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peoplu's choice. The waving plumes which adorned the hats of the senators, counselors 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 to be seen only in Paris-altogether presented a picture which has, perhaps, rarely been equaled, and certainly never excelled.
4. 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 palace. From an early hour in the morning, the weather had been exceedingly unfavorable. It was cold and rainy, and appearances seemed to indicate that the procession would be anything but agreeable to those who joined in it. But, as if by the especial favor 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 anticipated, drenched by a December rain. Napoleon, as he passed along, was greeted by heartfelt expressions of enthusiastic love and attachment.
5. 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
* Thou art Peter.
6. When the Pope anointed him with the triple unetila on the 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 the moment. During the ceremony of anointing, the holy father delivered that impressive prayer which concludes with these words :Diffuse, oh 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.
7. 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.
8. 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 Louise. 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, alta. gether, was conspicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the honor of being presented to many real princesses, but I never saw one, who, to my eyes, presented so perfect a personification of elegance and majesty.
9. 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 ileeting moments of pure felicity, which are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a vacuum 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.
10. After receives 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.
CHARLES PHILLIPS, a distinguished Irish barrister, was born in Sligo to the year 1789, and died in London in 1859. As an author, he is best known by his “Recollections of Curran and some of his Contemporaries.” The following is from one of his occasional addresses.
SKETCH OF BONAPARTE.
CHARLES PHILIPS. 1. He is fallen! We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, a sceptered hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own originality. A mind, bold, independent, and decisive—a will, despotic in its dictatesman energy that distanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to erery touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary
character—the most extraordinary, perhaps, that, in the annals of this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell.
2. Flung into life in the midst of a revolution that quickened every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity ! With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed in the list where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fled from him as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest - he acknowledged no criterion but success—he worshiped no God but ambition, and, with an eastern devotion, he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry.
3 Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not profess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate; in the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the Crescent; for the sake of a divorce, he bowed before the Cross; the orphan of St. Louis, he becanic the adopted child of the Republic; and, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country; and, in the name of Brutus, he grasped without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the Cæsars ! Through this pantomime of policy, fortune played the clown to his caprices. At his touch, crowns crumbled, beggars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theories took the color of his whim, and all that was venerable, and all that was novel, changed places with the rapidity of a drama.
4. Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victoryhis flight from Egypt confirmed his destiny-ruin itself only elevated him to empire. But, if his fortune was great, his genius was transcendent; decision flashed upon his counsels; and it was the same to decide and to perform. To inferior intellects his combinations appeared perfectly impossible, his plans perfectly impracticable; but, in his hands, simplicity marked their development, and success vindicated their adoption. His person partook the character of his mind—if the one never yielded in the cabinet, the other never bent in the field. Nature had no obstacle that he did not surmount-space no opposition that he did not spurn; and whether amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or Polar snows, he seemed proof against peril, and empowered with ubiquity!
6. The whole continent trembled at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Skepticism bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romance assumed the air of history; nor was there aught too incredible for belief, or too fanciful for expectation, when the world saw a subaltern of Corsica waving his imperial flag over her most ancient capitals. All the visions of antiquity became common-places in his contemplation; kings were his people--nations were his outposts; and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if they were titular dignitaries of the chessboard ! Amid all these changes, he stood immutable as adamant.
6. It mattered little whether in the field or in the drawing. room with the mob or the levee-wearing the Jacobin* bonnet or the iron crown-banishing a Braganza, or espousing a Haps. burg-dictating peace on a raft to the Czar of Russia, or contemplating defeat at the gallows of Leipsic—he was still the same military despot !
7. In this wonderful combination, his affectations of literaturc must not be omitted. The jailer of the press, he affected the patronage of letters—the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosophy—the persecutor of authors and the murderer of printirs, he yet pretended to the protection of learning! Such a medley of contradictions, and, at the same time, such an individual consistency, were never united in the same character. A royalist—a republican and an emperor-a Mohammedan-a Catholic and a patron of the synagogue-a subaltern and a sovereign-a traitor and a tyrant-a Christian and an infidel-he was, through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, impatient, in. flexible original—the same mysterious, incomprehensible selfthe man without a model, and without a shadow.
* See a Note on the Jacobins, Exercise CI.