But how had it come about that the French government had dared burst upon the country with so astounding a communication. There were many explanations offered. A curious story which went abroad took the credit from the king and gave it to O’Connell, the Irish agitator. As the story went, O’Connell had warned Lord Palmerston that he proposed to present a bill in the Commons for returning Napoleon’s remains to France. “Take care,” said Lord Palmerston. “Instead of pleasing the French government, you may embarrass it seriously.” “That is not the question,” answered O’Connell. “The question for me is what I ought to do. Now, my duty is to propose to the Commons to return the emperor’s bones. England’s duty is to welcome the motion. I shall make my propositions, then, without disturbing myself about whom they will flatter or wound.” “So be it,” said Lord Palmerston. “Only give me fifteen days.” “Very well,” answered O’Connell. Immediately Lord Palmerston wrote to Monsieur Thiers, then at the head of the French Ministry, that he was about to be forced to tell the country that England had never refused to return the remains of Napoleon to France, because France had never asked that they be returned. As the story goes, Monsieur Thiers advised Louis Philippe to forestall O’Connell, and thus it came about that Napoleon’s remains were returned to France. The _grande pensée_, as the idea was immediately called, seems, however, to have originated with Monsieur Thiers, who saw in it a means of reawakening interest in Louis Philippe. He believed that the very audacity of the act would create admiration and applause. Then, too, it was in harmony with the claim of the _régime_; that is, that the government of 1830 united all that was best in all the past governments of France, and so was stronger than any one of them. The mania of both king and minister for collecting and restoring made them think favorably of the idea. Already Louis Philippe had inaugurated galleries at Versailles, and hung them with miles of canvas, celebrating the victories of all his predecessors. In the gallery of portraits he had placed Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI. beside Madame Roland, Charlotte Corday, Robespierre, and Napoleon and his marshals. He had already replaced the statue of Napoleon on the top of the Column Vendôme. He had restored cathedrals, churches, and _châteaux_, put up statues and monuments, and all this he had done with studied indifference to the politics of the individuals honored. Yet while so many little important personages were being exalted, the remains of the greatest leader France had ever known, were lying in a far away island. Louis Philippe felt that no monument he could build to the heroes of the past would equal restoring Napoleon’s remains.