Yet while so many little important personages were being exalted, the remains of the greatest leader France had ever known, were lying in a far away island. Louis Philippe felt that no monument he could build to the heroes of the past would equal restoring Napoleon’s remains.
The matter was simpler, because it was almost certain that England would not block the path. The entente cordiale, whose base had been laid by Talleyrand nearly ten years earlier, had become a comparatively solid peace, and either nation was willing to go out of the way, if necessary, to do the other a neighborly kindness. France was so full of good will that she was even willing to ask a favor. Her confidence was well placed. Two days after Guizot, then the French minister to England, had explained the project to Lord Palmerston, and made his request, he had his reply.
The remains of the “emperor” were at the disposition of the French. Of the “emperor,” notice! After twenty-five years England recalled the act of her ministers in 1815, and recognized that France made Napoleon emperor as well as general.
The announcement that Napoleon’s remains were to be brought back, produced the same effect upon the country at large that it had upon the Chamber—a moment of acute emotion, of all-forgetting enthusiasm. But in the Chamber and the country the feeling was short-lived. The political aspects of the bold movement were too conspicuous. A chorus of criticisms and forebodings arose. It was more of Monsieur Thiers’ clap-trap, said those opposed to the English policy of the government. What particularly angered this party, was the words “magnanimous ally” in the minister’s address.
The Bonapartes feigned to despise the proposed ceremony. It was insufficient for the greatness of their hero. One million francs could not possibly produce the display the object demanded. Another point of theirs was more serious. The emperor was the legitimate sovereign of the country, they said, quoting from the minister’s speech to the Chamber, and they added: “His title was founded on the senatus consultum of the year 12, which, by an equal number of suffrages, secured the succession to his brother Joseph. It was then unquestionably Joseph Bonaparte who was proclaimed emperor of the French by the Minister of the Interior, and amid the applause of the deputies.”
Scoffers said that Louis Philippe must have discovered that his soft mantle of popularity was about worn out, if he was going to make one of the old gray redingote of a man whom he had called a monster. The Legitimists denied that Napoleon was a legitimate sovereign with a right to sleep at Saint-Denis like a Bourbon or a Valois. The Orleanists were wounded by the hopes they saw inspired in the Bonapartists by this declaration. The Republicans resented the honor done to the man whom they held up as the greatest of all despots.
There was a conviction among many that the restoration was premature, and probably would bring on the country an agitation which would endanger the stability of the throne. It was tempting the Bonaparte pretensions certainly, and perhaps arousing a tremendous popular sentiment to support them.
While the press and government, the clubs and cafés, discussed the political side of the question, the populace quietly revived the Napoleon legend. Within two days after the government had announced its intentions, commerce had begun to take advantage of the financial possibilities in the approaching ceremony. New editions of the “Lives” of Napoleon which Vernet and Raffet had illustrated, were advertised. Dumas’ “Life” and Thiers’ “Consulate and Empire” were announced. Memoirs of the period, like those of the Duchesse d’Abrantès and of Marmont, were revived.
As on the announcement of Napoleon’s death in 1821, there was an inundation of pamphlets in verse and prose; of portraits and war compositions, lithographs, engravings, and wood-cuts; of thousands of little objects such as the French know so well how to make. The shops and street carts were heaped with every conceivable article à la Napoléon. The legend grew as the people gazed.
On July 7th the “Belle Poule,” the vessel which was to conduct the Prince de Joinville, the commander of the expedition, to St. Helena, sailed from Toulon accompanied by the “Favorite.” In the suite of the Prince were several old friends of Napoleon: the Baron las Cases, General Gourgaud, Count Bertrand, and four of his former servants. All these persons had been with him at St. Helena.