Rome with Lucien. In spite of frequent messages from Paris, she was not to
get there until some days after the coronation, a fact which did not
prevent her appearing in the great picture commemorating the event,
painted by David, who was successively Jacobin and Imperialist, and
beginning with the apotheosis of Marat, celebrated that of Napoleon.
Pope Pius VII., then sixty-two years old, had left Rome November 2, after
praying for a long time at the altar of Saint Peter's, The populace had
followed his carriage for a long distance, weeping with terror at his
undertaking a journey to revolutionary France. At Florence he had been
received by the Queen of Etruria, then a widow and her son's Regent. At
Lyons he became less anxious; a number of the inhabitants crowded about
him, and fell on their knees, asking for the blessing of the Vicar of
Christ. Meanwhile, Napoleon was putting the last touches to the repairs be
had commenced at the Palace of Fontainebleau, to put it in a suitable
condition to receive the Sovereign Pontiff. In less than twenty days the
furnishing of the palace had been completed, and the castle had, as if by
magic, resumed its old-time splendor.
Every one wondered how the first meeting between the Pope and the Emperor
would take place. Many points of etiquette arose which Napoleon managed to
elude. Pius VII. was to arrive through the forest of Fontainebleau, and
the Emperor was to go to meet him through the forest of Nemours. To
prevent all formality, Napoleon made an excuse of a hunting party. All the
huntsmen, with their carriages, met in the forest. Napoleon was on
horseback, in hunting dress. When he knew that the Pope and his suite were
due at the cross of Saint Hérene--at noon, Sunday, November 25, 1804--he
turned his horse in that direction, and as soon as he reached the half-
moon at the top of the hill, he saw the Pope's carriage arriving.
According to the account given in the Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo, the
carriage of Pius VII. stopped, and the pontiff in his white robes got out
by the left-hand door. The road was muddy, and he was averse to stepping
into it with his white silk slippers; but there was nothing to be done.
Napoleon got off his horse to receive him, and sprang cordially into his
arms. These two famous men, who, although they were entire strangers, had
already thought so often of each other, and were to exercise such great
influence over each other's destiny, now met with deep emotion. As they
were embracing, one of the Emperor's carriages, which had been ordered to
drive up, pushed on a few steps as if by an oversight of the coachman; the
footmen held both doors open; the Emperor took that on the right; a court
official pointed to that on the left for the Pope, so that the two
sovereigns entered the same carriage simultaneously by the two doors. The
Emperor sat down naturally on the right-hand side, and this first step
established the etiquette for the whole time of the Pope's stay, without
discussion.
At the entrance of the Palace of Fontainebleau, the Empress, the high
dignitaries of the Empire, the generals, were formed in a circle to
receive and salute Pius VII. He was welcomed with the utmost reverence.
His fine, noble face, his air of angelic kindness, his soft, yet sonorous
voice, produced a deep impression. Josephine was especially moved by the
presence of the Vicar of Christ. After resting a few moments in his
private apartment, to which he had been conducted by M. de Talleyrand,
High Chamberlain, by General Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Palace, and by M.
de Ségur, Grand Master of Ceremonies, the Pope paid a visit to Napoleon,
who, after an interview of about half an hour, conducted him back to the
hall that was at that time called that of the High Officers. The two
sovereigns dined together, and the Pope went early to bed, to rest himself
after the fatigues of his long journey. The next evening some singers had
been summoned to the Empress's apartment, but Pius VII. withdrew just as
the concert was about to begin.
In the course of the day Josephine had had a private interview with the
Pope, and had confided to him the secret which so distressed her. She who
was reigning over the greatest of Catholic nations, the consort of the
successor of the very Christian Kings, the wife of a ruler about to be
crowned by the Pope, was married only by civil rite! She entreated Pius
VII. to use all his influence with Napoleon to put an end to a situation
which was a continual torture and reproach to her as a wife and as a
Christian. The Pope appeared touched by the confidence of his dear
daughter, as he always called the Empress, and promised to demand, and, if
necessary, to insist, upon the celebration of the Emperor's religious
marriage, as a condition of the coronation, and this promise filled
Josephine with joy.
The presence of the Pope and the Emperor, the throng of prelates,
generals, courtiers, and beautiful women, the combination of religious and
Imperial pomp gave to the Castle of the Valois, a few days before
dilapidated and abandoned, new splendor and magnificence. Never in the
most brilliant days of the reign of Francis I., or Henri II., or of Louis
XIV., had this sumptuous residence appeared in greater state. This
wonderful palace is renowned for its superb and picturesque architecture,
its majestic façades, its five courts: that of the White Horse, of the
Fountain, of the Dungeon, of the Princes, of Henri IV. The Festival Hall
is very beautiful, with its rich and abundant ornamentation, its walnut
floor, divided into octagonal panels richly outlined with inlaid gold and
silver, its monumental mantelpiece, with its figures, emblems, and
fantastic frescoes, the brilliant masterpieces of Primaticcio, and of
Nicolo d'Abati.
