At eleven o’clock a blast of trumpets heralded the arrival of the Emperor Francis, the Emperor of Russia, the Kings of Prussia, Bavaria and Denmark; of the Queen and of the Empress of Russia. The Empress of Austria, confined to the palace by ill-health, was the only one absent from the ceremony. The Prince Léopold de Sicile, as the only member of the House of Bourbon, and M. de la Tour du Pin stood at the portals of the cathedral and conducted the sovereigns to the imperial stand. Immediately afterwards, the celebration began. In spite of his eighty-four years, the venerable Archbishop of Vienna, Prince de Hohenwarth, had made it a point to officiate. A profound respect, an intense and reverent emotion, pervaded the immense assembly at the sight of the royal sarcophagus and of the white-haired priest praying for divine pity on the virtuous monarch. It would be difficult to guess the feelings of all those monarchs, reverently prostrated not far from the catafalque, recalling such a great misfortune and such a great event in the history of France. All were more or less related to the illustrious house of France, the most ancient of Europe. M. Zaiguelius, vicar of Sainte-Anne in Vienna, and of French origin, delivered an address in French, noticeable for its many beauties, and some people pretended that M. Talleyrand was not altogether a stranger to its composition. The text was, ‘Let the earth know the fear of the name of the Lord.’ In this very remarkable address, the speaker was particularly anxious to show the hand of God, which raises up and overthrows thrones. Then, after the prayers for Louis XVI. and Marie-Antoinette, he concluded by reciting the principal passages of the will, which has rightly been called the most heroic code of charity. This was, in fact, the most beautiful funeral oration of Louis XVI., and when M. Zaiguelius descended from the pulpit there was not a dry eye in the place. After this, two hundred and fifty voices sang, without accompaniment, the ‘Requiem,’ composed by Neukomm, a pupil of Haydn. The musicians had been reinforced by amateurs; they constituted two separate choirs, of which one was conducted by Salieri, the Director of the Imperial Music. Its effect was admirable. Listened to with the most reverential silence, the hymn of sorrow seemed less a prayer addressed to Heaven for a virtuous victim than a sequel to the sublime words of pardon to which we had just listened. The cost of this funereal solemnity amounted to nearly a hundred thousand florins, and was entirely defrayed by the Austrian Court.