Chapter 267 Napoleon's Funeral

On December 15, 1840, Napoleon Bonaparte once again landed on French soil, and this time the French still welcomed his return very warmly.

The streets were empty and the shops were closed. An old lady passed by here and felt that Paris was like a bottle of wine tilted and poured on one side of the city.

The cold wind was biting, the sun was shining, the fog was lingering, and the ditches were covered with ice.

The sky was covered with dark clouds, and pieces of north wind blew through the gaps.

At this time, people on Saint-André Street seemed to be caught in the madness of the festival. If you pay attention, you can still see some poor workers in tattered clothes, shivering in the cold wind, but their faces are filled with excitement from the heart. They waved their arms wildly and shouted: "Your Majesty!".

The streets were also full of young women, gorgeous female workers, and those playboys from the University of Paris. They were moving in groups among the crowd, as if they were attending a party.

The sky was dark, and snowflakes were flying in the air like white tears, as if God was showing his mercy.

A heavy, rhythmic knocking sound appeared at the end of the street, and thousands of spectators were waiting for the funeral procession to pass.

On the high stands on both sides of the street, those noble men and women were wrapped in scarves or scarves, huddled in fur coats with expressionless faces.

After a while, two rows of elite soldiers riding tall horses and equipped with shiny equipment appeared solemnly. This was the gendarmerie of the Seine district, the vanguard of the funeral procession.

Next to appear in front of people were the gorgeously dressed light cavalry and cuirassiers. The brass helmets and silver-white breastplates on their heads undoubtedly symbolized the glory of the past, as if time had returned to more than 20 years ago.

Then came the generals riding tall horses, with dazzling ribbons and shining medals on their chests, accompanied by riflemen on their left and right.

Behind them was the infantry array composed of military academy students. Although their chests were blank, their heads were held higher than anyone else, because they were the best elites in the country's military academy.

Napoleon returned to his loyal Paris again. When the team passed through the Arc de Triomphe, many people shed excited tears. He was greeted by the once loyal old guards, who were now truly "old" guards.

Most of the veterans who participated in the Napoleonic Wars were over 60 years old at this time. These old men who usually needed someone to support them when walking were now straightened up, just like when they were reviewed by the emperor before going to war.

It's just that the great man could not stand up again and lead them to conquer Europe.

The crowd was whispering, because the one who was responsible for escorting Napoleon's body was Prince Joinville of the July Monarchy, who looked very proud, as if he was a victor returning with spoils.

This was obviously not the scene that the Napoleonists wanted to see, but at this time, any radical action would be counterproductive and even bring shame to the reputation of "Napoleon", so they could only watch the July Monarchy squeeze out the last bit of value of the great man.

Suddenly, the snow in the sky became heavier, and the dark sky set off the gloomy and cold weather, and everyone on both sides of the street became solemn and solemn.

Unconsciously, Prince Joinville also felt the pressure, and couldn't help feeling his throat tighten, and unconsciously pulled his collar outward with his hands so that he could breathe smoothly.

Louis Philippe got up very early. He stood on the steps in the center of the hall of the Invalides on the Seine River, looking at the dark crowd in front of him, and felt a huge pressure.

"Damn Napoleon, you are already dead, France is mine." Louis Philippe suppressed his anger.

Everyone thought that Louis Philippe was an incompetent and cowardly person, even a fool who could be bullied by anyone. Whether it was the painters who mocked him, the Jews who humiliated him, the Orthodox who compared him to a grocery store owner, or the liberals who laughed at his weakness, they all thought that this person would never get angry.

But in fact, Louis Philippe never showed mercy to those who coveted his power.

When the hearse carrying Napoleon's remains arrived at the gate of the Invalides, Louis Philippe led the French civil and military officials to wait at the gate of honor. Everyone was covered with medals and ribbons, and countless journalists, writers, and painters employed by the French government were recording this historic moment.

Those gorgeous ribbons and expensive medals made of gold and silver seemed dim in front of the 2,600-kilogram military flags tied around the coffin.

These flags were Napoleon's trophies, and they also told of the glory of an era, whose name was "Napoleon".

Jounville was the son of Louis Philippe. He dismounted and walked towards Louis Philippe, saluted straight, and said.

"I am hereby ordered by Louis Philippe, Emperor of France, to present to you the remains of Emperor Napoleon."

Louis Philippe raised his head and swore solemnly.

"I accept him in the name of France!"

The atmosphere group, which had been prepared long ago, began to build momentum for Louis Philippe, with thunderous applause, flowers and snowflakes flying in the sky, and the sound of cannons and fireworks exploding intertwined, full of "cheerful atmosphere".

Before the burial, Louis Philippe deliberately asked everyone to look at Napoleon's body again. He hoped that the Bonapartists would give up their fantasies when they saw the pile of rotten meat.

When the coffin was opened, those who came to see the last grace of Emperor Napoleon were all stunned on the spot.

Louis Philippe was very satisfied with the expressions of these people, watching their fantasies shattered. When he looked back, the body was intact, as if it had just fallen asleep. He was so scared that he staggered and almost fell to the ground.

His mind was blank at this moment, and he had no idea whether this was Napoleon's conspiracy or a damn prank by the British.

Louis Philippe fled the Invalides in panic and told his most capable men to ensure that the Corsican could not leave here.

The newly appointed spy chief, Duke of Marschau, did not understand why, but still ordered the closure of the Invalides on the grounds of preventing anyone from destroying the body.

The next day, Louis Philippe issued a series of incredible orders, which was to seal Napoleon's coffin with two tons of brass and then press a marble statue weighing 35 tons on it.

No one knew why this happened, only a frightened king huddled in the bed of the Tuileries Palace.

I won't go into the reasons, so as not to talk about hydrology. The reason was that the arsenic content in Napoleon's body exceeded the standard.

At this time, Louis Bonaparte could not attend his uncle's funeral because he was singing "Tears Behind Bars" in Arkham Prison while writing a book called "Eliminating Poverty".

Here, Louis Napoleon met many new friends, such as a clown who was both good and evil and extremely smart, the mysterious killer "Gu" from the East, the violent sheriff Frank Miller, the Bellera brothers who wanted to share everything, and Victor Hugo who was imprisoned for satirizing the church.

(If anyone likes to read this, I will elaborate on it later. If there are many objections, just treat it as a joke.)

In France, the rumor that "Napoleon is still alive" is widely spread, but Napoleon's brothers who are still alive firmly deny this, so the Bonapartists can only find other ways.