where she always passes at least three hours of her day, for she never
neglects the mysterious rites of her toilette. Under the Empire,
Joséphine had no less than twelve attendants to care for her person and
her wardrobe, but the two _premières femmes_ were only there for
the etiquette, and had few functions to perform beyond drawing their
salary of six thousand francs. The four _femmes de chambre_ were
pretty young girls, who after the end of 1805 were called _dames
d’annonce_. Two of them were in service every other week, and their
duty was to announce to the Empress the persons who called upon her.
Their salary was three thousand francs a year. The real attendants
of Joséphine were, the _garde d’atours_, Madame Mallet, and the
four _femmes de garde-robe_, of whom one was Mlle. Avrillon,
who, in her _Mémoires_, calls herself “première femme de chambre
de l’Impératrice.” These women were the ones who entered into the
familiarity of the Empress, and were most in her confidence. To them
Joséphine intrusted not only her jewels and her robes, but also her
most secret thoughts. To them she made presents of five hundred or a
thousand francs at a time, gave them dots when they were married, and
a pension when they retired. While guarding her rank, Joséphine always
treated these attendants with the greatest kindness and politeness, and
naturally she was adored by them.
For Joséphine, the rites of her toilette were long and complicated.
She always took a bath every day, which was rather unusual at that
time. But the most important act was to _faire sa tête_, to efface
the ravages of time. In those days it was customary for all society
women to employ rouge, but Joséphine carried it to excess: not content
with putting a little on her cheeks, she covered her entire face with
powder and rouge. The eye of Napoleon was so accustomed to this excess
of color that he thought any woman who did not show it must be ill:
“Go and put on some rouge, Madame,” he said to one, “you look like a
corpse.” On the other hand, Napoleon could not endure the scent of any
perfume except a little lavender water or eau de Cologne.
The intricate details of her toilette completed, Joséphine dresses for
the morning. From her five hundred chemises, she selects one of muslin,
percale, or batiste, embroidered at the bottom, and trimmed at the neck
and sleeves with Malines or Valenciennes. The plainest ones cost a
hundred francs, and some of them three times that amount. As Joséphine
changes all her linen three times a day, the number of the garments is
not so extraordinary.
She almost always wears white silk stockings, costing from twenty to
seventy francs a pair: no garters, as the new silk stockings stay in
place. In the morning she puts on house shoes of taffetas or satin,
at eight francs the pair, of which she orders over five hundred a
year. She usually wears a light corset of lined percale trimmed with
Valenciennes, for which she pays about forty francs. After the corset
she puts on a flimsy petticoat of percale trimmed with her favorite
lace. That is all, absolutely all: “Joséphine n’a dans sa garde-robe
que deux pantalons en soie de couleur chair pour monter à cheval.”
When Joséphine has put on a peignoir, her coiffeur, Herbault, is
introduced. He is an important personage, in embroidered costume, with
a sword by his side, and receives in salary and gifts eight thousand
francs a year. But Herbault is only employed on ordinary occasions: for
days of ceremony there is Duplan, who is paid twelve thousand francs,
and later, in the time of Marie-Louise, receives the magnificent salary
of forty-two thousand francs. It is impossible to attempt to describe
the _coiffures_ employed by Joséphine, for they varied from day
to day. Her hair was of a decidedly auburn shade, and in color and
thickness remained the same to the end of her life.
After these first details, which had consumed much time, there was
a regular council of war as to the robe, the hat and the wrap to be
selected. In summer her dresses were of muslin, batiste or percale,
and she had over two hundred to select from; in winter she wore cloth
or velvet gowns, of which she had no less than six or seven hundred in
her wardrobe! To wear with these costumes there were endless wraps,
of every possible material, mostly trimmed with the rarest and most
expensive furs.
Joséphine always wore a hat in the morning, and frequently also in the
evening. Her choice was limited to two hundred and fifty, all different
in form, color, and trimming!
Twice a year she went carefully through her wardrobe, and gave away
a large part of her collection. Most of the articles, some of which
she had never used, were presented to her femmes de chambre; but even
Madame Mère and the Queens of Naples and Westphalia, did not disdain to
accept such gifts.
