frontispiece

NAPOLEON’S LETTERS
TO JOSEPHINE

“When all the lesser tumults, and lesser men of our age,
shall have passed away into the darkness of oblivion,
history will still inscribe one mighty era with the majestic
name of Napoleon.“—Lockhart (in Lang’s “Life and
Letters of J. G. Lockhart,” 1897, vol. i. 170).

NAPOLEON’S LETTERS TO JOSEPHINE

1796-1812

FOR THE FIRST TIME COLLECTED AND
TRANSLATED, WITH NOTES SOCIAL,
HISTORICAL, AND CHRONOLOGICAL,
FROM CONTEMPORARY SOURCES

BY

HENRY FOLJAMBE HALL

F.R.Hist.S.

1901

LONDON: J. M. DENT & CO.
NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press

V

PREFACE

I have no apology to offer for the subject of this book, in view
of Lord Rosebery’s testimony that, until recently, we knew
nothing about Napoleon, and even now “prefer to drink at any
other source than the original.”

“Study of Napoleon’s utterances, apart from any attempt to
discover the secret of his prodigious exploits, cannot be considered
as lost time.” It is then absolutely necessary that we
should, in the words of an eminent but unsympathetic divine,
know something of the “domestic side of the monster,” first
hand from his own correspondence, confirmed or corrected by
contemporaries. There is no master mind that we can less afford
to be ignorant of. To know more of the doings of Pericles and
Aspasia, of the two Cæsars and the Serpent of old Nile, of Mary
Stuart and Rizzio, of the Green Faction and the Blue, of Orsini
and Colonna, than of the Bonapartes and Beauharnais, is worthy
of a student of folklore rather than of history.

Napoleon was not only a King of Kings, he was a King of
Words and of Facts, which “are the sons of heaven, while words
are the daughters of earth,” and whose progeny, the Genii of the
Code, still dominates Christendom.[1] In the hurly-burly of the
French War, on the chilling morrow of its balance-sheet, in the
Janus alliance of the Second Empire, we could not get rid of the
nightmare of the Great Shadow. Most modern works on the
Napoleonic period (Lord Rosebery’s “Last Phase” being a
brilliant exception) seem to be (1) too long, (2) too little confined
to contemporary sources. The first fault, especially if
merely discursive enthusiasm, is excusable, the latter pernicious,
VI
for, as Dr. Johnson says of Robertson, “You are sure he does
not know the people whom he paints, so you cannot suppose
a likeness. Characters should never be given by a historian
unless he knew the people whom he describes, or copies from those
who knew him.”

Now, if ever, we must fix and crystallise the life-work of
Napoleon for posterity, for “when an opinion has once become
popular, very few are willing to oppose it. Idleness is more
willing to credit than inquire … and he that writes merely
for sale is tempted to court purchasers by flattering the prejudices
of the public.”[2] We have accumulated practically all the
evidence, and are not yet so remote from the aspirations and
springs of action of a century ago as to be out of touch with
them. The Vaccination and Education questions are still before
us; so is the cure of croup and the composition of electricity.
We have special reasons for sympathy with the first failures of
Fulton, and can appreciate Napoleon’s primitive but effective
expedients for modern telegraphy and transport, which were as
far in advance of his era as his nephew’s ignorance of railway
warfare in 1870 was behind it. We must admire The Man[3]
who found within the fields of France the command of the
Tropics, and who needed nothing but time to prosper Corsican
cotton and Solingen steel. The man’s words and deeds are still
vigorous and alive; in another generation many of them will be
dead as Marley—”dead as a door-nail.” Let us then each to his
task, and each try, as best he may, to weigh in honest scales the
modern Hannibal—”our last great man,”[4] “the mightiest genius
of two thousand years.”[5]

H. F. HALL.

VII

INTRODUCTION

Difficulties of translation—Napoleon as lexicographer and bookworm—Historic
value of his Bulletins—A few aspects of Napoleon’s character—”Approfondissez!”—The
need of a Creator—The influence of sea power—England’s
future rival—-Napoleon as average adjuster—His use of Freemasonry—Of the
Catholics and of the Jews—His neglect of women in politics—Josephine a
failure—His incessant work, “which knew no rest save change of occupation”—His
attachment to early friendships—The Bonaparte family—His
influence on literary men—Conversations with Wieland and Müller—Verdict
of a British tar—The character of Josephine—Sources of the Letters—The
Tennant Collection—The Didot Collection—Archibald Constable and Sir
Walter Scott—Correspondence of Napoleon I.—Report of the Commission—Contemporary
sources—The Diary—Napoleon’s heritage.

Napoleon is by no means an easy writer to translate adequately.
He had always a terse, concise mode of speaking, and this, with
the constant habit of dictating, became accentuated. Whenever
he could use a short, compact word he did so. The greatest temptation
has been to render his very modern ideas by modern colloquialisms.
Occasionally, where Murray’s Dictionary proves that
the word was in vogue a century ago, we have used a somewhat
rarer word than Napoleon’s equivalent, as e.g. “coolth,”
in Letter No. 6, Series B (pendant le frais), in order to preserve
as far as possible the brevity and crispness of the original.
Napoleon’s vocabulary was not specially wide, but always
exact. In expletive it was extensive and peculiar. Judging
his brother by himself, he did not consider Lucien sufficient of
a purist in French literature to write epics; and the same
remark would have been partly true of the Emperor, who,
VIII
however, was always at considerable pains to verify any word of
which he did not know the exact meaning.[6] His own appetite
for literature was enormous, especially during the year’s garrison
life he spent at Valence, where he read and re-read the contents
of a bouquiniste’s shop, and, what is more, remembered them, so
much so that, nearly a quarter of a century later, he was able to
correct the dates of ecclesiastical experts at Erfurt. Whatever
he says or whatever he writes, one always finds a specific gravity
of stark, staring facts altogether abnormal. For generations it
was the fashion to consider “as false as a bulletin” peculiar to
Napoleon’s despatches; but the publication of Napoleon’s correspondence,
by order of Napoleon III., has changed all that. In
the first place, as to dates. Not only have Haydn, Woodward
and Cates, and the Encyclopædia Britannica made mistakes during
this period, but even the Biographie Universelle (usually so careful)
is not immaculate. Secondly, with regard to the descriptions of
the battles. We have never found one that in accuracy and
truthfulness would not compare to conspicuous advantage with
some of those with which we were only too familiar in December
1899. Napoleon was sometimes 1200 miles away from home;
he had to gauge the effect of his bulletins from one end to the
other of the largest effective empire that the world has ever seen,
and, like Dr. Johnson in Fleet Street reporting Parliamentary
debates (but with a hundred times more reason), he was determined
not to let the other dogs have the best of it. The notes
on the battles of Eylau (Series H) and Essling (Series L), the two
most conspicuous examples of where it was necessary to colour
IX
the bulletins, will show what is meant. Carlyle was the first to
point out that his despatches are as instinct with genius as his
conquests—his very words have “Austerlitz battles” in them.
The reference to “General Danube,” in 1809, as the best general
the Austrians had, was one of those flashes of inspiration which
military writers, from Napoleon to Lord Wolseley, have shown
to be a determining factor in every doubtful fray.

“Approfondissez—go to the bottom of things,” wrote Lord
Chesterfield; and this might have been the life-motto of the
Emperor. But to adopt this fundamental common-sense with
regard to the character of Napoleon is almost impossible; it is, to
use the metaphor of Lord Rosebery, like trying to span a mountain
with a tape. We can but indicate a few leading features.
In the first place, he had, like the great Stagirite, an eye at once
telescopic and microscopic. Beyond the mécanique céleste, beyond
the nebulous reign of chaos and old night, his ken pierced
the primal truth—the need of a Creator: “not every one can be
an atheist who wishes it.” No man saw deeper into the causes
of things. The influence of sea power on history, to take one
example, was never absent from his thoughts. Slowly and laboriously
he built and rebuilt his fleets, only to fall into the hands of his
“Punic” rival. Beaten at sea, he has but two weapons left against
England—to “conquer her by land,” or to stir up a maritime
rival who will sooner or later avenge him. We have the Emperor
Alexander’s testimony from the merchants of Manchester, Birmingham,
and Liverpool how nearly his Continental System had
ruined us. The rival raised up beyond the western waves by the
astute sale of Louisiana is still growing. In less than a decade
Napoleon had a first crumb of comfort (when such crumbs were rare)
in hearing of the victories of the Constitution over British frigates.

As for his microscopic eye, we know of nothing like it in all
history. In focussing the facets, we seem to shadow out the
main secret of his success—his ceaseless survey of all sorts and
X
conditions of knowledge. “Never despise local information,” he
wrote Murat, who was at Naples, little anticipating the extremes
of good and evil fortune which awaited him there. Another
characteristic—one in which he surpassed alike the theory of
Macchiavelli and the practice of the Medici—was his use of la
bascule, with himself as equilibrist or average adjuster, as the only
safe principle of government. Opinions on the whole[7] lean to
the idea that, up to the First Consulate, Napoleon was an active
Freemason, at a time when politics were permitted, and when the
Grand Orient, having initiated Voltaire almost on his deathbed,
and having been submerged by the Terror, was beginning to
show new life. In any case, we have in O’Meara the Emperor’s
statement (and this is rather against the theory of Napoleon
being more than his brother Joseph, a mere patron of the craft)
that he encouraged the brotherhood. Cambacérès had more
Masonic degrees than probably any man before or since, and no
man was so long and so consistently trusted by Napoleon, with
one short and significant exception. Then there was the gendarmerie
d’élite, then the ordinary police, the myrmidons of
Fouché of Nantes—in fact, if we take Lord Rosebery literally,
Napoleon had “half-a-dozen police agencies of his own.” There
was also Talleyrand and, during the Concordats, the whole priest-craft
of Christendom as enlisting sergeants and spies extraordinary
for the Emperor. Finally, when he wishes to attack Russia, he
convokes a Sanhedrim at Paris, and wins the active sympathies of
Israel. “He was his own War Office, his own Foreign Office, his
own Admiralty.”[8] His weak spot was his neglect of woman as
a political factor; this department he left to Josephine, who was a
failure. She gained popularity, but no converts. The Faubourg
St. Germain mistrusted a woman whose chief friend was the wife
of Thermidorian Tallien—Notre Dame de Septembre. In vain
XI
Napoleon raged and stormed about the Tallien friendship, till his
final mandate in 1806; and then it was too late.

Another characteristic, very marked in these Home Letters,
is the desire not to give his wife anxiety. His ailments and his
difficulties are always minimised.

Perhaps no man ever worked so hard physically and mentally
as Napoleon from 1796 to 1814. Lord Rosebery reminds us that
“he would post from Poland to Paris, summon a council at once,
and preside over it with his usual vigour and acuteness.” And
his councils were no joke; they would last eight or ten hours.
Once, at two o’clock in the morning, the councillors were all
worn-out; the Minister of Marine was fast asleep. Napoleon
still urged them to further deliberation: “Come, gentlemen, pull
yourselves together; it is only two o’clock, we must earn the
money that the nation gives us.” The Commission who first
sifted the Correspondence may well speak of the ceaseless workings
of that mind, which knew no rest save change of occupation, and of
“that universal intelligence from which nothing escaped.” The
chief fault in Napoleon as a statesman was intrinsically a virtue,
viz., his good nature. There was, as Sir Walter Scott has said,
“gentleness and even softness in his character. It was his
common and expressive phrase that the heart of a politician
should be in his head; but his feelings sometimes surprised him
in a gentler mood.”

