This demonstrates how “order out of chaos” works. Dead people can’t defend their countries, their families or their rights from swarming marauders. Since Josephine had no other way to protect her children otherwise, she became a courtesan. You are reading about that regime’s opening act.
Alexandre de Beauharnais
One of the ceremonies which took place during the Revolution and which I remember particularly well was the Feast of the Supreme Being, which was held on Sunday, June 8, 1794. Acting at the suggestion of Robespierre, the Convention had officially recognized the existence of a Supreme Being and the Immortality of the Soul.
A day was set apart for the celebration of this event. The announcement was received with satisfaction by all the people we knew. Our writing teacher was an ardent Jacobin, our professor of history and foreign languages a no less fervent royalist, but both at this time regarded Robespierre with an equal degree of admiration in spite of the difference of their political views. Robespierre was then President of the Convention.
It was rumored that, taking advantage of the celebration, he was to proclaim himself king, free all the prisoners and reestablish peace, order and religion. I can remember that everyone looked forward to the festive day as bringing with it the end of all our troubles. In spite of the existing financial crises we did not suffer from lack of funds.
Every month, Monsieur Henry, a banker in Dunkirk, sent us a certain fixed allowance which he afterwards drew, through London, on my grandmother, who still retained possession of her plantation in Martinique. This arrangement allowed our governess even during our parents' absence to provide us with all the comforts to which we had been accustomed.
The day of the celebration at last arrived. To attend the ceremony, I dressed in a white linen frock with a large blue belt. My curly hair fell loosely over my shoulders. As she dressed me the maid said, "You must look very, very pretty today for perhaps we shall get word your father and mother are to be let out of prison and you will be allowed to see them and give them a kiss." The idea of this possibility made me almost mad with delight.
If we let this continue, there will be nothing left.
On arriving at the Tuileries, we saw the members of the Convention file down a long wooden staircase that had been erected near the central hall and led to the garden. All were in full dress. In front of the rest came a single figure conspicuous from the fact that he alone had his hair powdered.
Napoleon said that Robespierre was a front and that the people who were behind him - who didn’t get executed - were a lot worse than he was.
"That is Robespierre," cried the crowd. "He is the only deputy who powders his hair. Listen, listen to what he will say." We could not hear a word. The deputies approached the great central basin in the garden, which had been drained dry. In it had been placed various wooden statues representing Atheism and other false doctrines. These had been surrounded with inflammable material. A lighted torch was handed Robespierre. With it he set fire to the structure.
In an instant everything had been destroyed, and a mass of smoke and flame rose skyward. A lighted spark fell on my dress, burning my chest. My linen frock caught fire, and it was only with difficulty that the flames were extinguished, and I was carried back to where we lived. To add to my suffering nothing was said about freeing the prisoners. Thus, it was in pain and anguish that I ended a day I had looked forward to with joyous anticipation.
One day a woman we did not know called at our house and wished to have us accompany her but without giving any further details. Mademoiselle de Lannoy objected. Thereupon the woman produced a note in my mother's handwriting giving us permission to go with the stranger. After further hesitation, as she feared a trap, our governess yielded reluctantly. The woman led us to a garden situated in the rue de Sevres.
Telling us not to make a sound she let us into the gardener's cottage. Opposite there was a big building. A window opened and my father and mother appeared. Filled with surprise and delight I uttered a cry and stretched out my arms toward my parents. They made me a sign not to speak, but a sentinel on duty at the foot of the wall had heard us and gave the alarm. The unknown woman hurried us away. We learned later that the window of the prison had been pitilessly walled up. It was the last time I ever saw my father. A few days later he was no more.
A few moments before his execution my father wrote my mother the following letter, a last testimonial of his affection for us and his devotion to his country:
Terrorism is planned and engineered. It’s not difficult to perceive from whence it flows.
“4th Thermidor in the Second year of the Republic, one and indivisible.
All the evidence given at the so-called examinations which have been today inflicted on a number of prisoners shows that I am the victim of foul calumnies spread by certain aristocrats who pretend to be patriots and are now confined here. The knowledge that this infernal conspiracy will not cease until it has brought me before the revolutionary tribunal deprives me of any hope of ever seeing you again, my friend, or of ever again embracing my children. I will not dwell on my regrets; my warm affection for my children, the brotherly fondness I have for you must convince you of my feelings in this respect. I grieve also to leave a land I love, for which I would willingly have laid down my life a thousand times over.
Not only can I no longer serve France but the manner of my death makes me appear an unworthy citizen. This torturing thought forbids me to beg you to cherish my memory. Try however to rehabilitate it. Prove that, in the eyes of all men, a lifetime spent in serving our country's cause and in assuring the triumph of liberty and justice should outweigh the slanderous accusations of a few individuals, most of whom belong to classes we rightly look upon with suspicion.
Yet this task of yours must not be undertaken immediately, for in the midst of revolutionary struggles a great nation seeking to pulverize its chains must be ever watchful and be more afraid to spare a guilty man than to punish unjustly an innocent one. I die not only with that calmness of mind which in spite of everything allows us to think fondly of our dear ones, but also with that courage which animates a man who recognizes no master, whose conscience is clear, whose spirit is upright, whose most ardent wish is the prosperity of the Republic.
Good-by, dear friend. Console yourself for the sake of our children. Console them by enlightening their minds, and above all by teaching them that by their courage and patriotism they may efface from my name the blot of my execution and remind the world of my deeds and my claims to our nation's gratitude. Good-by. You know those who are dear to me; be a consolation to them, and by your care prolong my life in their hearts. Good-by. I press you and my dear children for the last time to my breast.
ALEXANDRE B.”
I cannot express my grief at the loss of my beloved father. The memory of it will never leave me, and only time has diminished the intensity of the emotion his horrible death aroused. In addition to this calamity we were harassed by other alarms.
The Princess de Hohenzollern was as distracted with grief as we were ourselves. Her brother the Prince de Salm had perished the same day as my father. We spent our days with her, sharing each other's sorrow. The Princess had only one desire: to leave France.
It’s coming from the ones paying all those publicists to cover up their crimes.
She prayed never to see again the country where she had been brought up, which had become so dear to her, but where she had suffered so cruel a loss.
There were rumors that the children of persons who had perished on the scaffold were to be arrested. My brother considered himself as the natural protector not only of me but also of my mother. Despite his youth he already showed that decision of character and calmness in the face of danger which he displayed afterwards.
It is difficult and dangerous to stand up to a global organized crime empire but what choice do we have?
If we go along with them, we follow them where they are going and that I cannot do.
“Don't worry," he would say to me. "I'll never abandon you. I won't allow you to be taken away. I'm going to enlist. When I'm a soldier no one will dare touch my sister or my mother. While I'm off with the army and until our mother comes back you can live at La Ferté Beauharnais."
“Go and live all alone without you!" I exclaimed. "I'd never dare do that."
“Well, then, come along with me. You won't be afraid of the shooting, will you?"
"No, I promise you I won't," I answered bravely.
Honest people don’t hire an army of publicists to force their agendas on the public.