In six years Joséphine spent for her wardrobe the enormous sum of a
million and a half, and this did not include accounts not settled, or
costumes for ceremonies like the Coronation, for which the Emperor made
her a special allowance. In addition, during the same period, she spent
over five million francs for jewelry. When Napoleon, after her divorce,
paid up all her debts, her total expenditures for the six years reached
the enormous total of 6,647,580 francs, or an average of more than a
million francs a year! When we consider that the Empress had the use
of the finest Crown jewels in the world, valued at over five millions,
it is difficult to understand why she made all these purchases for
her own private collection. Her motive does not seem to have been to
accumulate a reserve, for use in case of necessity, but rather a real
mania for spending money. Her collection, which she left to Hortense,
was appraised after her death at over four million francs, which was
probably a third less than the actual value.
We have at first hand the story of the scene which preceded the first
payment of her debts in 1806. Joséphine came to the table with tears in
her eyes. Napoleon leaned over and whispered to her:
“Well, Madame, you are in debt.”
No reply except a sob.
“You owe a million.”
“No, Sire, I swear that I only owe six hundred thousand.”
“Only that, you say; does that seem to you only a bagatelle?”
He adds a few words of reproach, and she begins to sob louder than
ever. Then he whispers again:
“Come! Joséphine, come, my little one, do not cry, compose yourself.”
And the debts are paid.
* * * * *
After she was dressed Joséphine received her physician. She had a
constitution of iron, and was rarely ill, but she was a “malade
imaginaire,” and was always taking medicine. Corvisart, the chief
physician of the Emperor, generally succeeded in curing her by a
prescription made up of bread pills!
At eleven o’clock precisely, for she was punctuality personified,
Joséphine entered the Salon Jaune, where were introduced the ladies
she had invited for déjeuner. The menu, which was usually prepared for
ten persons, comprised a soup, two relevés, six entrées, two roasts,
six entremêts, and six dishes of dessert. A bottle of Beaune and two
bottles of fine Bourgogne were served. Coffee was taken at the table,
and a half-bottle of liqueur was provided.
Joséphine, who ate but little, did the honors with charming courtesy,
drawing out her guests to tell her all the latest gossip of the city
and the Court, which the Emperor was always interested in hearing
repeated. Napoleon usually took a hasty breakfast on a little table in
his cabinet, but sometimes he came down and joined his wife’s party.
After breakfast Joséphine returned to the salon. To walk in the
Gardens was impossible, and the only exercise she took at Paris
was an occasional game of billiards. She rarely read anything, and
never called upon her ladies to read for her. But she was fond of
conversation, and there was always some one with whom to talk.
At five o’clock Joséphine went to her rooms to change her toilette
for dinner, which was served at the early hour of six o’clock. She
changed completely, and selected an evening gown, which was always very
décolleté. In the evening she always wore a great many jewels.
Her toilette finished, Joséphine waits for the préfet du palais to
announce that the Emperor is ready to go to dinner. Sometimes,
absorbed in his work, Napoleon forgets that he has not dined, and
she waits one hour, two, occasionally three or four. She is never
impatient, and never disturbs Napoleon at his work. She passes the time
in conversation with her ladies. When the Emperor is ready she goes to
the room where the dinner is served--sometimes in her apartment, and
sometimes in that of Napoleon on the floor above. At Paris they usually
dined alone, except Sundays, when there was a family party.
After dinner Napoleon always went to Joséphine’s salon, where she
herself served the coffee. Unless they were going out to the theatre,
or there was a ball, concert or spectacle at the Château, which
happened about twice a week, the Emperor remained for a short time, and
talked with any dignitaries who had called. He then returned to his
cabinet, and Joséphine passed the evening in conversation, or in a game
of backgammon or whist, both of which games she played remarkably well.
Quite often the Emperor, after he had retired for the night, sent for
her to read to him, as he loved the sound of her voice. As soon as
he was asleep, she returned to her salon, and resumed her game. At
midnight all visitors departed, and Joséphine made her toilette for the
night, which took nearly as long as that of the morning. “In this also
she was elegant,” said the Emperor; “she was graceful even in going to
bed.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
1805
ITALY AND STRASBOURG
The Journey to Italy--Grand Review at Marengo--Napoleon’s
Reconciliation with Jérôme--The Coronation at Milan--The
Emperor’s Satisfaction--Eugène, Viceroy of Italy--Joséphine’s
Grief--Napoleon’s Attachment to His Wife--The Fêtes at
Genoa--Hurried Return to France--Joséphine at Plombières--The
Austerlitz Campaign--Joséphine’s Sojourn at Strasbourg--Her Life
There--Napoleon’s Letters During the Campaign
On the 2 April 1805 Napoleon left Fontainebleau for Milan, where he was
to be crowned as King of Italy. He had not intended to take Joséphine
with him, but she pleaded so warmly that he finally yielded. The first
night was spent at Troyes, and the following day the Emperor went
alone to Brienne, to see the school where he had received his first
education. He slept at the château, and the following morning, without
any escort, he visited the old familiar scenes of his boyhood.
