THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE IN CIRCASSIAN COSTUME.
Her Imperial Majesty represented these characters at costume balls given at the Palace of the Tuileries. The illustrations are from private photographs, and are reproduced by permission of the proprietors of Femina, the popular illustrated Paris paper, in which they originally appeared.
The Emperor knew what was expected of him. He had not been four years President without learning the métier. The festivities began with a ball on the 18th; on the 20th there was a great “meet,” attended by two hundred ladies, all mounted, and in Louis XV. costume—“casaque à basques” and “chapeau mousquetaire.” Of course, “the Montijos” were among the “dames chasseresses,” and provoked criticism as well as admiration at the “meet” at the carrefour Bourbon and in the evening at the curée, by torchlight, in the court of the château. At this stag-hunt the first of the “boutons” made their appearance; these were favoured persons allowed by the Sovereign to wear the green uniform and three-cornered hat, which, to unæsthetic British “pursuers,” smacked of the theatrical, just as scarlet coats may have seemed to Frenchmen who were occasionally seen in our shires.
The two “foreign ladies”—Mme. and Mlle. de Montijo—were ardent sportswomen. They rode boldly in the stag-hunts, and they appeared at the “shoots” with guns—delicately-made weapons—“jolis joujoux,” M. Bouchot calls them. They tramped through the coverts alongside the Emperor; no other ladies shared this privilege. This alone was enough to set envious tongues wagging. Nobody admitted the possibility of what actually happened; nobody believed in an “engagement”; but many believed in “adventures” which never occurred. In reality there was played in the alleys and coverts of Compiègne a final act of diplomacy, in which Spain wasted less powder and shot than the spectators imagined.
Between December 18 and 25—that fateful week for the Emperor and Mlle. de Montijo—the Gymnase company performed the “Fils de Famille,” and on Christmas Day came another big “meet” of the imperial hounds. The “foreign ladies” assisted at both these events, which preceded by a few days the news of the engagement. Every year thereafter the Court removed to Compiègne in November, and there the Festival of Ste. Eugénie was regularly celebrated on the 15th.
Compiègne was neither a Fontainebleau nor a St. Cloud; in some respects it was like the Tuileries. The Empress’s “Compiègnes” were at once sans-gêne and dignified—an amalgam of town and country festivities; château life carried to an excess of luxuriousness; an intermediate existence between summer at Fontainebleau and winter at the Tuileries. In the country, amongst the vast woods, with relays of guests, the Empress was happy. In the day there was now a “meet,” anon a “shoot”; at night there were raouts, dances, charades, theatrical performances. The invités, as a rule, remained four or five days; others, a week or so. On the Empress’s fête-day (Ste. Eugénie) there was a family gathering. Towards the end of November snow or rain usually interfered with hunting and shooting.
Each of the “seriés” was composed of from sixty to eighty persons—social stars, actors and actresses, singers, authors, painters, journalists, and mere gens d’esprit. They left Paris by a special train at two o’clock, and it was often dark when they reached the château in the English chars-à-bancs. Amongst the guests of every variety were some who were not remarkable for social graces. Here and there were men who apparently did not find it easy to tie a white cravat properly; yet for these the sunniest smiles of the imperial host and hostess were reserved. Some of the guests were encumbered by baggage—huge boxes and trunks choked with uniforms and dresses. The sorting of these, under the superintendence of valets and suisses, provided amusement for those who watched the scene from the upper windows.
By a quarter-past seven the guests had to be correctly dressed—the men in tail-coats, short breeches, black silk stockings, and shoes with steel buckles—and in the large drawing-room awaiting the entry of the Sovereigns. Only the official personages had places allotted to them at table; the others sat where they pleased, or where they could. Dinners at Courts are said to be very much alike. But those at Compiègne had a spécialité; everything was superlatively good, and the music excellent. On the stuccoed columns of the dining-room were statues of Mme. Lætitia and Napoleon I. The plates were of Sèvres, the girandoles of silver, a surtout in biscuit (which faced the Emperor) was adorned with a hunting scene. The legion of servants wore coats with gold lace; their perruques were powdered, their stockings of pink silk. The head-servants—maîtres d’hôtels—wore plum-coloured tail-coats, embroidered with silver; each had a sword. The unseen orchestra played softly, so that conversation was undisturbed. In less than three-quarters of an hour the Emperor and Empress rose; the guests, passing through the salle des gardes, returned to the salons.