hero. And if there were some few individuals in this great hot-headed,
gallant, boasting, sublime, absurd French nation, who had taken a cool
view of the dead Emperor's character; if, perhaps, such men as Louis
Philippe, and Monsieur A. Thiers, Minister and Deputy, and Monsieur
Francois Guizot, Deputy and Excellency, had, from interest or
conviction, opinions at all differing from those of the majority; why,
they knew what was what, and kept their opinions to themselves, coming
with a tolerably good grace and flinging a few handfuls of incense upon
the altar of the popular idol.

In the succeeding debates, then, various opinions were given with
regard to the place to be selected for the Emperor's sepulture. "Some
demanded," says an eloquent anonymous Captain in the Navy who has
written an "Itinerary from Toulon to St. Helena," "that the coffin
should be deposited under the bronze taken from the enemy by the French
army--under the Column of the Place Vendome. The idea was a fine one.
This is the most glorious monument that was ever raised in a conqueror's
honor. This column has been melted out of foreign cannon. These same
cannons have furrowed the bosoms of our braves with noble cicatrices;
and this metal--conquered by the soldier first, by the artist
afterwards--has allowed to be imprinted on its front its own defeat and
our glory. Napoleon might sleep in peace under this audacious trophy.
But, would his ashes find a shelter sufficiently vast beneath this
pedestal? And his puissant statue dominating Paris, beams with
sufficient grandeur on this place: whereas the wheels of carriages and
the feet of passengers would profane the funereal sanctity of the spot
in trampling on the soil so near his head."

You must not take this description, dearest Amelia, "at the foot of
the letter," as the French phrase it, but you will here have a masterly