After the conference between the Pope and the Emperor at Fontainebleau, Pius vii. set off for Paris first. On the road the same honours were paid to him as to the Emperor. Apartments were prepared for him in the Pavilion de Flore in the Tuileries, and his bedchamber was arranged and furnished in the same manner as his chamber in the Palace of Monte-Cavallo, his usual residence in Rome. The Pope’s presence in Paris was so extraordinary a circumstance that it was scarcely believed, though it had some time before been talked of. What, indeed, could be more singular than to see the Head of the Church in a capital where four years previously the altars had been overturned, and the few faithful who remained had been obliged to exercise their worship in secret!
The Pope became the object of public respect and general curiosity. I was exceedingly anxious to see him, and my wish was gratified on the day when he went to visit the Imperial printing office, then situated where the Bank of France now is.
A pamphlet, dedicated to the Pope, containing the “Pater Noster,” in one hundred and fifty different languages, was struck off in the presence of his Holiness. During this visit to the printing office an ill-bred young man kept his hat on in the Pope’s presence. Several persons, indignant at this indecorum, advanced to take off the young man’s hat. A little confusion arose, and the Pope, observing the cause of it, stepped up to the young man and said to him, in a tone of kindness truly patriarchal, “Young man, uncover, that I may give thee my blessing. An old man’s blessing never yet harmed any one.” This little incident deeply affected all who witnessed it. The countenance and figure of Pope Pius vii. commanded respect. David’s admirable portrait is a living likeness of him.