Chateaubriand, who, later, in his Memoires d’outretombe, so full of sadness and bitterness, was to speak of the coronation in a tone of scepticism verging on raillery, celebrated at the accession of Charles, in almost epic language, the merits of this traditional solemnity without which a “Very Christian King” was not yet completely King.  In his pamphlet, Le roi est mort!  Vive le roi! he conjured the new monarch to give to his crown this religious consecration.  “Let us humbly supplicate Charles X. to imitate his ancestors,” said the author of the Genie du Christianisme.  “Thirty-two sovereigns of the third race have received the royal unction, that is to say, all the sovereigns of that race except Jean 1er, who died four days after his birth, Louis XVII., and Louis XVIII., on whom royalty fell, on one in the Tower of the Temple, on the other in a foreign land.  The words of Adalberon, Archbishop of Rheims, on the subject of the coronation of Hugh Capet, are still true to-day.  ’The coronation of the King of the French,’ he says, ’is a public interest and not a private affair, Publica, sunt haec negotia, non privata.’  May Charles X. deign to weigh these words, applied to the author of his race; in weeping for a brother, may he remember that he is King!  The Chambers or the Deputies of the Chambers whom he may summon to Rheims in his suite, the magistrates who shall swell his cortege, the soldiers who shall surround his person, will feel the faith of religion and royalty strengthened in them by this imposing solemnity.  Charles VII. created knights at his coronation; the first Christian King of the French, at his received baptism with four thousand of his companions in arms.  In the same way Charles X. will at his coronation create more than one knight of the cause of legitimacy, and more than one Frenchman will there receive the baptism of fidelity.”

Charles X. had no hesitation.  This crowned representative of the union of the throne and the altar did not comprehend royalty without coronation.  Not to receive the holy unction would have been for him a case of conscience, a sort of sacrilege.  In opening the session of the Chambers in the Hall of the Guards at the Louvre, December 22d, 1824, he announced, amid general approval, the grand solemnity that was to take place at Rheims in the course of the following year.  “I wish,” he said, “the ceremony of my coronation to close the first session of my reign.  You will attend, gentlemen, this august ceremony.  There, prostrate at the foot of the same altar where Clovis received the holy unction, and in the presence of Him who judges peoples and kings, I shall renew the oath to maintain and to cause to be respected the institutions established by my brother; I shall thank Divine Providence for having deigned to use me to repair the last misfortunes of my people, and I shall pray Him to continue to protect this beautiful France that I am proud to govern.”