Abandoning for a moment the chronological sequence of events, let us endeavor to depict Joséphine’s mode of life during the time that her career was linked with the Empire: from the 18 May 1804, when she was saluted as Empress at Saint-Cloud, to the 15 December 1809, when her marriage was dissolved at the Tuileries. To Frédéric Masson, of the Académie Française, we owe many interesting details of the existence of the Empress at this time.

During these five years and a half, Joséphine passed less than twelve months in all at the Tuileries; she lived thirteen months at Saint-Cloud, eight at Malmaison, and four at Fontainebleau. She went twice to Plombières and once to Aix-la-Chapelle for the baths; she lived six months at Strasbourg and four at Mayence; she visited Germany, Italy and Belgium, the borders of the Rhine, and all of the centre and south of France. To follow her in her journeys, to trace her itinerary, would be both tedious and unprofitable; wherever she lived her surroundings were practically the same, and the details of her daily life never varied.

In the endeavor to emancipate himself from a part of the slavery to which the sovereigns of France had always submitted, Napoleon divided his existence into two parts: one, the exterior, which belonged to the public; the other, the interior, which was intimate and private. The first had for its theatre the State apartments, the second was passed in the private rooms. But for the Empress this division was more apparent than real: the two lives were constantly overlapping.

Now that the Tuileries have been destroyed for fifty years, it is difficult to give any clear idea of the apartments occupied by Joséphine, and especially so as she was continually changing the arrangement of the rooms. The “Appartement d’honneur” of the Empress was entered from the Carrousel at the corner of the Pavillon de Flore. The windows in the salons were so high from the floor that a person, when seated, could not see out; but Napoleon would allow no alterations made, as it would have injured the appearance of the façade of the palace. On the other side, the private rooms, which faced on the Gardens, were only separated from the public sidewalk by a low terrace, and it was possible for any passerby to see into the windows. Again the Emperor refused to have any change made which would have deprived the Parisians of the privilege of passing through the Gardens. It was not until the days of the “people’s king,” Louis-Philippe, that the windows were cut down, and a part of the Gardens was reserved.

The private apartment of Joséphine comprised only a library, a bedroom, a dressing-room and bath-room. All these rooms, on the ground floor, faced on the Gardens, and were the same that Joséphine and Hortense had occupied when they first came to the Tuileries. The personal suite of the Emperor, on the first floor, was reached by several private staircases, one of which ascended from Joséphine’s bedchamber. These stairways were so narrow that two persons could not pass. The rooms on the Gardens were separated from those on the court by a long dark corridor. Above a part of Joséphine’s suite there was a mezzanine floor, or entresol, in which were located her wardrobes.

The decorations of her apartment, made at the beginning of the Consulate, had never pleased Joséphine, who wished, above all, to have a handsome bedroom. Accordingly, when she was absent in Germany in 1806, her rooms were entirely redecorated and refurnished by Fontaine, in a truly imperial style, at a cost of one hundred thousand francs. But Joséphine considered the work frightful, and a year later gave orders to have it all done over, to suit her own taste. In the budget of 1808, the Emperor allowed a credit of sixty thousand francs for this work, but the final cost exceeded a quarter of a million. This time the architects, discouraged by so many contradictory orders, decided to follow their own ideas. When Joséphine returned from Bayonne the work was all finished. She was furious because her orders had been disregarded: the decorations were “heavy and out of style”; the furniture was “too plain and too cheap.” She went to live at the Élysée, and, with her numerous absences from Paris, never again occupied the Tuileries for more than three months up to the day of her divorce. At the time of his second marriage, therefore, Napoleon did not think it necessary to make any great alterations for Marie-Louise in the rooms which Joséphine had hardly used.

The arrangement of Joséphine’s rooms at Saint-Cloud was very similar to that at the Tuileries, except that they were located on the first floor, and were decorated in a more modern and more feminine style. Napoleon, who liked everything severe, but handsome, was not pleased with the furniture, which he did not consider in accord with the majesty of his person and his reign. He said that Joséphine’s apartment was fit only for a “fille entretenue.” Most of the visitors did not agree with this opinion: they considered the rooms in good taste, and much pleasanter than those in the Tuileries. On the walls were hung many fine paintings taken from the Musée Napoléon. In the salon of the Empress there was a handsome portrait of Madame Mère by Gérard. But what attracted the most attention was a large mirror in one piece, over the mantel: this was mounted on a back of solid silver, which disappeared when a spring was pressed, and furnished a fine perspective of the park, with the fountains, the vases and statues.