To be a relation of his own or his wife’s, to have been a
friend in his time of stress, was to have a claim on Napoleon’s
support which no subsequent treachery to himself could efface.
From the days of his new power—political power, first the Consulate
and then the Empire—he lavished gifts and favours even
on the most undeserving of his early comrades. Fouché, Talleyrand,
Bernadotte were forgiven once, twice, and again, to his own final
ruin. Like Medea, one of whose other exploits he had evoked in
a bulletin, he could say—but to his honour and not to his shame—
XII

Treachery and peculation against the State was different, as
Moreau, Bourrienne, and even Massena and Murat discovered.

As for his family, they were a flabby and somewhat sensual
lot, with the exception of Lucien, who was sufficiently capable
to be hopelessly impracticable. He was, however, infinitely more
competent than the effeminate Joseph and the melancholy Louis,
and seems to have had more command of parliamentary oratory
than Napoleon himself.

Napoleon’s influence on literary men may be gauged by what
Wieland[9] and Müller[10] reported of their interview with him at
Erfurt. That with Wieland took place at the ball which followed
the entertainment on the field of Jena. “I was presented,” he
says, “by the Duchess of Weimar, with the usual ceremonies;
he then paid me some compliments in an affable tone, and looked
steadfastly at me. Few men have appeared to me to possess, in
the same degree, the art of reading at the first glance the thoughts
of other men. He saw, in an instant, that notwithstanding my
celebrity I was simple in my manners and void of pretension;
and, as he seemed desirous of making a favourable impression on
me, he assumed the tone most likely to attain his end. I have
never beheld any one more calm, more simple, more mild, or less
ostentatious in appearance; nothing about him indicated the feeling
of power in a great monarch; he spoke to me as an old
acquaintance would speak to an equal; and what was more
extraordinary on his part, he conversed with me exclusively for
an hour and a half, to the great surprise of the whole assembly.”

XIII
Wieland has related part of their conversation, which is, as it
could not fail to be, highly interesting. They touched on a
variety of subjects; among others, the ancients. Napoleon declared
his preference of the Romans to the Greeks. “The eternal
squabbles of their petty republics,” he said, “were not calculated
to give birth to anything grand; whereas the Romans were
always occupied with great things, and it was owing to this they
raised up the Colossus which bestrode the world.” This preference
was characteristic; the following is anomalous: “He preferred
Ossian to Homer.” “He was fond only of serious poetry,”
continues Wieland; “the pathetic and vigorous writers; and,
above all, the tragic poets. He appeared to have no relish for
anything gay; and in spite of the prepossessing amenity of his
manners, an observation struck me often, he seemed to be of
bronze. Nevertheless, he had put me so much at my ease that
I ventured to ask how it was that the public worship he had
restored in France was not more philosophical and in harmony
with the spirit of the times? ‘My dear Wieland,’ he replied,
‘religion is not meant for philosophers; they have no faith either
in me or my priests. As to those who do believe, it would be
difficult to give them or to leave them too much of the marvellous.
If I had to frame a religion for philosophers, it would be
just the reverse of that of the credulous part of mankind.'”[11]

Müller, the celebrated Swiss historian, who had a private
interview with Napoleon at this period, has left a still fuller
account of the impression he received. “The Emperor[12] began
to speak,” says Müller, “of the history of Switzerland, told me
that I ought to complete it, that even the more recent times had
their interest. He proceeded from the Swiss to the old Greek
constitutions and history; to the theory of constitutions; to the
complete diversity of those of Asia, and the causes of this diversity
in the climate, polygamy, &c.; the opposite characters of the
XIV
Arabian and the Tartar races; the peculiar value of European
culture, and the progress of freedom since the sixteenth century;
how everything was linked together, and in the inscrutable guidance
of an invisible hand; how he himself had become great
through his enemies; the great confederation of nations, the idea
of which Henry IV. had; the foundation of all religion, and its
necessity; that man could not bear clear truth, and required to
be kept in order; admitting the possibility, however, of a more
happy condition if the numerous feuds ceased, which were occasioned
by too complicated constitutions (such as the German),
and the intolerable burden suffered by states from excessive
armies.” These opinions clearly mark the guiding motives of
Napoleon’s attempts to enforce upon different nations uniformity
of institutions and customs. “I opposed him occasionally,” says
Müller, “and he entered into discussion. Quite impartially and
truly, as before God, I must say that the variety of his knowledge,
the acuteness of his observations, the solidity of his understanding
(not dazzling wit), his grand and comprehensive views, filled me
with astonishment, and his manner of speaking to me, with love
for him. By his genius and his disinterested goodness, he has
also conquered me.” Slowly but surely they are conquering the
world. Of his goodness we have the well-weighed verdict of
Lord Acton, that it was “the most splendid that has appeared on
earth.” Of his goodness, we may at least concur in the opinion
of the old British tar at Elba, quoted by Sir Walter, and evidently
his own view, that “Boney was a d—d good fellow after all.”

With regard to the character of Josephine opinions still differ
about every quality but one. Like the friend of Goldsmith’s
mad dog—

either her brother Mason Cambacérès, or her brother Catholic
and unbrotherly brother-in-law Lucien.

XV
From early days she had learnt “how to flirt and how to fib.”
Morality was at a low ebb during the French Revolution, when
women often saved their necks at the expense of their bodies, and
there is unfortunately no doubt that Josephine was no exception.
It is certain, however, from his first letters to Josephine, that
Napoleon knew nothing of this at the time of his honeymoon
(solus) in Italy. Gradually, but very unwillingly, his eyes were
opened, and by the time he had reached Egypt he felt himself
absolved from the absolute faithfulness he had hitherto preserved
towards his wife. On his return Josephine becomes once more
his consort, and even his friend—never again his only love. Josephine’s
main characteristic henceforward is to make everybody
happy and comfortable—in spite of Napoleon’s grumblings at her
reckless prodigality; never to say No! (except to her husband’s
accusations) suits her Creole disposition best, especially as it costs
her no active exertion, and the Emperor pays for all. And so,
having been in turn Our Lady of Victories and Saint Mary the
Egyptian, she becomes from her coronation to her death-day
“The Mother of the Poor.”

The Sources of the Letters.—These may be divided into
three parts—(1st) the Early Love-Letters of 1796; (2nd) the
Collection published by Didot Frères in 1833; and (3rd) the
few scattered Letters gathered from various outside sources.

(1st) With regard to the Early Love-Letters of 1796, these
are found most complete in a work published by Longmans in
1824, in two volumes, with the title, “A Tour through Parts of
the Netherlands, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Savoy, and
France, in the year 1821-2, by Charles Tennant, Esq.; also
containing in an Appendix Fac-simile Copies of Eight Letters in
the handwriting of Napoleon Bonaparte to his wife Josephine.”

The author introduces them with an interesting preface,
which shows that then, as now, the interest in everything connected
with Napoleon was unabated:—

XVI
“Long after this fleeting book shall have passed away, and
with its author shall have been forgotten, these documents will
remain; for here, perhaps, is to be found the purest source of
information which exists, touching the private character of
Napoleon Bonaparte, known, probably, but to the few whose
situations have enabled them to observe that extraordinary man
in the undisguised relations of domestic life. Although much
already has been said and written of him, yet the eagerness with
which every little anecdote and incident of his life is sought for
shows the interest which still attaches to his name, and these, no
doubt, will be bequests which posterity will duly estimate. From
these it will be the province of future historians to cull and select
simple and authenticated facts, and from these only can be drawn
a true picture of the man whose fame has already extended into
every distant region of the habitable globe.

“I will now proceed to relate the means by which I am
enabled to introduce into this journal fac-simile copies of eight
letters in the handwriting of Napoleon Bonaparte, the originals
of which are in my possession. Had these been of a political
nature, much as I should prize any relics of such a man, yet they
would not have appeared in a book from which I have studiously
excluded all controversial topics, and more especially those of a
political character. Neither should I have ventured upon their
publication if there were a possibility that by so doing I might
wound the feelings of any human being. Death has closed the
cares of the individuals connected with these letters. Like the
memorials of Alexander the Great or of Charlemagne, they are
the property of the possessor, and through him of the public;
but not like ancient documents, dependent upon legendary
evidence for their identity and truth.

“These have passed to me through two hands only, since
they came into possession of the Empress Josephine, to whom
XVII
they are written by their illustrious author. One of the individuals
here alluded to, and from whom I received these letters,
is a Polish nobleman, who attached himself and his fortunes to
Bonaparte, whose confidence he enjoyed in several important
diplomatic negotiations.”

This book and these letters were known to Sir Walter Scott,
who made use of some of them in his History of Napoleon. M.
Aubenas, in his Histoire de l’Impératrice Joséphine, published in
1857, which has been lavishly made use of in a recent work on
the same subject, seems to have known, at any rate, four of these
letters, which were communicated to him by M. le Baron Feuillet
de Conches. Monsieur Aubenas seems never to have seen the
Tennant Collection, of which these undoubtedly form part, but
as Baron Feuillet de Conches was an expert in deciphering
Bonaparte’s extraordinary caligraphy, these letters are very useful
for reference in helping us to translate some phrases which had
been given up as illegible by Mr. Tennant and Sir Walter Scott.

(2nd) The Collection Didot. This enormously valuable collection
forms by far the greater part of the Letters that we
possess of Napoleon to his wife. They are undoubtedly authentic,
and have been utilised largely by Aubenas, St. Amand, Masson,
and the Correspondance de Napoléon I. They were edited by
Madame Salvage de Faverolles. As is well known, Sir Walter
Scott was very anxious to obtain possession of these letters for
his Life of Napoleon, and his visit to Paris was partly on this
account. In Archibald Constable and his Literary Correspondents,
edited in 1873 by his son, we find the following:—

“Letter from Archibald Constable to Sir Walter Scott.

August 30, 1825.

“I have had various conversations with Mr. Thomson on
the subject of Napoleon’s correspondence with Josephine. Mr.
Thomson communicated with Count Flahault for me in the
XVIII
view of its being published, and whether the letters could not, in
the meantime, be rendered accessible. The publication, it seems,
under any circumstances, is by no means determined on, but
should they be given, the price expected is five thousand guineas,
which I should imagine greatly too much. I have an enumeration
of the letters, from whence written, &c. I shall subjoin a
copy of it.”

When they were finally published in 1833, they seem to have
been stimulated into existence by publication of the Mémorial de
Saint-Helène, better known in England as Las Cases. Doubtless
Hortense only allowed such letters to be published as would not
injure the reputation of her mother or her relations. In the
Preface it is stated: “We think that these letters will afford an
interest as important as delightful. Everything that comes from
Napoleon, and everything that appertains to him, will always
excite the lively attention of contemporaries and posterity. If
the lofty meditation of philosophy concerns itself only with the
general influence of great men upon their own generation and
future ones, a curiosity of another nature, and not less greedy,
loves to penetrate into the inmost recesses of their soul, in order to
elicit their most secret inclinations. It likes to learn what has
been left of the man, amid the preoccupations of their projects
and the elevation of their fortune. It requires to know in what
manner their character has modified their genius, or has been
subservient to it.

“It is this curiosity that we hope to satisfy by the publication
of these letters. They reveal the inmost thought of Napoleon,
they will reflect his earliest impulses, they will show how the
General, the Consul, and the Emperor felt and spoke, not in his
discourses or his proclamations—the official garb of his thought—but
in the free outpourings of the most passionate or the most
tender affections…. This correspondence will prove, we
XIX
strongly believe, that the conqueror was human, the master of
the world a good husband, the great man in fact an excellent
man…. We shall see in them how, up to the last moment, he
lavished on his wife proofs of his tenderness. Without doubt the
letters of the Emperor Napoleon are rarer and shorter than those
of the First Consul, and the First Consul writes no longer like
General Bonaparte, but everywhere the sentiment is fundamentally
the same.

“We make no reflection on the style of these letters, written in
haste and in all the abandon of intimacy. We can easily perceive
they were not destined to see the light. Nevertheless we publish
them without changing anything in them.”

