EGYPT: La Reine & the Empress

The Khedive of Egypt himself, squat, fat and bearded, came personally to Paris to call on Emperor Napoleon III and to invite the Empress to the party; Eugénie was pleased to accept. It was a great moment for both their nations. After ten years of crises, discouragements and setbacks, France’s and Egypt’s money had finally driven the canal through from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, and it was Eugénie’s own cousin, Ferdinand de Lesseps, who had seen the job through. To celebrate the opening, the Khedive had brought together 500 of the best cooks and 1,000 servants from Marseille, Trieste and Genoa. For the diversion of the expected guests, an open-air opera house had been built near the Great Pyramid; corps de ballet and singers by the dozen were imported, and the great Verdi commissioned to write an opera. (He responded with Aïda, but alas, two years too late.)

“Quelle Horreur!” At 5:30 on the evening of Sept. 30, 1869, France’s Empress left St. Cloud with her staff, her pets and her retainers to board the imperial yacht Aigle at Venice and sail to Suez. On the way they called on Italy’s Victor Emmanuel (whom Eugénie detested), the King & Queen of Greece, and the Sultan of Turkey. When she left, the Sultan gave her a carpet on which was embroidered a portrait of her husband, the Emperor, with real human hair and a mustache. “Mon Dieu,” exclaimed one of Eugénie’s ladies, “quelle horreur!”

On Nov. 16, after a few side trips to the pyramids at Giza and the Temple of Amun at Luxor, Eugénie arrived at Port Said on the Aigle. There she was met by the Emperor of Austria, the Crown Prince of Prussia and the Prince of The Netherlands.

As the Aigle sailed slowly at the head of a great fleet of visiting ships through the first leg of the canal to Ismailia, Arab horsemen on shore waved their carbines in the air and performed equestrian wonders. An acrobat walked a tightrope with two babies strapped to his ankles, while whirling dervishes held hot coals in their teeth, swallowed live scorpions and otherwise entertained the crowds. That night there was a great ball at the Khedive’s palace.

Quelle Emotion. The next day France’s imperial yacht led a triumphal procession of flag-decked yachts, warships, steamers and sailboats from a score of nations through the rest of the canal. Everybody worried about running aground. “During the entire trip,” wrote De Lesseps, “the Empress felt as though her head was circled with fire; every moment she imagined the Aigle grounded, the honor of the French flag compromised, and the fruit of labors lost. Suffocated by emotion, she was obliged to leave the table and we could overhear her sobs.” Nevertheless, the voyage was negotiated successfully from end to end of the canal.

There was only one small shadow in all that dazzle to blight her joy. Sometime during the ceremonies Eugénie’s pet turtle La Reine wandered off in the general direction of the pyramids. It was not found again until after the Empress had left for France.

In the years that have passed since then, the glitter of royalty has disappeared from most of the world, France’s empire has almost been forgotten, kings have given way to commoners, and the Suez Canal itself, under British control, has flowed on through the rise & fall of many another empire. Through all those years Eugénie’s La Reine has stretched and slept under the hot Egyptian sun.

From Egypt last week came word that in the fullness of her 90 years, she had died in a Cairo zoo.