Following the usual route via Mâcon the imperial party reached Lyon
a week later. In order not to fatigue the Empress, Napoleon had
arranged to stop every night in some city, instead of travelling night
and day as was his regular habit. The sovereigns usually stayed at
the préfecture, where they found the dinner ready to serve, and the
lodgings prepared by the servants sent in advance.
At Lyon they descended at the palace of the archbishop, Cardinal Fesch,
who had recently been appointed to this see. The entire journey from
Fontainebleau had been a triumphal march. The villagers had flocked
from far and near to line the route and cheer their Emperor, with an
enthusiasm which at that time was as sincere as it was spontaneous.
It was three hours after noon when the party entered Lyon, and the
entire populace of the second city of France had gathered to acclaim
the Emperor. Napoleon had done much to increase the prosperity of this
large silk-manufacturing town, and he was extremely popular there.
After a sojourn of five days, they left for Turin by way of Mont-Cenis.
The fine road over the Alps, constructed by Napoleon, was not yet
completed, and, to cross the mountains, _chaises à porteur_ were
provided for the women, and mules for the men. The Pope, who had left
Fontainebleau two days after the Emperor, was still at Turin, where
he had stopped for a short rest on his way to Rome. As he occupied
the palace, the Emperor deferred for several days his entry into the
capital, and stopped at an old villa of the King of Sardinia a few
miles from the city.
Before proceeding to Milan, the party turned aside to visit
Alessandria. Here, the 5 May, the Emperor held a grand review on the
field where five years before he had gained the great victory of
Marengo. He had brought from Paris, and wore again on this occasion
the old and faded uniform, the shapeless hat, and the heavy sabre,
which recalled so many glorious memories. The manœuvres were directed
by Eugène under the orders of the Emperor, and Napoleon expressed
to Joséphine his satisfaction with the manner in which her son had
performed his task.
On the following day, Napoleon saw Jérôme for the first time since his
brother’s marriage. Jérôme had arrived at Lisbon with his wife during
the month of April. He was allowed to land, but, under orders from the
Emperor, she was forced to reëmbark for England. Jérôme was summoned
to meet the Emperor in Italy, and travelled there post-haste. After a
decisive interview with Napoleon, he basely agreed to abandon his wife
and her unborn child, and was again restored to favor.
On the 8 May the Emperor entered Milan, where his welcome was not
so spontaneous as in the cities of Piedmont. Napoleon was much
disappointed at the lack of real enthusiasm, and spoke of it to
Joséphine. His coronation as King of Italy took place on the 26 May in
the cathedral. The weather was perfect, and the city was crowded with
spectators. The ceremonies were similar to those at Notre-Dame, but
on a much smaller scale. Cardinal Caprara, the Archbishop of Milan,
officiated. Napoleon himself placed upon his head the celebrated
Iron Crown of the ancient kings of Lombardy, at the same time using
the traditional formula: “God gave it me; woe to him who touches
it!” Joséphine, although she bore the title of Queen of Italy, was
not crowned as at Paris, and was present at the ceremony only as a
spectator.
“After our return to the palace,” writes Mlle. Avrillon, “I was
occupied in the room of the Empress when the Emperor entered. He was
full of glee; he laughed, rubbed his hands together, and said with
great good humor: ‘Well, mademoiselle, did you have a good view of
the ceremony? Did you hear what I said in placing the crown upon my
head?’ Then he repeated in nearly the same tone he had used in the
cathedral: _Dieu me l’a donnée, gare à qui y touche!_ I replied
that nothing had escaped me. He was most amiable to me, and I have
often remarked that when nothing disturbed the Emperor he was very
familiar with the persons of his household; he spoke to us with a sort
of _bonhomie_, of freedom, as if he were our equal.... Often he
gave us a little tap, or pulled our ears: it was a favor which he did
not accord to everybody; and we could judge of the extent of his good
humor by the greater or less degree of pain that he caused us.... Very
frequently he did the same to the Empress when we were dressing her: he
gave her some taps playfully upon the shoulders. It was useless for her
to cry: _Finis donc, finis donc, Bonaparte!_ he continued as long
as the play amused him.”
