The collecting practices of Martinique-born Marie-Josèphe-Rose de Tascher de Pagerie might have held little art-historical significance were it not for her second marriage, in 1796 at the age of thirty three, to General Napoléon Bonaparte. Instead it might be argued, as Eleanor DeLorme has in Joséphine and the Arts of the Empire, that Joséphine’s collecting practices, or more specifically her personal taste, shaped what has come to be known as Empire style. DeLorme is certainly no stranger to her subject, having published, among other things, the biography Joséphine: Napoléon’s Incomparable Empress (New York: Harry N. Abrams) in 2002. In this edited volume she gathers together the work of various scholars in an effort to reflect on Joséphine’s role and influence in the wide-ranging (from painting to porcelain, from fashion to furniture) arts of the Empire.

The book is noteworthy for its broad scope. DeLorme’s own contributions in the four chapters she authored are diverse. In the first of these, she focuses on painting and patronage that can be ascribed to Joséphine rather than Napoléon Bonaparte, while also discussing Joséphine’s role in more explicitly imperial commissions, such as those by Jacques-Louis David, in which she appears. In the following chapter, DeLorme concentrates on sculpture and, most notably, Joséphine’s taste for the antique. She collected ancient works, such as those excavated at Herculaneum, as well as the works of contemporary artists upon classical themes, favoring artists such as Pierre Cartellier, Antoine-Denis Chaudet, and, in particular, Antonio Canova. In chapter 3, DeLorme situates these collections within interiors, most significantly collaborative efforts with Charles Percier and Pierre-François Léonard Fontaine. This beautifully illustrated chapter is combined with descriptions of the interiors which breathe life into these long uninhabited spaces. DeLorme then discusses Joséphine’s garden-design patronage at Malmaison, the château she purchased in 1799 and that remained in her possession as her most significant residence until her death. DeLorme notes the gardens were very much influenced by the Empress’s interest in zoology and botany, such that animal and plant species exotic to France, particularly those native to Martinique, were particularly prized.

Subsequent contributors build upon DeLorme’s discussion. Peter Mitchell, an expert in flower painting, expresses his personal admiration for the watercolors Joséphine commissioned of Pierre-Joseph Redouté as luxurious records of her botanical collections. In chapter 6, John Ward of Sotheby’s returns to the realm of the interior to discuss Joséphine’s furniture patronage. Ward begins with the swan armchair, the swan being a decorative form with which Joséphine is most closely associated; she also imported swans, particularly black swans, to be kept on the grounds at Malmaison. Ward cites her consistent patronage of Jacob Frères in conjunction with her Percier and Fontaine interiors, arguing for her status as an innovator of Empire style. Ward remarks on the extraordinary expense of such stylistic innovation, noting the conflicts that ensued between this “primary arbiter of elegance” and repeated calls for budgetary restraint. Bernard Chevallier, conservation director at Malmaison, and Tamara Préaud, director of Archives and Documentation at the Manufacture nationale at Sèvres, both focus on Joséphine’s porcelain collection; each of them define her as a great collector and connoisseur, noting her predilection for Sèvres production. Préaud remarks that the issue of payment for porcelain was as fraught as that for furniture. In the ninth chapter, silver expert Christopher Hartop explains that while Joséphine may now be perceived as the instigator of a vogue for gilt-silver luxury objects—ranging from tureens to mirrors—that has long been understood as a hallmark of imperial power and therefore perhaps of Roman origins, its eighteenth-century incarnations may instead have its roots, along with the fashionability of all things Greek, in the writings of Johann Joachim Winckelmann from whence the goût grec and craving for gilt silver alike were disseminated widely.

