“Du Nil au nord de la Tamise!
Devant lui l’ennemi fuyait,
Avant de combattre, il tremblait
Voyant sa redingote grise.”
The cortége which had brought this crowd together was magnificent in the extreme. A brilliant military display formed the first portion: gendarmerie, municipal guards, officers, infantry, cavalry, artillery, cadets from the important schools, national guards. But this had little effect on the crowd. The genuine interest began when Marengo, Napoleon’s famous battle-horse appeared—it was not Marengo, but it looked like him, which for spectacular purposes was just as well; and the saddle and bridle were genuine. The defile now became exciting. The commission of St. Helena appeared in carriages, then the Marshals of France, the Prince de Joinville, the crews of the vessels which had been to St. Helena, finally the funeral car, a magnificent creation over thirty feet high, its design and ornaments symbolic. Sixteen black horses in splendid trappings drew the car, whose funeral pall was held by a marshal and an admiral of France, by the Duc de Reggio and General Bertrand.
The passing of the car was everywhere greeted with sincere emotion, profound reverence. Even the opposition recognized the genuineness of the feeling; many of them owned to sharing it for one moment of self-forgetfulness, and they began to ask themselves, as Lamartine had asked the Chamber six months before, what they had been thinking of to allow the French heart and imagination to be so fired? Even cynical Englishmen who looked on with stern or contemptuous countenances, said to themselves meditatively that night, as they sat by their fire resting, “Something good must have been in this man, something loving and kindly, that has kept his name so cherished in the popular memory and gained him such lasting reverence and affection.”
Following the car came those who had been intimately associated with the emperor in his life—his aides-de-camp and civil and military officers. Many of them had been with him in famous battles; some were at Fontainebleau in 1814, others at Malmaison in 1815. The veterans of the Imperial Guard followed; behind them a deputation from Ajaccio.
From Courbevoie to the Hôtel des Invalides, one walked through a hedge of elaborate decorations—of bees, eagles, crowns, N’s; of bucklers, banners, and wreaths bearing the names of famous victories; of urns blazing with incense; of rostral columns; masts bearing trophies of arms and clusters of flags; flaming tripods; allegorical statues; triumphal arches; great banks of seats draped in imperial purple and packed with spectators, and phalanges of soldiers.
On the top of the Arc de Triomphe was an imposing apotheosis of Napoleon. Each side of the Pont de la Concorde was adorned with huge statues. On the Esplanade des Invalides the car passed between an avenue of thirty-two statues of great French kings, heroes, and heroines—Charles Martel, Charlemagne, Clovis, Bayard, Jeanne d’Arc, Latour d’Auvergne, Ney. The chivalry and valor of France welcomed Napoleon home. Oddly enough, this hedge of statues ended in one of Napoleon himself; the incongruity of the arrangements struck even the gamins. “Tiens,” cried one urchin, “voilà comme l’empereur fait la queue à lui-mème.” (“Hello, see there how the emperor brings up his own procession.”)
The procession passed quietly from one end to the other of the route, to the great relief of the authorities. Difficulty was anticipated from several sources: from the Anglophobes, the Revolutionists, the Legitimists, the Bonapartists, and the great mass of dissatisfied, who, no matter what form of rule they are under, are always against the government. The greatest fear seems to have been on the part of the English. Thackeray, who was in town at the time, gives an amusing picture of his own nervousness on the morning of the 15th.