Next to Pauline Metternich the most important member of the Empress’s small private circle was Prosper Merimée, the clever author—“the Empress’s court jester,” as he laughingly called himself. He had first met the Countess Montijo while Eugénie was still a child, and the acquaintance had ripened with years into a close friendship which was shared by the imperial pair. Although not strictly speaking a member of the court, both Napoleon and Eugénie treated him as a member of their family, and the bigoted Empress not only honored him as a gifted author, but felt an almost sisterly affection for the avowed free-thinker.
Chapter VIII
Paris under the Second Empire
The Danish writer, Hermann Bang, says:
“It was a strangely mixed society that formed the court of the Second Empire, and during this splendid period Paris became more than ever a brilliant social arena. New names and new celebrities sprang up like mushrooms and withered away as quickly. Since life was short, it must needs be rapid. Looking back upon it now, one is reminded of a juggler’s performance at the circus. The glittering balls fly about in bewildering numbers and seem to fill the whole air. Different performers come and go, but the dazzling display continues. This society was neither composed of the representative families of France nor yet of the mass of the population, who supported the Government, and to whom the Second Empire seemed a complete restoration of the glories of the First. Truly the richest legacy of greatness is the magic that lies in a name.”
Napoleon was well aware of the value of the name he bore. He had not forgotten that to it alone he owed his possession of the throne; and he determined that the name at which Europe had trembled and which all France adored should serve as the foundation of his power. As far as possible he tried to revive all the Napoleonic traditions and preserve the fond illusion of the Parisians. Everything about the court was conducted on a scale of the greatest magnificence. Uniforms of officials, ministers, and deputies were a mass of gold embroidery. The gorgeousness of the palace guards suggested the operatic stage; customs of the time of Louis the Fourteenth were even revived. Visits from foreign sovereigns were attended with an almost fabulous display, and with Napoleon’s rising importance these visits became more and more frequent. Indeed there were times during the Second Empire when whole solar systems of potentates revolved about one another.
On Thursday evenings during the winter, dinners were given at the Tuileries for diplomats and state officials, followed by receptions and dancing. Four court balls were given in the course of the season, to which as many as five thousand invitations were issued, and which were marked by the utmost splendor. Both sides of the grand staircase were lined with palace guards. Guests waited in the galleries until the arrival of the sovereigns, when the doors of the great salon were thrown open and the Emperor and Empress took their places on the dais, the princes and princesses grouped about them. The Empress danced only the opening quadrille on these occasions, and at eleven retired with the Emperor to a smaller salon where there was also dancing.
Eugénie possessed the truly royal gift of never forgetting a face or a name, and always had a kindly word or glance for every one as she passed through the crowded room; but when it was over and she reached her own apartments, she would be completely exhausted with the weight of the crown jewels, which she wore in the greatest profusion on these occasions. Sometimes she would not even wait for her women, but would snatch off the crown and heavy ornaments and toss them into the lap of the lady-in-waiting, who bore them carefully away, for each was worth a fortune. Besides these grand balls to which any one with the slightest claim to rank or position could easily obtain admission, the most splendid and original masquerades were given in Carnival time, to which invitations were more limited. During Lent there were no entertainments with the exception of four state concerts given under the direction of Auber, then court kapellmeister, and Count Bacciocchi, director of the theatre, in which all the most famous artists took part.
Far more interesting than these semi-official affairs were the weekly Monday receptions held by the Empress in her own apartments. Only a select few were invited to these, and the Empress’s “Mondays” soon became famous all over Europe. Napoleon and Eugénie received their guests with the greatest cordiality, and conversed familiarly with all. Here Princess Metternich shone her brightest; here too were seen the beautiful Princess Murat, Duchess of Monchy; the gallant Count Walewski, who so closely resembled his father, the great Napoleon; the Emperor’s half-brother, the Duke de Morny; and his youthful friend and ally Duke Fialni de Persigny. Here Merimée’s inexhaustible fund of wit and humor found full play. Here the Emperor’s favorite, General Fleury, and the elegant Marquis de Caux (afterward the husband of Adelina Patti) led the cotillon and invented figures that made the rounds of Europe.
Scarcely less famous in their way were the hunting parties held by the court at Compiègne every autumn. To these only a few were invited at a time, and the weekly list of guests was prepared with as much care as if it had been some important affair of state. Fifteen new gowns of the costliest kind were regarded as indispensable by the feminine world for a visit to Compiègne. Many feigned illness to escape the expense of so many new toilettes, while others were almost ruined by accepting the invitations. Art, literature, and science were well represented at these gatherings; and once arrived at Compiègne, all received the most cordial welcome, no matter what their political opinions.
Next to court entertainments the most popular rendezvous for the world of fashion in the days of the Empire was the opera; and although it then had its home in the narrow Rue Lepelletier, instead of its present magnificent palace, this did not deter royalty and all the highest society from attending regularly. Full dress was required, and the costly gowns and the jewels of the ladies, with the brilliant uniforms of the men, lent an air of festivity to each performance that is usually seen only on some gala occasion. But if grand opera were the temple of art in which Eugénie showed herself most often, it was by no means her favorite place of amusement. She not only lacked all knowledge of the higher music, but it was distasteful to her; and even well written drama at the Théâtre Français had no interest for her. On the other hand, she adored anything amusing and had the greatest fondness for Offenbach’s lively airs. Her musical taste may be judged by the fact that during the Czar Alexander of Russia’s stay in Paris in 1867, she could think of no greater mark of attention than to send him tickets for a performance of the “Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein.”