The arts of personal adornment are also encompassed within the volume’s purview. The author of chapter 10 is Kimberly Chrisman-Campbell, Andrew W. Mellon Curatorial Fellow in French Art at the Huntington in San Marino, a fashion historian with a particular emphasis on eighteenth-century France whose dissertation focused on Rose Bertin, dressmaker to Marie-Antoinette. In delineating “what Joséphine wore,” Chrisman-Campbell again remarks on Joséphine’s coming of age in the ancien régime. She specifically points to the significance of Marie-Antoinette as powerful sartorial leader and particular influence on Joséphine. Chrisman-Campbell in turn dubs Joséphine “the Empress of Fashion,” and argues convincingly for the significance of Joséphine’s subsequent influence insofar as a vogue for expensive, French-produced textiles bolstered the French economy. She also indicates the ways that court dress emblematized the very position of the Empire itself. Chrisman-Campbell notes that while “Napoleonic court dress was particularly attuned to current fashions, it was equally dependent on the strength of tradition” (163).

Like Chrisman-Campbell, jewelry historian Diana Scarisbrick remarks on the ways Joséphine, and by extension Empire style more generally, paired formal innovation with visual references to past French court traditions, thereby establishing the Empire itself as both modern and legitimate. While Scarisbrick begins her chapter, “Love and Glory: Joséphine’s Jewelry,” with a discussion of several sentimental pieces—such as the twin heart ring that marked Joséphine’s marriage with Napoléon—she also remarks on the cultural, political, and even ideological import of jewels. As with sculpture, Joséphine patronized classicizing designs in jewelry. Similar to the case with her garments, the jewels that adorned her simultaneously reflected Napoléon’s own glory and bolstered the Parisian jewel trade following the devastation of the Revolutionary era.

In the final chapter Hector Berlioz scholar David Gilbert surveys the music that Joséphine would have heard, patronized, and had dedicated to her throughout her life, ranging from the personal to the political or, as Gilbert puts it in his title, “From the ‘Plaisirs d’amour’ to ‘Le Chant du départ.” More often than not the relationship between specific musical compositions and Joséphine herself is a bit tenuous, and Gilbert is able instead to offer more of a musical milieu in which Josephine existed than a direct cause and effect. Interestingly, however, Gilbert points out that Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle, who wrote both the words and music to perhaps the most famous song of the Revolutionary era, that which has subsequently come to be known as “La Marseillaise,” was a friend of Joséphine, whose first husband had commanded the titular regiment from Marseilles.

The book is, in a word, beautiful, and it may be seen as embodying the refined taste and sensibilities of its subject. Illustrations are of the highest quality and are plentiful. Layout is entirely pleasing to the eye. Chapters are short and readable. It is a book that will appeal to a wide audience. Yet there are elements that will be distracting or frustrating to some readers. For one, a bibliography would have been enormously helpful. Those unfamiliar with the relevant scholarly literature, for example, will not see Alain Pougetoux’s catalogue of Joséphine’s paintings, La collection de peintures de l’Impératice Joséphine (Paris: Éditions de la Réunion des Musées nationaux, 2003), included among notes in the chapter on painting. It is well-cited in the volume, in both DeLorme’s introduction and Mitchell’s chapter on Redouté. Yet, given the sumptuous nature of the volume, a bibliography would have been a great service to those interested in further research.

Then there is a question of tone. It is an unmistakable fact that DeLorme and many of her contributors have great affection and admiration for their subject. It is evident that this volume has been a labor of love, and this makes for a very readable text. The reader is informed of Joséphine’s “luminous presence” (1) as well as her exquisite personal taste, and is reminded that “Napoléon was obliged to divorce Joséphine because she did not produce an heir” (55). But when the execution of Marie Antoinette is referred to as the “queen’s tragic death” (9), one does begin to wonder whether personal sentiment and concerns about accessibility may have been taken a bit too far. When this Getty publication is compared to Philippe Bordes’s exhibition catalogue Jacques-Louis David: Empire to Exile (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), a show that was on display at the Getty from February 1 to April 24, 2005, the DeLorme volume is notably lighter in tone. While there is certainly no harm in accessibility, does there remain a perception that the volume somehow requires a lighter touch because it focuses on a woman, albeit an Empress, rather than the heroic figure of Jacques-Louis David or his patron, Napoléon? Conversely, however, in its easy style Joséphine and the Arts of the Empire introduces readers to significant questions of patronage, politics, economics, and taste in a manner that is redolent of the many pleasures of the arts that it details.