Alas! this splendid Fontainebleau, the gorgeous palace where Pope and
Emperor were then living in triumph, was later to be to both an accursed
spot. The Pope was to return to it a prisoner, maltreated though old,
though a priest, though the Vicar of Christ, and there the Emperor was to
drink the cup of humiliation, of despair, to the dregs. It was there that,
conquered, broken, betrayed by fortune, he was to sign his abdication. It
was there that he was to utter those heart-rending words: "It is right; I
receive what I have deserved. I wanted no statues, for I knew that there
was no safety in receiving them at any other hands than those of
posterity. A man to keep them while he lives, needs constant good fortune.
I think of France, which it is terrible to leave in this state, without
frontiers when it had such wide ones!--that is the bitterest of the
humiliations that overwhelm me. To leave France so small when I wished to
make it so great!" It was there that, overcome by immeasurable grief, the
conqueror of so many battles wished to seek in suicide a refuge from the
tortures of thought, and that he was to fail to find death, he who on the
battle-field had squandered so many lives. O mortals, ignorant of your own
fates, how happy you are not to have foreknowledge of them!
IV.
THE PREPARATIONS FOR THE CORONATION.
The Empress left Fontainebleau, Thursday, November 29, 1804, in company
with Madame de La Rochefoucauld, Maid of Honor, and Madame d'Arberg, Lady
of the Palace, and reached Paris the same day, a few hours before the
Emperor and the Pope, who left Fontainebleau in the same carriage and
entered the Tuileries at eight in the evening. A platoon of Mamelukes
escorted the Imperial carriage, and it was a singular sight to see the
Mussulman escorting the Vicar of Christ. The Pope was installed at the
Tuileries in the Pavilion of Flora. There were attached to his person M.
de Viry, the Emperor's Chamberlain; M. de Luçay, Prefect of the Palace,
and Colonel Durosnel, Equerry.
All Paris was excited by the approach of the great event. The hotels were
crowded; the population of the capital was nearly doubled, so vast was the
throng of provincials and foreigners. Tradesmen were working night and day
to prepare the dresses and uniforms. In every workshop there was
unparalleled activity. Leroy, who previously had been only a milliner, had
decided for this occasion to undertake dressmaking, and had made Madame
Raimbault, a celebrated dressmaker of the time, his partner. From their
shop came the magnificent robes to be worn by the Empress on Coronation
Day. Her jewels, consisting of a crown, a diadem, and a girdle, were the
work of the jeweller Margueritte. The crown was formed of eight branches
meeting under a gold globe surmounted by a cross. The branches were set
with diamonds, four in the shape of a palm leaf, four in the shape of a
myrtle leaf. Around the curve was a ribbon, inlaid with eight enormous
emeralds. The frontlet was bright with amethysts. The diadem was formed of
four rows of pearls interlaced with diamond leaves, with many large
brilliants, one alone weighing one hundred and forty-nine grains. The
girdle was a gold band, enriched with thirty-nine pink gems. The Emperor's
sceptre had been made by Odiot; it was of solid silver, enlaced by a gold
serpent, and surmounted by a globe on which was a miniature figure of
Charlemagne seated. The hand of justice, the crown, and the sword came
from the workshops of Biennais. The dress of the courtiers was to be very
magnificent; it consisted of a French coat of different colors according
to the duties of the wearer under the Grand Marshal, the High Chamberlain,
and the Grand Equerry, with silver embroidery for all; a cloak worn over
one shoulder, of velvet, lined with satin: a scarf, a lace band, and the
hat caught up in front, and adorned with a feather. The women were to
appear in ball dress, with a train, with a collar of blond-lace, called a
_chérusque_, which was fastened on both shoulders and rose high behind the
head, recalling the fashions of the time of Catherine de' Medici.
There were rehearsals of the coronation as if it were a spectacular play.
Every one, from the principal actors to the most insignificant assistants,
studied his part most conscientiously; the Masters of Ceremonies were to
act as prompters to those who might forget. The Imperial carriages and
those of the Princes and Princesses one morning were all driven empty to
the neighborhood of Notre Dame, that coachman, postilions, and grooms
might know the route they were to take, and when they were to draw up. The
carriages were superb, the horses magnificent, the liveries sumptuous.
