, 54-56, 179- 180, 182 Piedmont, King of, 127-129 343 INDEX Pierre Bonaparte, Prince, 56, 93-95. 275-277, 279 Pierre, Princess. See Ruffin, Justine Pietri, Franceschini, 198, 231, 270-271, 335 Playfair, Dr., 336 Point Breeze, 29-30, 33, 36-37, 42 Poniatowska, Princess, 221, 296 Ponsonby, Miss Melita, 294 Pourtales, Mme. de, 79, 144- H5 Powell, Captain, 239 Rediny, Baronne de, 67 Renan, Ernest, 75 Ridgeway, Mrs., 84 Roland Bonaparte, Prince, 279 Rothschild, Mme. Alphonse de, 153 Rouher, M., 312, 315 „ Mme., 265-266 Ruffin, Justine (afterwards Prin cess Pierre), 275-276 Sainte-Beuve, M., 75 Sardou, Mme., 77 Scheffer, Arry, 75 Sesto, Duke de, 182 Sheriff, Gina, 288 Sibour, Archbishop, 157 Sibthorpe, Mrs. Waldo, 310 Sidney, Lord, 322, 323 Solms, Mme. de, 79-83 Standish, Henry, 294-295 Stevens, Edwin, 40-41 Stewart, Commodore, 39 Stradbroke, Lady, 289-290 Strauss, Johann, 78, 126-127 Survillier, Count de, 30, 33 Tascher de la Pagerie, Comtesse Stephanie, 154-155, 232 Thompson, Sir Henry, 261-262 Trafford, Tommy, 239 Trochu, General, 197-198, 205, 214 Turenne, Comte de, 329 Vanderbilt, Billy, 39 Victor Emmanuel, King of Italy, 68 Victor Napoleon, Prince, 188 Victoria, Queen, 80, 118, 312, 337, 339 Viel-Castel, Count Horace de, 76-77 Waleski, Comte, 109 Wasa, Princess de, 109 Washington, George, 26 Waterloo, 19 Waveney, Lord, 289 William III of Holland, 85 Willis, Catherine Bird, 26 Zembo, M., 161, 163 Richard Clay &* Sons, Limited, London and Bungay. 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