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[from Roundabout papers; The four Georges; The English humourists;
to which is added The second funeral of Napoleon.,
London: Smith, Elder and Co., 15, Waterloo Place.]
MY DEAR -----, -- it is no easy task in this world to distinguish between what is great in it, and what is mean; and many and many is the puzzle that I have had in reading History (or the works of fiction which go by that name), to know whether I should laud up to the skies, and endeavour, to the best of my small capabilities, to imitate the remarkable character about whom I was reading, or whether I should fling aside the book and the hero of it, as things altogether base, unworthy, laughable, and get a novel, or a game of billiards, or a pipe of tobacco, or the report of the last debate in the House, or any other employment which would leave the mind in a state of easy vacuity, rather than pester it with a vain set of dates relating to actions which are in themselves not worth a fig, or with a parcel of names of people whom it can do one no earthly good to remember.
It is more than probable, my love, that you
are acquainted with what is called Grecian and Roman
history, chiefly from perusing, in very early youth, the
little sheepskin-bound volumes of the ingenious Dr.
Goldsmith, and have been indebted for your knowledge of our
English annals to a subsequent study of the more voluminous
works of Hume and Smollett. The first and the
As for those Greeks and Romans whom you have read of in "sheepskin," were you to know really what those monsters were, you would blush all over as red as a hollyhock, and put down the history-book in a fury. Many of our English worthies are no better. You are not in a situation to know the real characters of any one of them. They appear before you in their public capacities, but the individuals you knew not. Suppose, for instance, your mamma had purchased her tea in the Borough from a grocer living there by the name of Greenacre: suppose you had been asked out to dinner, and the gentleman of the house had said: "Ho! François! a glass of champagne for Miss Smith;" -- Courvoisier would have served you just as any other footman would; you would never have known that there was anything extraordinary in these individuals, but would have thought of them only in their respective public characters of Grocer and Footman. This, Madam, is History, in which a man always appears dealing with the world in his apron, or his laced livery, but which has not the power or the leisure, or, perhaps, is too high and mighty to condescend to follow and study him in his privacy. Ah, my dear, when big and little men come to be measured rightly, and great and small actions to be weighed properly, and people to be stripped of their royal robes, beggars' rags, generals' uniforms, seedy out-at-elbowed coats, and the like -- or the contrary, say, when souls come to be stripped of their wicked deceiving bodies, and turned out stark naked as they were before they were born -- what a strange startling sight shall we see, and what a pretty figure shall some of us cut! Fancy how we shall see Pride, with his Stultz clothes and padding pulled off, and dwindled down to a forked radish! Fancy some Angelic Virtue, whose white raimint is suddenly whisked over his head, showing us cloven feet and a tail! Fancy Humility, eased of its sad load of cares and want and scorn, walking up to the very highest place of all, and blushing as he takes it! Fancy -- but we must not fancy such a scene at all, which would be an outrage on public decency. Should we be any better than our neighbours? No, certainly. And as we can't be virtuous, let us be decent. Fig-leaves are a very decent, becoming wear, and have been now in fashion for four thousand years. And so, my dear, History is written on fig-leaves. Would you have anything further? O fie!
Yes, four thousand years ago, that famous tree was planted. At their very first lie, our first parents made for it, and there it is still the great Humbug Plant, stretching its wide arms, and sheltering beneath its leaves, as broad and green as ever, all the generations of men. Thus, my dear, coquettes of your fascinating sex cover their persons with figgery, fantastically arranged, and call their masquerading, modesty. Cowards fig themselves out fiercely as "salvage men," and make us believe that they are warriors. Fools look very solemnly out from the dusk of the leaves, and we fancy in the gloom that they are sages. And many a man sets a great wreath about his pate and struts abroad a hero, whose claims we would all of us laugh at, could we but remove the ornament and see his numskull bare.
And such -- (excuse my sermonizing) -- such
is the constitution of mankind, that men have, as it were,
entered into a compact among themselves to pursue the
fig-leaf system á l'outrance, and to cry down
all who oppose it. Humbug they will have. Humbugs
themselves, they will respect humbugs. Their daily victuals
of life must be seasoned with humbug. Certain things are
there in the world that they will not allow to be called by
their right names, and will insist upon our admiring,
whether we will or no. Woe be to the man who would enter too
far into the recesses of that magnificent temple where our
Goddess is enshrined, peep through the vast embroidered
curtains indiscreetly, penetrate the secret of secrets, and
expose the Gammon of Gammons! And as you must not peer too
curiously within, so neither must you remain scornfully
without. Humbug- Some magnificent religious ceremonies of this
nature are at present taking place in France; and thinking
that you might perhaps while away some long winter evening
with an account of them, I have compiled the following pages
for your use. Newspapers have been filled, for some days
past, with details regarding the Saint Helena expedition,
many pamphlets have been published, men go about crying
little books and broadsheets filled with real or sham
particulars; and from these scarce and valuable documents
the following pages are chiefly compiled.
