In the midst of innumerable ornaments, heaped up in the armory like mountains of gold and precious stones, are two shrines of singular beauty.  One, the oldest, which is seldom opened, contains the remaining bones of Charlemagne, and the other, of the twelfth century, which Frederick Barbarossa gave to the church, holds the relics, which are exhibited every seven years.  A single exhibition of this shrine, in 1696, attracted 42,000 pilgrims, and drew, in ten days 80,000 florins.  This shrine has only one key, which is in two pieces; the one is in the possession of the chapter, the other in that of the magistrates of the town.  Sometimes it is opened on extraordinary occasions, such as on the visit of a monarch....

The tomb, before it became the sarcophagus of Charlemagne, was, it is said, that of Augustus.  After mounting a narrow staircase, my guide conducted me to a gallery which is called the Hochmuenster.  In this place is the arm-chair of Charlemagne.  It is low, exceedingly wide, with a round back; is formed of four pieces of white marble, without ornaments or sculpture, and has for a seat an oak board, covered with a cushion of red velvet.  There are six steps up to it, two of which are of granite, the others of marble.  On this chair sat—­a crown upon his head, a globe in one hand, a scepter in the other, a sword by his side, the imperial mantle over his shoulders, the cross of Christ round his neck, and his feet in the sarcophagus of Augustus—­Carolus Magnus in his tomb, in which attitude he remained for three hundred and fifty-two years—­from 852 to 1166, when Frederick Barbarossa, coveting the chair for his coronation, entered the tomb.  Barbarossa was an illustrious prince and a valiant soldier; and it must, therefore, have been a moment singularly strange when this crowned man stood before the crowned corpse of Charlemagne—­the one in all the majesty of empire, the other in all the majesty of death.  The soldier overcame the shades of greatness; the living became the despoliator of inanimate worth.  The chapel claimed the skeleton, and Barbarossa the marble chair, which afterward became the throne where thirty-six emperors were crowned.  Ferdinand the First was the last; Charles the Fifth preceded him.

In 1804, when Bonaparte became known as Napoleon, he visited Aix-la-Chapelle.  Josephine, who accompanied him, had the caprice to sit down on this chair; but Napoleon, out of respect for Charlemagne, took off his hat, and remained for some time standing, and in silence.  The following fact is somewhat remarkable, and struck me forcibly.  In 814 Charlemagne died; a thousand years afterward, most probably about the same hour, Napoleon fell.

In that fatal year, 1814, the allied sovereigns visited the tomb of the great “Carolus.”  Alexander of Russia, like Napoleon, took off his hat and uniform; Frederick William of Prussia kept on his “casquette de petite tenue;” Francis retained his surtout and round bonnet.  The King of Prussia stood upon the marble steps, receiving information from the provost of the chapter respecting the coronation of the emperors of Germany; the two emperors remained silent.  Napoleon, Josephine, Alexander, Frederick William, and Francis, are now no more.