The Collection Didot contains 228 letters from Napoleon to
Josephine, and 70 from Josephine to Hortense, and two from
Josephine to Napoleon, which seem to be the only two in
existence of Josephine to Napoleon whose authenticity is
unquestioned.

(3rd) The fugitive letters are collected from various sources,
and their genuineness does not seem to be quite as well proved as
those of the Tennant or Didot Series. We have generally taken
the Correspondence of Napoleon I. as the touchstone of their
merit to be inserted here, although one of them—that republished
from Las Cases (No. 85, Series G.)—is manifestly mainly the
work of that versatile author, who is utterly unreliable except
when confirmed by others. As Lord Rosebery has well said,
the book is “an arsenal of spurious documents.”

We have relegated to an Appendix those published by Madame
Ducrest, as transparent forgeries, and have to acknowledge with
thanks a letter from M. Masson on this subject which thoroughly
confirms these views. There seems some reason to doubt No. I.,
Series E, but being in the Correspondence, I have translated it.

The Correspondence of Napoleon I. is a splendid monument
to the memory of Napoleon. It is alluded to throughout the Notes
XX
as The Correspondence, and it deserves special recognition here. Its
compilation was decreed by Napoleon III. from Boulogne, on
7th September 1854, and the first volume appeared in 1858, and
the last in 1870. With the first volume is inserted the Report of
the Commission to the Emperor, part of which we subjoin:—

“Report of the Commission to the Emperor.

“Sire,—Augustus numbered Cæsar among the gods, and dedicated
to him a temple; the temple has disappeared, the Commentaries
remain. Your Majesty, wishing to raise to the chief of
your dynasty an imperishable monument, has ordered us to gather
together and publish the political, military, and administrative
correspondence of Napoleon I. It has realised that the most
conspicuous (éclatant) homage to render to this incomparable
genius was to make him known in his entirety. No one is
ignorant of his victories, of the laws with which he has endowed
our country, the institutions that he has founded and which dwell
immovable after so many revolutions; his prosperity and his
reverses are in every mouth; history has recounted what he has
done, but it has not always known his designs: it has not had
the secret of so many admirable combinations that have been the
spoil of fortune (que la fortune a dejouées), and so many grand projects
for the execution of which time alone was wanting. The traces
of Napoleon’s thoughts were scattered; it was necessary to reunite
them and to give them to the light.

“Such is the task which your Majesty confided to us, and of
which we were far from suspecting the extent. The thousands
of letters which were received from all parts have allowed us to
follow, in spite of a few regrettable lacunæ, the thoughts of
Napoleon day by day, and to assist, so to say, at the birth of his
projects, at the ceaseless workings of his mind, which knew no
other rest than change of occupation. But what is perhaps most
surprising in the reading of a correspondence so varied, is the
XXI
power of that universal intelligence from which nothing escaped,
which in turn raised itself without an effort to the most sublime
conceptions, and which descends with the same facility to the
smallest details…. Nothing seems to him unworthy of his
attention that has to do with the realisation of his designs; and
it is not sufficient for him to give the most precise orders, but he
superintends himself the execution of them with an indefatigable
perseverance.

“The letters of Napoleon can add nothing to his glory, but
they better enable us to comprehend his prodigious destiny, the
prestige that he exercised over his contemporaries—’le culte
universel dont sa mémoire est l’objet, enfin, l’entraînement irrésistible
par lequel la France a replacé sa dynastie au sommet de
l’édifice qu’il avait construit.’

“These letters also contain the most fruitful sources of information
… for peoples as for governments; for soldiers and
for statesmen no less than for historians. Perhaps some persons,
greedy of knowing the least details concerning the intimate life
of great men, will regret that we have not reproduced those
letters which, published elsewhere for the most part, have only
dealt with family affairs and domestic relations. Collected
together by us as well as the others, they have not found a place
in the plan of which your Majesty has fixed for us the limits.

“Let us haste to declare that, in conformity with the express
intentions of your Majesty, we have scrupulously avoided, in the
reproduction of the letters of the Emperor, any alteration, curtailment,
or modification of the text. Sometimes, thinking of the
legitimate sorrow which blame from so high a quarter may
cause, we have regretted not to be able to soften the vigorous
judgment of Napoleon on many of his contemporaries, but it was
not our province to discuss them, still less to explain them; but
if, better informed or calmer, the Emperor has rendered justice to
those of his servants that he had for a moment misunderstood,
XXII
we have been glad to indicate that these severe words have been
followed by reparation.

“We have found it necessary to have the spelling of names
of places and of persons frequently altered, but we have allowed
to remain slight incorrectnesses of language which denote the
impetuosity of composition, and which often could not be rectified
without weakening the originality of an energetic style running
right to its object, brief and precise as the words of command.
Some concise notes necessary for clearing up obscure passages are
the sole conditions which we have allowed ourselves….

“The Commission has decided in favour of chronological
order throughout. It is, moreover, the only one which can
reproduce faithfully the sequence of the Emperor’s thoughts. It
is also the best for putting in relief his universal aptitude and his
marvellous fecundity.

“Napoleon wrote little with his own hand; nearly all the
items of his correspondence were dictated to his secretaries, to his
aides-de-camp and his chief of staff, or to his ministers. Thus
the Commission has not hesitated to comprise in this collection a
great number of items which, although bearing another signature,
evidently emanate from Napoleon….

“By declaring that his public life dated from the siege of
Toulon, Napoleon has himself determined the point of departure
which the Commission should choose. It is from this immortal
date that commences the present publication.

“(Signed) The Members of the Commission.

“Paris, January 20, 1858.“

Contemporary Sources.—It is a commonplace that the
history of Napoleon has yet to be written. His contemporaries
were stunned or overwhelmed by the whirlwind of his glory; the
next generation was blinded by meteoric fragments of his “system,”
which glowed with impotent heat as they fell through an
XXIII
alien atmosphere into oblivion. Such were the Bourriennes, the
Jominis, the Talleyrands, and other traitors of that ilk. But

and now, when all the lesser tumults and lesser men have passed
away, each new century will, as Lockhart foretold, “inscribe one
mighty era with the majestic name of Napoleon.” And yet the
writings of no contemporary can be ignored; neither Alison
nor Scott, certainly not Bignon, Montgaillard, Pelet, Mathieu
Dumas, and Pasquier. Constant, Bausset, Méneval, Rovigo, and
D’Abrantès are full of interest for their personal details, and
D’Avrillon, Las Cases, Marmont, Marbot, and Lejeune only a
degree less so. Jung’s Memoirs of Lucien are invaluable, and those
of Joseph and Louis Bonaparte useful. But the Correspondence is
worth everything else, including Panckouke (1796-99), where, in
spite of shocking arrangement, print, and paper, we get the replies
as well as the letters. The Biographie Universelle Michaud is
hostile, except the interesting footnotes of Bégin. It must, however,
be read. The article in the Encyclopædia Britannica was the
work of an avowed enemy of the Napoleonic system, the editor
of the Life and Times of Stein.

For the Diary, the Revue Chronologique de l’Histoire de France or
Montgaillard (1823) has been heavily drawn upon, especially for
the later years, but wherever practicable the dates have been
verified from the Correspondence and bulletins of the day. On the
whole, the records of respective losses in the battles are slightly
favourable to the French, as their figures have been usually taken;
always, however, the maximum French loss and the minimum of
the allies is recorded, when unverified from other sources.

The late Professor Seeley, in his monograph, asserts that
Napoleon, tried by his plan, is a failure—that even before death
his words and actions merited no monument. We must seek,
XXIV
however, for the mightiest heritage of Napoleon in his brainchildren
of the second generation, the Genii of the Code.

The Code Napoleon claims to-day its two hundred million subjects.
“The Law should be clean, precise, uniform; to interpret
is to corrupt it.” So ruled the Emperor; and now, a century
later, Archbishop Temple (born in one distant island the year
Napoleon died in another) bears testimony to the beneficent sway of
Napoleon’s Word-Empire. Criticising English legal phraseology,
the Archbishop of Canterbury said, “The French Code is always
welcome in every country where it has been introduced; and
where people have once got hold of it, they are unwilling to have
it changed for any other, because it is a marvel of clearness.”
Surely if ever Style is the Man, it is Napoleon, otherwise the
inspection of over seven million words, as marshalled forth in his
Correspondence, would not only confuse but confound. As it is,
its “hum of armies, gathering rank on rank,” has left behind
what Bacon calls a conflation of sound, from which, however, as
from Kipling’s steel-sinewed symphony,

XXV

TABLE OF CONTENTS

316. Appendix (1).—Reputed Poem by Napoleon.
317. Appendix (2).—Genealogy of the Bonaparte Family.
317-321. Appendix (3).—Spurious Letters of Napoleon to Josephine.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

XXVII

1

NAPOLEON’S LETTERS

SERIES A

(1796)

“Only those who knew Napoleon in the intercourse of private
life can render justice to his character. For my own part, I know
him, as it were, by heart; and in proportion as time separates us, he
appears to me like a beautiful dream. And would you believe that,
in my recollections of Napoleon, that which seems to me to approach
most nearly to ideal excellence is not the hero, filling the world with
his gigantic fame, but the man, viewed in the relations of private
life?”—Recollections of Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, vol. i. 197.

2

SERIES A

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 198–211.)

3

1796.

No. 1.

Seven o’clock in the morning.

My waking thoughts are all of thee. Your portrait and the
remembrance of last night’s delirium have robbed my senses of
repose. Sweet and incomparable Josephine, what an extraordinary
influence you have over my heart. Are you vexed?
do I see you sad? are you ill at ease? My soul is broken with
grief, and there is no rest for your lover. But is there more for
me when, delivering ourselves up to the deep feelings which master
me, I breathe out upon your lips, upon your heart, a flame which
burns me up—ah, it was this past night I realised that your portrait
was not you. You start at noon; I shall see you in three
hours. Meanwhile, mio dolce amor, accept a thousand kisses,[14]
but give me none, for they fire my blood.

N. B.

A Madame Beauharnais.

March 9th.—Bonaparte marries Josephine.
March 11th.—Bonaparte leaves Paris to join his army.

No. 2.

Chanceaux Post House,
March 14, 1796.

I wrote you at Chatillon, and sent you a power of attorney to
enable you to receive various sums of money in course of remittance
to me. Every moment separates me further from you, my
beloved, and every moment I have less energy to exist so
far from you. You are the constant object of my thoughts; I
4
exhaust my imagination in thinking of what you are doing. If I
see you unhappy, my heart is torn, and my grief grows greater.
If you are gay and lively among your friends (male and female),
I reproach you with having so soon forgotten the sorrowful separation
three days ago; thence you must be fickle, and henceforward
stirred by no deep emotions. So you see I am not easy
to satisfy; but, my dear, I have quite different sensations when I
fear that your health may be affected, or that you have cause to be
annoyed; then I regret the haste with which I was separated from
my darling. I feel, in fact, that your natural kindness of heart
exists no longer for me, and it is only when I am quite sure you
are not vexed that I am satisfied. If I were asked how I slept, I
feel that before replying I should have to get a message to tell me
that you had had a good night. The ailments, the passions of
men influence me only when I imagine they may reach you, my
dear. May my good genius, which has always preserved me in
the midst of great dangers, surround you, enfold you, while I will
face my fate unguarded. Ah! be not gay, but a trifle melancholy;
and especially may your soul be free from worries, as your
body from illness: you know what our good Ossian says on this
subject. Write me, dear, and at full length, and accept the thousand
and one kisses of your most devoted and faithful friend.

[This letter is translated from St. Amand’s La Citoyenne
Bonaparte, p. 3, 1892.]

March 27th.—Arrival at Nice and proclamation to the soldiers.

No. 3.

April 3rd.—He is at Mentone.

Port Maurice, April 3rd.

