Early on the morning of the sixteenth of March, 1856, a son was born to the imperial pair, and a salute of a hundred and one guns proclaimed the great news to the public, who received it with the wildest enthusiasm. The whole city was decorated with flags, garlands, and portraits of the Emperor and Empress, and ablaze with illuminations at night; while the City Council granted a sum of two hundred thousand francs for a feast for the poor. Greater still was the joy of the royal parents. The Emperor took the little Prince in his arms and carried him out to show to the assembled court, with tears of pride and happiness. He at once ordered a million francs to be distributed in charity to celebrate the event; had it publicly proclaimed that he and the Empress would act as sponsors to all legitimate children born on that day within the borders of his Empire, and issued a decree permitting all political exiles to return to France on condition that they would swear to uphold the Government and obey the laws of the country. Soon after the birth of the Prince Imperial a congress met to determine the articles of peace which concluded the Crimean War and restored the peace of Europe, and Napoleon was appointed arbiter. At the zenith of his power and with the future of his dynasty seemingly secured, it did not appear altogether presumptuous when in replying to the congratulations of the Assembly he expressed a hope in the brightness of his son’s future as heir to the throne of France. Eugénie’s position was greatly strengthened by this happy event, for now, should she survive her husband (as seemed probable from the difference in their ages), as mother of Napoleon the Fourth she would have still greater influence in public affairs. Her marriage to Napoleon the Third had revived memories of Josephine. Like the wife of the great Emperor she had been born under a southern sky; like her she had seemed destined from the cradle to wear a crown; and as long as she remained childless there were not lacking hints that a similar fate might be in store for her. But Providence had ordained otherwise. As a mother Eugénie was seated more firmly than ever on the throne of France, and universally regarded with respect, almost with reverence. Gifts flowed in from all sides. No less than twenty-eight orders were bestowed on the baby Prince. Messages of congratulation came from all parts of the Empire. Even the fishwives of the Halle came to offer their good wishes, and engravings of the Empress and her child were scattered by hundreds of thousands throughout the country.