her name pronounced, they applauded furiously.” With that grace which
never left her, “she made her adieux to each one, and left amidst the
good wishes and blessings of all.” It has been stated that she owed her
prompt liberation to Madame de Fontenoy, the future Madame Tallien,
“her companion in prison,” but Thérésia was confined in La Force and
not at the Carmes. Joséphine had other friends, however, who were
not less powerful: Hoche, who left his prison on the 4 August, Réal,
Barrère, Tallien--to mention only a few of the names. Tallien himself
always claimed the honor, and to him Eugène gave the credit at a later
date.
But very little is known of the life of Joséphine during the twelve
months following her release from prison. As the seals were still
attached to her apartment in the Rue Saint-Dominique, she probably
passed the autumn of 1794 in her house at Croissy. Barras states in
his _Mémoires_ that on leaving the Carmes she became the mistress
of Hoche. If so, the liaison must have been very brief. Hoche was
transferred to the Conciergerie the middle of May, and was set free
only two days before Joséphine. Twelve days later he was appointed,
general-in-chief of the Army of the Côtes de Cherbourg, and left Paris
to take up his new command not later than the first of September. At
this time he seems to have been very much in love with his young wife,
from whom he had been separated almost immediately after their marriage
in February, by being ordered to the Army of Italy, and later by his
imprisonment. Admitting that he carried on a lively flirtation with
Joséphine during the few weeks that they were thrown together in the
Carmes, it seems much more probable that Hoche passed with his bride
the short period that he was in Paris at this time.
Futhermore, it is absurd to attempt to draw any conclusions as to this
liaison from the fact that Hoche gave Eugène a position on his staff.
The general had been in close relations with Alexandre in the army,
and these ties had been drawn closer by their confinement in the same
prison. What then could be more natural, than the wish of Hoche to
relieve the burden of his friend’s widow by assuming the responsibility
of her son? This also is his own explanation of the matter in a letter
written to the marquis two years later, after the second marriage of
Joséphine.
There is no doubt, however, that during these twelve months Joséphine
was in great financial difficulties. She had on her hands the lease
both of her Paris apartment and the house at Croissy. Her father had
left his affairs in great confusion, and the difficulty of getting
money from Martinique was further increased by the war with England. In
February 1794 the English had taken possession of the island, and the
Tascher estate was in the hands of the enemy. In France the property of
her husband had been confiscated by the Government.
The expenses of Joséphine’s household at this time were quite heavy.
She had three domestics: the nurse, Marie Lanoy; the maid, Agathe
Rible; and the valet (_officieux_), Gontier. She not only paid
them no wages, however, but even borrowed their little savings. Her
principal resource was a M. Emmery, a banker at Dunkerque, who for many
years had had business relations with the Taschers.
This Emmery had been colonel of the National Guard, deputy to the
Legislative Assembly, and mayor of Dunkerque. During the Terror he was
imprisoned, and only a serious illness saved him from the guillotine.
In the Year Three (1794–5) he was again elected mayor, and resumed his
commerce with the Antilles. For a period of three years he had advanced
to Joséphine the funds of which she had need.
On the first day of January 1795, Joséphine writes her mother that
without the aid of her friend Emmery she does not know what would
have become of her. She urges Madame Tascher to remit to her, either
through London or Hambourg, all the funds at her disposal, not merely
the income, but also the capital sum. Her mother seems to have done
her best, but the remittance was only moderate in amount. Joséphine
then drew on her mother a sight draft for one thousand pounds sterling,
writing her at the same time, how important it was for her to meet the
draft, as the money was due to friends who had already advanced it to
her. In the meantime she succeeded in having the seals removed from her
apartment, and recovered possession of her effects. She also managed to
have turned over to her the silver and books left by Alexandre in his
country house, and was paid by the Government the sum of ten thousand
livres on account of the furniture which had been sold.
