The red widow, p.1
The Red Widow, page 1
Thank you for downloading this Sourcebooks eBook!
You are just one click away from…
• Being the first to hear about author happenings
• VIP deals and steals
• Exclusive giveaways
• Free bonus content
• Early access to interactive activities
• Sneak peeks at our newest titles
Happy reading!
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
Books. Change. Lives.
For Lucie, toujours
Copyright © 2022 by Sarah Horowitz
Cover and internal design © 2022 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by the Book Designers
Cover images © PVDE / Bridgeman Images, René Dazy / Bridgeman Images
Internal design by Holli Roach/Sourcebooks
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering legal, accounting, or other professional service. If legal advice or other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent professional person should be sought. —From a Declaration of Principles Jointly Adopted by a Committee of the American Bar Association and a Committee of Publishers and Associations
Published by Sourcebooks, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Horowitz, Sarah, author.
Title: The red widow : the scandal that shook Paris and the woman behind it all / Sarah Horowitz.
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks, [2022] | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021055947 (print) | LCCN 2021055948 (ebook) | (hardcover) | (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Steinheil, Marguerite, 1869-1954. | Mistresses--France--Biography | Faure, Félix, 1841-1899--Death and burial. | Sex scandals--France--History--19th century. | Widows--France--Biography | Female offenders--France--Biography. | Murders--France--Paris--History--20th century.
Classification: LCC DC342.8.S82 H67 2022 (print) | LCC DC342.8.S82 (ebook) | DDC 944.081092 [B]--dc23/eng/20211123
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021055947
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021055948
CONTENTS
Cast of Characters
Preface
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part 2
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part 3
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Afterword
Author’s Note
Reading Group Guide
Image Credits
Notes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
CAST OF CHARACTERS
BEAUCOURT
Marguerite “Meg” Steinheil, born Marguerite-Jeanne Japy
Édouard Japy, her father
Émilie Japy, née Rau, her mother
Juliette Herr, Meg’s older sister
Julien Japy, Meg’s older brother
Émilie “Mimi” Seyrig, Meg’s younger sister
Lieutenant Gustave-Édouard Sheffer, Meg’s first love
MEG’S HOUSEHOLD IN PARIS
Adolphe Steinheil, a painter
Marthe Steinheil, Meg and Adolphe’s daughter
Mariette Wolff, the cook
Rémy Couillard, the valet
LOVERS AND FRIENDS
Camille-Joseph Bouchez, Adolphe’s best friend and Meg’s first lover, a former magistrate
Berthe Lefèvre, a relative of Bouchez, a friend of Meg, and possibly her lover
Paul Bertulus, a judge and Meg’s lover
Joseph Lemercier, a judge and Meg’s lover
Léon Bonnat, a painter and friend of the Steinheils
Antony Aubin, a lawyer and occasionally a guest at Meg’s salon
André Paisant, another lawyer and friend of Meg and Adolphe
Louis Lépine, the head of the Parisian police and a guest at Meg’s salon
Félix Faure, president of the Republic from 1895–1899 and Meg’s lover from 1897 until his death
Berthe Faure, his wife
Émile Chouanard, an industrialist and Meg’s long-term lover in the 1900s
Monsieur and Madame Buisson, family friends
Pierre Buisson, their son and Marthe’s fiancé
Dominique-Marie-Joseph de Balincourt, a grifter
Maurice Borderel, a wealthy landowner
Roger de Chateleux, a journalist and the ghostwriter of Meg’s memoirs
Monsieur and Madame Chabrier, cousins who moved into the Impasse Ronsin after the murders
Madame Thors, the wife of a banker and maybe one of Meg’s lovers
Robert Scarlett, Lord Abinger, Meg’s second husband
THE INVESTIGATION
Alphonse Bertillon, the crime scene photographer
Octave Hamard, Paris’s top detective
Joseph Leydet, the examining magistrate for the double murder
Pouce, a detective
Burlingham, an American journalist
Davidson, an American artist
Noretti, a singer and Burlingham’s mistress
Marcel Hutin, a journalist for L’Écho de Paris
Georges de Labruyère, a journalist for Le Matin
Henri Barby, another journalist for Le Matin
Souloy, Meg’s jeweler
Alexandre Wolff, Mariette’s son and a horse trader
Jean-Louis André, the second examining magistrate for the double murder
SAINT-LAZARE
Sister Léonide, a nun
Firmin, Meg’s cellmate
THE TRIAL
Bernard-Théodore-Médéric de Valles, the presiding judge at Meg’s trial
Paul-Adolphe Trouard-Riolle, the prosecutor
PREFACE
AS THE MORNING LIGHT shone through the large windows of her drawing room on Impasse Ronsin in Paris, Marguerite Steinheil, more commonly known as Meg, was surrounded by men. She was used to male attention and had received presidents, royalty, and many of France’s most powerful men in this room. Usually, the men around her were paying her court, begging for the attention of this beautiful, charming woman. Usually, they were wealthy, urbane, and in search of a night or more of pleasure. Not this time, though. On the morning of May 31, 1908, the men around her were dressed for a day of police work as opposed to a society event. They weren’t engaging in witty, flirtatious banter but besieging her with questions.
