But none of these dignitaries were of more than passing interest that day. The centre of attention, until the coffin entered, was the few old soldiers of the Empire to be seen in the company; most prominent of these was Marshal Moncey, the decrepit governor of the Invalides.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon when the Archbishop of Paris, preceded by a splendid cross-bearer, and followed by sixteen incense boys and long rows of white-clad priests, left the church to meet the procession. They returned soon. Following them were the Prince de Joinville and a select few from the grand cortége without, attending Napoleon’s coffin.
As it passed, the great assemblage was swayed by an extraordinary emotion. There is no one of those who have described the day who does not speak of the sudden, intense agitation which thrilled the company, whether he refers to it half-humorously as Thackeray, who told how “everybody’s heart was thumping as hard as possible,” or cries with Victor Hugo:
“Sire: En ce moment-là, vouz aurez pour royaume.
Tous les fronts, tous les cœurs qui battront sous le ciel,
Les nations feront asseoir votre fantôme,
Au trone universel.”
The king descended from his throne and advanced to meet the cortége. “Sire,” said the Prince de Joinville, “I present to you the body of Napoleon, which, in accordance with your commands, I have brought back to France.”
“I receive it in the name of France,” replied Louis Philippe.
Such at least is what the “Moniteur” affirms was said, but the “Moniteur” is an official journal whose business is, not to tell what really happens, but what the government would prefer to have happen. The Prince de Joinville gives a different version: “The king received the body at the entrance to the nave, and there rather a comical scene took place. It appears that a little speech which I was to have delivered when I met my father, and also the answer he was to give me, had been drawn up in council, only the authorities had omitted to inform me concerning it. So when I arrived I simply saluted with my sword, and then stood aside. I saw, indeed, that this silent salute, followed by retreat, had thrown something out; but my father after a moment’s hesitation, improvised some appropriate sentence, and the matter was arranged in the ‘Moniteur.’”