From these few details it is possible to judge how precarious was the
life of Joséphine during the greater part of this year. But with the
small remittances she received from Martinique, with money which she
borrowed on every side, with bills which she contracted everywhere, she
somehow managed to exist; and her life was far from being devoid of
luxury. She was not a woman to walk, and must have a carriage, which
she hired by the month. She had not yet worked out the combination by
which she obtained, in June 1795, from the Committee of Public Safety,
a carriage and two horses in exchange for the horses and equipages
which Alexandre had left with the Army of the Rhine. She was fond of
flowers, and could not live without them. Her toilettes, which were
quite modest, included such items as a piece of muslin at 500 livres,
two pairs of silk stockings at 700 livres, and a shawl at 1200 livres.
But let not the reader be amazed at these figures: a thousand livres
assignats then represented only about fifty-three livres in gold.
At this time Joséphine was on very intimate terms with Madame Tallien,
the most beautiful woman of her day. Thérésia was the daughter of
Francis Cabarrus, a famous banker and finance minister of Spain. In
1788, at the age of fourteen, she was married to the elderly Comte
de Fontenoy, a councillor of the Parlement of Bordeaux. During the
early days of the Revolution, her wit and beauty made her a favorite
in the salons of Paris. Later she attempted with her husband to join
her father in Spain, but they were arrested at Bordeaux as suspects.
At that time Tallien was exercising all the rigors of the Terror in
the department of the Gironde. He thus met Thérésia, fell in love
with her, and released Fontenoy on condition that he should apply for
a divorce. She then became at first the mistress and later the wife
of the proconsul. After the Reign of Terror, and the dictatorship of
Robespierre, the woman-hater, the new régime found its incarnation in
this woman of easy morals! It is a curious fact that, after her divorce
by Tallien in 1802, she married Prince de Chimay, and became the
mother of a son who espoused Émilie, the daughter of Napoleon and the
lovely Madame Pellapra. She was, so far as known, the only daughter of
the Emperor.
There were many points of resemblance between Joséphine and Thérésia.
Both had the same tastes, the same desires, the same love of luxury.
Neither of them had any moral scruples, and they were both looking for
some one rich enough to satisfy their caprices--husband or lover, it
mattered little which. Thérésia, who was only twenty years of age at
this time, had the advantage over Joséphine both of youth and beauty,
but in grace and charm she could not be compared with the fascinating
Creole.
Thérésia was not a woman to be satisfied long with a man like Tallien.
She soon found their “Chaumière,” in the Allée des Veuves, too small
a theatre for her talents. Nothing would satisfy her but the rarest
flowers, the most exquisite wines, and toilettes which did not cost
less from the fact that they were most diaphanous. From Tallien she
passed to Barras, who soon turned her over to the rich banker Ouvrard,
“tout en conservant les privautés qui lui conviennent.”
In August 1795, when her affairs were still in the same precarious
condition, Joséphine leased from Julie Carreau, the wife of the actor
Talma, from whom she was separated, a little hôtel _entre cour et
jardin_ at Number 6, Rue Chantereine. This was a short street
recently laid out from the Faubourg Montmartre to the Chaussée-d’Antin.
It was lined with the residences of _filles entretenues_. The
lease was for three years, with privilege of two renewals, and the
rent was 10,000 francs in assignats.
The entrance to the hôtel was by a porte-cochère through a long
corridor, at the end of which was a little garden, with two small
pavilions which contained the stable and carriage-house. In the middle
was the house, consisting only of a _rez-de-chaussée_ with an
attic above and cellar below. There were five rooms: an antechamber,
a bedroom, a salon, which also served as a dining-room, another small
salon, used as a boudoir, and a wardrobe. The servants’ quarters
were in the attic. Although small, the house demanded quite a staff
of servants: a porter, a coachman, a chef, and a femme de chambre.
Joséphine at this time set-up her carriage, with two horses: the same
which she had obtained from the Government.
Before taking possession of her new home Joséphine had spent a very
considerable amount in repairing and adding to the furniture of her
apartment in Rue Saint-Dominique. Nothing, however, was very luxurious.
The salon was furnished only with a round mahogany table, and four
chairs covered with black horse-hair. On the walls were hung a few
prints framed in dark wood.
It is interesting to note in passing that this short street, or rather
the locality where it was afterwards laid out, was originally known
under the name of _la Victoire_. Later the place was called
Chantereine on account of the frogs which chanted there. After the
Campaign of Italy it was again called Rue de la Victoire in honor of
Napoleon, and is still known by that name to-day.