We must begin at the beginning; premising, in
the first place, that Monsieur Guizot, when French
Ambassador at London, waited upon Lord Palmerston with a
request that the body of the Emperor Napoleon should be
given up to the French nation, in order that it might find a
final resting-place in French earth. To this demand the
English Government gave a ready assent; nor was there any
particular explosion of sentiment upon either side, only
some pretty cordial expressions of mutual good-will. Orders
were sent out to St. Helena that the corpse should be
disinterred in due time, when the French expedition had
arrived in search of it, and that every respect and
attention should be paid to those who came to carry back to
their country the body of the famous dead warrior and
sovereign.
This matter being arranged in very few words
(as in England, upon most points, is the laudable fashion),
the French Chambers began to debate about the place in which
they should bury the body when they got it; and numberless
pamphlets and newspapers out of doors joined in the talk.
Some people there were who had fought and conquered and been
beaten with the great Napoleon, and loved him and his
memory. Many more were there who, because of his great
genius and valour, felt excessively proud in their own
particular persons, and clamoured for the return of their
hero. And if there were some few individuals in this great
hot-headed, gallant, boasting, sublime, absurd French
nation, who had taken a cool view of the dead Emperor's
character; if, perhaps, such men as Louis Philippe, and
Monsieur A. Thiers, Minister and Deputy, and Monsieur
Frangois Guizot, Deputy and Excellency, had, from interest
or conviction, opinions at all differing from those of the
majority; why, they knew what was what, and kept their
opinions to themselves, coming with a tolerably good grace
and flinging a few handfuls of incense upon the altar of the
popular idol.
In the succeeding debates, then, various
opinions were given with regard to the place to be selected
for the Emperor's sepulture. "Some demanded," says an
eloquent anonymous Captain in the Navy who has written an
"Itinerary from Toulon to St. Helena," "that the coffin
should be deposited under the bronze taken from the enemy by
the French army -- under the Column of the Place
Vendôme. The idea was a fine one. This is the most
glorious monument that was ever raised in a conqueror's
honour. This column has been melted out of foreign cannon.
These same cannons have furrowed the bosoms of our braves
with noble cicatrices; and this metal -- conquered by the
soldier first, by the artist afterwards -- has allowed to be
imprinted on its front its own defeat and our glory.
Napoleon might sleep in peace under this audacious trophy.
But, would his ashes find a shelter sufficiently vast
beneath this pedestal? And his puissant statue dominating
Paris, beams with sufficient grandeur on this place whereas
the wheels of carriages and the feet of passengers would
profane the funereal sanctity of the spot in trampling on
the soil so near his head."
You must not take this description, dearest
Amelia, "at the foot of the letter," as the French phrase
it, but you will here have a masterly exposition of the
arguments for and against the burial of the Emperor under
the Column of the Place Vendôme. The idea was a fine
one, granted; but, like all other ideas, it was open to
objections. You must not fancy that the cannon, or rather
the cannon-balls, were in the habit of furrowing the bosoms
of French braves, or any other braves, with cicatrices: on
the contrary, it is a known fact that cannon-balls make
wounds, and not cicatrices (which, my dear, are wounds
partially healed); nay, that a man generally dies after
receiving one such projectile on his chest, much more after
having his bosom furrowed by a score of them. No, my love;
no bosom, however heroic, can stand such applications, and
the author only means that the French soldiers faced the
cannon and took them. Nor, my love, must you suppose that
the column was melted: it was the cannon was melted, not the
column; but such phrases are often used by orators when they
wish to give a particular force and emphasis to their
opinions.
Well, again, although Napoleon might have
slept in peace under "this audacious trophy," how could he
do so and carriages go rattling by all night, and people
with great iron heels to their boots pass clattering over
the stones? Nor indeed could it be expected that a man whose
reputation stretches from the Pyramids to the Kremlin,
should find a column of which the base is only
five-and- "It was proposed," says the before-quoted
author with his usual felicity, "to consecrate the Madelaine
to his exiled manes" -- that is, to his bones when they were
not in exile any longer. "He ought to have, it was said, a
temple entire. His glory fills the world. His bones, could
not contain themselves in the coffin of a man -- in the tomb
of a king!" In this case what was Mary Magdalen to do? "This
proposition, I am happy to say, was rejected, -- and a new
one -- that of the President of the Council -- adopted.