I have received all your letters, but none has affected me like
the last. How can you think, my charmer, of writing me in
5
such terms? Do you believe that my position is not already
painful enough without further increasing my regrets and subverting
my reason. What eloquence, what feelings you portray;
they are of fire, they inflame my poor heart! My unique Josephine,
away from you there is no more joy—away from thee the
world is a wilderness, in which I stand alone, and without experiencing
the bliss of unburdening my soul. You have robbed me
of more than my soul; you are the one only thought of my life.
When I am weary of the worries of my profession, when I mistrust
the issue, when men disgust me, when I am ready to curse
my life, I put my hand on my heart where your portrait beats in
unison. I look at it, and love is for me complete happiness; and
everything laughs for joy, except the time during which I find
myself absent from my beloved.

By what art have you learnt how to captivate all my faculties,
to concentrate in yourself my spiritual existence—it is
witchery, dear love, which will end only with me. To live
for Josephine, that is the history of my life. I am struggling
to get near you, I am dying to be by your side; fool that I am,
I fail to realise how far off I am, that lands and provinces separate
us. What an age it will be before you read these lines, the
weak expressions of the fevered soul in which you reign. Ah, my
winsome wife, I know not what fate awaits me, but if it keeps
me much longer from you it will be unbearable—my strength
will not last out. There was a time in which I prided myself
on my strength, and, sometimes, when casting my eyes on the
ills which men might do me, on the fate that destiny might have in
store for me, I have gazed steadfastly on the most incredible misfortunes
without a wrinkle on my brow or a vestige of surprise:
but to-day the thought that my Josephine might be ill; and,
above all, the cruel, the fatal thought that she might love me less,
blights my soul, stops my blood, makes me wretched and dejected,
without even leaving me the courage of fury and despair. I
often used to say that men have no power over him who
6
dies without regrets; but, to-day, to die without your love, to
die in uncertainty of that, is the torment of hell, it is a lifelike
and terrifying figure of absolute annihilation—I feel passion
strangling me. My unique companion! you whom Fate has
destined to walk with me the painful path of life! the day on
which I no longer possess your heart will be that on which
parched Nature will be for me without warmth and without
vegetation. I stop, dear love! my soul is sad, my body tired,
my spirit dazed, men worry me—I ought indeed to detest them;
they keep me from my beloved.

I am at Port Maurice, near Oneille; to-morrow I shall be
at Albenga. The two armies are in motion. We are trying to
deceive each other—victory to the most skilful! I am pretty
well satisfied with Beaulieu; he need be a much stronger man
than his predecessor to alarm me much. I expect to give him
a good drubbing. Don’t be anxious; love me as thine eyes, but
that is not enough; as thyself, more than thyself; as thy
thoughts, thy mind, thy sight, thy all. Dear love, forgive me,
I am exhausted; nature is weak for him who feels acutely, for
him whom you inspire.

Kind regards to Barras, Sussi, Madame Tallien; compliments
to Madame Chateau Renard; to Eugène and Hortense best love.
Adieu, adieu! I lie down without thee, I shall sleep without
thee; I pray thee, let me sleep. Many times I shall clasp thee
in my arms, but, but—it is not thee.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte chez la
citoyenne Beauharnais,
Rue Chantereine No. 6, Paris.

7

No. 4.

Albenga, April 5th.

It is an hour after midnight. They have just brought me a
letter. It is a sad one, my mind is distressed—it is the death of
Chauvet. He was commissionaire ordinateur en chef of the army;
you have sometimes seen him at the house of Barras. My love,
I feel the need of consolation. It is by writing to thee, to thee
alone, the thought of whom can so influence my moral being, to
whom I must pour out my troubles. What means the future?
what means the past? what are we ourselves? what magic fluid
surrounds and hides from us the things that it behoves us most
to know? We are born, we live, we die in the midst of marvels;
is it astounding that priests, astrologers, charlatans have profited
by this propensity, by this strange circumstance, to exploit our
ideas, and direct them to their own advantage. Chauvet is dead.
He was attached to me. He has rendered essential service to
the fatherland. His last words were that he was starting to join
me. Yes, I see his ghost; it hovers everywhere, it whistles in
the air. His soul is in the clouds, he will be propitious to my
destiny. But, fool that I am, I shed tears for our friendship, and
who shall tell me that I have not already to bewail the irreparable.
Soul of my life, write me by every courier, else I shall not
know how to exist. I am very busy here. Beaulieu is moving
his army again. We are face to face. I am rather tired; I am
every day on horseback. Adieu, adieu, adieu; I am going to
dream of you. Sleep consoles me; it places you by my side, I
clasp you in my arms. But on waking, alas! I find myself three
hundred leagues from you. Remembrances to Barras, Tallien, and
his wife.

N. B.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte chez la
citoyenne Beauharnais,
Rue Chantereine No. 6, Paris.

8

No. 5.

Albenga, April 7th.

I have received the letter that you break off, in order, you
say, to go into the country; and in spite of that you give me
to understand that you are jealous of me, who am here, overwhelmed
with business and fatigue. Ah, my dear, it is true I
am wrong. In the spring the country is beautiful, and then the
lover of nineteen will doubtless find means to spare an extra
moment to write to him who, distant three hundred leagues
from thee, lives, enjoys, exists only in thoughts of thee, who
reads thy letters as one devours, after six hours’ hunting, the
meat he likes best. I am not satisfied with your last letter; it
is cold as friendship. I have not found that fire which kindles
your looks, and which I have sometimes fancied I found there.
But how infatuated I am. I found your previous letters weigh
too heavily on my mind. The revolution which they produced
there invaded my rest, and took my faculties captive. I desired
more frigid letters, but they gave me the chill of death. Not to
be loved by Josephine, the thought of finding her inconstant …
but I am forging troubles—there are so many real ones, there
is no need to manufacture more! You cannot have inspired a
boundless love without sharing it, for a cultured mind and a soul
like yours cannot requite complete surrender and devotion with
the death-blow.

I have received the letter from Madame Chateau Renard.
I have written to the Minister. I will write to the former to-morrow,
to whom you will make the usual compliments. Kind
regards to Madame Tallien and Barras.

You do not speak of your wretched indigestion—I hate it.
Adieu, till to-morrow, mio dolce amor. A remembrance from
my unique wife, and a victory from Destiny—these are my
wishes: a unique remembrance entirely worthy of him who
thinks of thee every moment.
9

My brother is here; he has learnt of my marriage with pleasure.
He longs to see you. I am trying to prevail on him to
go to Paris—his wife has just borne him a girl. He sends you
a gift of a box of Genoa bonbons. You will receive oranges,
perfumes, and orange-flower water, which I am sending.

Junot and Murat present their respects to you.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte,
Rue Chantereine No. 6, (Address not in B.’s writing.)
Chaussée d’Antin, Paris.

No. 6.

Carru, April 24th.

To My Sweet Love.—My brother will remit you this letter.
I have for him the most lively affection. I trust he will obtain
yours; he merits it. Nature has endowed him with a gentle,
even, and unalterably good disposition; he is made up of good
qualities. I am writing Barras to help him to the Consulate of
some Italian port. He wishes to live with his little wife far
from the great whirlwind, and from great events. I recommend
him to you. I have received your letters of (April) the fifth
and tenth. You have been several days without writing me.
10
What are you doing then? Yes, my kind, kind love, I am
not jealous, but sometimes uneasy. Come soon. I warn you, if
you tarry you will find me ill; fatigue and your absence are too
much for me at the same time.

Your letters make up my daily pleasure, and my happy days
are not often. Junot bears to Paris twenty-two flags. You ought
to return with him, do you understand? Be ready, if that is not
disagreeable to you. Should he not come, woe without remedy;
should he come back to me alone, grief without consolation, constant
anxiety. My Beloved, he will see you, he will breathe on
your temples; perhaps you will accord him the unique and priceless
favour of kissing your cheek, and I, I shall be alone and very
far away; but you are about to come, are you not? You will
soon be beside me, on my breast, in my arms, over your mouth.
Take wings, come quickly, but travel gently. The route is
long, bad, fatiguing. If you should be overturned or be taken
ill, if fatigue—go gently, my beloved.

I have received a letter from Hortense. She is entirely lovable.
I am going to write to her. I love her much, and I will soon
send her the perfumes that she wants.

N. B.

I know not if you want money, for you never speak to me
of business. If you do, will you ask my brother for it—he has
200 louis of mine! If you want a place for any one you can
send him; I will give him one. Chateau Renard may come too.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte, &c.

No. 7.

To Josephine.

Tortona, Noon, June 15th.

My life is a perpetual nightmare. A presentiment of ill
oppresses me. I see you no longer. I have lost more than
life, more than happiness, more than my rest. I am almost
without hope. I hasten to send a courier to you. He will stay
only four hours in Paris, and then bring me your reply. Write
me ten pages. That alone can console me a little. You are ill,
you love me, I have made you unhappy, you are in delicate
health, and I do not see you!—that thought overwhelms me. I
have done you so much wrong that I know not how to atone for
it; I accuse you of staying in Paris, and you were ill there. Forgive
me, my dear; the love with which you have inspired me has
bereft me of reason. I shall never find it again. It is an ill for
which there is no cure. My presentiments are so ominous that I
would confine myself to merely seeing you, to pressing you for
two hours to my heart—and then dying with you. Who looks
12
after you? I expect you have sent for Hortense. I love that
sweet child a thousand times more when I think she can console
you a little, though for me there is neither consolation nor repose,
nor hope until the courier that I have sent comes back; and
until, in a long letter, you explain to me what is the nature of
your illness, and to what extent it is serious; if it be dangerous, I
warn you, I start at once for Paris. My coming shall coincide
with your illness. I have always been fortunate, never has my
destiny resisted my will, and to-day I am hurt in what touches
me solely (uniquement). Josephine, how can you remain so long
without writing to me; your last laconic letter is dated May 22.
Moreover, it is a distressing one for me, but I always keep it in my
pocket; your portrait and letters are perpetually before my eyes.

I am nothing without you. I scarcely imagine how I existed
without knowing you. Ah! Josephine, had you known my
heart would you have waited from May 18th to June 4th before
starting? Would you have given an ear to perfidious friends
who are perhaps desirous of keeping you away from me? I
openly avow it to every one, I hate everybody who is near you.
I expected you to set out on May 24th, and arrive on June 3rd.

Josephine, if you love me, if you realise how everything
depends on your health, take care of yourself. I dare not
tell you not to undertake so long a journey, and that, too, in the
hot weather. At least, if you are fit to make it, come by short
stages; write me at every sleeping-place, and despatch your
letters in advance.

All my thoughts are concentrated in thy boudoir, in thy bed,
on thy heart. Thy illness!—that is what occupies me night and
day. Without appetite, without sleep, without care for my
friends, for glory, for fatherland, you, you alone—the rest of the
world exists no more for me than if it were annihilated. I prize
honour since you prize it, I prize victory since it pleases you;
without that I should leave everything in order to fling myself at
your feet.
13

Sometimes I tell myself that I alarm myself unnecessarily;
that even now she is better, that she is starting, has started, is
perhaps already at Lyons. Vain fancies! you are in bed suffering,
more beautiful, more interesting, more lovable. You are
pale and your eyes are more languishing, but when will you be
cured? If one of us ought to be ill it is I—more robust,
more courageous; I should support illness more easily. Destiny
is cruel, it strikes at me through you.

What consoles me sometimes is to think that it is in the power
of destiny to make you ill; but it is in the power of no one to
make me survive you.

