The Court of the Empress Josephine | Page 2

applied Corneille's lines:--
"All your happiness Subject to instability In a moment falls to the
ground, And as it has the brilliancy of glass It also has its fragility."

We shall evoke the memory of the dead to revive this vanished court,
and we shall consult, one after another, the persons who were
eye-witnesses of these short-lived wonders. A prefect of the palace, M.
de Bausset, wrote: "When I recall the memorable times of which I have
just given a faint idea, I feel, after so many years, as if I had been
taking part in the gorgeous scenes of the Arabian Tales or of the
Thousand and One Nights. The magic picture of all those splendors and
glories has disappeared, and with it all the prestige of ambition and
power." One of the ladies of the palace of the Empress Josephine,
Madame de Rémusat, has expressed the same thought: "I seem to be
recalling a dream, but a dream resembling an Oriental tale, when I
describe the lavish luxury of that period, the disputes for precedence,
the claims of rank, the demands of every one." Yes, in all that there was
something dreamlike, and the actors in that fairy spectacle which is
called the Empire, that great show piece, with its scenery, now brilliant,
now terrible, but ever changing, must have been even more astonished
than the spectators. Aix-la-Chapelle and the court of Charlemagne, the
castle of Fontainebleau and the Pope, Notre Dame and the coronation,
the Champ de Mars and the distribution of eagles, the Cathedral of
Milan and the Iron Crown, Genoa the superb and its naval festival,
Austerlitz and the three emperors,--what a setting! what accessories!
what personages! The peal of organs, the intoning of priests, the
applause of the multitude and of the soldiers, the groans of the dying,
the trumpet call, the roll of the drum, ball music, military bands, the
cannon's roar, were the joyful and mournful harmonies heard while the
play went on. What we shall study amid this tumult and agitation is one
woman. We have already studied her as the Viscountess of Beauharnais,
as Citizeness Bonaparte, and as the wife of the First Consul. We shall
now study her in her new part, that of Empress.
Let us go back to May 18, 1804, to the Palace of Saint Cloud. The
Emperor had just been proclaimed by the Senate before the _plébiscite_
which was to ratify the new state of things. The curtain has risen, the
play begins, and no drama is fuller of contrasts, of incidents, of
movement. The leading actor, Napoleon, was already as familiar with
his part as if he had played it since his childhood. Josephine is also at
home in hers. As a woman of the world, she had learned, by practice in
the drawing-room, to win even greater victories. For a fashionable

beauty there is no great difference between an armchair and a throne.
The minor actors are not so accustomed to their new position. Nothing
is more amusing than the embarrassment of the courtiers when they
have to answer the Emperor's questions. They begin with a blunder;
then, in correcting themselves, they fall into still worse confusion; ten
times a minute was repeated, Sire, General, Your Majesty, Citizen,
First Consul. Constant, the Emperor's valet de chambre, has given us a
description of this 18th of May, 1804, a day devoted to receptions,
presentations, interviews, and congratulations: "Every one," he says,
"was filled with joy in the Palace of Saint Cloud; every one imagined
that he had risen a step, like General Bonaparte, who, from First Consul,
had become a monarch. Men were embracing and complimenting one
another; confiding their share of hopes and plans for the future; there
was no official so humble that he was not fired with ambition." In a
word, the ante-chamber, barring the difference of persons, presented an
exact imitation of what was going on in the drawing-room. It seemed
like a first performance which had long been eagerly expected,
arousing the same eager excitement among the players and the public.
The day which had started bright grew dark; for a long time there were
threatenings of a thunder-storm; but none looked on this as an evil
omen. All were inclined to cheery views. The courtiers displayed their
zeal with all the ardor, the passion, the _furia francese_, which is a
national characteristic, and appears on the battle-field as well as in the
ante- chamber. The French fight and flatter with equal enthusiasm.
Amid all these manifestations of devotion and delight, the members of
the Imperial family alone, who should have been the most satisfied, and
certainly the most astonished by their greatness, wore an anxious,
almost a grieved look. They alone appeared discontented with their
master. Their pride knew no