What had she seen? What had she heard? What had she done?
Meanwhile, she could hear the footsteps of other detectives searching for clues upstairs. One floor above, the corpse of her husband, Adolphe, lay on the threshold between his bedroom and the bathroom. He was on his back, his knees bent underneath him, with a rope around his neck. In another room, Meg’s mother’s body was sprawled on her bed with her legs dangling off it, her mouth stuffed with cotton wadding. A cord was also tied around her neck and her eyes were still open, staring blankly at the detective taking photographs of the crime scene.
Meg was the only survivor of the attack—and the only witness. The police wouldn’t let her see the dead bodies, partly out of a sense of delicacy. Society women like her needed to be shielded from the harsher realities of life. Later that day, the two corpses were whisked away to the morgue for autopsies. She wouldn’t get the chance to say a last goodbye.
That morning, she was racked with fear and anxiety. How could she explain what had happened? She also remembered how she had been tied to a bed for much of the night. Her urine stains were still on the mattress, serving as a humiliating reminder of her powerlessness as she lay bound and had no choice but to relieve herself on the white sheets.
A few years back, Meg had been one of the most powerful women in France. Money and jewelry flowed into her hands. That life seemed far away at the moment. Instead, an uncertain future awaited her: rumor, suspicion, imprisonment, perhaps even a death sentence and the guillotine.
Right now, though, she had to deal with the detective’s questions: What did she know about how her husband and mother had been murdered? Was it a burglary gone wrong? A family feud? A jealous lover?1
Everything depended on how she explained what she had seen. Although the story she told that day strained belief, it was not as wild as the story of her life up to that point—and certainly nothing compared to what would happen to her in the coming months.
PART 1
BETWEEN SCANDAL AND RESPECTABILITY
“Mme Steinheil, who is very pretty, fascinating, and wanton”1
CHAPTER 1
DECADES BEFORE THAT TERRIBLE morning in Paris, long before her life as a wife, high-society hostess, political fixer, and mistress to prominent men, she was quite simply Marguerite-Jeanne Japy, always Meg to her family and friends. Born in April 1869 to Édouard Japy and his wife, née Émilie Rau, she was the third of four children and grew up in Beaucourt, a small town in eastern France with around four thousand residents.1
Beaucourt had its pleasures—forests with majestic trees, a chilly winter perfect for snowball fights and sleigh rides, and a smattering of graceful mansions. It was, however, primarily an industrial town, one dominated by the Japy family, whose firm manufactured wrought-iron goods such as clocks and locks and whose coal-fired factories sent pollution billowing into the air.
Édouard’s great-grandfather Frédéric Japy began the family business in the late eighteenth century. At the time of Meg’s birth, Japy Brothers, as the firm was known, employed a sprawling network of Frédéric’s descendants as well as over five thousand factory workers, making them one of the largest industrial firms in France.2
To be a Japy meant something. They were Protestant and proud of their commitment to hard work, thrift, and sobriety. Japy Brothers was known for its paternalism, and it built houses and schools for workers and provided them with medical care and day care.3 It was an approach that mixed altruism with a good deal of self-interest. The Japys hoped that their workers would be less likely to strike or descend into alcoholism, sin, and laziness—all of which were seen as constant temptations for members of the working class.
Édouard was a Japy twice over: his father, Julien, and mother, Émilie, were both grandchildren of Frédéric. Marriage between cousins was not uncommon for Japys and other industrial dynasties, for it served to knit the kin tighter and keep capital within the family.4 Like many of his male relatives, Édouard worked as a manager for the family firm.
But every family, especially one that holds itself up as a moral exemplar, has its black sheep. For the Japys, that was Édouard. He showed no propensity for morality, temperance, or sobriety, displays of which were fundamental to the values of his family and the French bourgeoisie more generally.5
In the euphemistic language of his day, he had “a slightly turbulent youth”—too much carousing, too much alcohol, too many women, too many fights.6 A certain level of skirt chasing was acceptable, and bachelors were allowed to live lives that were “wild” and “devoted to pleasure,” as one conduct manual put it.7 Édouard went much, much too far, though, and his behavior embarrassed the family. How would they claim that they owed their wealth to their adherence to a strict moral code when one of them was flouting all the rules? It was made even worse by the fact that Beaucourt was a small town where workers and managers lived in close proximity.
