And of a great trampling of feet and clattering,
And of a great crowd of Generals and Officers in fine clothes,
With the Prince de Joinville marching quickly at the head of the procession,
And while everybody"s heart was thumping as hard as possible,
NAPOLEON"S COFFIN Pa.s.sED.
It was done in an instant. A box covered with a great red cross--a dingy-looking crown lying on the top of it--Seamen on one side and Invalids on the other--they had pa.s.sed in an instant and were up the aisle.
A faint snuffling sound, as before, was heard from the officiating priests, but we knew of nothing more. It is said that old Louis Philippe was standing at the catafalque, whither the Prince de Joinville advanced and said, "Sire, I bring you the body of the Emperor Napoleon."
Louis Philippe answered, "I receive it in the name of France." Bertrand put on the body the most glorious victorious sword that ever has been forged since the apt descendants of the first murderer learned how to hammer steel; and the coffin was placed in the temple prepared for it.
The six hundred singers and the fiddlers now commenced the playing and singing of a piece of music; and a part of the crew of the "Belle Poule" skipped into the places that had been kept for them under us, and listened to the music, chewing tobacco. While the actors and fiddlers were going on, most of the spirits-of-wine lamps on altars went out.
When we arrived in the open air we pa.s.sed through the court of the Invalids, where thousands of people had been a.s.sembled, but where the benches were now quite bare. Then we came on to the terrace before the place: the old soldiers were firing off the great guns, which made a dreadful stunning noise, and frightened some of us, who did not care to pa.s.s before the cannon and be knocked down even by the wadding. The guns were fired in honor of the King, who was going home by a back door. All the forty thousand people who covered the great stands before the Hotel had gone away too. The Imperial Barge had been dragged up the river, and was lying lonely along the Quay, examined by some few shivering people on the sh.o.r.e.
It was five o"clock when we reached home: the stars were shining keenly out of the frosty sky, and Francois told me that dinner was just ready.
In this manner, my dear Miss Smith, the great Napoleon was buried.
Farewell.