The coronation-day dawned at last on the 3d of April, 1764:  the weather was favorable, and everybody was in motion.  I, with several of my relations and friends, had been provided with a good place in one of the upper stories of the Roemer itself, where we might completely survey the whole.  We betook ourselves to the spot very early in the morning, and from above, as in a bird’s-eye view, contemplated the arrangements which we had inspected more closely the day before.  There was the newly erected fountain, with two large tubs on the left and right, into which the double-eagle on the post was to pour from its two beaks white wine on this side, and red wine on that.  There, gathered into a heap, lay the oats:  here stood the large wooden hut, in which we had several days since seen the whole fat ox roasted and basted on a huge spit before a charcoal fire.  All the avenues leading out from the Roemer, and from other streets back to the Roemer, were secured on both sides by barriers and guards.  The great square was gradually filled; and the waving and pressure grew every moment stronger and more in motion, as the multitude always, if possible, endeavored to reach the spot where some new scene arose, and something particular was announced.

All this time there reigned a tolerable stillness; and, when the alarm-bells were sounded, all the people seemed struck with terror and amazement.  What first attracted the attention of all who could overlook the square from above, was the train in which the lords of Aix and Nuremberg brought the crown-jewels to the cathedral.  These, as palladia, had been assigned the first place in the carriage; and the deputies sat before them on the back-seat with becoming reverence.  Now the three electors betake themselves to the cathedral.  After the presentation of the insignia to the Elector of Mentz, the crown and sword are immediately carried to the imperial quarters.  The further arrangements and manifold ceremonies occupied, in the interim, the chief persons, as well as the spectators, in the church, as we other well-informed persons could well imagine.

In the mean time the ambassadors drove before our eyes up to the Roemer, from which the canopy is carried by the under-officers into the imperial quarters.  The hereditary marshal, Count von Pappenheim, instantly mounts his horse:  he was a very handsome, slender gentleman, whom the Spanish costume, the rich doublet, the gold mantle, the high, feathered hat, and the loose, flying hair, became very well.  He puts himself in motion; and, amid the sound of all the bells, the ambassadors follow him on horseback to the quarters of the emperor in still greater magnificence than on the day of election.  One would have liked to be there too; as indeed, on this day, it would hare been altogether desirable to multiply one’s self.  However, we told each other what was going on there.  Now the emperor is putting on his domestic robes, we said, a new dress, made after the old Carolingian pattern.  The hereditary officers receive the insignia, and with them get on horseback.  The emperor in his robes, the Roman king in the Spanish habit, immediately mount their steeds; and, while this is done, the endless procession which precedes them has already announced them.