A battalion of Infantry of the Line, with their flag, sappers, drums, music, and Colonel.
The Municipal Guard (foot), with flag, drums, and Colonel.
The Sapper-pumpers, with ditto.
Then picture to yourself more squadrons of Lancers and Cuirassiers.
The General of the Division and his Staff; all officers of all arms employed at Paris, and unattached; the Military School of Saint Cyr, the Polytechnic School, the School of the Etat-Major; and the Professors and Staff of each.Go on imagining more battalions of Infantry, of Artillery, companies of Engineers, squadrons of Cuirassiers, ditto of the Cavalry, of the National Guard, and the first and second legions of ditto.
Fancy a carriage, containing the Chaplain of the St.Helena expedition, the only clerical gentleman that formed a part of the procession.
Fancy you hear the funereal music, and then figure in your mind's eye--THE EMPEROR'S CHARGER, that is, Napoleon's own saddle and bridle (when First Consul) upon a white horse.The saddle (which has been kept ever since in the Garde Meuble of the Crown) is of amaranth velvet, embroidered in gold: the holsters and housings are of the same rich material.On them you remark the attributes of War, Commerce, Science, and Art.The bits and stirrups are silver-gilt chased.Over the stirrups, two eagles were placed at the time of the empire.The horse was covered with a violet crape embroidered with golden bees.
After this came more Soldiers, General Officers, Sub-Officers, Marshals, and what was said to be the prettiest sight almost of the whole, the banners of the eighty-six Departments of France.These are due to the invention of M.Thiers, and were to have been accompanied by federates from each Department.But the government very wisely mistrusted this and some other projects of Monsieur Thiers; and as for a federation, my dear, IT HAS BEEN TRIED.Next comes--His Royal Highness, the Prince de Joinville.
The 600 sailors of the "Belle Poule" marching in double file on each side ofTHE CAR.
[Hush! the enormous crowd thrills as it passes, and only some few voices cry Vive l'Empereur! Shining golden in the frosty sun--with hundreds of thousands of eyes upon it, from houses and housetops, from balconies, black, purple, and tricolor, from tops of leafless trees, from behind long lines of glittering bayonets under schakos and bear-skin caps, from behind the Line and the National Guard again, pushing, struggling, heaving, panting, eager, the heads of an enormous multitude stretching out to meet and follow it, amidst long avenues of columns and statues gleaming white, of standards rainbow-colored, of golden eagles, of pale funereal urns, of discharging odors amidst huge volumes of pitch-black smoke,THE GREAT IMPERIAL CHARIOT ROLLS MAJESTICALLY ON.
The cords of the pall are held by two Marshals, an Admiral and General Bertrand; who are followed by--The Prefects of the Seine and Police, &c.
The Mayors of Paris, &c.
The Members of the Old Guard, &c.
A Squadron of Light Dragoons, &c.
Lieutenant-General Schneider, &c.
More cavalry, more infantry, more artillery, more everybody; and as the procession passes, the Line and the National Guard forming line on each side of the road fall in and follow it, until it arrives at the Church of the Invalides, where the last honors are to be paid to it.]
Among the company assembled under the dome of that edifice, the casual observer would not perhaps have remarked a gentleman of the name of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, who nevertheless was there.But as, my dear Miss Smith, the descriptions in this letter, from the words in page 298, line 20--THE PARTY MOVED--up to the words PAID TOIT, on this page, have purely emanated from your obedient servant's fancy, and not from his personal observation (for no being on earth, except a newspaper reporter, can be in two places at once), permit me now to communicate to you what little circumstances fell under my own particular view on the day of the 15th of December.
As we came out, the air and the buildings round about were tinged with purple, and the clear sharp half-moon before-mentioned was still in the sky, where it seemed to be lingering as if it would catch a peep of the commencement of the famous procession.The Arc de Triomphe was shining in a keen frosty sunshine, and looking as clean and rosy as if it had just made its toilette.The canvas or pasteboard image of Napoleon, of which only the gilded legs had been erected the night previous, was now visible, body, head, crown, sceptre and all, and made an imposing show.Long gilt banners were flaunting about, with the imperial cipher and eagle, and the names of the battles and victories glittering in gold.The long avenues of the Champs Elysees had been covered with sand for the convenience of the great procession that was to tramp across it that day.
Hundreds of people were marching to and fro, laughing, chattering, singing, gesticulating as happy Frenchmen do.There is no pleasanter sight than a French crowd on the alert for a festival, and nothing more catching than their good-humor.As for the notion which has been put forward by some of the opposition newspapers that the populace were on this occasion unusually solemn or sentimental, it would be paying a bad compliment to the natural gayety of the nation, to say that it was, on the morning at least of the 15th of December, affected in any such absurd way.Itinerant merchants were shouting out lustily their commodities of segars and brandy, and the weather was so bitter cold, that they could not fail to find plenty of customers.Carpenters and workmen were still making a huge banging and clattering among the sheds which were built for the accommodation of the visitors.Some of these sheds were hung with black, such as one sees before churches in funerals; some were robed in violet, in compliment to the Emperor whose mourning they put on.
Most of them had fine tricolor hangings with appropriate inscriptions to the glory of the French arms.
