and belief in his great gifts had sunk deeply into their being.  A couple of generations had come into existence from 1815 to 1840, but even to those who knew him only as a captive, he was as much their Emperor and their hero and martyr as he was to his contemporaries.  The pride of race, the glory of the Empire and of its great founder, was suckled into them from the time of birth, and as they grew into manhood and womanhood they became permeated with a passionate devotion to his cause.  They claimed that his deliverance to the people “he loved so well” was a right that should not be withheld.  The spirit of sullen determination that he should be given up had taken deep root.  They had arrived at the point when the igniting of a spark would have created a conflagration.  There was to be no more chattering.  They meant business, and were resolved that they would stand no more red-tape fussy nonsense from either their Government or the Government who kept a regiment of British soldiers to guard his tomb, lest he should again disturb the peace of Europe.  They let it be known that no more of that kind of humbug would be tolerated without reprisals, and the hint was taken.  Louis Philippe grasped the situation, and formed an expedition with his son Prince Joinville as chief, who was accompanied by Baron Las Cases, member of the Chamber of Deputies; General Count Bertrand; M. l’Abbe Conquereau, almoner to the expedition; four former servants of Napoleon—­viz., Saint Denis and Noverraz, valets-de-chambre; Pierron, officer of the kitchen; and Archambaud, butler—­Marchand, one of the executors, and the quarrelsome and disloyal General Gourgaud, of whom we may have something more to say further on.  This same Gourgaud, who lied so infamously about his Imperial benefactor when he landed in London, has said that “he could not express what he felt when he again found himself near that extraordinary being, that giant of the human race, to whom he had sacrificed all and to whom he owed all he was.”  These thoughts, and many more not uttered, would come to him when he stood beside the sepulchre of the master whom he had so grievously wronged and who was now and henceforth to be recognised as having been the “legitimate ruler of his country.”

Count Montholon, the most devoted and most constant follower of Napoleon and his family, was not of the expedition.  He was engaged in helping the nephew of his hero to ascend the throne of his illustrious uncle, and the effort landed them both in the fortress of Ham.  Louis Philippe and his Ministers were very jealous of anyone sharing in any part of the glory of having Napoleon brought to the banks of the Seine.  Hence, when King Joseph and Prince Louis Napoleon offered the arms of the Emperor to the nation, the King refused them, but prevailed upon General Bertrand to give them to him, that he might give them to the nation.  Napoleon had given the sword he wore at Austerlitz and his arms to Bertrand when on his deathbed.  Prince Louis could not stand the great captain’s name being trumpeted about for other people’s glory.  He claimed that it belonged to him.  He was the legitimate heir to all its glory, and this too previous assumption got him imprisoned in Ham for asserting what he protested was his right.