At this time, the nurse Marie Lanoy was no longer with Joséphine, as
she had placed Hortense in the new school which Madame Campan had just
founded at Saint-Germain. She also sent for Eugène, whom Hoche would
have been only too glad to keep on his staff, and placed him in quite
an expensive institution which had just been opened at Saint-Germain
under the name of the Collège Irlandais.
The overthrow of Robespierre on the 9 Thermidor was due largely to
Barras, and for the next two years he was perhaps the most prominent
man in France. For power in itself he cared but little, but he greatly
enjoyed the advantages derived from it: the money, the luxury, and
above all the women.
Paul Barras was born in Provence in 1755 of a good family. In his youth
he served as a lieutenant against the British in India. In 1789 he was
chosen a member of the States-General, and took an active part in the
storming of the Bastille and the Tuileries. The siege of Toulon owed
its success largely to his activity and energy. After the 9 Thermidor,
as president of the Convention he acted with decision both against
the intrigues of the Royalists and the excesses of the Jacobins. He
was brave, he was a gentleman, and with much reason he despised the
rabble by whom he was surrounded. As Lefebvre said of Talleyrand: “He
was a mess of filth in a silk stocking.” But unlike Talleyrand he had
courage, and, when occasion demanded, did not hesitate to draw the
sword and throw away the scabbard.
It was a curious side of the nature of Barras that while he associated
with the commonest of men, he wished to have around him only women
of the _Ancien Régime_. He must have, in his intimate relations,
grace, elegance and distinction. He could not expect to find ladies
of the highest rank: they had all emigrated or died on the scaffold;
but he sought those who, to save their heads or their fortunes, had
compromised themselves with the leaders of the popular party, and who
with the return of luxury were ready to do anything to satisfy their
caprices. He had not money enough to meet their demands from his own
resources, but he put them in contact with bankers and contractors whom
he exploited himself, and whom he permitted them to exploit in turn.
Among this galaxy of pretty women of loose morals the bright particular
stars were Thérésia and Joséphine. Some one must have paid for the
new luxury of Joséphine, and there is little doubt that Barras was
at this time her lover. He is ungallant enough to say so in his
_Mémoires_, and for once he seems to have told the truth.
As president of the Convention, member of the Committee of General
Security, general-in-chief of the Army of the Interior, Barras was
really more powerful then than later as a member of the Directory.
In July 1795 he returned from a mission to the North; on the 13
Vendémiaire (5 October) he commanded the troops of the Convention;
on the first of November he became a Director; and on the fourth he
installed himself at the Luxembourg.
There is a remarkable coincidence between these dates and the events in
the life of Joséphine. On the 17 August she signed her lease for the
Hôtel Chantereine; the following month she sent her children to school;
the second of October she moved into her new home; and the sixth she
gave the orders to furnish luxuriously her chambre à coucher.
By midsummer the liaison was already well established, and during the
autumn they met frequently at Croissy. “We had Madame de Beauharnais
for a neighbor,” writes Pasquier. “Her house adjoined our own. She only
came there occasionally, once a week, to meet Barras with the many
persons who followed in his suite.... As is not rare with Creoles, the
house of Madame de Beauharnais had an air of luxury while the most
essential things were lacking. Chicken, game, rare fruits, filled the
kitchen, while they came to our humble abode to borrow the kitchen
utensils, plates and glasses which they lacked.”
On the 4 November 1795 the newly elected Directors took possession of
the Luxembourg, which had been assigned them as an official residence.
The palace had been used as a prison during the Revolution, and all of
the furniture had mysteriously disappeared. There was no one to receive
them except the concierge, who loaned them for their first meeting a
dilapidated table and some cane-bottomed chairs. As soon as the salons
were refurnished and Barras began to hold his “Court,” Joséphine and
Thérésia were among the first to appear. This Court was made up of
women of the old noblesse, and there reigned, in spite of assertions
to the contrary, a very good tone: a certain cold reserve, rather than
the _abandon_ of bad taste. The ladies were nearly all widows, and
very few husbands were to be seen.