In your letter, dear, be sure to tell me that you are convinced
that I love you more than it is possible to imagine; that you are
persuaded that all my moments are consecrated to you; that to
think of any other woman has never entered my head—they are
all in my eyes without grace, wit, or beauty; that you, you alone,
such as I see you, such as you are, can please me, and absorb all
the faculties of my mind; that you have traversed its whole
extent; that my heart has no recess into which you have not
seen, no thoughts which are not subordinate to yours; that my
strength, my prowess, my spirit are all yours; that my soul is in
your body; and that the day on which you change or cease to live
will be my death-day; that Nature, that Earth, is beautiful only
because you dwell therein. If you do not believe all this, if your
soul is not convinced, penetrated by it, you grieve me, you do not
love me—there is a magnetic fluid between people who love one
another—you know perfectly well that I could not brook a rival,
much less offer you one.[15] To tear out his heart and to see him
would be for me one and the same thing, and then if I were to
carry my hands against your sacred person—no, I should never
dare to do it; but I would quit a life in which the most virtuous
of women had deceived me.

14
But I am sure and proud of your love; misfortunes are the
trials which reveal to each mutually the whole force of our
passion. A child as charming as its mamma will soon see the
daylight, and will pass many years in your arms. Hapless me!
I would be happy with one day. A thousand kisses on your eyes,
your lips, your tongue, your heart. Most charming of thy sex,
what is thy power over me? I am very sick of thy sickness; I
have still a burning fever! Do not keep the courier more than
six hours, and let him return at once to bring me the longed-for
letter of my Beloved.

Do you remember my dream, in which I was your boots, your
dress, and in which I made you come bodily into my heart?
Why has not Nature arranged matters in this way; she has much
to do yet.

N. B.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte, &c.

No. 8.

To Josephine.

Pistoia, Tuscany, June 26th.

For a month I have only received from my dear love two
letters of three lines each. Is she so busy, that writing to her
dear love is not then needful for her, nor, consequently, thinking
15
about him? To live without thinking of Josephine would be
death and annihilation to your husband. Your image gilds my
fancies, and enlivens the black and sombre picture of melancholy
and grief. A day perhaps may come in which I shall see you,
for I doubt not you will be still at Paris, and verily on that day I
will show you my pockets stuffed with letters that I have not
sent you because they are too foolish (bête). Yes, that’s the
word. Good heavens! tell me, you who know so well how
to make others love you without being in love yourself, do you
know how to cure me of love??? I will give a good price for
that remedy.

You ought to have started on May 24th. Being good-natured,
I waited till June 1st, as if a pretty woman would give up her
habits, her friends, both Madame Tallien and a dinner with
Barras, and the acting of a new play, and Fortuné; yes, Fortuné,
whom you love much more than your husband, for whom you
have only a little of the esteem, and a share of that benevolence
with which your heart abounds. Every day I count up your
misdeeds. I lash myself to fury in order to love you no more.
Bah, don’t I love you the more? In fact, my peerless little mother,
I will tell you my secret. Set me at defiance, stay at Paris, have
lovers—let everybody know it—never write me a monosyllable!
then I shall love you ten times more for it; and it is not folly,
a delirious fever! and I shall not get the better of it. Oh! would
to heaven I could get better! but don’t tell me you are ill, don’t
try to justify yourself. Good heavens! you are pardoned. I
love you to distraction, and never will my poor heart cease to give
all for love. If you did not love me, my fate would be indeed
grotesque. You have not written me; you are ill, you do not
come. But you have passed Lyons; you will be at Turin on the
28th, at Milan on the 30th, where you will wait for me. You
will be in Italy, and I shall be still far from you. Adieu, my
well-beloved; a kiss on thy mouth, another on thy heart.

We have made peace with Rome—who gives us money.
16
To-morrow we shall be at Leghorn, and as soon as I can in your
arms, at your feet, on your bosom.

A la citoyenne Bonaparte, &c.

17

SERIES B

(1796-97)

“Des 1796, lorsque, avec 30,000 hommes, il fait la conquête
de l’Italie, il est non-seulement grand général, mais profond
politique.”—Des Idées Napoléonniennes.

“Your Government has sent against me four armies without
Generals, and this time a General without an army.”—Napoleon to
the Austrian Plenipotentiaries, at Leoben.

18

SERIES B

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 211–223.)

19

No. 1.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Roverbella, July 6, 1796.

I have beaten the enemy. Kilmaine will send you the copy
of the despatch. I am tired to death. Pray start at once for
Verona. I need you, for I think that I am going to be very ill.

I send you a thousand kisses. I am in bed.

Bonaparte.

No. 2.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Marmirolo, July 17, 1796, 9 P.M.

I got your letter, my beloved; it has filled my heart with joy.
I am grateful to you for the trouble you have taken to send me
news; your health should be better to-day—I am sure you are
cured. I urge you strongly to ride, which cannot fail to do you
good.

Ever since I left you, I have been sad. I am only happy
when by your side. Ceaselessly I recall your kisses, your tears,
20
your enchanting jealousy; and the charms of the incomparable
Josephine keep constantly alight a bright and burning flame in
my heart and senses. When, free from every worry, from all
business, shall I spend all my moments by your side, to have
nothing to do but to love you, and to prove it to you? I shall
send your horse, but I am hoping that you will soon be able to
rejoin me. I thought I loved you some days ago; but, since I
saw you, I feel that I love you even a thousand times more.
Ever since I have known you, I worship you more every day;
which proves how false is the maxim of La Bruyère that “Love
comes all at once.” Everything in nature has a regular course,
and different degrees of growth. Ah! pray let me see some of
your faults; be less beautiful, less gracious, less tender, and,
especially, less kind; above all never be jealous, never weep;
your tears madden me, fire my blood. Be sure that it is no
longer possible for me to have a thought except for you, or an
idea of which you shall not be the judge.

Have a good rest. Haste to get well. Come and join me,
so that, at least, before dying, we could say—”We were happy
for so many days!!”

Millions of kisses, and even to Fortuné, in spite of his
naughtiness.

Bonaparte.

No. 3.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Marmirolo, July 18, 1796, 2 P.M.

I passed the whole night under arms. I ought to have had
Mantua by a plucky and fortunate coup; but the waters of the
21
lake have suddenly fallen, so that the column I had shipped could
not land. This evening I shall begin a new attempt, but one
that will not give such satisfactory results.

I got a letter from Eugène, which I send you. Please write
for me to these charming children of yours, and send them some
trinkets. Be sure to tell them that I love them as if they were
my own. What is yours or mine is so mixed up in my heart,
that there is no difference there.

I am very anxious to know how you are, what you are doing?
I have been in the village of Virgil, on the banks of the lake, by
the silvery light of the moon, and not a moment without dreaming
of Josephine.

The enemy made a general sortie on June 16th; it has
killed or wounded two hundred of our men, but lost five hundred
of its own in a precipitous retreat.

I am well. I am Josephine’s entirely, and I have no pleasure
or happiness except in her society.

Three Neapolitan regiments have arrived at Brescia; they have
sundered themselves from the Austrian army, in consequence of
the convention I have concluded with M. Pignatelli.

I’ve lost my snuff-box; please choose me another, rather flat-shaped,
and write something pretty inside, with your own hair.

A thousand kisses as burning as you are cold. Boundless
love, and fidelity up to every proof. Before Joseph starts, I wish
to speak to him.

Bonaparte.

No. 4.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Marmirolo, July 19, 1796.

I have been without letters from you for two days. That is
at least the thirtieth time to-day that I have made this observation
to myself; you are thinking this particularly wearisome; yet you
22
cannot doubt the tender and unique anxiety with which you
inspire me.

We attacked Mantua yesterday. We warmed it up from
two batteries with red-hot shot and from mortars. All night
long that wretched town has been on fire. The sight was
horrible and majestic. We have secured several of the outworks;
we open the first parallel to-night. To-morrow I start
for Castiglione with the Staff, and I reckon on sleeping there. I
have received a courier from Paris. There were two letters for
you; I have read them. But though this action appears to me
quite natural, and though you gave me permission to do so the
other day, I fear you may be vexed, and that is a great trouble to
me. I should have liked to have sealed them up again: fie! that
would have been atrocious. If I am to blame, I beg your forgiveness.
I swear that it is not because I am jealous; assuredly
not. I have too high an opinion of my beloved for that. I
should like you to give me full permission to read your letters,
then there would be no longer either remorse or apprehension.

Achille has just ridden post from Milan; no letters from my
beloved! Adieu, my unique joy. When will you be able to
rejoin me? I shall have to fetch you myself from Milan.

A thousand kisses as fiery as my soul, as chaste as yourself.

I have summoned the courier; he tells me that he crossed
over to your house, and that you told him you had no commands.
Fie! naughty, undutiful, cruel, tyrannous, jolly little monster.
You laugh at my threats, at my infatuation; ah, you well know
that if I could shut you up in my breast, I would put you in
prison there!

Tell me you are cheerful, in good health, and very affectionate.

Bonaparte.

23

No. 5.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Castiglione, July 21, 1796, 8 A.M.

I am hoping that when I arrive to-night I shall get one of
your letters. You know, my dear Josephine, the pleasure they
give me; and I am sure you have pleasure in writing them. I
shall start to-night for Peschiera, for the mountains of ——, for
Verona, and thence I shall go to Mantua, and perhaps to Milan,
to receive a kiss, since you assure me they are not made of ice.
I hope you will be perfectly well by then, and will be able to
accompany me to headquarters, so that we may not part again.
Are you not the soul of my life, and the quintessence of my
heart’s affections?

Your protégés are a little excitable; they are like the will-o’-the-wisp.
How glad I am to do something for them which will
please you. They will go to Milan. A little patience is requisite
in everything.

Adieu, belle et bonne, quite unequalled, quite divine. A thousand
loving kisses.

Bonaparte.

No. 6.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Castiglione, July 22, 1796.

The needs of the army require my presence hereabouts; it is
impossible that I can leave it to come to Milan. Five or six
days would be necessary, and during that time movements may
occur whereby my presence here would be imperative.

You assure me your health is good; I beg you therefore to
come to Brescia. Even now I am sending Murat to prepare
apartments for you there in the town, as you desire.
24

I think you will do well to spend the first night (July 24th)
at Cassano, setting out very late from Milan; and to arrive at
Brescia on July 25th, where the most affectionate of lovers
awaits you. I am disconsolate that you can believe, dear, that
my heart can reveal itself to others as to you; it belongs to you
by right of conquest, and that conquest will be durable and for
ever. I do not know why you speak of Madame T., with
whom I do not concern myself in the slightest, nor with the
women of Brescia. As to the letters which you are vexed at my
opening, this shall be the last; your letter had not come.

Adieu, ma tendre amie, send me news often, come forthwith
and join me, and be happy and at ease; all goes well, and my
heart is yours for life.

Be sure to return to the Adjutant-General Miollis the box of
medals that he writes me he has sent you. Men have such false
tongues, and are so wicked, that it is necessary to have everything
exactly on the square.

Good health, love, and a prompt arrival at Brescia.

I have at Milan a carriage suitable alike for town or country;
you can make use of it for the journey. Bring your plate with
you, and some of the things you absolutely require.

Travel by easy stages, and during the coolth, so as not to
tire yourself. Troops only take three days coming to Brescia.
Travelling post it is only a fourteen hours’ journey. I request
you to sleep on the 24th at Cassano; I shall come to meet you
on the 25th at latest.

Adieu, my own Josephine. A thousand loving kisses.

Bonaparte.

25

No. 7.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Brescia, August 30, 1796.

Arriving, my beloved, my first thought is to write to you.
Your health, your sweet face and form have not been absent
a moment from my thoughts the whole day. I shall be comfortable
only when I have got letters from you. I await them
impatiently. You cannot possibly imagine my uneasiness. I
left you vexed, annoyed, and not well. If the deepest and
sincerest affection can make you happy, you ought to be….
I am worked to death.

Adieu, my kind Josephine: love me, keep well, and often,
often think of me.

Bonaparte.

No. 8.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Brescia, August 31, 1796.