Never in the most extravagant days of the monarchy had such luxury been
seen.
M. de Bausset says that a week before the coronation the Emperor commanded
of the artist Isabey seven drawings representing the seven principal
ceremonies to take place at Notre Dame, which, however, could not be
rehearsed in the Cathedral on account of the number of workmen busy day
and night in decorating it. To ask at once for seven drawings each
containing more than a hundred persons in action, was asking for the
impossible. Isabey skilfully eluded the difficulty. He bought at the toy
shops all the little dolls he could find, dressed them up as Pope,
Emperor, Empress, Princes, high dignitaries, Chamberlains, Equerries,
Ladies of Honor, Ladies of the Palace, These dolls thus arrayed he
arranged on a plan in relief of the Interior of Notre Dame, and carrying
it to the Emperor, said: "Sire, I bring Your Majesty something better than
the drawings." Napoleon thought the idea ingenious, and used the dolls and
the plan to make every official understand his place and his duty.
The _Moniteur_ of the 9th Brumaire, Year XIII, (November 30, 1804),
published in advance all the details of the ceremony, which the Emperor
had fixed with as much care as if it had been the plan of a battle. A
difficulty arose on this occasion. The Pope had wished Napoleon to receive
the holy communion in public on the day of the coronation, and Napoleon
had given the matter thought. The Grand Master of Ceremonies, M. de Ségur,
brought up against the proposition the necessity of a preliminary
confession and the possibility that absolution might be denied him.
"That's not the difficulty," said the Emperor, "the Holy Father knows how
to distinguish between the sins of Caesar and those of the man," Then he
added: "I know that I ought to give an example of respect for religion and
its ministers; so you see that I treat the priests well, go regularly to
mass, and listen to it with all due seriousness and solemnity. But every
one knows me, and how would it be for me, and for others, if I should go
too far? Would not that be setting an example of hypocrisy, and committing
a sacrilege?" The Pope did not insist upon it. This dread of committing
sacrilege Napoleon referred to again at Saint Helena, in 1816: "Everything
was done," he said then, "to persuade me to go in great pomp to communion
at Notre Dame, after the fashion of our kings; I absolutely refused; I did
not believe enough, I said, to get any good from it, and yet I believed
too much to consent to be guilty of sacrilege."
Another difficulty which gave the Pope much anxiety, and was not settled
in the formalities of the coronation, was whether the Emperor should
receive the crown from the hands of the Sovereign Pontiff. Pius VII. had
brought up the question before leaving Rome, and Cardinal Consalvi had
written on this matter, to which the Vatican attached great importance, as
follows: "All the French Emperors, all those of Germany, who have been
crowned by the Popes, have accepted the crown from them. The Holy Father,
before undertaking this journey, requires to receive from Paris the
assurance that there will be no innovation made in the present case, in
the way of a diminution of the honor and dignity of the Sovereign
Pontiff." At Rome only vague and dilatory answers had been received. In
Paris the Emperor, leaving the matter to be decided on the spur of the
moment, had only said: "I will arrange that myself."
The preparations at Notre Dame had come to an end. They had been very
considerable. Several houses that hid the north façade had been destroyed.
Before the great entrance, still scarred by the ravages of the
Revolutionists, there had been set up a decoration of painted wood,
representing a vast Gothic porch with three arches upholding the statues
of the thirty-six good cities, the mayors of which were to be present at
the coronation. To the right and the left stood images of Clovis and
Charlemagne, sceptre in hand. Above, between two golden eagles, appeared
the Imperial coat-of-arms. This was intended for the sole entrance of the
Pope and the Emperor. It was connected with the Archbishop's palace by
large, covered, wooden galleries, adorned within by gobelin tapestry. This
palace, to which Pius VII. and Napoleon were to go before they entered the
Cathedral, no longer exists; it was destroyed, February 14, 1831, in an
insurrection. It used to stand just by the side of the church. It was
built in 1161 by Maurice de Sully, rebuilt in 1697 by the Cardinal of
Noailles, embellished in 1750 by the Archbishop de Beaumont, and was the
meeting-place of the Constituent Assembly from October 19 to November 9,
1789. There the Pope and the Emperor were to alight on their way from the
Tuileries and put on their grand coronation robes before entering the
Cathedral.
The whole church of Notre Dame had been hung with crimson stuffs adorned
with gold fringe, with the arms of the Empire embroidered on the corners.
