Finally, the intelligence overran all France, that the wonder, in which they had not yet dared to believe, had become reality, and that Pope Pius VII. had crossed the boundaries of France, and was now approaching the capital.  The Holy Father of the Church, that had now arisen victoriously from the ruins of the revolution, was everywhere received by the people and authorities with the greatest honor.  The old royal palace at Fontainebleau had, by order of the emperor, been refurnished with imperial magnificence, and, as a peculiarly delicate attention, the Pope’s bedchamber had been arranged in exact imitation of his bedchamber in the Quirinal at Home.  The emperor, empress, and their suite, now repaired to Fontainebleau, to receive Pope Pius VII.  The whole ceremony had, however, been previously arranged, and understanding had with the Pope concerning the various questions of etiquette.  In conformity with this prearranged ceremony, when the couriers announced the approach of the Pope, Napoleon rode out to the chase, to give himself the appearance of meeting the Pope accidentally on his way.  The equipages and the imperial court had taken position in the forest of Nemours.  Napoleon, however, attired in hunting-dress, rode, with his suite, to the summit of a little hill, which the Pope’s carriage had just reached.  The Pope at once ordered a halt, and the emperor also brought his suite to a stand with a gesture of his hand.  A brief interval of profound silence followed.  All felt that a great historical event was taking place, and the eyes of all were fastened in wondering expectation on the two chief figures of this scene—­on the emperor, who sat there on his horse, in his simple huntsman’s attire; and on the Pope, in his gold-embroidered robes, leaning back in his equipage, drawn by six horses.

As Napoleon dismounted, the Pope hastened to descend from his carriage, hesitating a moment, however, after he had already placed his foot on the carriage-step; but Napoleon’s foot had already touched the earth.  Pius could, therefore, no longer hesitate; he must make up his mind to step, in his white, gold-embroidered satin slippers, on the wet soil, softened by a shower of rain, that had fallen on the previous day.  The emperor’s hunting-boots were certainly much better adapted to this meeting in the mud than the Pope’s white satin slippers.

Emperor and Pope approached and embraced each other tenderly; then, through the inattention of the coachmen, seemingly, the imperial equipage was set in motion, and, in its rapid advance, interrupted this tender embrace.  It seemed to be the merest accident that the emperor stood on the right, and the Pope on the left side of the equipage, that had now been brought to a stand again.  The two doors of the carriage were simultaneously thrown open by the lackeys; at the same time, the Pope entered the carriage on the left, and the emperor on the right side, both seating themselves side by side at the same time.  This settled the question of etiquette.  Neither had preceded the other, but the emperor occupied the seat of honor on the Pope’s right.