William Makepeace Thackeray ( 1811 – 1863)
satirist, novelist, author of Vanity Fair.
His mother sent him home to England to go to school in 1816. He could only have been five. That's how Empires were built.
On the way the ship stopped in St. Helena, and the very young Thackeray was taken to look at Napoleon:
my black servant took me a long walk over rocks and hills until we reached a garden, where we saw a man walking. "That is he," said the black man: "that is Bonaparte! He eats three sheep every day, ...
Thackeray lived in Paris for a number of years from the age of 21, and was an irreverent witness to the events at Les Invalides in December 1840.
His account of Napoleon's second funeral was written in the form of letters to "Miss Smith" from Michael Angelo Titmarsh!
For him "history is writen on fig leaves" - historians know little and write even less - and Napoleon's second funeral was sheer humbug!
men have, as it were, entered into a compact among themselves to pursue the fig leave-system a outrance, and to cry down all who oppose it. Humbug they will have. Humbugs themselves, they will respect humbugs.
Some magnificent religious ceremonies of this nature are at present taking place in France ..
He mocked the stories in the newspapers about the dangers to any English citizens in Paris:
It was said in the newspapers, that Lord Granville had despatched circulars to all the English residents in Paris, begging them to keep their homes. The French journals announced this news, and warned us charitably of the fate intended for us. Had Lord Grenville written? Certainly not to me. Or had he written to all except me? And was I the victim - the doomed one? - to be seized directly I showed my face in the Champs Elysees, and torn in pieces by French patriotism to the frantic chorus of the 'Marseillaise'?
Overall I found it an enjoyable read - amusing and well written, but a chauvinistic caricature of the French nation which probably went down well in England at the time and probably would still appeal to some for the same reason:
this great hot-headed, gallant, boasting, sublime, absurd French nation
the French hate us .. there never was such a hollow humbug in the world as the French alliance. Men get a character for patriotism in France merely by hating England.
the French propensity towards braggadocio ..
In support of his thesis Thackeray described the English woman who attended the ceremony in Les Invalides. He and everyone else knew she was English, she wore a plaid cloak with a rose-coloured plush bonnet; a bonnet was never made or worn so in any other country.
To the delight of the crowd the lady was moved from seat to seat, like a chicken escaping from a clown in a pantomime: a source of amusement and delight to onlookers, but probably not to the chicken or the clown.
Half an hour's delightful amusement did this lady give us all. I was glad, however, at the end of the day to see the old pink bonnet over a very comfortable seat ..
A metaphor for the Anglo-French alliance perhaps.
Time for something totally different.
I have covered the Exhumation iof Napolon's body in 1840 in an earlier post (8th March 2008), but now will take another look at it from the eyes of a not very sympathetic British observer on St Helena.
Sir John Henry Lefroy, KCMG, CB, FRS, (28 January 1817 – 11 April 1890) was a British military officer and later colonial administrator (sometime governor of Bermuda and Tasmania).
As a young Lieutenant he was sent to St. Helena to study magnetic phenomena.
He was permitted to witness the exhumation of Napoleon but was not among the select few allowed into the tent to see the opening of the coffin. He chose also not to join the funeral procession or to see the embarkation of the coffin on board the Belle Poule.
In his recollection he claimed that the Governor, Major General Middlemore, a veteran of the Peninsular War, had hated the whole thing, had shut himself up at Plantation House (he is usually held to have been ill!), and had presumably conveniently left all the negotiations to Colonel Hamelin Trelawney, R.A. (1)
Despite his own lack of sympathy, Leroy was generally impressed with the Prince de Joinville whom he described as a fine young man, about six feet three inches in height .. He declined society, and went about in his loose white trousers, old coat, and tarpaulin hat ..
Leroy asked him if he might show him around the house (Longwood presumably), to which the Prince, who Leroy says was proficient in English and Spanish, bizarrely replied - Thank you, sare, I never drink wine.
Leroy was amused that the French party wanted relics: Handfuls of earth, water from Napoleon's spring, leaves, flowers, bulbs ..
In a letter to his sister, dated October 17th 1840, which reflects his feelings at the time, he described somewhat disrespectfully but maybe not atypically, the removal of Boney's remains. In a neat turn of phrase he noted that corruption and the worm had spared him who had given them so many a banquet .
His description of the scene of the exhumation is evocative:
.. the midnight formed as picturesque a scene as I have ever witnessed. The sentries posted on the hills, the black labourers, the soldiers of the guard and working party, mixed up with the muffled figures of the authorities attending, in the imperfect light of the lanterns by which they worked, would have formed a scene for Rembrandt.
He also expressed his disapproval of the way the Governor had in his view ceded to the demands of the French party:Minute guns were fired all the way, and a royal salute from the battery, but not from the English man-of-war. However, with this latter exception, everything was done as if he were emperor, a thing we never acknowledged before, which makes the amende to France, and directly inculpates all preceding governments. I would have stuck to the "General Bonaparte" as long as there was "a shot in the locker".
Finally he referred to the ongoing diplomatic dispute between England and France over Syria - a declaration of war was daily expected .. - which, to the great amusement of Thackeray(2), was to cause so much concern to the Belle Poule on its journey back to France. Apparently the Belle Poule was not the only ship to panic over this: an English merchant vessel arrived at St Helena as the French were firing salutes; the crew clearly thought they were attacking the island, and the ship fled for her life. Likewise, as the Belle Poule left St Helena, Littlehales, in H.M.S. Dolphin followed her at a safe distance, determined if he got a chance to pitch a shell or two into "old Boney's coffin".
The letter concludes somewhat abruptly and, in view of the foregoing, a little strangely:
The French behaved handsomely.