On each side of the nave and around the choir had been built three rows of
galleries, decorated alike with silk and velvet stuffs fringed with gold,
and flags had been arranged like a trophy about each pillar. Above the
trophies were winged and gilded victories, holding candelabra with a vast
number of candles. There were, besides, twenty-four chandeliers hanging
from the roof. The galleries kept out the light, especially at the season
when the days were short; consequently it had been decided that the
Cathedral should be artificially lit during the ceremony, thus augmenting
the pomp and beauty of the spectacle. The choir, shut off by a railing,
was reserved for the clergy. To the right of the high altar, on a platform
with eleven steps, had been raised the pontifical throne, above which was
a golden dome adorned with the arms of the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman
Church. In front and on each side of the pontifical throne were benches
with backs for the cardinals and prelates. For the Emperor and the Empress
had been prepared what was called the great and the little throne. The
little throne was formed of two armchairs, one for Napoleon, the other for
Josephine. These two chairs stood on a platform with four steps, opposite
the high altar. The Emperor and Empress were to occupy them during the
first part of the ceremony. The grand throne was at the other end of the
church, with its back against the great door, which was thus closed. This
great throne stood on a large semicircular platform, and was reached by
twenty-four steps. It stood under a canopy in the shape of a triumphal
arch, upheld by eight columns, and it overlooked the whole church. The
Emperor and the Empress were not to ascend this throne till after the
coronation.
For the coronation Napoleon had given to the Cathedral a number of holy
vessels in silver-gilt, enriched with diamonds, and very valuable lace
albs, a processional cross, chandeliers, and incense-burners. At the same
time he restored to the Cathedral a great number of relics with which the
piety of Saint Louis had endowed the Sainte Chapelle. In 1791 they had
been deposited in the treasury of Saint Denis, by order of Louis XVI.,
thence in 1793 they had been transferred to the cabinet of curiosities in
the National Library, and had been exposed under the Directory, in the
Hall of Antiquities. The Emperor restored them to the worship of the
faithful.
The preparations were completed, and the ceremony promised to be
magnificent. Madame Junot, afterwards the Duchess of Abrantès, breakfasted
with the Empress at the Tuileries, December 1, 1804, the day before the
coronation. Josephine was much excited and radiantly happy. At breakfast
she told how amiably the Emperor had talked with her that morning and how
he had tried on her head the crown which she was to put on the next day at
Notre Dame. As she said that she shed tears of gratitude. She spoke then
of her pain when Napoleon had refused her request for Lucien's return. "I
wanted to plead this great day," she said, "but Bonaparte spoke so harshly
that I had to keep silent. I wanted to show Lucien that I could return
good for evil; if you have a chance, let him know it."
In the evening the Senate came to the Tuileries to announce to the Emperor
the result of the _plébiscite_ which approved of the Empire and the matter
of inheritance; 3,521,660 citizens having voted for, and 2,579 against.
Napoleon replied to the President of the Senate with the infatuation that
springs from success and the consciousness of strength: "I ascend the
throne to which I have been called by the unanimous voices of the Senate,
the people, and the army, with my heart full of feeling of the great
destinies of this people whom, from the midst of camps, I first saluted
with the name of great. Since my youth all my thoughts have been devoted
to it, and I must say here, my pleasures and my pains now are nothing but
the pleasures and the pains of my people. My descendants will long fill
this throne. They will never forget that contempt of laws and the
overthrow of the social order are only the results of the weakness and
indecision of rulers."
The hour of disaster was approaching, but it had not yet struck; the
morrow was to be radiant. Salvos of artillery were fixed every hour from
six in the evening till midnight; at each salvo, the towers, spires, and
public buildings were illuminated for a few minutes by Bengal lights.
Imperial insignia, among others the sword of Charlemagne, were already in
the Church of Notre Dame. General de Ségur, then a captain under the
command of the Grand Marshal of the Palace, was charged to watch that
precious relic during the night. He records one thing about it which
clearly shows the bellicose spirit of the men of the time. One of the
officers guarding the Imperial sword conceived the mad idea of using it
against one of his comrades, who defended himself with his own sabre, and
consoled himself for his defeat and for a slight wound with the thought
that he was beaten by so glorious a weapon.
That same night, the one before the coronation, Josephine's wishes were
granted. Her union with Napoleon was blessed by the church. An altar was
mysteriously raised in the Tuileries, and there, in the presence of M. de
Talleyrand and the Marshal Berthier, who were the only witnesses, Cardinal
Fesch celebrated, in the profoundest secrecy, the religious marriage of
the Emperor and Empress. The scruples of Pius VII. were thus allayed.
Josephine could be crowned the next day.
V.
THE CORONATION.
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!"