Napoleon and his braves ought not to quit each other. Under
the immense gilded dome of the Invalides he would find a
sanctuary worthy of himself. A dome imitates the vault of
heaven, and that vault alone" (meaning of course the other
vault) "should dominate above his head. His old mutilated
Guard shall watch around him: the last veteran, as he has
shed his blood in his combats, shall breathe his last sigh
near his tomb, and all these tombs shall sleep under the
tattered standards that have been won from all the nations
of Europe."
The original words are "sous les lambeaux
criblés des drapeaux cueillis chez toutes les
nations;" in English, "under the riddled rags of the flags
that have been culled or plucked" (like roses or buttercups)
"in all the nations." Sweet, innocent flowers of victory!
there they are, my dear, sure enough, and a pretty
considerable hortus siccus may any man examine who
chooses to walk to the Invalides. The burial-place being
thus agreed on, the expedition was prepared, and on the 7th
July the "Belle Poule" frigate, in company with "La
Favorite" corvette, quitted Toulon harbour. A couple of
steamers, the "Trident" and the "Ocean," escorted the ships
as far as Gibraltar, and there left them to pursue their
voyage.
The two ships quitted the harbour in the sight
of a vast concourse of people, and in the midst of a great
roaring of cannons. Previous to the departure of the "Belle
Poule," the Bishop of Fréjus went on board, and gave
to the cenotaph, in which the Emperor's remains were to be
deposited, his episcopal benediction. Napoleon's old friends
and followers, the two Bertrands, Gourgaud, Emanuel Las
Cases, "companions in exile, or sons of the companions in
exile of the prisoner of the infâme Hudson,"
says a French writer, were passengers on board the frigate.
Marchand, Denis, Pierret, Novaret, his old and faithful
servants, were likewise in the vessel. It was commanded by
his Royal Highness Francis Ferdinand Philip Louis Marie
d'Orleans, Prince de Joinville, a young prince
two-and-twenty years of age, who was already distinguished
in the service of his country and king.
On the 8th of October, after a voyage of
six-and-sixty days, the "Belle Poule" arrived in James Town
Harbour; and on its arrival, as on its departure from
France, a great firing of guns took place. First, the
"Oreste" French brig-of-war began roaring out a salutation
to the frigate; then the "Dolphin" English schooner gave her
one-and-twenty guns; then the frigate returned the
compliment of the "Dolphin" schooner; then she blazed out
with one-and-twenty guns more, as a mark of particular
politeness to the shore -- which kindness the forts
acknowledged by similar detonations.
These little compliments concluded on both
sides, Lieutenant Middlemore, son and aide-de-camp of the
Governor of St. Helena, came on board the French frigate,
and brought his father's best respects to his Royal
Highness. The Governor was at home ill, and forced to keep
his room; but he had made his house at James Town ready for
Captain Joinville and his suite, and begged that they would
make use of it during their stay.
On the 9th, H.R.H. the Prince of Joinville put
on his full uniform and landed, in company with Generals
Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases, M. Marchand, M.
Coquereau, the chaplain of the expedition, and M. de Rohan
Chabot, who acted as chief mourner. All the garrison were
under arms to receive the illustrious Prince and the other
members of the expedition -- who forthwith repaired to
Plantation House, and had a conference with the Governor
regarding their mission.
On the 10th, 11th, 12th, these conferences
continued: the crews of the French ships were permitted to
come on shore and see the tomb of Napoleon. Bertrand,
Gourgaud, Las Cases wandered about the island and revisited
the spots to which they had been partial in the lifetime of
the Emperor.
The 15th October was fixed on for the day of
the exhumation: that day five-and-twenty years, the Emperor
Napoleon first set his foot upon the island.
On the day previous all things had been made
ready: the grand coffins and ornaments brought from France,
and the articles necessary for the operation, were carried
to the valley of the Tomb.
The operations commenced at midnight. The
well-known friends of Napoleon before named and some other
attendants of his, the chaplain and his acolytes, the doctor
of the "Belle Poule," the captains of the French ships, and
Captain Alexander of the Engineers, the English
Comnissioner, attended the disinterment. His Royal Highness
Prince de Joinville could not be present because the workmen
were under English command.
