LITMIR.BIZ

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that saw Notre-Dame on that memorable day, can ever forget it? I have witnessed in that venerable pile the celebration of sumptuous and solemn festivals; but never did I see anything at all approximating in splendour to the coup d’œil exhibited at Napoleon’s Coronation. The vaulted roof re-echoed the sacred chanting of the priests, who invoked the blessing of the Almighty on the ceremony about to be celebrated, while they awaited the arrival of the Vicar of Christ, whose throne was prepared near the altar. Along the ancient walls of tapestry were ranged, according to their rank, the different bodies of the State, the deputies from every City; in short, the representatives of all France assembled to implore the benediction of Heaven on the sovereign of the people’s choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the Senators, Counsellors of State, and Tribunes; the splendid uniforms of the military; the clergy in all their ecclesiastical pomp; and the multitude of young and beautiful women, glittering in jewels, and arrayed in that style of grace and elegance which is only seen in Paris; – altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been equalled, and certainly never excelled.

      ‘The Pope arrived first; and at the moment of his entering the Cathedral, the anthem Tu es Petrus was commenced. His Holiness advanced from the door with an air at once majestic and humble. Ere long, the firing of cannon announced the departure of the procession from the Tuileries. From an early hour in the morning the weather had been exceedingly unfavourable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable to those who joined it. But, as if by the especial favour of Providence, of which so many instances are observable in the career of Napoleon, the clouds suddenly dispersed, the sky brightened up, and the multitudes who lined the streets from the Tuileries to the Cathedral, enjoyed the sight of the procession, without being, as they had anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and attachment.

      ‘On his arrival at Notre-Dame, Napoleon ascended the throne, which was erected in front of the grand altar. Josephine took her place beside him, surrounded by the assembled sovereigns of Europe. Napoleon appeared singularly calm. I watched him narrowly, with the view of discovering whether his heart beat more highly beneath the imperial trappings, than under the uniform of the guards; but I could observe no difference, and yet I was at the distance of only ten paces from him. The length of the ceremony, however, seemed to weary him; and I saw him several times check a yawn. Nevertheless, he did everything he was required to do, and did it with propriety. When the Pope anointed him with the triple unction on his head and both hands, I fancied, from the direction of his eyes, that he was thinking of wiping off the oil rather than of anything else; and I was so perfectly acquainted with the workings of his countenance, that I have no hesitation in saying that was really the thought that crossed his mind at that moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the Holy Father delivered that impressive prayer which concluded with these words: – “Diffuse, O Lord, by my hands, the treasures of your grace and benediction on your servant, Napoleon, whom, in spite of our personal unworthiness, we this day anoint Emperor, in your name.” Napoleon listened to this prayer with an air of pious devotion; but just as the Pope was about to take the crown, called the Crown of Charlemagne, from the altar, Napoleon seized it, and placed it on his own head. At that moment he was really handsome, and his countenance was lighted up with an expression, of which no words can convey an idea. He had removed the wreath of laurel which he wore on entering the church, and which encircles his brow in the fine picture of Gérard. The crown was, perhaps, in itself, less becoming to him; but the expression excited by the act of putting it on, rendered him perfectly handsome.

      ‘When the moment arrived for Josephine to take an active part in the grand drama, she descended from the throne and advanced towards the altar, where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her retinue of Court ladies, and having her train borne by the Princesses Caroline, Julie, Eliza, and Louis. One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn of her neck, and the way in which she carried her head; indeed, her deportment, altogether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the honour of being presented to many real princesses, to use the phrase of the Faubourg St. – Germain, but I never saw one who, to my eyes, presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. In Napoleon’s countenance, I could read the conviction of all I have just said. He looked with an air of complacency at the Empress as she advanced towards him; and when she knelt down – when the tears, which she could not repress, fell upon her clasped hands, as they were raised to Heaven, or rather to Napoleon – both then appeared to enjoy one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a lustrum of years. The Emperor performed, with peculiar grace, every action required of him during the ceremony; but his manner of crowning Josephine was most remarkable: after receiving the small crown, surmounted by the Cross, he had first to place it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of the Empress. When the moment arrived for placing the crown on the head of the woman, whom popular superstition regarded as his good genius, his manner was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange this little crown, which was placed over Josephine’s tiara of diamonds; he put it on, then took it off, and finally put it on again, as if to promise her she should wear it gracefully and lightly.’

      It is almost painful, after reading this vivid and soul-stirring description, to have to descend to the level of the caricaturist descanting on the same subject; it is a kind of moral douche bath, giving all one’s nerves a shock.

      Soon made they every preparation

      For a most brilliant coronation:

      ’Twas on, as must each bard remember,

      The nineteenth day of dark November4

      When all the streets were strew’d with sand,

      T’ exhibit a procession grand;

      And the Cathedral, lately scorn’d,

      With sumptuous frippery adorn’d.

      Brave Bonaparte and Josephine,

      Preceded by the Pope, walked in;

      His Holiness the crown anointed,

      And Boney Emperor appointed.

      Then Corsica’s impatient son,

      Snatch’d up the Crown, and put it on.

      The Crown was decked with French frippery,

      And with the oil, was rendered slippery;

      Nap kept it on, tho’, without dread,

      To let them know he had a head.

      And as to dally he was loth,

      He rapidly pronounc’d the oath —

      As soon as he the oath had swallow’d,

      Another Coronation follow’d —

      Fair Josephine advanced, and lo!

      Nap put on her a crown also.

      ‘Ah me!’ thought she, ‘there’s something wrong,

      I fear it will drop off ’ere long.’

      Of holy oil, it seems, the fair

      Had got too plentiful a share.

      This pantomimic business o’er,

      Now marched they grandly as before;

      For, tinsell’d pageantry united

      With an equestrian troop, delighted

      The new-made Emperor of Paris,

      As much as Covent Garden Harris;

      And all the people, for this wise end,

      Were in the finest garments dizen’d;

      They finish’d with illuminations,

      Songs, music, dancing and orations.

      The white wine, which in fountains flow’d,

      Considerable mirth bestow’d.

      The folks enjoy’d, free of expence,

      The glare of lights, which was immense:

      And

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