Besides the Luxembourg, and her house at Croissy, Joséphine also met
Barras at a house which he owned or leased at Chaillot, as is shown by
a letter still in existence:
“The Citoyenne Beauharnais invites the Citoyen Réal to give her the
pleasure of his company for dinner _chez elle_ (at her home)
to-morrow the twenty-fifth: the Citoyens Barras and Tallien are to be
present.”
This letter is dated the 24 Pluviôse An IV (13 February 1796) and is
written from the residence of Barras at Chaillot!
CHAPTER FIVE
1796
THE CITIZENESS BONAPARTE
The 13 Vendémiaire--The Parisians Disarmed--Eugène Reclaims
His Father’s Sword--Joséphine Meets General Bonaparte--Her
Appearance at That Time--She Writes the General--One of His Love
Letters--He Decides on Marriage--Joséphine’s Hesitation--Her
Final Consent--The Contract--The Civil Ceremony--Bonaparte
Leaves for Italy
In October 1795 there was a revolt of the Sections of Paris against the
new Constitution, and above all against the new “Law of Two-Thirds,” by
which the members of the Convention had sought to secure the election
of two-thirds of their number to the new Corps Législatif. Barras was
placed in command of the troops of the Convention, and he appointed
as his aide de camp, or chief of staff, a young artillery officer
named Napoleon Bonaparte, who had distinguished himself at the siege
of Toulon. Bonaparte easily put down the uprising, and the Convention
showed its gratitude: he was named général en second of the Army of
the Interior, 8 October; promoted general of division, 16 October; and
succeeded Barras as general-in-chief of the Army of the Interior on the
26 October.
The day of the insurrection, the 13 Vendémiaire (5 October), and the
following day, Joséphine was at Fontainebleau, where she had gone to
select some furniture to be sent to her new house in Paris. A week
after her return she was notified of the order of the Committee of
Public Safety that all citizens of Paris must surrender the arms in
their possession. This seems to have been a matter of indifference to
her, but Eugène, who was at home, protested warmly against giving up
his father’s sword. The commissioner consented to let him keep it if he
secured the authorization of the general-in-chief. Eugène immediately
went to the headquarters of General Bonaparte in the Rue des Capucines
to make his request. The profound emotion which he displayed; his
name; his pleasant face and manners; the warmth with which he made his
plea--all touched the general, who gave him permission to keep the
sabre.
Naturally the mother of Eugène came to express her thanks, as was only
polite. Thus chance brought together General Bonaparte and the former
Vicomtesse de Beauharnais. With Napoleon it was a case of love at first
sight. His heart, his mind, his imagination--all were taken by storm.
She was a lady, a _grande dame_, a ci-devant vicomtesse, the widow
of a president of the Constituent Assembly, of a general-in-chief of
the Army of the Rhine. All this meant much to Bonaparte: the title, the
social position, the noble air with which she expressed her gratitude.
For the first time the young Corsican found himself in the presence of
a real lady of high society. He was invited to call on her some evening
when he was free, and the next night he rung at the porte-cochère of
the little hôtel in the Rue Chantereine.
When Joséphine met Napoleon about the middle of October 1795, she was
already more than thirty-two years old--a mature age for a Creole. Her
hair, which was not thick, but fine in quality, was of a dark chestnut
color. Her complexion was brunette. Her skin was already wrinkled, but
so covered with powder and rouge that the fact was not apparent under a
subdued light. Her teeth were bad, but no one ever saw them. Her very
small mouth was never more than slightly opened, in a sweet smile which
accorded perfectly with the infinite softness of her eyes with their
long eyelashes, with the tender expression of her features, with the
touching quality of her voice. And with that, “un petit nez fringant,
léger, mobile, aux narines perpétuellement battantes, un nez un pen
relevé du bout, engageant et fripon, qui provoque le désir.”
Her head however could not be mentioned in comparison with her form, so
free and so svelte, without a sign of embonpoint. She wore no corset,
not even a _brassière_, to sustain her breast, which was low and
flat.
Lucien writes in his _Mémoires_ that she had very little wit, and
no trace of what could be called beauty, but there were certain Creole
characteristics in the pliant undulations of her figure, which was
rather below the average height.
Arnault, in his _Souvenirs_, says that she had a charm which
transcended the dazzling beauty of her two rivals, Mesdames Tallien and
Récamier.