I start at once for Verona. I had hoped to get a letter from
you; and I am terribly uneasy about you. You were rather
ill when I left; I beg you not to leave me in such uneasiness.
You promised me to be more regular; and, at the time, your
tongue was in harmony with your heart. You, to whom
nature has given a kind, genial, and wholly charming disposition,
how can you forget the man who loves you with so
26
much fervour? No letters from you for three days; and yet
I have written to you several times. To be parted is dreadful,
the nights are long, stupid, and wearisome; the day’s work is
monotonous.

This evening, alone with my thoughts, work and correspondence,
with men and their stupid schemes, I have not even
one letter from you which I might press to my heart.

The Staff has gone; I set off in an hour. To-night I get
an express from Paris; there was for you only the enclosed letter,
which will please you.

Think of me, live for me, be often with your well-beloved,
and be sure that there is only one misfortune that he is afraid
of—that of being no longer loved by his Josephine. A thousand
kisses, very sweet, very affectionate, very exclusive.

Send M. Monclas at once to Verona; I will find him a
place. He must get there before September 4th.

Bonaparte.

September 1st.—Bonaparte leaves Verona and directs his troops on
Trent. Wurmser, reinforced by 20,000 men, leaves his right wing at
Roveredo, and marches viâ the Brenta Gorge on Verona.

No. 9.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Ala, September 3, 1796.

We are in the thick of the fight, my beloved; we have
driven in the enemy’s outposts; we have taken eight or ten of
their horses with a like number of riders. My troops are good-humoured
and in excellent spirits. I hope that we shall do great
things, and get into Trent by the fifth.

No letters from you, which really makes me uneasy; yet
they tell me you are well, and have even had an excursion to
Lake Como. Every day I wait impatiently for the post which
27
will bring me news of you—you are well aware how I prize it.
Far from you I cannot live, the happiness of my life is near my
gentle Josephine. Think of me! Write me often, very often:
in absence it is the only remedy: it is cruel, but, I hope, will be
only temporary.

Bonaparte.

No. 10.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Montebello, Noon, September 10, 1796.

My Dear,—The enemy has lost 18,000 men prisoners; the
rest killed or wounded. Wurmser, with a column of 1500 cavalry,
and 500 infantry, has no resource but to throw himself into
Mantua.

Never have we had successes so unvarying and so great.
Italy, Friuli, the Tyrol, are assured to the Republic. The
Emperor will have to create a second army: artillery, pontoons,
baggage, everything is taken.

In a few days we shall meet; it is the sweetest reward for
my labours and anxieties.

A thousand fervent and very affectionate kisses.

Bonaparte.

28

No. 11.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Ronco, September 12, 1796, 10 A.M.

My dear Josephine,—I have been here two days, badly lodged,
badly fed, and very cross at being so far from you.

Wurmser is hemmed in, he has with him 3000 cavalry and
5000 infantry. He is at Porto-Legnago; he is trying to get
back into Mantua, but for him that has now become impossible.
The moment this matter shall be finished I will be in your
arms.

I embrace you a million times.

Bonaparte.

No. 12.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Verona, September 17, 1796.

My Dear,—I write very often and you seldom. You are
naughty, and undutiful; very undutiful, as well as thoughtless.
It is disloyal to deceive a poor husband, an affectionate lover.
Ought he to lose his rights because he is far away, up to the
neck in business, worries and anxiety. Without his Josephine,
without the assurance of her love, what in the wide world
remains for him. What will he do?
29

Yesterday we had a very sanguinary conflict; the enemy
has lost heavily, and been completely beaten. We have taken
from him the suburbs of Mantua.

Adieu, charming Josephine; one of these nights the door
will be burst open with a bang, as if by a jealous husband, and
in a moment I shall be in your arms.

A thousand affectionate kisses.

Bonaparte.

No. 13.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Modena, October 17, 1796, 9 P.M.

The day before yesterday I was out the whole day. Yesterday
I kept my bed. Fever and a racking headache both prevented
me writing to my beloved; but I got your letters. I
have pressed them to my heart and lips, and the grief of a
hundred miles of separation has disappeared. At the present
moment I can see you by my side, not capricious and out of
humour, but gentle, affectionate, with that mellifluent kindness
of which my Josephine is the sole proprietor. It was a dream,
judge if it has cured my fever. Your letters are as cold as if you
were fifty; we might have been married fifteen years. One
finds in them the friendship and feelings of that winter of life.
Fie! Josephine. It is very naughty, very unkind, very undutiful
of you. What more can you do to make me indeed an object
for compassion? Love me no longer? Eh, that is already
accomplished! Hate me? Well, I prefer that! Everything
30
grows stale except ill-will; but indifference, with its marble
pulse, its rigid stare, its monotonous demeanour!…

A thousand thousand very heartfelt kisses.

I am rather better. I start to-morrow. The English
evacuate the Mediterranean. Corsica is ours. Good news for
France, and for the army.

Bonaparte.

No. 14.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Verona, November 9, 1796.

My Dear,—I have been at Verona since the day before
yesterday. Although tired, I am very well, very busy; and I
love you passionately at all times. I am just off on horseback.

I embrace you a thousand times.

Bonaparte.

31

No. 15.

From Bourrienne’s “Life of Napoleon,” vol. i. chap. 4.

Verona, November 19th, Noon.

My Adored Josephine,—Once more I breathe freely. Death
is no longer before me, and glory and honour are once more
re-established. The enemy is beaten at Arcola. To-morrow
we will repair Vaubois’ blunder of abandoning Rivoli. In a
week Mantua will be ours, and then your husband will clasp
you in his arms, and give you a thousand proofs of his ardent
affection. I shall proceed to Milan as soon as I can; I am rather
tired. I have received letters from Eugène and Hortense—charming
young people. I will send them to you as soon as
I find my belongings, which are at present somewhat dispersed.

We have made five thousand prisoners, and killed at least six
thousand of the enemy. Good-bye, my adored Josephine. Think
of me often. If you cease to love your Achilles, if for him your
heart grows cold, you will be very cruel, very unjust. But I
am sure you will always remain my faithful mistress, as I shall
ever remain your fond lover. Death alone can break the chain
which sympathy, love, and sentiment have forged. Let me have
news of your health. A thousand and a thousand kisses.

No. 16.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Verona, November 23, 1796.

I don’t love you an atom; on the contrary, I detest you.
You are a good for nothing, very ungraceful, very tactless, very
tatterdemalion. You never write to me; you don’t care for
your husband; you know the pleasure your letters give him, and
you write him barely half-a-dozen lines, thrown off anyhow.

How, then, do you spend the livelong day, madam? What
32
business of such importance robs you of the time to write to your
very kind lover? What inclination stifles and alienates love, the
affectionate and unvarying love which you promised me? Who
may this paragon be, this new lover who engrosses all your time,
is master of your days, and prevents you from concerning yourself
about your husband? Josephine, be vigilant; one fine night the
doors will be broken in, and I shall be before you.

Truly, my dear, I am uneasy at getting no news from you.
Write me four pages immediately, and some of those charming
remarks which fill my heart with the pleasures of imagination.

I hope that before long I shall clasp you in my arms, and
cover you with a million kisses as burning as if under the equator.

Bonaparte.

No. 17.

Verona, November 24, 1796.

I hope soon, darling, to be in your arms. I love you to
distraction. I am writing to Paris by this courier. All goes
well. Wurmser was beaten yesterday under Mantua. Your
husband only needs Josephine’s love to be happy.

Bonaparte.

No. 18.

To Josephine, at Genoa.

Milan, November 27, 1796, 3 P.M.

I get to Milan; I fling myself into your room; I have left
all in order to see you, to clasp you in my arms…. You were
not there. You gad about the towns amid junketings; you run
farther from me when I am at hand; you care no longer for
your dear Napoleon. A passing fancy made you love him;
fickleness renders him indifferent to you.

Used to perils, I know the remedy for weariness and the ills
of life. The ill-luck that I now suffer is past all calculations; I
did right not to anticipate it.
33

I shall be here till the evening of the 29th. Don’t alter your
plans; have your fling of pleasure; happiness was invented for
you. The whole world is only too happy if it can please you,
and only your husband is very, very unhappy.

Bonaparte.

No. 19.

To Josephine, at Genoa.

Milan, November 28, 1796, 8 P.M.

I have received the courier whom Berthier had hurried on to
Genoa. You have not had time to write me, I feel it intuitively.
Surrounded with pleasures and pastimes, you would be wrong
to make the least sacrifice for me. Berthier has been good
enough to show me the letter which you wrote him. My
intention is that you should not make the least change in your
plans, nor with respect to the pleasure parties in your honour;
I am of no consequence, either the happiness or the misery of a
man whom you don’t love is a matter of no moment.

For my part, to love you only, to make you happy, to do
nothing which may vex you, that is the object and goal of
my life.

Be happy, do not reproach me, do not concern yourself in the
happiness of a man who lives only in your life, rejoices only in
your pleasure and happiness. When I exacted from you a love
like my own I was wrong; why expect lace to weigh as heavy
as gold? When I sacrifice to you all my desires, all my thoughts,
every moment of my life, I obey the sway which your charms,
your disposition, and your whole personality have so effectively
exerted over my unfortunate heart. I was wrong, since nature
has not given me attractions with which to captivate you; but
what I do deserve from Josephine is her regard and esteem, for I
love her frantically and uniquely.

Farewell, beloved wife; farewell, my Josephine. May fate
concentrate in my breast all the griefs and troubles, but may it
34
give Josephine happy and prosperous days. Who deserves them
more? When it shall be quite settled that she can love me no
more, I will hide my profound grief, and will content myself with
the power of being useful and serviceable to her.

I reopen my letter to give you a kiss…. Ah! Josephine!… Josephine!

Bonaparte.

No. 20.

To Josephine, at Milan.

Verona, January 12, 1797.

Scarcely set out from Roverbella, I learnt that the enemy had
appeared at Verona. Massena made some dispositions, which
have been very successful. We have made six hundred prisoners,
and have taken three pieces of cannon. General Brune got seven
bullets in his clothes, without being touched by one of them—this
is what it is to be lucky.

I give you a thousand kisses. I am very well. We have had
only ten men killed, and a hundred wounded.

Bonaparte.

35

No. 21.

To Josephine, at Bologna.

Forli, February 3, 1797.

I wrote you this morning. I start to-night. Our forces are
at Rimini. This country is beginning to be tranquillised. My
cold makes me always rather tired.

I idolise you, and send you a thousand kisses.

A thousand kind messages to my sister.

Bonaparte.

No. 22.

To Josephine, at Bologna.

Ancona, February 10, 1797.

We have been at Ancona these two days. We took the
citadel, after a slight fusillade, and by a coup de main. We made
1200 prisoners. I sent back the fifty officers to their homes.
36

I am still at Ancona. I do not press you to come, because
everything is not yet settled, but in a few days I am hoping that
it will be. Besides, this country is still discontented, and everybody
is nervous.

I start to-morrow for the mountains. You don’t write to me
at all, yet you ought to let me have news of you every day.

Please go out every day; it will do you good.

I send you a million kisses. I never was so sick of anything
as of this vile war.

Good-bye, my darling. Think of me!

Bonaparte.

No. 23.

To Josephine, at Bologna.

Ancona, February 13, 1797.

I get no news from you, and I feel sure that you no longer
love me. I have sent you the papers, and various letters. I start
immediately to cross the mountains. The moment that I know
something definite, I will arrange for you to accompany me; it
is the dearest wish of my heart.

A thousand and a thousand kisses.

Bonaparte.

No. 24.

To Josephine, at Bologna.

February 16, 1797.

You are melancholy, you are ill; you no longer write to me,
you want to go back to Paris. Is it possible that you no longer
love your comrade? The very thought makes me wretched.
My darling, life is unbearable to me now that I am aware of
your melancholy.