On the 10 June the Emperor announced the appointment of Eugène as
Viceroy of Italy. This elevation of her son, which should have
delighted Joséphine, was only a cause of chagrin. She shed tears at the
thought of being separated from her child. One day when the Emperor
found her very sad he said: “You weep, Joséphine: it is not reasonable.
Do you cry because you are going to be separated from your son? If the
absence of your children causes you so much grief, judge what I myself
must endure! The attachment to them which you show makes me cruelly
feel the misfortune of not having any.” These words were far from
assuaging the grief of the Empress: they raised once more the dreaded
spectre of divorce. Napoleon certainly had no idea of increasing her
grief, and Joséphine could not let him see what an interpretation she
put upon his speech. “The Emperor,” says Mlle. Avrillon, “was one
of the best husbands that I have ever known; when the Empress was
indisposed he passed by her side all the time that he could take from
his affairs. He always came to her before retiring, and very often
when he awoke during the night, he came himself, or sent his Mameluke
to have news of Her Majesty. He had for her the most tender regard,
and it is only true to say that she fully returned it.... Nothing that
I say here would seem exaggerated if others, like myself, could have
witnessed the proofs of affection which they both displayed; and I am
certain that when political reasons forced them to separate, all the
grief was not on one side.”
On the 10 June the Emperor left Milan for a visit to the Austrian
frontier and the famous Quadrilateral, the scene of so many of his
brilliant victories. Three days later he held another grand review
of his troops on the battle-field of Castiglione. Joséphine took
advantage of his absence to make with a few attendants the tour of the
Italian lakes. She was happy to be free for a few days from the irksome
etiquette which the presence of the Emperor always imposed.
On her return to Milan, she dismissed most of her suite, who were
to leave directly for Paris, and with a few attendants proceeded
to Bologna, where she rejoined the Emperor. In this city the new
sovereigns of Italy received a very warm greeting, which partially
atoned for the coldness of the Milanais. On the last day of June
the party arrived at Genoa, well named the Superb, where they had a
brilliant reception. During the following week there was a succession
of magnificent fêtes to celebrate the incorporation of the ancient
republic in the French Empire.
Late on the 6 July a special courier from Paris brought to the Emperor
the news of the formation of the Third Coalition, and at ten o’clock
that evening he set out for Turin, where he arrived early on the
following morning. He then told the Empress of his intention to start
the next day post-haste for Paris, leaving her to follow him more
leisurely. Joséphine begged to accompany him, and the Emperor finally
consented, on her promise not to have one of her headaches!
The party started in three carriages--one for the Emperor and Empress,
another for the grand officers of the household, and a third for
the service--with a small escort of cavalry. But after crossing
Mont-Cenis, the Emperor travelled so rapidly that the other carriages
and the escort were left far behind. Napoleon and Joséphine reached
Fontainebleau about ten o’clock on the night of the 11 July, after an
absence of exactly one hundred days. Four days later the Emperor wrote
Eugène: “I arrived eighty-five hours after my departure from Turin.
Nevertheless I lost three hours on Mont-Cenis and I stopped constantly
on account of the Empress. One or two hours to breakfast and one or
two hours to dine made me lose eight or ten hours more.” The express
trains via the Mont-Cenis tunnel now make the run of about 440 miles
in fourteen hours. Allowing for the delays of which he speaks, and the
longer distance by road, the Emperor made the trip in about seventy
hours, at the rate of nearly seven miles an hour.
The arrival of the Emperor at Fontainebleau was so unexpected that
there was no one to receive him except the concierge of the palace, an
old servant named Gaillot, who had been his cook in Egypt. “Come, my
good fellow,” said the Emperor, “you must resume your old calling; you
must get us some supper.” Fortunately Gaillot had in his larder some
mutton chops and some eggs, and Napoleon and Joséphine ate the simple
repast with a good appetite.
A week later the Emperor reached Saint-Cloud, while the thunder of
the cannon of the Invalides announced his return to the capital. The
same evening, after a call on Madame Mère, the sovereigns attended the
Opéra, where they received a warm welcome from the audience.