The chamber of Joséphine was particularly attractive, with the bed, in the form of a small boat, of mahogany ornamented with gilded bronze; and mirrors on all sides. The bath-room was entirely in marble, with painted antique friezes.

At Saint-Cloud the etiquette was somewhat relaxed, and the life more private. It was possible to walk in the restricted gardens, and to make extended excursions in carriages, through the park and in the neighborhood, particularly to Malmaison.

To give an idea of the tastes and occupations of Joséphine, we will trace briefly the routine of one day. If the Emperor had passed the night in her apartment, he rose at eight o’clock, and, at Paris, ascended, or at Saint-Cloud, descended to his own rooms: only, at Saint-Cloud, there was no private staircase, and he was forced to pass through a long corridor to reach the public stairway.

Then the Empress’ women entered and drew the curtains. For her first repast, Joséphine drank, in bed, a cup of infusion or a lemonade. She always wore a nightcap of percale or embroidered muslin, trimmed with lace. Although she had no end of night-dresses, she usually wore a chemise, over which at night she put on a camisole. The door was then opened for the entrance of her favorite pug dog, Fortuné, an ugly mongrel cur. This was a successor to the dog of the same name under whose collar she concealed her letters at the Carmes in 1794: that one had been killed at Montebello.

Never later than nine o’clock, Joséphine enters her dressing-room, where she always passes at least three hours of her day, for she never neglects the mysterious rites of her toilette. Under the Empire, Joséphine had no less than twelve attendants to care for her person and her wardrobe, but the two premières femmes were only there for the etiquette, and had few functions to perform beyond drawing their salary of six thousand francs. The four femmes de chambre were pretty young girls, who after the end of 1805 were called dames d’annonce. Two of them were in service every other week, and their duty was to announce to the Empress the persons who called upon her. Their salary was three thousand francs a year. The real attendants of Joséphine were, the garde d’atours, Madame Mallet, and the four femmes de garde-robe, of whom one was Mlle. Avrillon, who, in her Mémoires, calls herself “première femme de chambre de l’Impératrice.” These women were the ones who entered into the familiarity of the Empress, and were most in her confidence. To them Joséphine intrusted not only her jewels and her robes, but also her most secret thoughts. To them she made presents of five hundred or a thousand francs at a time, gave them dots when they were married, and a pension when they retired. While guarding her rank, Joséphine always treated these attendants with the greatest kindness and politeness, and naturally she was adored by them.

For Joséphine, the rites of her toilette were long and complicated. She always took a bath every day, which was rather unusual at that time. But the most important act was to faire sa tête, to efface the ravages of time. In those days it was customary for all society women to employ rouge, but Joséphine carried it to excess: not content with putting a little on her cheeks, she covered her entire face with powder and rouge. The eye of Napoleon was so accustomed to this excess of color that he thought any woman who did not show it must be ill: “Go and put on some rouge, Madame,” he said to one, “you look like a corpse.” On the other hand, Napoleon could not endure the scent of any perfume except a little lavender water or eau de Cologne.

The intricate details of her toilette completed, Joséphine dresses for the morning. From her five hundred chemises, she selects one of muslin, percale, or batiste, embroidered at the bottom, and trimmed at the neck and sleeves with Malines or Valenciennes. The plainest ones cost a hundred francs, and some of them three times that amount. As Joséphine changes all her linen three times a day, the number of the garments is not so extraordinary.

She almost always wears white silk stockings, costing from twenty to seventy francs a pair: no garters, as the new silk stockings stay in place. In the morning she puts on house shoes of taffetas or satin, at eight francs the pair, of which she orders over five hundred a year. She usually wears a light corset of lined percale trimmed with Valenciennes, for which she pays about forty francs. After the corset she puts on a flimsy petticoat of percale trimmed with her favorite lace. That is all, absolutely all: “Joséphine n’a dans sa garde-robe que deux pantalons en soie de couleur chair pour monter à cheval.”

When Joséphine has put on a peignoir, her coiffeur, Herbault, is introduced. He is an important personage, in embroidered costume, with a sword by his side, and receives in salary and gifts eight thousand francs a year. But Herbault is only employed on ordinary occasions: for days of ceremony there is Duplan, who is paid twelve thousand francs, and later, in the time of Marie-Louise, receives the magnificent salary of forty-two thousand francs. It is impossible to attempt to describe the coiffures employed by Joséphine, for they varied from day to day. Her hair was of a decidedly auburn shade, and in color and thickness remained the same to the end of her life.

