At length came the final blow. On the afternoon of the third of September, as the Minister of Foreign Affairs was on his way to the Tuileries, he was met by the Superintendent of Telegraphs.
“I have just received a most important telegram for the Empress from the Emperor,” he said. “I usually attend myself to the messages that pass between Their Majesties, but this one I have not the courage to deliver.” It was the well-known despatch:
“The army is defeated and has surrendered. I myself am a prisoner.
The Minister went at once to Eugénie with this terrible news, the reality of which exceeded all that her darkest fears had painted, and her feelings at this moment may be better imagined than described. Yet even then she did not consider her own fate. Her only thought was for France; and she firmly refused to employ the troops in her own defence against the people, for that would have added the terrors of civil strife to those of war. Late that evening the bad news reached the city, but instead of uniting to make a brave stand against the enemy, the populace rose in arms, and it was plain that the Empire’s days were numbered. The streets were filled with surging throngs, shouting “Down with the Emperor! Down with the Empress! Long live the Republic!” On all sides was heard the expression, “An Emperor dies, but does not surrender.”
About one o’clock that night the Legislature held a special session. Not a member was absent, and the galleries were crowded. Amid a deathly silence the president arose. He said:
“A calamity has brought us together here at this unwonted hour. I have called the session to discuss our present situation.”
Not a sound broke the stillness. All eyes were fixed on the Ministers’ bench. Count Palikao rose. The aged hero was no orator, but his voice was firm as he announced the disaster of Sedan. He added, slowly:
“With such news it is impossible for the ministry to enter into any discussion before to-morrow. I was called from my bed only a short time since, to come here.”
The president of the Exchequer then put the question as to whether the meeting should be adjourned. “Aye-aye,” shouted several voices. Suddenly a bushy head arose, and a loud, discordant voice made three motions:—“Deposition of the Emperor; Appointment of a provisional Government; Retention of Trochu as Governor of Paris.” It was Jules Favre.