On the second day of August the Emperor left Saint-Cloud for a month’s
tour of inspection of the Grand Army, which was in cantonments along
the Channel, prepared for a descent on England. Here, ten days later,
he received news that Admiral Villeneuve, after an indecisive action
with the English fleet off Ferrol, had set sail for Cadiz, instead of
Brest, as ordered. Losing no time in vain regrets over the failure
of his well-laid plans, Napoleon called Daru to his headquarters at
Pont-de-Brique at four o’clock in the morning, and dictated at one
sitting the plan of the Austrian campaign as far as Vienna.
In the meantime Joséphine had gone to her favorite watering-place,
Plombières, to take the baths. What a marvellous change in her fortunes
since her earlier visit as Madame Bonaparte after the departure of her
husband for Egypt! Then, after her accident, she was almost alone, and
Hortense was called in haste from Saint-Germain to nurse her mother.
Now a company of infantry is sent to escort Her Majesty from Nancy to
Plombières; there are receptions by authorities civil and military,
addresses and salutes; triumphal arches at the gates of the cities;
at Plombières, illuminations and fireworks. She is accompanied by a
préfet du palais, an écuyer d’honneur, a dame d’honneur and two dames
du palais, five femmes de chambre, and a score or more of servants. The
charges for the post, going and coming, amount to nearly forty thousand
francs, and the entire expenses of the trip total over 134,000 francs.
By way of diversion, Joséphine had her portrait painted by a very
popular artist named Laurent whom she met at Plombières. For this small
full-length portrait, eighteen inches by fifteen, she paid six thousand
francs. Except for a few excursions in the neighborhood this was the
only occupation of her days. At Bondy, on her return, she was greeted
by the prefect and all the authorities. She survived the addresses,
and without any escort continued her journey to Malmaison, which she
reached the last of August.
On the 24 September, between four and five o’clock in the morning,
accompanied by Joséphine, Napoleon left Saint-Cloud to put himself
at the head of the Grand Army, which exactly four weeks before had
begun its march from the Channel to the Rhine. The journey of 315
miles to Strasbourg was made in sixty hours without any stop. In
accompanying the Emperor to Strasbourg, and taking up her residence
there, Joséphine’s thought was, “to escape from the Parisian addresses
which bored her; from the surveillance of her brothers-in-law; and from
the ennui of the palace of Saint-Cloud.” She was amused with a new
entertainment.
In the ancient capital of Alsace, Joséphine lived in the episcopal
mansion at the foot of the cathedral. It was a real palace, completed
in 1741, and entirely modern in its appointments. Built by the first
bishop of the house of Rohan, Armand-Gaston, cardinal and grand
almoner, it had been visited by Louis the Fifteenth in 1744, and had
received Marie-Antoinette on her arrival in France as Dauphine in 1770.
Sold early in the Revolution as national property, it had been bought
by the city and become the seat of the municipal administration. After
the foundation of the Empire the city had offered the palace to the
State as one of the “four imperial residences to be established at the
four principal points of the Empire.” From Boulogne, the Emperor had
ordered Duroc to send Fontaine to Strasbourg to put the mansion in
order to receive him. In less than two weeks the architect cleared out
the clerks and the archives; cleaned, redecorated and refurnished the
palace--all at a cost not much exceeding two hundred thousand francs.
Furniture was collected from the neighboring cities and châteaux;
linen, glass and silver were sent from Paris. Three days before the
Emperor’s arrival all was ready, even to the carriages and horses in
the stables.
The private suite of the Emperor, facing on the court, comprised five
rooms, while in the rear, fronting on the terrace of the Ill, were
the State apartments, seven magnificent salons on the first floor. On
the first and second floors, there were fourteen small rooms at the
disposal of the Empress; the quarters were not very commodious, but she
was satisfied.
The Emperor remained only four days at Strasbourg and then proceeded to
the headquarters of the army. The life of Joséphine after his departure
was one continual round of dinners, balls, concerts and spectacles.
In two months Bausset, the prefect of the palace, paid out over two
hundred thousand francs for the running expenses of the household. As
the success of the Emperor became known there were visits from all of
the South German princes. Joséphine received the homage rendered her;
she missed no ceremony; she remained until the end of all the balls she
gave, and had a smile and a polite word for every one.
Not content with enjoying all the pleasures of the city, Joséphine
indulged to the limit her mania for spending. Everything that was
offered, she bought: pictures, porcelains, plants, living animals--all
of which went to swell her collection at Malmaison. With the expenses
of the palace, she left over a million francs behind her in Strasbourg.
* * * * *