An interesting insight I felt into relations between two countries which had often been at war over eight centuries. You would never have guessed from this account that peace between them had finally broken out!
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1. The source for this piece is A.D. Thiessen, "The Removal of Napoleon's Remains from St. Helena to France, October 1840", Journal of the Royal Astronomcal Society of Canada , Vol 36, p 66
2. William Makepeace Thackeray, The Second Funeral of Napoleon
It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well.- (Napoleon's Will)
St. Helena was never expected to be Napoleon's final resting place - certainly not by his fellow exiles. (1)
Doubtless nobody bothered to tell the citizens of St. Helena, who had derived some benefit from the presence of the tomb of the Emperor.
The Valley of the Tomb, September 15th 1840
It was 25 years to the day since Napoleon had first arrived on St. Helena.
It was raining heavily. Two tents were set up. One was giving protection to men who were excavating the tomb. The other was set up as a chapel. In this a number of local officials were gathered, as well as a party of French men, most of whom had shared the Emperor's exile and had come to take his body home.(2)
The work was taking longer than anticipated - the thick cement protecting the tomb was hard to penetrate, and the excavators had to work through the night. At 8.00 a.m. on 16th September they finally broke through; at 9.30 they caught sight of the coffin; soon they were able to enter into the tomb and inspect it.
Then the coffin was lifted out and moved into the chapel.
Between Britain and France nothing is ever quite straightforward, and this occasion was no exception. (3)
The French had wanted to exhume the body themselves, and the leader of the French Party, the King's son the Prince de Joinville, expressed his displeasure at not being allowed to do so by remaining on board the Belle Poule. Now with the coffin in the chapel objections were made and recorded by a local Judge concerning the correct procedures that should be gone through when a coffin is unsealed.
At last the coffin was opened. For two minutes Napoleon's remains were exposed to those present. Not long enough for the daguerreotype that someone had brought with them to record the occasion.
The witnesses were able to verify that it did indeed contain the body of the Emperor, and not the quick lime that a Parisian rumour had suggested. It is impossible to imagine what must have gone through the minds of those who had shared the Emperor's exile as the coffin was opened. As the body was revealed they were amazed to find it so well preserved; whilst they had grown older, he to some at least seemed younger than when he had died 19 years earlier.(4)
The coffin was then resealed, now with six layers instead of four, and weighing 1200 kilos. It was carried up the track by 43 soldiers and placed on a carriage that had been reinforced to bear its heavy weight. At this point a British officer from a famous military family, Major-General Churchill, Chief of Staff of the Indian Army came running to pay his respects, and he and his two aides de camp joined the procession into Jamestown.
In Jamestown flags were at half mast and shops closed. All the windows were crowded with onlookers. The ladies of St. Helena had woven a large tricolour flag for the occasion.
The sick Governor, General Middlemore who had walked the 6 kilometres into Jamestown behind the procession, formally handed the coffin over to the French. De Joinville thanked him for the sympathy and respect with which the ceremony had been conducted.
As soon as the coffin reached the French ship, flags were unfurled, masts squared, drums beaten and salvoes fired. The Emperor had come back to his own!
So ended the most momentous quarter century in the history of St Helena.
Gilbert Martineau describes it as the end of the most horrible misunderstanding in history.(5)
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NOTES
(1) Bertrand had asked the British Government in 1821 for the return of Napoleon's body, and had been told then that it was a matter for the French Government. Pleas by Napoleon's mother for the return of his body were unanswered.
(2) The former captives who returned in 1840 were Grand Marshal Bertrand, his son Arthur, General Gourgaud, the young Emmanuel Las Cases, Marchand, the faithful servant who had nursed Napoleon at the end. There were also a number of Napoleon's servants: Saint-Denis, Pierron, Noverraz, Coursot and Archambault. Notable absentees were the elder Las Cases, because of ill health, and the Count de Montholon. The latter was in London, about to embark with Napoleon's nephew, Louis Napoleon, on a foolhardy attempt to overthrow King Louis Philippe. For this Montholon was imprisoned for 20 years, but was pardoned in 1846. Louis Napoleon was imprisoned for life; in 1846 he managed to escape to England. In 1848 with he fall of the July Monarchy he became the President of France, and in 1851 the Emperor of the French.
(3)There had been a number of sensitive issues. The British Government clearly now recognised Naoleon as Emperor Napoleon rather than General Bonaparte, but it was concerned not to do anything which could be critised by the Tory opposition. It was made clear therefore that the Governor should not say anything which in any way appeared to criticise the decision of 1815. The French Government for its part indicated that the former captives now returning would be told to be silent and unemotional.
(4) The following account, in response to a comment that the Emperor's body was well preserved, was given to a visiting seaman by someone who said he had been prsent:
Yes; externally it was perfect. The least touch, however, made an indenture. His nose was the only part which did not retain its original fullness. It hung in upon the bone, and greatly disfigured his countenance. I saw him by torch-light, and a more ghastly object I never looked upon. The night was dark, and, when the lid of the coffin was raised, the glare of light shed upon his pale features gave them an additional ghastliness. His eyes were much sunken, and his lips slightly parted. There was nothing of sternness in the expression of his countenance. It was rather that of pain. He looked as if he had fallen into an uneasy sleep after a long fit of illness. His liver and heart, which were embalmed and placed upon his breast, were uninjured.
Etchings of a Whaling Cruise ... by J. Ross Browne.
(5) Napoleon's Last Journey, Gilbert Martineau.
His account of Napoleon's second funeral was written in the form of letters to "Miss Smith" from Michael Angelo Titmarsh!
