Part 5

Then the Pope anointed the Empress in the same way, reciting this prayer: "May the Father of eternal glory be thy aid; and may the Omnipotent bless thee; may he hear thy prayers, and give thee a long life, ever confirming this blessing and maintaining it forever with all thy people; may he confound thy enemies; may the sanctification of Christ and the anointing of this oil ever aid thee, so that he who on earth has given thee his blessing may give thee in heaven the happiness of the angels, and that thou mayst be blessed and guarded for eternal life by Jesus Christ, our Saviour, who lives and reigns forever and ever."

The Emperor and Empress were then conducted to the small throne, that is to say, to their two chairs; before each one was a praying-stand. Then high mass began; it was said by the Pope; the music had been composed by Paesiello, the Abbé Rose, and Lesueur. There were three hundred performers, singers, and musicians; among the soloists were the great singer Laïs, and two famous violinists, Kreutzer and Baillot. At the Gradual the mass was interrupted for the blessing of the ornaments which the Emperor and Empress then put on.

Napoleon, followed by the Archchancellor, the Archtreasurer, the Grand Chamberlain, the Grand Equerry, and two chamberlains, and Josephine, accompanied by her Lady of Honor, her Lady of the Bedchamber, her First Chamberlain, and her First Equerry, advanced towards the altar, and ascended the steps at the same time; the Sovereign Pontiff, with his back to the altar, was sitting on a sort of folding-chair. He blessed the Imperial ornaments, reciting a special prayer for each one. His Holiness then handed them to the Emperor in the following order: first the ring, which Napoleon placed on his finger; then the sword, which he put in its scabbard; the cloak, which his chamberlains fastened on his shoulders, then the hand of justice and the sceptre which he handed to the Archchancellor and the Archtreasurer.

The only ornament left to be given to the Emperor was the crown. It will be remembered that there had been a long negotiation at Rome to ascertain whether the Emperor would be crowned by the Pope or would crown himself. The question was left uncertain, and Napoleon had said that he would settle it himself at Notre Dame when the time came. Still Pius VII. was convinced that he was going to place the crown on the sovereign's head. He had just handed him the ring, the sword, the cloak, the hand of justice, and the sceptre, and was preparing to do the same thing with the crown. But the Emperor, who had ascended the last step of the altar, and was following every motion of the Pope, grasped from his hands the sign of sovereign power and proudly placed it on his own head. Pius VII., outwitted and surprised, made no attempt at resistance.

After thus crowning himself, Napoleon proceeded to crown the Empress. This was the most solemn moment in Josephine's life; the moment which dispelled all her incessant dread of divorce, the brilliant verification of her fondest hopes, the completion of her triumph. Napoleon advanced with emotion to this companion of his happiest days, to the woman who had brought him happiness; she was kneeling before him, shedding tears of joy and gratitude, with her hands clasped and trembling. He recalled all that he owed her: his happiness, for, thanks to her, he had been blessed with a requited love; his glory, for it was she who, in 1796, had secured for him the command of the Army of Italy, the origin of all his triumphs. He must have been glad at this moment that he had not followed his brother's malicious suggestions and had not separated from his dear Josephine! The affection of the young General Bonaparte revived in the heart of the sovereign. He thought Josephine more gracious, more touching, more lovable than ever, and it was with an outburst of happiness that he placed the Imperial diadem on her charming and cherished head.

The Emperor and Empress, once crowned, proceeded to the great throne, at the entrance of the church, by the great door, being solemnly led there by the Pope and the Cardinals. The Imperial procession then formed again in the order in which it had come to Notre Dame, the Empress going before the Emperor. At this moment the Princesses seemed to hesitate about carrying the skirt of the Empress's cloak; Napoleon noticed this, and said a few severe, firm words to his sisters, and all was smoothed. The procession reached the foot of the great throne; the Emperor ascended the twenty-four steps and sat down in full majesty, wearing his crown and Imperial cloak, holding the hand of justice and the sceptre. At his right, on a seat like his, but one step lower, the Empress placed herself. Another step lower, sat the Princesses on simple seats. At the Emperor's left, two steps below him, were the Princes and high dignitaries. On each side of the platform the marshals, high officers, and ladies of the court took their places. The sight was most impressive. The Pope in his turn ascended the twenty- four steps, and thus commanding the whole Cathedral, extended his hands over the Emperor and the Empress, and uttered these Latin words, the formula used for taking the throne: "In hoc solio confirmare vos Deus, et in regno aeterno secum regnare faciat Christus!"--"May God establish you on your throne, and may Christ cause you to reign with him in his eternal kingdom!" Then he kissed the Emperor on the cheek, and turning towards the assembled multitude, said: "Vivat Imperator in aeternum!"--"May the Emperor live forever!" This was what had been said ten centuries before at Saint Peter's in Rome when the ruler of the same people, Charlemagne, had been proclaimed Emperor of the West.

Applause broke forth and three hundred musicians intoned the Vivat Imperator, a hymn composed by the Abbé Rose. The pontifical procession and the Imperial procession returned to the choir; the Emperor and Empress resumed their places on the chairs, and the Pope began, the Te Deum. After this, which was sung by four choirs and two orchestras, the mass, which had been interrupted by the ceremony with the ornaments and the taking possession of the throne, went on. At the offertory, Napoleon and Josephine, followed by the two Princes and the five Princesses, went to lay their offerings before the Pope; these consisted of a silver-gilt vase, a lump of gold, a lump of silver, and a candle about which were inlaid thirteen pieces of money. At the elevation Prince Joseph removed the Emperor's crown, and Madame de La Rochefoucauld, Maid of Honor, that of the Empress. Napoleon and Josephine knelt before the Host, and when they rose, put their crowns on again.

When mass was over, the Emperor took the political oath prescribed by the constitution, which had aroused much opposition in Rome. The presidents of the great bodies of the state brought him the formula, and with one hand held over the gospels, the Emperor swore to maintain, the principles of the Revolution, to preserve the integrity of the territory, and to rule with an eye to the interest, happiness, and glory of the French people. The First Herald-at-Arms then called forth in a loud voice: "The most glorious and most august Emperor Napoleon, Emperor of the French, is crowned and enthroned: Long live the Emperor!" That was the end of the ceremony. Salvos of artillery mingled with the applause.

The solemnity had been most successful, and Napoleon could say with truth to his brother Joseph: "For me it is a battle won; by my art and the measures I took, I have succeeded beyond my expectations." Had he not prophesied accurately when he said to his secretary at the signing of the Concordat: "Bourrienne, you will see what use I shall make of the priests!" The golden chasubles had made a brilliant spectacle by the side of the uniforms; the crosses and the tiara by the side of the swords and the sceptre. Napoleon, always a master of theatrical effect, had known how to lend antiquity to his newborn glory by borrowing from the past all its majesty and pomp, and by skilfully decking himself with what was most brilliant in the chronicles of remote centuries. From Charlemagne he took his insignia; from Caesar his golden laurel. The head of a nation that had grown great by the cross and the sword, he desired to make his coronation the festival of the church and of the army.

The Imperial and the pontifical processions returned to the Archbishop's Palace, and half an hour later proceeded to the Tuileries, through the New Market, the Place du Châtelet, the rue Saint Denis, the boulevards, the rue and the Place de la Concorde, the Pont Tournant, and the grand roadway of the castle. Night had fallen; the houses were illuminated. Five hundred torches cast their light on the two processions, and by their imposing and strange brilliancy, the crowd gazed with interest on the new Charlemagne and the Vicar of Christ.

Napoleon and Josephine re-entered the Tuileries at half past six; the Pope at about seven. The Emperor, who was somewhat tired by all this ceremony, gladly resumed his modest uniform of Colonel of the Chasseurs of the Guard. He dined alone with Josephine, asking her to keep on her head the becoming diadem which she wore so gracefully. That evening he chatted pleasantly with the ladies-in-waiting, and praised the rich dresses they had worn in such splendor at Notre Dame; he said to them, laughing: "It's I who deserve the credit for your charming appearance." Then they looked out of the windows on the illuminated garden, the large flower-garden surrounded with porches covered with lights, the long alley adorned with shining colonnades, on the terraces of orange-trees all aglow, with a number of glasses of various colors on every tree, and finally on the Place de la Concorde, one blazing star. It was like a sea of flame.

It was the painter who had been a member of the Convention, the montagnard, the regicide who had insulted Louis XVI., who had painted the apotheosis of Marat, and with a malicious hand had drawn the features of Marie Antoinette on her way to the scaffold; it was this artist, this fierce demagogue, the ardent Revolutionist, who was commissioned with painting the official representation of the coronation. He carried his gallantry so far as to choose for his subject, not the moment when Napoleon crowned himself, but that of the coronation of the Empress; and when a critic accused him of making Josephine too young, he said: "Go and say that to her!" When the picture was finished, the Emperor and the court went to see it in the artist's studio. Napoleon walked up and down for half an hour, bareheaded, before the canvas, which is about twenty feet high, about thirty long, and contains one hundred portraits. (It is now at Versailles in the Hall of the Guards, at the top of the marble staircase.) The Emperor examined it with the closest attention, while David and all who were present maintained a respectful silence. This long waiting made the artist very anxious. At last Napoleon turned towards him and said: "It's good, David, very good. You have divined all my thought; you have made me a French knight. I thank you for transmitting to ages to come the proof of affection I wanted to give to her who shares with me the pains of government." Then taking two steps towards the artist, he raised his hat and said, in a loud voice: "David, I salute you."

Sometimes at Notre Dame in Holy Week, at evening service, when the Cathedral is lit up as at the coronation, I recall the various ceremonies of this church: the royal baptisms and marriages there celebrated; the banners hung from its roof; the Te Deums and De Profundis so often sung there; Bossuet uttering the funeral oration of the Prince of Condé; the shameless goddess of Reason profaning the sanctuary. I close my eyes in meditation, and seem to be present at the coronation, to see Pius VII. on his pontifical throne, and, before the altar, Napoleon crowning Josephine with his own hands, I hear the echo of distant litanies, of the trumpets, of the organ, and of the applause. Then I think of the nothingness of all human glory and grandeur. Of all the illustrious persons who have knelt in this old basilica, what is left? Scarcely a few handfuls of dust. I open my eyes. The days are silent; the crowd has quietly withdrawn. The lights are out, and at the end of the church, in the shadow, like a timid star in a cloudy day, burns a solitary lamp.

VI.

THE DISTRIBUTION OF FLAGS.

The coronation was the signal for a succession of festivities. Napoleon was anxious that all classes of society should take part in the rejoicings; that commerce should be benefited; that luxury should do wonders; and that Paris should take the position of the first city in the world, the capital of capitals. The day after the coronation was to be the popular holiday, and the day when the flags were distributed was to be the festival of the army. Monday, December 3, booths were open on every side for the entertainment of the crowd. Adulation assumed every guise, even the humblest; and every form of language, even that of the markets, was employed to flatter the new sovereign. There was sung, "The joyous round on the lottery of thirteen thousand fowls, with an accompaniment of fountains of wine." It was a description of the food distributed to the poor people of Paris. This song was sung in every street and place, as the Ça ira was sung in '93.

The compliment of the marketmen and of their ladies ran thus: "I have reasoned it out with my wife that a house a thousand times as large as Notre Dame would not be able to hold all those who have reason to bless you." In the way of incense, nothing was too gross for the sovereign. One district said of Napoleon:--

"He received for us when God formed him, The arm of Romulus, the mind of Numa."

The Empress too was praised:--

"Spouse of the hero whom the universe regards, The Graces accompany you to the temple, Every one sees in your face the bounty Of which you distribute the gifts."

In allusion to her love of flowers this quatrain was composed:--

"Josephiniana! this is the new flower Whose beauty catches my eye. To join the laurels of Caesar Nothing less is needed than an immortal flower."

The Emperor was sung, too, in mythological language, for his flatterers tried to exhaust all sorts of adulation. On Coronation Day the Prefect of Police had distributed a poem entitled The Crown of Napoleon brought from Olympus command of Jupiter:--

"Mounting one of the coursers of the proud Bellona, Mercury brings a crown from Olympus; The king of the gods sends it to the hero of the French As the reward of his success. Ye whom he guided a hundred times in the fields of glory, Phalanx of warriors, children of victory, Braving the impotent fury of the English, Sing Napoleon, sing your Emperor."

December 3 the public rejoicings organized by the government extended from the Place de la Concorde to the Arsenal. Heralds-at-arms walked through the city, distributing medals struck to commemorate the coronation. These medals bore on one side the head of the Emperor, his brow wearing the crown of the Caesars; on the other, the image of a magistrate, and of an ancient warrior, supporting on a buckler a crowned hero, wearing an Imperial mantle. Beneath was the inscription: "The Senate and the People."

As soon as the heralds-at-arms had passed by, the merry-making began, continuing till late in the night. There was a distribution of food, as well as sports of all kinds, reminding one of the times of the Roman Emperors: panem et circenses. On the Place de la Concorde had been built four large wooden halls for public balls. The cold was severe; there was a hard frost, but this did not check the universal enjoyment. On the boulevards there were at every step puppet shows, wandering singers, rope dancers, greased poles, bands of music. From the Place de la Concorde to the end of the boulevard Saint Antoine sparkled a double row of colored lights arrayed like garlands. The Garde Meuble and the Palace of the Legislative Body were ablaze with lights. The arches of Saint Denis and of Saint Martin were all covered with lights; the crowd was enraptured with the fireworks, which had never been so fine.

The people of Paris had been invited to illuminate the fronts of their houses, and moved either by enthusiasm or self-interest, they had spent large sums for this purpose. Among the notable illuminations was that of the engineer Chevalier, on the Pont Neuf. There was a transparency in which, amid encircling laurels and myrtles, was to be seen an optician turning his glass up to the sky towards a bright star, around which was this inscription: "In hoc signo salus!"--"In this sign is safety!"

December 3 was the first day of the coronation festivities. The third day was devoted to what the Moniteur called, "arms, valor, fidelity." This was the day when Napoleon formally presented to the army and to the National Guard of the Empire the eagles, "which they were always to find on the field of honor." This ceremony took place on the Champ de Mars. To quote once more from the Moniteur: "This vast field, crowded with deputations representing France and the army, bore the aspect of a brave family assembled under the eyes of its chief." The main front of the Military School had been decorated with a huge gallery, with several tents as high as the apartments on the first floor. The middle one, resting on four columns which supported winged victories, covered the thrones of the Emperor and the Empress. The Princes, the high dignitaries, the ministers, the marshals of the Empire, the high officers of the crown, the civil officers, the ladies of the court, were to take their places at the right of the throne. The gallery, in the middle of which was the Imperial tent, was in front of the Military School, and was divided into sixteen parts, eight on each side, representing the sixteen cohorts of the Legion of Honor. A broad staircase led from this gallery to the Champ de Mars; the first step was for the presidents of cantons, the prefects, sub-prefects, and the members of the municipal councils. On the other steps, there stationed themselves colonels of regiments and presidents of the electoral colleges of the departments, holding flags surmounted with eagles. On each side of the staircase were colossal figures of France, one at war, the other at peace. Twenty-five thousand soldiers, in faultless trim, had been under arms since six in the morning.