THE PROCESSION. 259
splendid and terrific vision. The lofty and gilded car, that bore the remains of the hero, was drawn by six teen horses, with white plumes, and caparisoned in cloth of gold. Upon it stood some distinguished per sonages, among whom I recognized the venerable Mar shal Soult. It was said there were 350,000 men under arras, and more than a million of people in the streets.
This welcome of the illustrious dead, back from an exile s tomb, to the place of his old, imperial throne, was imposing and mournful beyond description. Yet there was no demonstration of enthusiasm on the part of the populace, as the funeral procession of their idol ized hero passed onward. The sight of a majestic war- horse, without a rider, following at slow and solemn pace, the gorgeous car, awoke something like a burst of sympathy. The thrilling heart made no chronolo gical computation, nor paused to realize, that from the lapse of years he could never have borne to battle the master for whom he thus seemed to mourn.
Every spectator was impressed by the dignity of manner, and the fitness of the few words of Louis Philippe, when he received the remains of the mighty dead. The Prince de Joinville, who had been com missioned to bring the bones of Bonaparte from St. Helena, said, " Sire, I present you the ashes of the Emperor." And the king answered, " I receive them in the name of the French people."
The music of the grand and elaborate requiem, per formed at these obsequies, was immediately destroyed, to preclude its repetition on any other occasion.
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