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.

Meanwhile the _Bellepoule_ goes lumbering along, impeded by calms and
gales, but anchored safely off Jamestown on October 8, 1840. Of course
many formalities had to be carried out, so that the exhumation did not
commence until the 15th at midnight. They came upon the coffin at ten
in the forenoon, opened it, and found the body well preserved. Thereon
everyone was overcome with emotion. After the coffin was deposited
with profound solemnity and the national flag placed over it, the
honours which would have been paid to the Emperor had he been living
were paid to his remains on October 18, 1840.

The expedition set sail, and had only been a few days out when the
captain of a passing vessel called the _Hamburg_ informed Prince
Joinville that war between France and Great Britain was imminent, and
two or three days later this was confirmed by circumstantial
information to him by a Dutch vessel called the _Egmont_. Officers of
the two other vessels of the expedition were ordered aboard the
_Bellepoule_, a council of war held, and a determined resistance
resolved upon. The decks were cleared for action, guns were mounted,
and every form of princely comfort dispensed with. The son of Louis
Philippe added lustre to the name of Bourbon by the heroic decision
that, whatever the fortune of battle might be, he would sink his ship
rather than allow the remains of the Emperor to fall into the hands
of the British again. The resolve was worthy of Napoleon himself.

Every precaution was taken to evade capture, but as the information
proved to be unfounded, the expedition was not interrupted by hostile
cruisers, nor even by contrary winds, and long before it was expected
the historic frigate sailed quietly into the harbour of Cherbourg at
5.0 a.m. on November 30, 1840. She had made the passage from St.
Helena in forty-two days. Then the great and unexampled triumph
commenced.

Europe was a second time in mourning, bowing its head in reverence and
shame. Never have there been such universal tokens of condemnation of
the captivity and the creatures who engineered it, and never such
unequalled joy and homage as were paid to the memory of the great
dead. Dur