As soon as you get news from MacMahon—no matter at what time of night—have it ciphered by Pietri[89] and send it to me. I do not want to awaken the Emperor; that is why I telegraph direct.
Eugénie.
Half an hour after midnight Marshal Lebœuf telegraphed to the Empress to say he had no news.
MacMahon’s dread telegrams were withheld from the public for more than twenty-four hours. They appeared in the papers on the 5th, after 3 p.m. This unexpected news produced great irritation in Paris. But the people’s exaltation of spirit increased and their chauvinism was unbounded. The Parisians comforted themselves by saying: “It required 100,000 Prussians to defeat 8,000 French, and our troops were not beaten until they had inflicted greater losses on the enemy than the total number of French engaged.” The boulevards rang with a hundred other similar stupidities on the 5th. “However, MacMahon will take his revenge to-morrow!”
But the bad news seriously perturbed Ministers. “If,” they said, “the Crown Prince enters Alsace with 100,000 men he will attack MacMahon, who has only 35,000. That is grave indeed.” The night wore on without any further news. At midday some idiot or other, or perhaps a speculator “for the rise”—nobody ever knew which—stuck up at the Bourse this telegram: “Great victory: 25,000 prisoners, including the Crown Prince.” The Bourse became a Bedlam; the crowds on the boulevard yelled and danced and sang and wept. The “Marseillaise” was roared by men and shrieked by women and children. The grocers’ shops were cleared out of Venetian lamps, for use in the evening. Flags passed from hand to hand; houses were decked with them; and still the crowds, maddened with joy, sang themselves hoarse, and still they danced and wept. Traffic was stopped, carriages and cabs blocked the way, people climbed into them, stood on seats, and kissed each other.
A brief hour, and it was known that no news had been received from the frontier. The Bourse “telegram” was a huge “joke,” a diabolical “sell.” Then the mob, split into sections, roared, “Down with the Ministry!” and sang “Des nouvelles, des nouvelles!” to the air of the “Lampions.” And M. Chevandier de Valdrôme (Minister of the Interior) hastened to St. Cloud and reported to the Empress the day’s events.
Her Majesty maintained her composure, although for hours her nerves had been unstrung by suspense. At her suggestion Ministers met at six o’clock, and discussed the expediency of sending M. Maurice Richard to the Emperor with an urgent request to His Majesty to arrange for a constant supply of information. During the discussion a telegram from the Emperor announced that Frossard’s army corps was engaged—with what result was unknown.
Meanwhile there were wild “demonstrations” in front of some of the Ministries. All night the crowds remained on the boulevards. At midnight a thunderbolt fell. The Government received a copy of a telegram from the Empress announcing the double defeat at Forbach and Froschweiler. In forwarding this despatch the Empress ordered a meeting of Ministers, and announced that she was returning from St. Cloud to the Tuileries.
All this Saturday (August 6) the Empress was in a highly nervous condition. She could not be still, but walked in the park a few yards, then returned to her little room and wrote these telegrams:
The Empress to the Prince Imperial.