I make haste to send you Moscati, so that he may look after
you. My health is rather bad; my cold gets no better. Please
37
take care of yourself, love me as much as I love you, and write
me every day. I am more uneasy than ever.

I have told Moscati to escort you to Ancona, if you care to
come there. I will write to you there, to let you know where
I am.

Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope, then I shall
soon be by your side; it is my soul’s most ardent wish.

I send you a hundred kisses. Be sure that nothing equals my
love, unless it be my uneasiness. Write to me every day yourself.
Good-bye, dearest.

Bonaparte.

No. 25.

To Josephine, at Bologna.

Tolentino, February 19, 1797.

Peace with Rome has just been signed. Bologna, Ferrara,
Romagna, are ceded to the Republic. The Pope is to pay us
thirty millions shortly, and various works of art.

I start to-morrow morning for Ancona, and thence for
Rimini, Ravenna, and Bologna. If your health permit, come
to Rimini or Ravenna, but, I beseech you, take care of yourself.

Not a word from you—what on earth have I done? To
think only of you, to love only Josephine, to live only for my
wife, to enjoy happiness only with my dear one—does this
deserve such harsh treatment from her? My dear, I beg you,
think often of me, and write me every day.

You are ill, or else you do not love me! Do you think, then,
that I have a heart of stone? and do my sufferings concern you
so little? You must know me very ill! I cannot believe it!
You to whom nature has given intelligence, tenderness, and
38
beauty, you who alone can rule my heart, you who doubtless
know only too well the unlimited power you hold over me!

Write to me, think of me, and love me.—Yours ever, for
life.

Bonaparte.

39

SERIES C

THE MARENGO CAMPAIGN, 1800

LETTERS OF THE FIRST CONSUL BONAPARTE
TO HIS WIFE

The Two Gentlemen of Verona,
Act iv., Scene I.

40

SERIES C

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 223–225.)

41

THE CAMPAIGN OF MARENGO, 1800.

Events of 1798.

Events of 1799.

Events of 1800.

No. 1.

To Josephine, at Paris.

Lausanne, May 15, 1800.

I have been at Lausanne since yesterday. I start to-morrow.
My health is fairly good. The country round here is very
beautiful. I see no reason why, in ten or twelve days, you
should not join me here; you must travel incognito, and not
say where you are going, because I want no one to know what
I am about to do. You can say you are going to Plombières.

I will send you Moustache,[16] who has just arrived.

My very kindest regards to Hortense. Eugène will not be
here for eight days; he is en route.

Bonaparte.

No. 2.

To Josephine, at Paris.

Torre di Garofolo, May 16, 1800.

I start immediately to spend the night at Saint-Maurice. I
have not received a single letter from you; that is not well.
I have written you by every courier.

Eugène may arrive the day after to-morrow. I have rather a
cold, but it will have no ill effects.

My very kindest regards to you, my good little Josephine,
and to all who belong to you.

Bonaparte.

45

No. 3.[17]

[From Tennant’s Tour, &c., vol. ii.]

11 P.M.

Vercelli. Murat ought to be at Novaro to-night. The enemy
is thoroughly demoralised; he cannot even yet understand us.
I hope within ten days to be in the arms of my Josephine, who
is always very good when she is not crying and not flirting.
Your son arrived this evening. I have had him examined; he is
in excellent health. Accept a thousand tender thoughts. I have
received M.’s letter. I will send her by the next courier a box
of excellent cherries.

We are here—within two months for Paris.—Yours entirely,

N. B.

To Madame Bonaparte. (Address not in Bonaparte’s writing.)

No. 4.

To Josephine, at Paris.

Milan.

I am at Milan, with a very bad cold. I can’t stand rain, and
I have been wet to the skin for several hours, but all goes well.
I don’t persuade you to come here. I shall be home in a month.

46
I trust to find you flourishing. I am just starting for Pavia and
Stradella. We are masters of Brescia, Cremona, and Placentia.

Kindest regards. Murat has borne himself splendidly.

47

SERIES D

48

SERIES D

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 225–231.)

49

JOSEPHINE’S TWO VISITS TO PLOMBIÈRES,

1801 AND 1802.

Events of 1801.

No. 1.

To Josephine, at Plombières.

Paris the “27” …, 1801.

The weather is so bad here that I have remained in Paris.
Malmaison, without you, is too dreary. The fête has been a
great success; it has rather tired me. The blister they have put
on my arm gives me constant pain.

Some plants have come for you from London, which I have
sent to your gardener. If the weather is as bad at Plombières as
it is here, you will suffer severely from floods.

Best love to “Maman” and Hortense.

Bonaparte.

Events of 1802.

51

No. 2.

To Josephine, at Plombières.

Malmaison, June 19, 1802.

I have as yet received no news from you, but I think you
must already have begun to take the waters. It is rather dull
for us here, although your charming daughter does the honours
of the house to perfection. For the last two days I have suffered
slightly from my complaint. The fat Eugène arrived yesterday
evening; he is very hale and hearty.

I love you as I did the first hour, because you are kind and
sweet beyond compare.

Hortense told me that she was often writing you.

Best wishes, and a love-kiss.—Yours ever,

Bonaparte.

No. 3.

To Josephine, at Plombières.

Malmaison, June 23, 1802.

My Good Little Josephine,—Your letter has come. I am sorry
to see you have been poorly on the journey, but a few days’ rest
will put you right. I am very fairly well. Yesterday I was
at the Marly hunt, and one of my fingers was very slightly
injured whilst shooting a boar.

Hortense is usually in good health. Your fat son has been
rather unwell, but is getting better. I think the ladies are playing
“The Barber of Seville” to-night. The weather is perfect.

Rest assured that my truest wishes are ever for my little
Josephine.—Yours ever,

Bonaparte.

52

No. 4.

To Josephine, at Plombières.

Malmaison, June 27, 1802.

Your letter, dear little wife, has apprised me that you are out
of sorts. Corvisart tells me that it is a good sign that the baths
are having the desired effect, and that your health will soon be
re-established. But I am most truly grieved to know that you
are in pain.

Yesterday I went to see the Sèvres manufactory at St. Cloud.

Best wishes to all.—Yours for life,

Bonaparte.

To Josephine, at Plombières.

Malmaison, July 1, 1802.

Your letter of June 29th has arrived. You say nothing of
your health nor of the effect of the baths. I see that you expect
to be home in a week; that is good news for your lover, who is
tired of being alone!

You ought to have seen General Ney, who started for Plombières;
he will be married on his return.

Yesterday Hortense played Rosina in “The Barber of Seville”
with her usual skill.

Rest assured of my love, and that I await your return impatiently.
Without you everything here is dreary.

Bonaparte.

Events of 1803.

55

SERIES E

1804

“Everywhere the king of the earth found once more, to put
a bridle on his pride,
the inevitable lords of the sea.”—Bignon,
v. 130.

56

SERIES E

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 232–237.)

57

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE DURING HIS
JOURNEY ALONG THE COAST, 1804.

Events of 1804.

No. 1.

To the Empress Josephine.

Pont-de-Bricques, July 21, 1804.

Madame and dear Wife,—During the four days that I have
been away from you I have always been either on horseback or
in a conveyance, without any ill effect on my health.

M. Maret tells me that you intend starting on Monday;
travelling by easy stages, you can take your time and reach the
Spa without tiring yourself.

The wind having considerably freshened last night, one of
58
our gunboats, which was in the harbour, broke loose and ran on
the rocks about a league from Boulogne. I believed all lost—men
and merchandise; but we managed to save both. The
spectacle was grand: the shore sheeted in fire from the alarm
guns, the sea raging and bellowing, the whole night spent in
anxiety to save these unfortunates or to see them perish! My
soul hovered between eternity, the ocean, and the night. At
5 A.M. all was calm, everything saved; and I went to bed with
the feeling of having had a romantic and epic dream—a circumstance
which might have reminded me that I was all alone, had
weariness and soaked garments left me any other need but that
of sleep.

Napoleon.

[Correspondence of Napoleon I., No. 7861,
communicated by M. Chambry.]

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Boulogne, August 3, 1804.

My Dear,—I trust soon to learn that the waters have done
you much good. I am sorry to hear of all the vexations you
have undergone. Please write me often. My health is very
good, although I am rather tired. I shall be at Dunkirk in a
very few days, and shall write you from there.

Eugène has started for Blois.

Je te couvre de baisers.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Calais, August 6, 1804.

My Dear,—I arrived at Calais at midnight; I expect to start
to-night for Dunkirk. I am in very fair health, and satisfied
59
with what I see. I trust that the waters are doing you as much
good as exercise, camp, and seascape are doing me.

Eugène has set off for Blois. Hortense is well. Louis is at
Plombières.

I am longing to see you. You are always necessary to my
happiness. My very best love.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Ostend, August 14, 1804.

My Dear,—I have had no letter from you for several days;
yet I should be more comfortable if I knew that the waters were
efficacious, and how you spend your time. During the past
week I have been at Ostend. The day after to-morrow I shall
be at Boulogne for a somewhat special fête. Advise me by the
courier what you intend to do, and how soon you expect to end
your baths.

I am very well satisfied with the army and the flotillas.
Eugène is still at Blois. I hear no more of Hortense than if she
were on the Congo. I am writing to scold her.

My best love to all.

Napoleon.

No. 5.

To the Empress, at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Arras, Wednesday, August 29, 1804.

Madame and dear Wife,—I have just reached Arras. I shall
stay there to-morrow. I shall be at Mons on Friday, and on
Sunday at Aix-la-Chapelle. I am as well satisfied with my
journey as with the army. I think I shall pass through Brussels
without stopping there; thence I shall go to Maestricht. I am
60
rather impatient to see you. I am glad to hear you have tried
the waters; they cannot fail to do you good. My health is
excellent. Eugène is well, and is with me.

Very kindest regards to every one.

Bonaparte.

No. 6.

To Josephine, at St. Cloud.

Trèves, October 6, 1804.

My Dear,—I arrive at Trèves the same moment that you
arrive at St. Cloud. I am in good health. Do not grant an
audience to T——, and refuse to see him. Receive B—— only
in general company, and do not give him a private interview.
Make promises to sign marriage contracts only after I have
signed them.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

61

SERIES F

CAMPAIGN OF AUSTERLITZ, 1805.

62

SERIES F

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 237–243.)

63

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE, DURING THE
AUSTERLITZ CAMPAIGN, 1805.

Events of 1805.

No. 1.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

Imperial Headquarters, Ettlingen,
October 2, 1805, 10 A.M.

I am well, and still here. I am starting for Stuttgard, where
I shall be to-night. Great operations are now in progress. The
armies of Wurtemberg and Baden have joined mine. I am well
placed for the campaign, and I love you.

Napoleon.

64

No. 2.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

Louisbourg, October 4, 1805, Noon.

I am at Louisbourg. I start to-night. There is as yet
nothing new. My whole army is on the march. The weather
is splendid. My junction with the Bavarians is effected. I am
well. I trust in a few days to have something interesting to
communicate.

Keep well, and believe in my entire affection. There is a
brilliant Court here, a new bride who is very beautiful, and upon
the whole some very pleasant people, even our Electress, who
appears extremely kind, although the daughter of the King of
England.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

Louisbourg, October 5, 1805.

I continue my march immediately. You will, my dear, be
five or six days without hearing from me; don’t be uneasy, it is
connected with operations now taking place. All goes well, and
just as I could wish.

I have assisted at a marriage between the son of the Elector
and a niece of the King of Prussia. I wish to give the young
princess a wedding present to cost 36,000 to 40,000 francs.
Please attend to this, and send it to the bride by one of my
chamberlains, when they shall come to rejoin me. This matter
must be attended to immediately.

Adieu, dear, I love you and embrace you.

Napoleon.