The men worked for nine hours incessantly,
when at length the earth was entirely removed from the
vault, all the horizontal strata of masonry demolished, and
the large slab which covered the place where, the stone
sarcophagus lay, removed by a crane. This outer coffin of
stone was perfect, and could scarcely be said to be damp.
"As soon as the Abbé Coquereau had
recited the prayers, the coffin was removed with the
greatest care, and carried by the engineer-soldiers,
bare-headed, into a tent that had been prepared for the
purpose. After the religious ceremonies, the inner coffins
were opened. The outermost coffin was slightly injured: then
came one of lead, which was in good condition, and enclosed
two others -- one of tin and one of wood. The last coffin
was lined inside with white satin, which, having become
detached by the effect of time, had fallen upon the body and
enveloped it like a winding-sheet, and had become slightly
attached to it.
"It is, difficult to describe with what
anxiety and emotion those who were present waited for the
moment which was to expose to them all that death had left
of Napoleon. Notwithstanding the singular state of
preservation of the tomb and coffins, we could scarcely hope
to find anything but some misshapen remains of the least
perishable part of the costume to evidence the identity of
the body. But when Doctor Guillard raised the sheet of
satin, an indescribable feeling of surprise and affection
was expressed by the spectators, many of whom burst into
tears. The Emperor was himself before their eyes! The
features of the face, though changed, were perfectly
recognized: the hands extremely beautiful; his well-known
costume had suffered but little, and the colours were easily
distinguished. The attitude itself was full of ease, and but
for the fragments of the satin lining which covered, as with
a fine gauze, several parts of the uniform, we might have
believed we still saw Napoleon before us lying on his bed of
state. General Bertrand and M. Marchand, who were both
present at the interment, quickly pointed out the different
articles which each had deposited in the coffin, and which
remained in the precise position in which they had
previously described them to be.
The two inner coffins were carefully closed
again; the old leaden coffin was strongly blocked up with
wedges of wood, and both were once more soldered up with the
most minute precautions, under the direction of Dr.
Guillard. These different operations being terminated, the
ebony sarcophagus was closed as well as its oak case. On
delivering the key of the ebony sarcophagus to Count de
Chabot, the King's Commissioner, Captain Alexander declared
to him, in the name of the Governor, that this coffin,
containing the mortal remains of the Emperor Napoleon, was
considered as at the disposal of the French Government from
that day, and from the moment at which it should arrive at
the place of embarkation, towards which it was about to be
sent under the orders of General Middlemore. The King's
Commissioner replied that he was charged by his Government,
and in its name, to accept the coffin from the hands of the
British authorities, and that he and the other persons
composing the French mission were ready to follow it to
James Town, where the Prince de Joinville, superior
commandant of the expedition, would be ready to receive it
and conduct it on board his frigate. A car drawn by four
horses, decked with funereal emblems, had been prepared
before the arrival of the expedition, to receive the coffin,
as well as a pall, and all the other suitable trappings of
mourning. When the sarcophagus was placed on the car, the
whole was covered with a magnificent imperial mantle brought
from Paris, the four corners of which were borne by Generals
Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases and M. Marchand. At
half-past three o'clock the funeral car began to move,
preceded by a chorister bearing the cross, and by the
Abbé Coquereau. M. de Chabot acted as chief mourner.
All the authorities of the island, all the principal
inhabitants, and the whole of the garrison, followed in
procession from the tomb to the quay. But with the exception
of the artillerymen necessary to lead the horses, and
occasionally support the car when descending some steep
parts of the way, the places nearest the coffin were
reserved for the French mission. General Middlemore,
although in a weak state of health, persisted in following
the whole way on foot, together with General Churchill,
chief of the staff in India, who had arrived only two days
before from Bombay. The immense weight of the coffins, and
the unevenness of the road, rendered the utmost carefulness
necessary throughout the whole distance. Colonel Trelawney
commanded in person the small detachment of artillerymen who
conducted the car, and, thanks to his great care, not the
slightest accident took place. From the moment of departure
to the arrival at the quay, the cannons of the forts and the
'Belle Poule' fired minute-guns. After an hour's march the
rain ceased for the first time since the commencement of the
operations, and on arriving in sight of the town we found a
brilliant sky and beautiful weather. From the morning the
three French vessels of war had assumed the usual signs of
deep mourning: their yards crossed and their flags lowered.
Two French merchantmen, 'Bonne Amie' and 'Indien,' which had
been in the roads for two days, had put themselves under the
Prince's orders, and followed during the ceremony all the
manœuvres of the 'Belle Poule.' The forts of the town,
and the houses of the consuls, had also their flags
half-mast high.