In 1860, Édouard committed the worst crime against his family they could have imagined: he married the wrong sort of woman. Two years earlier, when he was twenty-six and staying at an inn in Montbéliard, a city not far from Beaucourt, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the innkeeper caught his eye.8 Even he knew that she was much too young, and Édouard packed her off to boarding school for two years. He must have convinced her father that this was in her best interest, that he would take care of her, that the Raus would now be connected to one of the most powerful families in the area. And Édouard made good on his promise: when Émilie turned sixteen, he married her.9
To us, the age difference between a twenty-eight-year-old man and a sixteen-year-old girl is what is most shocking. Indeed, Émilie was young by the standards of the day. Although a marriage at sixteen wasn’t unheard of, she was just one year older than the legal minimum age of marriage.10
Édouard’s family, though, focused more on the class difference. Japy marriages were carefully scripted arrangements meant to promote the family’s interests. Had his parents gotten their way, he would have likely married a young woman from one of the other Protestant industrial dynasties of eastern France.11 As a daughter of the people, Émilie brought neither money nor connections into the match.
There was also the foolish business of marrying for love. According to the logic of the time, passion was an unstable foundation for a marriage and would be too fleeting to sustain a household.12
The Japys initially kept Émilie at arm’s length and always enjoyed gossiping about the errant Édouard.13 Nor were the young couple particularly close to Émilie’s relatives, though this was a choice that Émilie and Édouard made. Émilie’s brother lived nearby, but he reported that he had little contact with his nephew and nieces and that Meg treated him as beneath her, since he was from the poor side of the family.14
Still, they had each other. They were a handsome couple, Édouard with his slicked back hair, wild beard, and sharp features, Émilie with dark hair that went down to her feet and a softness to her face and demeanor. And as Meg wrote, “Édouard adored Émilie, Émilie adored Édouard, and all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds.”15
Édouard and Émilie Japy
Their personalities were a study in contrasts. He was domineering, charming, generous to a fault, the life of every party.16 According to Meg, Émilie was passive, “of a quiet and sunny nature, kind, serene, and smiling. She ignored evil, was exquisitely artless, and never understood a great deal of the realities of life, because she did not see them. She…went through life a simple and happy being, knowing neither great exultation nor deep depression, incapable of sustained effort or serious worry.”17 Meg blamed her mother for being docile. But from another perspective, Édouard never gave Émilie the chance to mature, be anything but passive, or confront some of the more distressing realities of her married life.
Meg was utterly and completely her father’s daughter. He was her sun and her moon; she was the apple of his eye. She inherited his charm, his zest for life, his abundant energy that tipped into restlessness, his inability to follow the rules, and his desire to live life exactly as he liked.
Mother and daughter were not as close, however. For all that Édouard appears as a vibrant, larger-than-life character in Meg’s memoirs, her mother seems almost absent from her passages on her childhood. Later, she found that Émilie’s passivity was a burden. Meg loved her mother but was often disappointed with her and seemed to define herself in opposition to a woman who accepted what fate had given her.
Édouard, Émilie, and their four children—Juliette (b. 1862), Julien (b. 1863), Meg, and Émilie (b. 1873, known as Mimi)—lived in one of the large mansions in Beaucourt, one that still bears the name Château Édouard. Three stories high with a roof of blue-gray slate and a limestone exterior that gleams in the sunlight, it rises up from the closely trimmed grass and white gravel that surround it, as if to announce the solidity of the family’s fortunes.18
Which were, in truth, not as solid as they seemed to be. Because of his marriage to Émilie as well as his temper and his erratic behavior, Édouard was excluded from working for the family firm. He lived as a gentleman farmer, and at the time of his death, he owned about fifty acres. Many of his relatives were wealthier, and Édouard’s real talent was for spending money, not making it.19
Eventually, Meg would experience the consequences of her family’s strained fortunes, but as a child, she enjoyed the fact that her father had more leisure time than he would have had if he had been a hardworking manager of Japy Brothers. She could be his chief preoccupation, and although Juliette and Julien were sent away to boarding schools, Meg and her younger sister were educated at home after a stint at the local primary school.20
Meg wrote in great detail about the education her father gave her in her memoirs. Although they are unreliable and often present the rosiest possible picture of her life, it’s hard to miss Meg’s pride at being the center of Édouard’s world. Her sister Mimi, for instance, never appears in the passage where she discusses her schooling. It’s always only Meg. In her telling, her father gave over a large, light-filled room of Château Édouard to his favorite daughter’s education and filled it with books, blackboards, and a globe. He hired the best tutors he could find but put little faith in them. Instead, he listened at the door and burst in often with suggestions about how they should be teaching Meg: “What, you are drawing in this room, in this weather! Run down into the garden: that’s the ideal place where to draw.” Her tutors might be annoyed, but Meg was convinced that in all cases, “my father was absolutely right.”21