Madame de Rémusat describes her friend in these words: “Without being
precisely beautiful, her whole person was possessed of a peculiar
charm.... Her figure was perfect, every outline well rounded and
graceful; every motion, easy and elegant. Her taste in dress was
excellent.... Her education had been rather neglected, but she knew
wherein she was wanting, and never betrayed her ignorance. Naturally
tactful, she found it easy to say agreeable things.”
With all these qualities, the _femme_ attracted Napoleon at
their first meeting, while the _dame_ impressed him by her air
of dignity, as he put it: “Ce maintien calme et noble de l’ancienne
société française.”
The first call was quickly followed by another, and soon Bonaparte was
a daily visitor at the little hôtel. Events moved rapidly in those
days, and two weeks after the first visit Napoleon and Joséphine were
already on most intimate terms. On the 28 October she writes him:
You no longer come to see a friend who loves you; you have
entirely neglected her: you are very wrong, for she is tenderly
attached to you.
Come to breakfast with me to-morrow; I must see you and talk
with you about your interests.
Good night, my friend, I embrace you.
VEUVE BEAUHARNAIS
Henceforth Napoleon follows Joséphine everywhere. He accompanies her
to, or meets her at, the houses that she frequents; he makes the
acquaintance of Madame Tallien; as soon as the receptions begin at the
Luxembourg he joins her there.
It is at this time that he writes her one of the first of his glowing
love letters:
“I awake full of thoughts of thee. Thy image and the intoxicating
evening of yesterday have left no repose to my senses. Sweet and
incomparable Joséphine, what strange effect do you have upon my
heart? If thou art displeased, or sad, or uneasy, my soul is overcome
with grief, and there is no rest for thy friend; but it is entirely
different, when, yielding to the profound sentiment which masters me, I
draw from thy lips, thy heart, a scorching flame.... I shall see thee
in three hours. In the meantime, my dear love (_mio dolce amor_),
a million kisses, but do not give me any, for they set my blood on
fire.”
On the 21 January, anniversary of the execution of “the last king of
the French,” Barras gives a large dinner. Among those present are
Joséphine and Thérésia. Bonaparte’s conversation is very animated, and
he appears to interest the ladies greatly. After dinner they retire
to one of the private salons, and the general sits on a sofa between
Thérésia and Joséphine. The liaison seems to be generally recognized.
It is impossible to state at what date Napoleon conceived the idea of
transforming “en mariage cette bonne fortune,” but it was probably when
his appointment to Italy was practically decided upon, and he knew that
they must soon be separated.
For her part Joséphine hesitated for some weeks. In a letter to a
friend she admits that she does not love Napoleon, but adds that her
feeling towards him is one of indifference, rather than of dislike.
She admires the General’s courage, the vivacity of his mind, which
enables him to grasp the thoughts of others almost before they have
been expressed, but she is afraid of his domineering nature. She is
also frightened by the force of his passion, which he expresses with
an energy which leaves no room for doubt of his sincerity. Can she,
a woman whose youth is past, hope to hold for any length of time
this violent love which resembles a fit of delirium? Will he not
later regret having failed to make a more advantageous marriage, and
reproach her with what he has done for her?
Joséphine consulted all of her society friends. They told her that
Bonaparte had genius, and would go far; that it was no secret that
Carnot intended to give him the command of the Army of Italy. Still
she hesitated: she was nearly thirty-three years of age--almost an
old woman; but what else could she do? She knew how uncertain was the
attachment of Barras, how little trust she could place in him. She was
tempted to accept this chance, perhaps the last she would ever have,
and link her fortune to that of this brilliant youth, so ardent, and so
passionate in his vows of eternal devotion.
This unexpected opportunity, this union with Bonaparte, who was to
make true for her all and more than all that she could ever have
dreamed, Joséphine was far from grasping at first. It was to be months
and years before she fully realized her good fortune. Even after she
understood what Napoleon meant to her, she never really appreciated
the _man_--it was beyond her intelligence. She was fond of her
position as the wife of the head of the State, but did she ever love
Napoleon for himself?
On the 24 February Joséphine finally made up her mind. Only eleven
days before, she had done the honors of the little house of Barras at
Chaillot!