"On arriving at the entrance of the town, the
troops of the garrison and the militia formed in two lines
as far as the extremity of the quay. According to the order
for mourning prescribed for the English army, the men had
their arms reversed and the officers had crape on their
arms, with their swords reversed. All the inhabitants had
been kept away from the line of march, but they lined the
terraces commanding the town, and the streets were occupied
only by the troops, the 91st Regiment being on the right and
the militia on the left. The cortége advanced slowly
between two ranks of soldiers to the sound of a funeral
march, while the cannons of the forts were fired, as well as
those of the 'Belle Poule' and the 'Dolphin;' the echoes
being repeated a thousand times by the rocks above James
Town. After two hours' march the cortége stopped at
the end of the quay, where the Prince de Joinville had
stationed himself at the head of the officers of the three
French ships of war. The greatest official honours had been
rendered by the English authorities to the memory of the
Emperor -- the most striking testimonials of respect had
marked the adieu given by St. Helena to his coffin; and from
this moment the mortal remains of the Emperor were about to
belong to France. When the funeral-car stopped, the Prince
de Joinville advanced alone, and in presence of all around,
who stood with their heads uncovered, received, in a solemn
manner, the imperial coffin from the hands of General
Middlemore. His Royal Highness then thanked the Governor, in
the name of France, for all the testimonials of sympathy and
respect with which the authorities and inhabitants of St.
Helena had surrounded the memorable ceremonial. A cutter had
been expressly prepared to receive the coffin. During the
embarkation, which the Prince directed himself, the bands
played funeral airs, and all the boats were stationed round
with their oars shipped. The moment the sarcophagus touched
the cutter, a magnificent royal flag, which the ladies of
James Town had embroidered for the occasion, was unfurled,
and the 'Belle Poule' immediately squared her masts and
unfurled her colours. All the manœuvres of the frigate
were immediately followed by the other vessels. Our mourning
had ceased with the exile of Napoleon, and the French naval
division dressed itself out in all its festal ornaments to
receive the imperial coffin under the French flag. The
sarcophagus was covered in the cutter with the imperial
mantle. The Prince de Joinville placed himself at the
rudder, Commander Guyet at the head of the boat; Generals
Bertrand and Gourgaud, Baron Las Cases, M. Marchand, and the
Abbé Coquereau occupied the same places as during the
march. Count Chabot and Commandant Hernoux were astern, a
little in advance of the Prince. As soon as the cutter had
pushed off from the quay, the batteries ashore fired a
salute of twenty-one guns, and our ships returned the salute
with all their artillery. Two other salutes were fired
during the passage from the quay to the frigate; the cutter
advancing very slowly, and surrounded by the other boats. At
half-past six o'clock it reached the 'Belle Poule,' all the
men being on the yards with their hats in their hands. The
Prince had had arranged on the deck a chapel, decked with
flags and trophies of arms, the altar being placed at the
foot of the mizenmast. The coffin, carried by our sailors,
passed between two ranks of officers with drawn swords, and
was placed on the quarter-deck The absolution was pronounced
by the Abbé Coquereau the same evening. Next day, at
ten o'clock, a solemn mass was celebrated on the deck, in
presence of the officers and part of the crews of the ships.
His Royal Highness stood at the foot of the coffin. The
cannon of the 'Favorite' and 'Oreste' fired minute-guns
during this ceremony, which terminated by a solemn
absolution; and the Prince de Joinville, the gentlemen of
the mission, the officers, and the premiers
maîtres of the ship, sprinkled holy water on the
coffin. At eleven, all the ceremonies of the church were
accomplished, all the honours done to a sovereign had been
paid to the mortal remains of Napoleon. The coffin was
carefully lowered between decks, and placed in the
chapelle ardente which had been prepared at Toulon
for its reception. At this moment, the vessels fired a last
salute with all their artillery, and the frigate took in her
flags, keeping up only her flag at the stem and the royal
standard at the maintopgallant- During the whole time that the mission
remained at James Town, the best understanding never ceased
to exist between the population of the island and the
French. The Prince de Joinville and his companions met in
all quarters and at all times with the greatest goodwill and
the warmest testimonials of sympathy. The authorities and
the inhabitants must have felt, no doubt, great regret at
seeing taken away from their island the coffin that had
rendered it so celebrated; but they repressed their feelings
with a courtesy that does honour to the frankness of their
character."
(End of part one.)
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