However, the new court was too busy in the summer and fall of 1804 to give overmuch time to quarreling. The mere matter of familiarizing themselves with the new code of etiquette sufficiently well not to incur the ridicule of those who had been brought up to court usages, was serious enough to absorb most of their time and energies. They succeeded fairly well, though the aristocrats of the Faubourg St. Germain told endless tales of the blunders they made, stories which were circulated industriously in the courts of Europe. Their failure was not for lack of effort, however. Josephine and her ladies took up the code with energy—it was a new amusement, and for weeks they studied their parts and went through their rehearsals as if they were preparing a play for the stage. Before the time of the coronation they had become fairly at home with court usages and were ready to take up the rehearsals for that ceremony with fresh energy.
Indeed, for a month at least, all Paris was absorbed in preparations for the coronation. Fontainebleau was to be put in order to receive the Pope. Notre Dame, where the ceremony was to take place, was to be superbly decorated. Magnificent carriages and trappings for horses and livery were to be provided. Robes and uniforms were to be made ready for the actors. All of the decorators, jewelers, costume-makers, merchants of all sorts in the city were busy night and day. As for the court itself, there one heard nothing talked but the coming spectacle. Under the direction of the Grand Master, the ceremonies had been planned down to the most trivial detail, and everybody was busy learning and practicing his part.
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
From a pencil sketch made by David in the Cathedral of Notre Dame at the time of Josephine’s coronation, and presented to his son. The original is now in the Museum of Versailles.
By the time the Pope arrived at Fontainebleau, on November 25, everything was practically ready. The court had gone to Fontainebleau to meet His Holiness, and in the few days it remained there before going to Paris, Josephine achieved a victory which completed her happiness for the time. No religious marriage between her and Napoleon had ever been celebrated, and although it had been a part of Napoleon’s policy since he came into power to restore the church, and although he had insisted on an observation of all its ceremonies, he had always refused Josephine’s request for a religious marriage. Now, however, she obtained a powerful advocate—the Pope—to whom, at confession, she told her trouble. He declared he could not officiate at the coronation unless a religious marriage was performed. The night before the coronation, Napoleon gave his consent, and the service was held at the Tuileries in profound secrecy, only two witnesses being present.
December 2nd had been set for the coronation. The Tuileries, from which the royal party was to go to Notre Dame, was astir very early, for the Pope was to leave the palace at nine; the Emperor and Empress an hour later. The morning was given to dressing—a long task in Josephine’s case, but one which justified the labor and thought which had been given to her costume. Never had she looked more beautiful than when she joined the Emperor and her ladies. Napoleon was delighted at her appearance, and Mme. de Remusat declared that she did not look over twenty-five.
Josephine’s coronation gown was of white satin, elaborately embroidered in silver and gold; it hung from the shoulders, and was confined by a girdle set with gems. A train of white velvet embroidered in gold and silver was fastened to this gown. The neck was low and square, and the sleeves were long. A ruff, stiff with gold, was set into the top of the sleeves, and rose high behind her head. The narrow corsage and the top of the sleeves were decorated with diamonds. She wore a magnificent necklace of sculptured stones surrounded with diamonds, and on her head was a diadem of pearls and diamonds. Her shoes were of white velvet, embroidered in gold; on her hands she wore white gloves, embroidered in gold. The cost of the pieces of this costume are interesting—the gown is estimated to have cost $2,000; the velvet train, $1,400; the shoes, $130.
The pontifical procession had been gone from the Palace over an hour when Napoleon and Josephine, accompanied by Joseph and Louis Bonaparte, descended, and entered the gorgeous state carriage drawn by eight horses in rich harness. As the sides of the vehicle were entirely of glass, the spectators could look easily upon the magnificence of the party inside. From the Tuileries, the party proceeded slowly to the Archbishop’s palace, along streets crowded with people and decorated with every device which skill and money could provide. During the entire procession, salvos of artillery at intervals greeted the Emperor. At the palace of the Archbishop, the party entered, and here Napoleon put on his coronation robe and Josephine finished her costume by changing her diadem for one of amethysts and by fastening to her left shoulder a royal mantle of red velvet, embroidered in golden bees and in the imperial N surrounded by garlands, and bordered and lined with ermine. This mantle fell from the shoulders, and trailed for fully two yards on the floor.
These changes of toilet made, the cortège started—pages, cuirassiers and heralds, the Grand Master of Ceremonies and his aides,—a marshal bearing a cushion on which was placed the ring for the Empress, another marshal carrying the crown on a cushion. Following the Empress and her attendants, came the cortège of the Emperor; first the marshals bearing the crown, sceptre, and sword of Charlemagne, and the ring and globe belonging to Napoleon; then the Emperor, crowned with a wreath of gold laurel leaves, the sceptre in one hand, and in the other a baton—emblem of justice, his heavy royal mantle carried by several princes, a guard of richly dressed ornamental personages following.