remained for this monarchy, which was the first to rally all the
strength and conciliate all the wishes of the French Revolution,
to erect and to honour without fear the statue and the tomb of a
popular hero; for there is one thing, and one thing alone, which
does not dread a comparison with glory, and that is Liberty."[1]

The appeal is generous and just in its conception and beautifully
phrased. It was received with enthusiasm throughout the whole of
France. Louis Philippe and his Government had accurately gauged what
would, more than anything, for the time being, subdue the rumbling
indications of discord and revolt. The King had by this popular act
caught the imagination of the people. He had made his seat on the
throne secure for a time, and his name was immortal. The great mass of
the people and his Government were behind him, and he made use of this
to his own advantage. Napoleon's dying wish is to be consummated. "The
blind hatred of kings" is relaxed; they are no longer afraid of his
mortal remains; they see, and see correctly, that if they continue to
"pursue his blood" he will be "avenged, nay, but, perchance, cruelly
avenged." The old and the new generation of Frenchmen clamour that as
much as may be of the stigma that rests upon them shall be removed,
threatening reprisals if it be not quickly done. The British
Government diplomatically, and with almost comic celerity, gravely
drop "the General Bonaparte" and style their dead captive "the Emperor
Napoleon."

Louis Philippe, overwhelmed with the greatness of the dead monarch,
bursts forth in eloquent praise of this so-called "usurper" of other
days. He was not only an Emperor and a King, but the _legitimate
sovereign_ of his country. No ordinary sepulture is to be his--it is
to be an august sepulture, a silent sacred spot which those who