The Emperor replied in the negative, observing that, being a prisoner, he had no control over the Government. And upon the King inquiring where the Government was, Napoleon replied, “At Paris.” The King then turned the conversation upon the Emperor’s future, and offered him the château of Wilhelmshöhe as a residence—an offer which he immediately accepted. He appeared particularly satisfied when the King said he would give him an escort of honour which would insure his safety to the frontier. As Napoleon, in the course of the conversation, appeared to suppose that he had had against him the army of Prince Frederick Charles, the King told him that it was not so—it was the army of the Crown Prince of Saxony and my army. The Emperor having inquired where the army of Prince Frederick Charles was, the King, emphasizing the words, replied, “With the 7th Army Corps, before Metz.” The Emperor, painfully surprised, took a step backwards. On his face there was a sad expression, for now it was made clear to him that he had not been opposed by all the German army.
The King praised the bravery of the French, which Napoleon willingly recognized. The conversation lasted a good quarter of an hour, and then both retired. The tall figure of the King dominated. The Emperor saw me, and held out one hand, while with the other he tried to dry the tears which rolled down his face. He uttered words of gratitude to me, and for the generous manner in which the King had treated him. I spoke naturally in the same sense, and asked him if he had been able to get some rest during the night. He replied that chagrin and the thought of his family had banished all possibility of sleep. When I expressed my regret that the war had been so terrible and so sanguinary, he said it was, alas! too true, too terrible, especially as “they had not wanted war!” He had not received any news of the Empress and the Prince Imperial for a week, and asked if he might send her a private telegram—a request which was granted. We shook hands as we parted, Boyen and Lynar accompanying him. There was something sinister-looking about his suite in their new uniforms, in marked contrast with ours, so damaged by the war. When he had gone a telegram from the Empress arrived, and I sent it to him by Seckendorff.... Some fears are expressed lest the results of the war should not come up to the expectations of the German people.
The only witness of the meeting (September 2, 1870) between Napoleon III. and Count Bismarck at Donchéry, the day after the battle of Sedan, was Colonel Freiherr Josef von Ellrichshausen (who died in September, 1906). After the Colonel had ridden out with his men to take over a convoy of wounded French officers and prisoners, and while thus engaged, the carriage with the Emperor in it appeared. At the same moment several horsemen, amongst whom was Bismarck, rode up. Von Ellrichshausen reported to the Chancellor the presence of the Emperor, whereupon Bismarck at once sprang from his horse, and, in the Colonel’s own words, “approached Napoleon almost with humility, and the words, ‘Sire, qu’est-ce que vous désirez?’” As conversation in the small wayside house (the only building near at hand) was impossible owing to the presence of many dead and wounded soldiers, Von Ellrichshausen and his men brought out two chairs, upon which Napoleon and Bismarck sat while discussing the situation.[101]
The late Sir Henry Drummond Wolff, accompanied by Sir Henry James (Lord James of Hereford), happened to be at Verviers when Napoleon III. was being taken to Wilhelmshöhe. Drummond Wolff found the Emperor looking anything but ill, nor did his features betray any traces of that deep emotion which other eye-witnesses have dwelt upon so eloquently. The Emperor “leant somewhat heavily on the arm of the gentleman who assisted him to alight” from the carriage which had brought him to Verviers. His Majesty read a despatch which was handed to him, “sat down at a table in the waiting-room, and was engaged in writing for some time.” He then took a turn up and down the platform, returned to the waiting-room, and read l’Indépendence Belge until the moment came for him to enter the special train which took him to his destination, Wilhelmshöhe. Sir Henry Drummond Wolff noted with the Emperor General Chazal, who was in command of the Belgian army of observation on the German frontier, and at whose earnest request the Emperor wrote a full explanation of the causes which, in his opinion, led to his defeat at Sedan.[102]
To the list of English journalists who suffered from the spy mania in the Franco-German War, and whose cases were recorded in the Star, may be added the name of Mr. Edward Legge, who was at that time the youngest of the war “specials.” As the representative of the Irish Times he was present at the first engagement (the “baptism of fire”) at Saarbrücken, and the next morning started alone (the fighting having scattered the reporting battalion) to overtake the Germans, who had retreated the previous day. He was not long in coming up with the wearers of the “Pickelhaube,” and in being arrested by a cavalry picket. The imaginary “French spy” was put in a springless waggon, and taken from one place to another, and before one General after the other, until he felt somewhat weary of the involuntary promenade in full view of König Wilhelm’s legions. Appearances were decidedly against him, but nobody seemed disposed to give the order to put a bullet through him, although that was the fate which he hourly anticipated. The hectoring General von Steinmetz first believed and then relegated the prisoner to General von Goeben, who liberated him on condition that he went straight off to Cologne, and did not return to “the front” again. The required promise was given—and broken, and a week afterwards the correspondent was back at Saarbrücken, where he read the news of his death in the Old Free Press (Vienna) and also in the Times (which later contradicted it under the pleasing heading of “A Revenant”). The youthful “special” passed scatheless through the battles of Beaumont and Sedan, accompanying a Saxon battery into action on the memorable First of September, and remaining “in the thick of it” until nightfall; and the next day marched with the same battery to Paris, or, rather, to Montmorency and St. Gratien, where he remained during several weeks of the siege.—Star.
CHAPTER XIV
ON THE EVE OF EXILE
Often as the story of the Empress’s escape from the Tuileries on September 4, 1870, has been told—perhaps with more circumstantiality by the late Mr. T. W. Evans than by anyone else—the version now given for the first time differs in some important respects from the Evans narrative.
This account of the episode of September 4 (not the 1st, as erroneously printed in the original French version) appeared in L’Écho du Parlement Belge of January 28, 1871. The writer asserts that his informant was the well-known diplomatist, Mr. Bancroft, who at the time in question was United States Minister at Berlin, and who stated that he had “had it direct from Mr. Evans”; which, to say the least of it, is curious.
This new version of an old story runs thus: