It was December 2, 1804. Since early morning all Paris had been alive. It was very cold; the sky was covered, but no one thought of the unpleasant weather. All the streets through which the procession was to pass had been carefully swept and sprinkled with sand. The inhabitants had decorated the fronts of their houses according to their tastes and means, with draperies, tapestry, artificial flowers, and branches of evergreens. Two lines of infantry were drawn up for a space of about half a league. Long before the hour of the departure of the Pope and the Emperor from the Tuileries, a vast throng had gathered in the streets, was crowding every window, and assembling on every roof. Marshal Murat, Governor of Paris, offered at an early hour a sumptuous breakfast to the Princes of Germany who had come to Paris for the coronation—the Elector Archchancellor of the German Empire, the Princes of Nassau, of Hesse, and of Baden. After the breakfast they drove to Notre Dame in four superb carriages, drawn by six horses each, with an escort under the command of one of his aides-de- camp, and he himself mounted his horse to take his place at the head of the twenty squadrons of cavalry which were to go in front of the Emperor's carriage.

At the Tuileries Napoleon put on what was called the undress attire; this he was to wear on his way from the palace to the Archbishop's. He was not to put on full dress, that is to say, the Imperial robes and cloak, until he was to enter the church. The undress is thus described by Constant, the Emperor's valet: silk stockings embroidered with gold; low boots of white velvet, embroidered with gold on the seams; with diamond buttons and buckles on his garters; a coat of crimson velvet faced with white velvet: a short cloak of crimson lined with white satin, covering the left shoulder and fastened on the right-hand side by a double clasp of diamonds; a black velvet cap, surmounted by two aigrets, a diamond loop, and for button, the most celebrated of the crown jewels, the Regent.

The Empress's costume was no less magnificent. She wore a dress, with a train, of silver brocade covered with gold bees; her shoulders were bare, but on her arms were tight sleeves embroidered with gold, the upper part adorned, with diamonds, and fastened to them was a lace ruff worked with gold which rose behind half up her head. The tight-fitting dress had no waist, after the fashion of the time, but she wore a gold ribbon as a girdle, set with thirty-nine pink gems. Her bracelets, ear-rings, and necklace were formed of precious stones and antique cameos. Her diadem consisted of four rows of pearls interlaced with clusters of diamonds. The Empress, whose hair was curled, after the fashion of the reign of Louis XIV., although forty-one years old, looked, according to Madame de RÉmusat, no more than twenty-five. The Emperor was much struck by Josephine's beauty in this sumptuous attire; all this luxury impressed him. He recalled the days of his childhood, and turning to his favorite brother, he said: "Joseph, if father could see us!"

Nine o'clock sounded, the hour set for the departure of the Pope, who was to reach Notre Dame before the Emperor. The Sovereign Pontiff, clad in white, went down the staircase of the Pavilion of Flora and entered his carriage, which was drawn by eight horses; above it was a large tiara. At Rome it was the custom that when the Pope went forth to officiate at one of the great churches,—for instance, to Saint John Lateran,—for one of his chamberlains to start a moment before him, mounted on a mule, and carrying a great processional cross. Pius VII. asked that the same thing might be done at Paris; consequently the pontifical procession was headed by a chamberlain whose mule did not fail to amuse the vast crowd that lined the quays; yet when the Pope passed, all knelt down and received his blessing with due respect. With cavalry in front and behind, the Pope's carriage and the eight carriages in which were the cardinals, Italian prelates and officers who had come from Rome with him, drove slowly along the quays to the Archbishop's Palace. There were awaiting him all the French cardinals, archbishops, and bishops, and he was received by the Cardinal du Belloy, the Archbishop of Paris, as he entered to put on his pontifical robes. The pontifical procession entered Notre Dame in the following order; a priest, carrying the apostolic cross; seven acolytes, carrying the seven golden candlesticks; more than a hundred bishops, archbishops or cardinals, in cope and mitre, marching two by two; and last of all the Holy Father, his tiara on his head, under a canopy between two cardinals who held up the ends of his golden cope. The clergy intoned the hymn Tu es Petrus, which was very impressive, and the Sovereign Pontiff, after kneeling for a few moments before the high altar, took his seat in the middle of the choir on the pontifical throne, above which was a dome adorned with the coat-of-arms of the church.

The Emperor and the Empress, who were to leave the Tuileries at ten, did not start till half past ten. They got into the magnificent coronation carriage which excited the hearty admiration of the crowd, always fond of show. It was drawn by eight superb horses, splendidly harnessed; upon it was a golden crown upheld by four eagles with outstretched wings. The four sides of the coach were of glass, set in slender carved uprights, so that there was an unobstructed view of Napoleon and Josephine on the back seat, with Joseph and Louis Bonaparte opposite them. Salvos of artillery announced the Emperor's departure from the Tuileries. Twenty squadrons of cavalry, with Marshal Murat at their head, led the procession. Eighteen carriages, with six horses each, followed, conveying the high dignitaries and the courtiers. Bands played triumphal marches, and all along the way a vast crowd saluted this sovereign. The procession starting from the Tuileries by the Carrousel went along the rue Saint HonorÉ as far as the rue de Lombards, crossed the Pont au Change, and then along the quay to the rue du Parvis Notre Dame and the Archbishop's Palace. Just as the Emperor and the Empress were entering the palace courtyard, the mist, which had been thick all the morning, cleared away, and the sun came out glistening on the gilded decorations of the Imperial coach. The Moniteur, with its official enthusiasm, spoke of "the orb of day escaping, against every expectation, from the rigid rule of a stormy season to light up the festal day."

