At three o'clock the carriages were at the door, and Josephine, with her ladies, rode out. It was very seldom that Napoleon could find time to accompany them. On returning from the drive, she dressed for dinner. Napoleon attached much importance to this grand toilet, for he was fully aware of the influence of costume upon the public mind, and was very fond of seeing Josephine dressed with elegance and taste. It is reported that he not unfrequently recreated himself by entering her boudoir on such occasions, and suggesting the robe or the jewelry he would like to have her wear. Her waiting-women were not a little embarrassed by the manner in which his unskillful hands would throw about the precious contents of the caskets, and the confusion into which he would toss all the nameless articles of a lady's wardrobe.
The dinner hour.
Dinner was appointed at six o'clock. It was, however, served when Napoleon was ready to receive it. Not unfrequently, when much engrossed with business, he would postpone the hour until nine, and even ten o'clock. The cook, during all this time, would be preparing fresh viands, that a hot dinner might be ready at a moment's warning. A chicken, for instance, was put upon the spit every fifteen minutes. Napoleon and Josephine always dined together, sometimes alone, more frequently with a few invited guests. There was a grand master of ceremonies, who, on all such occasions, informed the grand marshal of the necessary arrangements, and of the seat each guest was to occupy.
Dining in state.
Occasionally the emperor and empress dined in state. Rich drapery canopied the table, which was placed upon a platform, slightly elevated, with two arm-chairs of gorgeous workmanship, one for Napoleon, and the other, upon his left, for Josephine. Other tables were placed upon the floor of the same room for illustrious guests. The grand marshal announced to the emperor when the preparations for them to enter the room was completed. A gorgeous procession of pages, marshals, equeries, and chamberlains accompanied the emperor and empress into the hall. Pages and stewards performed the subordinate parts of the service at the table, in bringing and removing dishes, while noblemen of the highest rank felt honored in ministering to the immediate wants of their majesties. Those who sat at the surrounding tables were served by servants in livery.
Evening parties.
Josephine's love of solitude.
Josephine passed the evening in her apartment almost invariably with a party either of invited guests, or of distinguished ministers and officers of the empire, who, having called on business, were awaiting the pleasure of Napoleon. There were frequent receptions and levees, which filled the saloons of the palace with a brilliant throng. At midnight all company retired, and the palace was still. Josephine loved the silence of these midnight hours, when the turmoil of the day had passed, and no sounds fell upon her ear but the footfalls of the sentinel in the court-yard below. She often sat for an hour alone, surrendering herself to the luxury of solitude and of undisturbed thought.
Hunting parties.
The protected stag.
Such was the general routine of the life of Josephine while empress. She passed from one to another of the various royal residences, equally at home in all. At the Tuilleries, St. Cloud, Versailles, Rambouillet, and Fontainebleau, life was essentially the same. Occasionally, at the rural palaces, hunting parties were formed for the entertainment of distinguished guests from abroad. Napoleon himself took but little personal interest in sports of this kind. On such occasions, the empress, with her ladies, usually rode in an open calêche, and a pic-nic was provided, to be spread on the green turf, beneath the boughs of the forest. Once a terrified, panting stag, exhausted with the long chase, when the hounds in full bay were just ready to spring upon him, by a strange instinct sought a retreat beneath the carriage in which the gentle heart of Josephine was throbbing. The appeal was not in vain. Josephine plead for the life of the meek-eyed, trembling suppliant. To mark it as her favorite, and as living under the shield of her protection, she had a silver collar put around its neck. The stag now roamed its native glades unharmed. No dog was permitted to molest it, and no sportsman would injure a protégé of Josephine. Her love was its talisman.