After these first details, which had consumed much time, there was a regular council of war as to the robe, the hat and the wrap to be selected. In summer her dresses were of muslin, batiste or percale, and she had over two hundred to select from; in winter she wore cloth or velvet gowns, of which she had no less than six or seven hundred in her wardrobe! To wear with these costumes there were endless wraps, of every possible material, mostly trimmed with the rarest and most expensive furs.

Joséphine always wore a hat in the morning, and frequently also in the evening. Her choice was limited to two hundred and fifty, all different in form, color, and trimming!

Twice a year she went carefully through her wardrobe, and gave away a large part of her collection. Most of the articles, some of which she had never used, were presented to her femmes de chambre; but even Madame Mère and the Queens of Naples and Westphalia, did not disdain to accept such gifts.

In six years Joséphine spent for her wardrobe the enormous sum of a million and a half, and this did not include accounts not settled, or costumes for ceremonies like the Coronation, for which the Emperor made her a special allowance. In addition, during the same period, she spent over five million francs for jewelry. When Napoleon, after her divorce, paid up all her debts, her total expenditures for the six years reached the enormous total of 6,647,580 francs, or an average of more than a million francs a year! When we consider that the Empress had the use of the finest Crown jewels in the world, valued at over five millions, it is difficult to understand why she made all these purchases for her own private collection. Her motive does not seem to have been to accumulate a reserve, for use in case of necessity, but rather a real mania for spending money. Her collection, which she left to Hortense, was appraised after her death at over four million francs, which was probably a third less than the actual value.

We have at first hand the story of the scene which preceded the first payment of her debts in 1806. Joséphine came to the table with tears in her eyes. Napoleon leaned over and whispered to her:

“Well, Madame, you are in debt.”

No reply except a sob.

“You owe a million.”

“No, Sire, I swear that I only owe six hundred thousand.”

“Only that, you say; does that seem to you only a bagatelle?”

He adds a few words of reproach, and she begins to sob louder than ever. Then he whispers again:

“Come! Joséphine, come, my little one, do not cry, compose yourself.”

And the debts are paid.

After she was dressed Joséphine received her physician. She had a constitution of iron, and was rarely ill, but she was a “malade imaginaire,” and was always taking medicine. Corvisart, the chief physician of the Emperor, generally succeeded in curing her by a prescription made up of bread pills!

At eleven o’clock precisely, for she was punctuality personified, Joséphine entered the Salon Jaune, where were introduced the ladies she had invited for déjeuner. The menu, which was usually prepared for ten persons, comprised a soup, two relevés, six entrées, two roasts, six entremêts, and six dishes of dessert. A bottle of Beaune and two bottles of fine Bourgogne were served. Coffee was taken at the table, and a half-bottle of liqueur was provided.

Joséphine, who ate but little, did the honors with charming courtesy, drawing out her guests to tell her all the latest gossip of the city and the Court, which the Emperor was always interested in hearing repeated. Napoleon usually took a hasty breakfast on a little table in his cabinet, but sometimes he came down and joined his wife’s party.

After breakfast Joséphine returned to the salon. To walk in the Gardens was impossible, and the only exercise she took at Paris was an occasional game of billiards. She rarely read anything, and never called upon her ladies to read for her. But she was fond of conversation, and there was always some one with whom to talk.

At five o’clock Joséphine went to her rooms to change her toilette for dinner, which was served at the early hour of six o’clock. She changed completely, and selected an evening gown, which was always very décolleté. In the evening she always wore a great many jewels.

Her toilette finished, Joséphine waits for the préfet du palais to announce that the Emperor is ready to go to dinner. Sometimes, absorbed in his work, Napoleon forgets that he has not dined, and she waits one hour, two, occasionally three or four. She is never impatient, and never disturbs Napoleon at his work. She passes the time in conversation with her ladies. When the Emperor is ready she goes to the room where the dinner is served—sometimes in her apartment, and sometimes in that of Napoleon on the floor above. At Paris they usually dined alone, except Sundays, when there was a family party.

After dinner Napoleon always went to Joséphine’s salon, where she herself served the coffee. Unless they were going out to the theatre, or there was a ball, concert or spectacle at the Château, which happened about twice a week, the Emperor remained for a short time, and talked with any dignitaries who had called. He then returned to his cabinet, and Joséphine passed the evening in conversation, or in a game of backgammon or whist, both of which games she played remarkably well.

Quite often the Emperor, after he had retired for the night, sent for her to read to him, as he loved the sound of her voice. As soon as he was asleep, she returned to her salon, and resumed her game. At midnight all visitors departed, and Joséphine made her toilette for the night, which took nearly as long as that of the morning. “In this also she was elegant,” said the Emperor; “she was graceful even in going to bed.”