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:

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!

Nevertheless, she had precautions to take: above all to conceal her age, for she did not wish to admit the facts to this boy of twenty-six. She placed the matter in the hands of her man of confidence, Calmelet, who appeared before a notary and certified that “he knew Marie-Josèphe Tascher, widow of the citizen Beauharnais; that she was a native of the island of Martinique, in the Windward Islands; and that, at this moment, it was impossible for him to procure her birth-certificate on account of the actual occupation of the island by the British.” Armed with this declaration, Joséphine was able to state to the civil officer who performed the marriage that she was born on the 23 June 1766, while she was really born three years before.

The marriage contract was one of the most remarkable ever drawn up in France: no details of the bride’s property were given; all that she possessed was to belong to the communauté which existed between her and the late M. de Beauharnais. For his part, Bonaparte did not hesitate to admit his lack of fortune. He stated that he had nothing except his wardrobe and his war equipment, upon which he placed a merely nominal value.

The contract was signed the 8 March 1796, and the marriage took place the following day, before a civil officer, who graciously gave the groom twenty-eight years instead of twenty-six, and the bride twenty-nine in place of thirty-two. This mayor, remarks a commentator, had a mania for égalité! The witnesses were Lemarrois, an aide de camp of the General, who was a minor; the inevitable Calmelet; Tallien and Barras! No mention was made of the consent of the parents: they had not been consulted.

Two days later Bonaparte was on his way to Italy, leaving his bride alone in the Hôtel Chantereine. “Heureusement on avait pris des avances sur la lune de miel.”