THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2787, 4 October 1910, Page 7

THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS.

It was early in September, 1870, that a report had reached Paris that the glory of France lay smothered in blood on the fatal field of Sedan, that the Emperor was a prisoner, MacMahon killed, and the Prince Im-

perial lost. Eugenie refused to believe the terrible news. She could not indeed grasp its full horror and significance, but she knew that God could not be so cruel as to overwhelm her and her beloved country in such a calamity as this. As she paced up and down her boudoir in the Tuileries—the Palace which she had entered not so many years before a radiantly happy bride—a telegram was placed in her hands. She read it, and sank back with a gasp of horror, half-fainting, in her chair.

This is what she read '—"The army is defeated and captive. Having failed to meet death in the midst of my soldiers, I have been forced to surrender myself to save the army. —Napoleon."

This, then, was the end of all her glory, of all her dreams of still more splendid triumphs in the future. When the door of the Palace opening on to the Place S. Germain was reached the sight that met the Royal fugitive's eyes might well have struck terror into the stoutest heart, for the square was black with a seething crowd, crying, "Down with the Spaniard !" "To the guillotine with the Empress !"

The Empress and her lady, now separated from their escort, plunged bravely into the crowd, and, forcing their way through, emerged at last from its fringe to find a cab providentially at hand. Jumping into it, they shouted a direction to the driver, and, panting and dishevelled with their exertions, were driven rapidly away to the house of M. Besson, a Councillor of State, in the Boulevard Haussmann, who, they knew, give them shelter. To their dismay they found that the Councillor was not at borne. Returning to their cab, they next drove to the house of the Marquis de Piepnes in the Avenue de Wagram. Again discomfiture awaited them, the Marquis, too, was away from home. Their plight was now pitiful. The two friends on whose help they had so confidently relied were not available.

They were compelled to dismiss their cabman, as their fare already amounted to three francs, all the money they had brought with them, and they found themselves stranded and penniless. At any moment they might be recognised, and that would be the last of their freedom and possibly of life itself. Fortunately at this critical juncture the Empress remembered that a short distance away was the house of Dr. Evans, the Court dentist, on whose devotion to herself and her family she could rely. She would go to him and throw herself on his protection, and, with beating hearts, she and her companion set forth on foot in the direction of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. Before they had gone many steps, however, they heard in the distance a tumult of voices and the tramp of thousands of feet coming in their direction. Fear now lent wings to their feet, but the sounds came louder and nearer. The crowd was rapidly gaining on them. They must conceal themselves until it had passed, and, diving into a dark recess, they cowered in fear and trembling. A few moments of agonised suspense; the rabble, shrieking, singing, and waving red flags, swept past, and the sounds died away in the distance„

Once more they were safe—for the time, and, emerging from their hid-ing-place, they continued their journey in safety until they reached Dr. Evans' door. He was at home, the maid said in answer to their inquiry, and the two ladies were shown into his consulting-room, where the dentist soon' joined them, horrified to find hi 6 beloved Empress in such a pitiful plight, but rejoiced that she had come to him in her trouble. When the sun rose on Paris that fateful September morning it was on a city wrapped in seeming peace. The streets, which had a few hours before been thronged with blood-thirsty men and shrieking women, were silent and deserted, but the lion was only slumbering after its orgy—at any moment it might awake, and with its awakening renew the terrors of the previous day.

What if she were detected at the gate itself and not even allowed to leave Paris ? The chance of escaping the vigilance of the guard, who knew that the Empress was a fugitive, was of the smallest, and as the carriage approached the city wall Eugenie's heart almost ceased to beat, "Halt !" rang out the summons ; the carriage came to a standstill, but before the guard had time to inspect its occupants Dr. Evans leaned out and explained that he was taking a mad patient to the Neuilly Asylum, and that any excitement would have serious consequences. To the unspeakable relief of the Empress the explanation was considered satisfactory ; the guard drew back, and the carriage rattled through the gate into the opep country ; while the Empress, the tension removed, burst into tears. Ab soon as the Empress had been handed over to his wife's custody Dr. Evans proceeded to make inquiries as to what vessels were about to leave Deauville, and., as luck would have it, learned that the yacht of a well-known Englishman. Sir John Burgoyne, was in the harbour, and was to leave that day for England. Nothing could be more fortunate. He promptly sought an interview with Sir John, who, on hearing of the Empress' predicament, undertook to take her with him, a proposal which his lady gladly endorsed.

So far all was clear, but the Empress must not be seen in the streets of Deauville in daylight—the danger of detection was too great. She must wait until the darkness came before she could emerge with safety from her hiding-place, and midnight

was the hoar arranged for her coming on board the Gazelle. How prudent this precaution was proved when only an hour before midnight, the yacht was boarded and thoroughly searched for the fugitive Empress. The coast was barely clear when she and her companion, thickly veiled and cloaked, made their appearance

on the quay, where they were met by Sir John and conducted on board. It is more easy to imagine than to describe .the relief of the two ladies at finding themselves thus safe at last on an English yacht under the protection of a gallant Englishman, and soothed and ministered to by his gracious lady. The past two days had been a horrible nightmare to them, and it is little wonder that in the reaction, as the Empress herself has said, they "wept like children tears of gratitude to God for His goodness and of relief from the horrors they had passed through," But their safety was even yet by no means as assured as they imagined in the cosy security of the Gazelle's cabin. For eighteen hours the Gazelle was tossed like a cork on the wild sea, which threatened any moment to engulf her. So fierce was the storm that even the sailors despaired of seeing land again, but through it all there was no stouter heart than that of the Empress, whose calm courage seemed almost contemptuous of this latest peril, Sir John never once left the deck during the voyage, and under his skilful handling the gallant little Gazelle came safely to her anchorage in Ryde Harbour as day was breaking on the Bth September, 1870. At last the Empress had emerged from the dark hours of danger and

trial, and was safe on English soilAfter overwhelming her brave rescuer and his wife with her gratitude she made her way ( to Portsmouth, 1 and a few hours later at Hastings

was clasping in her arms her beloved boy, the Prince Imperial, who had been smuggled out of France in the blouse and cap of a peasant, and had, by a curious incident, reached England on the same day as his mother.