Reduced, and shivering with the cold,To public houses used to rove,
And warm his hands before a stove;
Nay, in Corrozza, it is said,
A large score still remains unpaid.
He in an humble garret slept,
Which never very clean was kept,
Hence got he a disorder, which
The vulgar people call the ‘itch.’
Long might have been poor Nap’s dejection
But for a pending insurrection;
For now was entertained th’ intention
Of overturning the Convention.
The party by Barras were led,
He of the rebels was the head;
But, neither brave nor skilful reckon’d,
He wish’d to have an able second.
This task, by many, as we find,
Was conscientiously declin’d;
For every one of them well knew,
A dreadful slaughter must ensue.
Barras said in a thinking mood,
‘I know a rascal fond of blood—
A little Corsican blackguard,
But now to find him may be hard.’
Then, having mentioned Boney’s name,
They all agreed upon the same;
And Tallien gladly undertook
For the said Corsican to look.
Soon Boney on their honors waited,
Though all in rags as it is stated;
And, matters being quick concluded,
No ‘saucy doubts or fears’ intruded;
Nap with a horse was soon provided,
And regimentals he beside had.
This scheme began they to contrive
In seventeen hundred, ninety five.
And of October, we may say,
The fourth was now a fatal day!
For, lo! the insurgents sallied out,
And desolation spread about;
All honest opposition fail’d
And blood-stain’d tyranny prevail’d.
Men, women, children, at a bitter rate
The cries of ‘Treason,’ did reiterate,
But nothing could their fury quell,
For women, men, and children fell!
Now, owing to this revolution,
Was formed another Constitution;
Nap this assembly went to meet,
And laid his trophies at their feet: These trophies were eight thousand carcases, Among the wounds, too, many a mark was his. A second victory like this, Was to Barras extatic bliss. And Nap, for bravery extoll’d, No longer a blackguard was called; But as a hero now regarded, Was amply by Barras rewarded. In this life there is many a change, As unexpected and as strange: Then let us hope that this day’s sorrow May be tranquillity to-morrow: For, mark you how our hero rose, Who wanted money, shoes, and clothes; All those he had—and, what is more, His garret chang’d for a first floor; And such, too, was his happy lot, That he a place for Lucien got; Who, after this notorious slaughter, Had married an innkeeper’s daughter.
This is the satirist’s account of the revolt of the Sections, and Bonaparte’s part therein. When applied to, he accepted the command, but declared that he must act untrammelled, and not like Menon, who failed through having three representatives of the people to counsel him. This was agreed to, and Barras was chosen chief, with Napoleon under him. The insurgents numbered some 40,000, the troops but 7,000; and such was the moderation of the latter, that when the insurrection was quelled, there were but seventy or eighty of the people killed, and between three and four hundred wounded.
He was then made General of the Interior, and consequently Governor of Paris, and this position led him more into society.
It is now that we come to a great epoch in his life, his meeting with Josephine, which came about in a somewhat singular manner. At one of his levées, a boy of twelve years, or so, called upon him. The lad was Eugène de Beauharnais, son of a general of the Republic, who was executed a few days before the death of Robespierre, and his errand was to petition Napoleon that his father’s sword might be given to him. To quote Napoleon’s own words, ‘I was so touched by this affectionate request, that I ordered it to be given to him. On seeing the sword he burst into tears: I felt so affected by his conduct, that I noticed and praised him much. A few days afterwards, his mother came to return me a visit of thanks; I was struck with her appearance, and still more with her esprit.’ He was always meeting her in society, especially at Barras’s house; and this intimacy, ripening into affection, brought about their marriage. The following series of eight plates, illustrating her life, were drawn by Woodward.
A PLANTER’S DAUGHTER.
A FRENCH COUNTESS.
Josephine (Marie Josephine Rose de la Pagerie) was born at Martinique, according to De Bourrienne, on June 23, 1763, but others say it was the same day of the month, only four years later. She was the daughter of a planter in that island, and was a Creole, i.e. one born in a French West Indian settlement. She was fourteen years old when she was brought to France by her father, and being very graceful and pretty, it was not long before she was married, which was to the Vicomte de Beauharnais, on December 13, 1779. The union was not at first a happy one. She went to Martinique, to see her mother, and stayed there about fifteen months. Her husband was a general in the army of the Rhine, but was singled out by Robespierre as a victim of his tyranny, was imprisoned and beheaded. Josephine was also imprisoned, and it was at La Force that she met with Madame Tallien—‘Nôtre Dame de Thermidor,’ as Arsène Houssaye calls her—who was also in prison. Here, uncertain as to their fate, the female prisoners played at mock trials and executions (for the trials always ended in condemnation), and day by day their numbers grew less, as they were taken away to the real tragedy which they had rehearsed. Scandal (French before it became English) says that Barras, smitten by her charms, had her released on condition that she became his mistress. Here is one French account:25 ‘A cette époque, la jeune veuve du malheureux vicomte de Beauharnais, mort sur l’échafaud, languissait aux Magdelonettes, où,
