In the Communist Manifesto Marx wrote that all Europe was haunted by the idea of revolution. Actually, what haunted Europe in the middle years of the 19th century wasn’t the threat of revolution so much as a fear of Bonapartism.
Representing little more than their own ambition, twice in two generations Bonapartism threatened the very basis of European peace, order and stability. In 1871 when Napoleon III fell from power on the battlefield of Sedan in the Franco-Prussian war, Europeans breathed a sign of relief. Bonapartism was finally dead. But another Bonaparte pretender soon rose to offer himself to France and Europe.
Napoleon Eugene Louis John Joseph Bonaparte, known as the Prince Imperial, was the only child of Napoleon III and his wife, the Empress Eugenie, born in 1856 during the Congress of Paris that ended the Crimean War.
Unlike the children of many European monarchs, the sons and daughters of Victoria and Albert for example, there were no bullying tutors. The Prince Imperial had a pleasant childhood. Despite rumors of mental slowness, he proved to be an average student with a gift for sketching. It was a talent that would later cost him his life.
Following Napoleon III’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian War, the family retired to England where it was welcomed by Queen Victoria who had reservations about Napoleon III, but admired the Empress Eugenie. On his father’s death in 1873, the Prince Imperial became head of the Bonaparte family and took his responsibilities seriously. He completed his education in the family tradition by attending the Royal Artillery School at Woolwich.
Call to power came in South Africa
Like a good Bonaparte he took to military training, graduating seventh in a class of 34 with a first in fencing and a fourth in artillery. After further schooling in military studies at Aldershot, the training ground for the British Army, the Prince faced a problem that plagued all exiles — what to do while waiting for a call to power. He predicted that the Third Republic, which succeeded his father’s regime, was doomed to collapse -- a not an unrealistic assumption in the 1870s.
He got his chance sooner than he expected. In 1878, war broke out in South Africa between the British and Zulu under their great chief, Cetsawayo. To the surprise and shock of everyone, the Zulu inflicted the worst defeat of British forces by a colonial people at the battle of Isandlwana on Jan. 22, 1879.
Two thousand British soldiers were killed. The government of Benjamin Disraeli, now Lord Beaconsfield, faced the unpleasant prospect of sending reinforcements to South Africa to seek revenge and to stabilize the situation.
Among the first troops to be sent were Prince Imperial’s comrades from Woolwich and Aldershot. He immediately began to scheme to find a place for himself. Eugenie was reluctant to endorse his request, remembering a prophecy of a Scottish seer that the Prince would not live to rule France. The Prince wore her down. He didn’t want to be seen as a coward, shirking his responsibility and disliked the taunts directed at him as Napoleon 3 ½.
Eugenie used her influence to secure a place for him on the staff of Lord Chelmsford, the British commander in South Africa. Disraeli was furious, calling the Prince “that little abortion,” and fearing that the appointment would harm Franco-British relations.
Napoleon III not welcome by British
The Prince arrived in South Africa to take up his staff position just 10 days after his 23rd birthday. Chelmsford was not eager to have a celebrity on his staff, especially one he had been warned was looking to make a name for himself. After Isandlwana, the last thing Chelmsford needed was a glory seeking Bonaparte to deal with.
Chelmsford fears were confirmed. The Prince began angling for a chance to see military action. When the British started a major push into Zulu territory the Prince somehow wormed his way onto the expedition, attaching himself to a patrol led by an aggressive British general, Redvers Buller. Buller told Chelmsford that while searching for Zulu raiding parties, the Prince had behaved bravely but recklessly in seeking action.
Buller was right to be concerned about the Prince’s desire for glory. The Prince had told one of his comrades that he was not afraid of dying. “If I had to fall, I should prefer an assegai (the short Zulu spear) to a bullet. It would show we’d had been at close quarters.” Chelmsford and Buller decided to keep a close watch over him and see that he was not allowed on any further dangerous missions. The Prince had other plans.
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On June 1, small scouting force was organized to reconnoiter ahead of the main British column heading into the heart of Zulu territory. It was not considered a dangerous mission because the area covered was supposed to be clear of Zulus. Using his skill at drawing as an excuse, the Prince secured a place for himself with the forward party. Chelmsford and Buller were not informed.
From the beginning, everything went wrong. The patrol’s commander was ordered to another assignment. Six native troopers familiar with the area failed to rendezvous. The patrol now was reduced to nine men, only one of whom, a native guide, knew the area. What was worse, the patrol leader, Lieutenant Jahleel Carey, was in awe of the Prince and failed to restrain his aggressiveness.
The patrol scouted ahead of the main British force and spotted no sign of Zulu presence. In the afternoon, the patrol crossed deeper into Zulu territory. At 3 p.m. the Prince’s patrol stopped to rest at a deserted Zulu kraal, a kind of farm and hut. There were signs of a recent Zulu camp and the kraal was surrounded by high grass. The force in typical British fashion sat down to make tea while the Prince began making sketches.
After a half hour some Zulus were spotted in the distance and Carey suggested remounting and leaving. The Prince protested that he wanted to finish sketches and Carey -- reluctant to contradict him -- agreed. The decision would cost the Prince his life and Carey his reputation.
At that moment, some 30-40 Zulus came rushing out of the high grass hurling their assegais and firing their rifles. Carey ordered a retreat as two of his patrol were hit by the initial volley. The Prince grabbed for his horse but got only a loose grip on the reins and was dragged for about 100 yards with the Zulus in pursuit. He had lost his sword and tried to fight them off with his pistol, but he was quickly overwhelmed. He was stabbed by an assegai in the right eye, knocked to the ground and stabbed to death. When his body was eventually recovered, he was found to have 14 wounds, all in the front of his body. He had gotten his wish—he died facing the enemy.
Carey shunned and British people felt responsible
When Carey and the rest of the patrol returned to the main British force with the news, Chelmsford was aghast. He had failed to protect his important guest and what was worse, it appeared the British officer in charge had deserted his comrade. Carey did not help matters by blaming the Prince for the disaster. Carey was shunned by his fellow officers and accused of cowardice before the enemy.
Now began the last act in what The Times of London called the Prince’s “strange and melancholy destiny.” His body was recovered, embalmed and shipped to England. The British press and public were obsessed with the tragedy. Somehow the British public felt responsible for the Prince’s death perhaps because of the circumstances and Carey’s desertion of his comrade. Eugenie was devastated and never recovered from her son’s death. Queen Victoria shared in her sorrow and wanted to have some kind of public funeral but was overruled by Disraeli on the grounds that it might be seen as an afront to France. Victoria made her point by allowing her sons, including the Prince of Wales, to act as pall bearers at his funeral which attracted over 40,000 mourners.
The Prince Imperial’s death, heroic as it was, was a devastating blow to the Bonapartists. Never again would a Bonaparte pretender be a serious threat to the French government. The Bonaparte dynasty for all practical purposes died with the Prince Imperial on the battlefield in Zululand.
But it was the cynical Disraeli who had the final word on this Greek tragedy. “A very remarkable people the Zulu; they defeat our generals … and they have settled the fate of a great European dynasty.”