deeply distressed every time she saw an acquaintance hauled off by the tribunal. Her only succorwas the comfort of her friends. As the weeks wore on, some prisoners sat huddled alone, afraid of conversing in case they were accused and guillotined for conspiracy. Marie-Josèphe always tried to keep talking. It stopped at least some of the pain. The beautiful and daring Grace Elliott, former mistress of the Duc d’Orléans, decided Marie-Josèphe was “one of the most accomplished and one of the most amiable women I have ever met.” 15 She thought Marie-Josèphe had been on the side of the revolutionaries and had now changed her mind—which was probably what most people believed of the estranged wife of Alexandre.
Marie-Josèphe also befriended the glamorous twenty-year-old Thérésa Cabarrus, the mistress of Jean-Lambert Tallien. Thérésa and Jean-Lambert had met when he was sent to extend the Terror into Bordeaux. She returned to Paris with him and was promptly imprisoned. Thérésa, in contrast to the other unhappy prisoners, was determined to free herself and see the honor of France restored.
In Les Carmes, the moral strictures of the outside world were forgotten. With no idea how much longer they would live, people seized love where they could. It was easy enough to bribe one’s way out of a cell, steal through the darkness, and creep onto the pallet of another. Everybody wanted to forget their suffering, but the women had another motive: If a female prisoner fell pregnant, her name was removed from the list of those to be guillotined, and she would be allowed out of prison briefly to give birth.
Marie-Josèphe fell in love with the handsome young General Lazare Hoche, somewhat her junior at twenty-seven, charismatic and commanding, with a curly mop of black hair. Imprisoned after his enemies in the army denounced him, he was a good catch. As a valued prisoner, he had his own cell, where he ate excellent food and drank fine wines. He had married a pretty sixteen-year-old, Adelaide Dechaux, just over a week before he was imprisoned. Though he was in love with her, he could not resist the febrile atmosphere of the prison. Marie-Josèphe soon seduced him into an intense affair. She was able to spend all her free time with Hoche and deploy her many weapons: her alluring way of speaking, her soft hands, her flirtatious conversation. Night after night, she crept to his cell. But after twenty-six days, he was transferred to the Conciergerie for interview and trial.
With Hoche seemingly on the way to the guillotine, Marie-Josèphe felt hopeless. Certain she would never escape, she constantly craved her children. They had hit upon the clever idea of sending messages via their mother’s cross but intelligent pug, Fortuné. He dashed under the prison gate, negotiated the rats, and found his mistress, who took the messages from under his collar. The letters, as Marie-Josèphe said, “did me much good.” 16 The siblings had even sent a heartrending letter to the tribunal, begging for the release of their parents, but it was merely placed in a file and forgotten.
One day a woman bearing a note from Marie-Josèphe came to Mademoiselle de Lannoy, asking that the children be given to her for a few hours. She then hurried them to the prison and they stood in a courtyard. A window opened, and they saw their mother and father. Hortense cried out in happiness, which alerted a sentry, and the woman rushed the children away.
On June 22, a new law was passed, denying any of the accused either a defense or the right to cross-examination. There would be no need for solid evidence. With this, the worst stage of the Terror was unleashed. Men and women, rich and poor, were tried in groups of fifty and speedily dispatched.
On July 21, Alexandre was called to the Conciergerie for his trial. As he told his wife, a group of prisoners had been interrogated and had named him as a traitor. “I am the victim of several villainous calumnies