At the Archbishop's Palace, Napoleon changed his dress, putting on his coronation robes. This differed entirely from the costume he had worn from the Tuileries to the palace, and consisted of a tight-fitting gown of white satin, embroidered with gold on every seam, and of an Imperial mantle of crimson velvet, all over which were golden bees; it was bordered by worked branches of olive-tree, laurels, and oak, in circles enclosing the letter N, with a crown above each one; the lining, the border, and the cape were of ermine. This cloak, fastened on the right shoulder, while leaving the arm free, reacted to just above the knee, and weighed no less than eighty pounds, and though it was held by four persons, Prince Joseph, Prince Louis, the Archchancellor CambacÉrÈs, the Archtreasurer Lebrun, was for the Emperor, who was a short man, a sumptuous, but heavy load. He carried it, however, with fitting majesty. On his head he had put a crown of golden laurel, the laurel of Caesar; around his neck he wore the diamond necklace of the Legion of Honor; on his left side he carried a sword with a large handle—the scabbard was of blue enamel adorned with gold eagles and bees. At the same time Josephine completed her dressing, putting on a long red velvet cloak, sprinkled with gold bees, and lined with ermine; its skirts were upheld by Princesses Joseph, Louis, Elisa, Pauline, and Charlotte.

The Imperial procession proceeded from the Archbishop's Palace to Notre Dame through the wooden gallery, and entered the church, not through the middle entrance, which was blocked by the great throne, but through one of the side-doors. They advanced in the following order, with an interval of ten paces between each group: the ushers, four abreast, the heralds at arms, two abreast; the Chief Herald at Arms; the pages, four abreast; the aides of the masters of ceremonies; the masters of ceremonies; the Grand Master of Ceremonies, M. de SÉgur; Marshal SÉrurier, carrying on a cushion the Empress's ring; Marshal Moncey, carrying the basket which was to receive her cloak; Marshal Murat, carrying her crown on a cushion; the Empress, with her First Equerry on her right, and her First Chamberlain on her left; she wore the Imperial cloak, which was supported by the five Princesses, the cloak of each one of these being supported by an officer of her household; Madame de La Rochefoucauld, Maid of Honor, and Madame de Lavalette, the Empress's Lady of the Bedchamber; Marshal Kellermann, carrying the crown of Charlemagne, a diadem with six branches adorned with valuable cameos; Marshal Perignon, carrying Charlemagne's sceptre, at the end of which was a ball representing the world, with a small figure of the great Carlovingian Emperor; Marshal Lefebvre, carrying Charlemagne's sword; Marshal Bernadotte, carrying Napoleon's necklace; Colonel General Eugene de Beauharnais, the Emperor's ring; Marshal Berthier, the Imperial globe; M. de Talleyrand, the basket destined to receive the Emperor's cloak. Then came the Emperor, the crown of golden laurel on his head, holding in one hand his silver sceptre, topped by an eagle, and encircled by a golden serpent, and in the other his hand of justice. His cloak was supported by his two brothers, Joseph, Grand Elector, and Louis, Constable, as well as by the Archchancellor CambacÉrÈs and the Archtreasurer Lebrun. Then followed the Grand Equerry, the Colonel General of the Guard, and the Grand Marshal of the Palace, the three abreast, the ministers, four abreast, and the high officers of the army.

As Napoleon entered the church, the twenty thousand spectators shouted, "Long live the Emperor!" A cardinal gave holy water to Josephine; the Cardinal, the Archbishop of Paris, presented it to Napoleon; and the two prelates, after complimenting the Emperor and the Empress, conducted them in a procession, under a canopy held by canons, to the smaller throne in the middle of the choir. There they were to sit during the first part of the ceremony, near the high altar, on a platform with four steps. As the Emperor and the Empress entered the choir, the Pope came down from the pontifical chair, and intoned the Veni Creator. The Emperor handed to the Archchancellor his hand of justice; to the Archtreasurer, his sceptre; to Prince Joseph, his crown; to Prince Louis, his sword; to the Grand Chamberlain, his Imperial cloak; to Colonel General Eugene de Beauharnais, his ring. The six objects formed what were called "the Emperor's ornaments." They were placed on the altar by the representative dignitaries, and were to be handed again to the Emperor by the Pope in the course of the ceremony. The same was true of the "Empress's ornaments," her ring, cloak, and crown, which, were placed on the altar; the ring, by Marshal SÉrurier; the cloak, by Marshal Moncey; the crown, by Marshal Murat. Charlemagne's insignia, his crown, sceptre, and sword, remained during the whole ceremony in the hands of Marshals Kellermann, Perignon, and Lefebvre, who stood at the right of the small throne in the choir.

As soon as the ornaments of the Emperor and Empress had been placed on the altar, the Pope asked the Emperor in Latin if he promised to use every effort to have law, justice, and peace rule in the church and among his people; Napoleon touched the gospels with both hands, as it was held out to him by the Grand Almoner, and answered Profiteor. Then the Pope, the bishops, archbishops, and cardinals knelt before the altar and began the litany. When they reached the three verses used only at coronations, the Emperor and Empress also knelt.

After the litany, the Grand Almoner, another cardinal, and two bishops advanced towards the small throne, and bowed low before Napoleon and Josephine, and conducted them to the foot of the altar to receive sacred unction. The Emperor and Empress knelt on blue velvet cushions placed on the first step of the altar. The Pope anointed Napoleon on the head and his two hands, uttering the prayer of consecration: "Mighty and Eternal God, who didst appoint Hazael to be king over Syria, and Jehu to be king over Israel, making known thy wishes through the prophet Elijah; and who didst pour holy oil of kings upon the head of Saul and of David, through the prophet Samuel, send down through my hands, the treasures of thy grace and of thy blessings upon thy servant Napoleon, whom, in spite of our unworthiness, we consecrate to-day as Emperor, in thy name."

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.