65

No. 4.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

Augsbourg, Thursday, October 10, 1805,
11 A.M.

I slept last night[18] with the former Elector of Trèves, who
is very well lodged. For the past week I have been hurrying
forward. The campaign has been successful enough so far. I
am very well, although it rains almost every day. Events crowd
on us rapidly. I have sent to France 4000 prisoners, 8 flags, and
have 14 of the enemy’s cannon.

Adieu, dear, I embrace you.

Napoleon.

No. 5.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

October 12, 1805, 11 P.M.

My army has entered Munich. On one side the enemy is
beyond the Inn; I hold the other army, 60,000 strong, blocked
on the Iller, between Ulm and Memmingen. The enemy is
beaten, has lost its head, and everything points to a most glorious
campaign, the shortest and most brilliant which has been made.
In an hour I start for Burgau-sur-l’Iller.

I am well, but the weather is frightful. It rains so much
that I change my clothes twice a day.

I love and embrace you.

Napoleon.

66

No. 6.

To Josephine, at Strasburg.

Abbaye d’Elchingen, October 19, 1805.

My dear Josephine,—I have tired myself more than I ought.
Soaked garments and cold feet every day for a week have made
me rather ill, but I have spent the whole of to-day indoors, which
has rested me.

My design has been accomplished; I have destroyed the
Austrian army by marches alone; I have made 60,000 prisoners,
taken 120 pieces of cannon, more than 90 flags, and more than
30 generals. I am about to fling myself on the Russians; they
are lost men. I am satisfied with my army. I have only lost
1500 men, of whom two-thirds are but slightly wounded.

Prince Charles is on his way to cover Vienna. I think
Massena should be already at Vicenza.

The moment I can give my thoughts to Italy, I will make
Eugène win a battle.

Very best wishes to Hortense.

Adieu, my Josephine; kindest regards to every one.

Napoleon.

No. 7.

67

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Elchingen, October 21, 1805, Noon.

I am fairly well, my dear. I start at once for Augsbourg. I
have made 33,000 men lay down their arms, I have from 60,000
to 70,000 prisoners, more than 90 flags, and 200 pieces of
cannon. Never has there been such a catastrophe in military
annals!

Take care of yourself. I am rather jaded. The weather has
been fine for the last three days. The first column of prisoners
files off for France to-day. Each column consists of 6000 men.

Napoleon.

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Augsburg, October 25, 1805.

The two past nights have thoroughly rested me, and I am going
to start to-morrow for Munich. I am sending word to M. de
Talleyrand and M. Maret to be near at hand. I shall see something
of them, and I am going to advance upon the Inn in order
to attack Austria in the heart of her hereditary states. I should
much have liked to see you; but do not reckon upon my sending
for you, unless there should be an armistice or winter quarters.

Adieu, dear; a thousand kisses. Give my compliments to
the ladies.

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Munich, Sunday, October 27, 1805.

I received your letter per Lemarois. I was grieved to see
how needlessly you have made yourself unhappy. I have heard
68
particulars which have proved how much you love me, but
you should have more fortitude and confidence. Besides, I
had advised you that I should be six days without writing you.

To-morrow I expect the Elector. At noon I start to support
my advance on the Inn. My health is fair. You need not
think of crossing the Rhine for two or three weeks. You must
be cheerful, amuse yourself, and hope that before the end of the
month[19] we shall meet.

I am advancing against the Russian army. In a few days I
shall have crossed the Inn.

Adieu, my dear; kindest regards to Hortense, Eugène, and
the two Napoleons.

Keep back the wedding present a little longer.

Yesterday I gave a concert to the ladies of this court. The
precentor is a superior man.

I took part in the Elector’s pheasant-shoot; you see by that
that I am not so tired. M. de Talleyrand has come.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Haag, November 3, 1805, 10 P.M.

I am in full march; the weather is very cold, the earth
covered with a foot of snow. This is rather trying. Luckily
there is no want of wood; here we are always in forests. I am
69
fairly well. My campaign proceeds satisfactorily; my enemies
must have more anxieties than I.

I wish to hear from you and to learn that you are not worrying
yourself.

Adieu, dear; I am going to lie down.

Napoleon.

No. 11.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Tuesday, November 5, 1805.

I am at Lintz. The weather is fine. We are within seventy
miles of Vienna. The Russians do not stand; they are in full
retreat. The house of Austria is at its wit’s end, and in Vienna
they are removing all the court belongings. It is probable that
something new will occur within five or six days. I much desire
to see you again. My health is good.

I embrace you.

Napoleon.

No. 12.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

November 15, 1805, 9 P.M.

I have been at Vienna two days, my dear, rather fagged. I
have not yet seen the city by day; I have traversed it by night.
70
To-morrow I receive the notables and public bodies. Nearly all
my troops are beyond the Danube, in pursuit of the Russians.

Adieu, Josephine; as soon as it is possible I will send for you.
My very best love.

Napoleon.

No. 13.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Vienna, November 16, 1805.

I am writing to M. d’Harville, so that you can set out and
make your way to Baden, thence to Stuttgard, and from there to
Munich. At Stuttgard you will give the wedding present to the
Princess Paul. If it costs fifteen to twenty thousand francs, that
will suffice; the rest will do for giving presents at Munich to the
daughters of the Electress of Bavaria. All that Madame de
Serent[20] has advised you is definitely arranged. Take with you
the wherewithal to make presents to the ladies and officers who
will wait upon you. Be civil, but receive full homage; they
owe everything to you, and you owe nothing save civility. The
Electress of Wurtemberg is daughter of the King of England.
She is an excellent woman; you should be very kind to her, but
yet without affectation.

I shall be very glad to see you, the moment circumstances
permit me. I start to join my vanguard. The weather is
frightful; it snows heavily. Otherwise my affairs go excellently.

Adieu, my dear.

Napoleon.

71

No. 14.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Austerlitz, December 3, 1805.

I have despatched to you Lebrun from the field of battle. I
have beaten the Russian and Austrian army commanded by the
two Emperors. I am rather fagged. I have bivouacked eight
days in the open air, through nights sufficiently keen. To-night
I rest in the château of Prince Kaunitz, where I shall sleep for
the next two or three hours. The Russian army is not only
beaten, but destroyed.

I embrace you.

Napoleon.

No. 15.

To the Empress, at Munich.

Austerlitz, December 5, 1805.

I have concluded a truce. The Russians have gone. The
battle of Austerlitz is the grandest of all I have fought. Forty-five
flags, more than 150 pieces of cannon, the standards of the
Russian Guard, 20 generals, 30,000 prisoners, more than 20,000
slain—a horrible sight.

The Emperor Alexander is in despair, and on his way to
Russia. Yesterday, at my bivouac, I saw the Emperor of Germany.
We conversed for two hours; we have agreed to make peace
quickly.

72
The weather is not now very bad. At last behold peace
restored to the Continent; it is to be hoped that it is going to be
to the world. The English will not know how to face us.

I look forward with much pleasure to the moment when I
can once more be near you. My eyes have been rather bad the
last two days; I have never suffered from them before.

Adieu, my dear. I am fairly well, and very anxious to
embrace you.

Napoleon.

No. 16.

To the Empress, at Munich.

Austerlitz, December 7, 1805.

I have concluded an armistice; within a week peace will be
made. I am anxious to hear that you reached Munich in good
health. The Russians are returning; they have lost enormously—more
than 20,000 dead and 30,000 taken. Their
army is reduced by three-quarters. Buxhowden, their general-in-chief,
was killed. I have 3000 wounded and 700 to 800
dead.

My eyes are rather bad; it is a prevailing complaint, and
scarcely worth mentioning.

Adieu, dear. I am very anxious to see you again.

I am going to sleep to-night at Vienna.

Napoleon.

No. 17.

To the Empress, at Munich.

Brunn, December 10, 1805.

It is a long time since I had news of you. Have the grand
fêtes at Baden, Stuttgard, and Munich made you forget the poor
soldiers, who live covered with mud, rain, and blood?

I shall start in a few days for Vienna.

73
We are endeavouring to conclude peace. The Russians have
gone, and are in flight far from here; they are on their way back
to Russia, well drubbed and very much humiliated.

I am very anxious to be with you again.

Adieu, dear.

My bad eyes are cured.

Napoleon.

No. 18.

To the Empress, at Munich.

December 19, 1805.

Great Empress,—Not a single letter from you since your
departure from Strasburg. You have gone to Baden, Stuttgard,
Munich, without writing us a word. This is neither very kind
nor very affectionate.

I am still at Brunn. The Russians are gone. I have a
truce. In a few days I shall see what I may expect. Deign
from the height of your grandeur to concern yourself a little with
your slaves.

Napoleon.

No. 19.

To the Empress, at Munich.

Schönbrunn, December 20, 1805.

I got your letter of the 16th. I am sorry to learn you are in
pain. You are not strong enough to travel two hundred and
fifty miles at this time of the year. I know not what I shall do;
I await events. I have no will in the matter; everything depends
on their issue. Stay at Munich; amuse yourself. That is not
difficult when you have so many kind friends and so beautiful a
74
country. I, for my part, am sufficiently busy. In a few days
my decision will be made.

Adieu, dear. Kindest and most affectionate regards.

Napoleon.

75

SERIES G

“Battles then lasted a few hours, campaigns a few days.”

—Bignon, On Friedland (vol. vi. 292).

76

SERIES G

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 243–264.)

77

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
DURING THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST PRUSSIA AND RUSSIA, 1806-7.

1806.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

October 5, 1806.

It will be quite in order for the Princess of Baden to come to
Mayence. I cannot think why you weep; you do wrong to
78
make yourself ill. Hortense is inclined to pedantry; she loves
to air her views. She has written me; I am sending her a reply.
She ought to be happy and cheerful. Pluck and a merry heart—that’s
the recipe.

Adieu, dear. The Grand Duke has spoken to me about
you; he saw you at Florence at the time of the retreat.

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Bamberg, October 7, 1806.

I start this evening, my dear, for Cronach. The whole of
my army is advancing. All goes well. My health is perfect.
I have only received as yet one letter from you. I have some
from Eugène and from Hortense. Stephanie should now be
with you. Her husband wishes to make the campaign; he
is with me.

Adieu. A thousand kisses and the best of health.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Gera, October 13, 1806, 2 A.M.

My Dear,—I am at Gera to-day. My affairs go excellently
well, and everything as I could wish. With the aid of God, they
will, I believe, in a few days have taken a terrible course for the
poor King of Prussia, whom I am sorry for personally, because he
79
is a good man. The Queen is at Erfurt with the King. If she
wants to see a battle, she shall have that cruel pleasure. I am in
splendid health. I have already put on flesh since my departure;
yet I am doing, in person, twenty and twenty-five leagues a day,
on horseback, in my carriage, in all sorts of ways. I lie down at
eight, and get up at midnight. I fancy at times that you have
not yet gone to bed.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Jena, October 15, 1806, 3 A.M.

My Dear,—I have made excellent manœuvres against the
Prussians. Yesterday I won a great victory. They had 150,000
men. I have made 20,000 prisoners, taken 100 pieces of cannon,
and flags. I was in presence of the King of Prussia, and near to
him; I nearly captured him and the Queen. For the past two
days I have bivouacked. I am in excellent health.

Adieu, dear. Keep well, and love me.

If Hortense is at Mayence, give her a kiss; also to Napoleon
and to the little one.

Napoleon.

No. 5.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Weimar, October 16, 1806, 5 P.M.

M. Talleyrand will have shown you the bulletin, my dear;
you will see my successes therein. All has happened as I calculated,
80
and never was an army more thoroughly beaten and
more entirely destroyed. I need only add that I am very well,
and that fatigue, bivouacs, and night-watches have made me fat.

Adieu, dear. Kindest regards to Hortense and to the great
M. Napoleon.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 6.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Wittenberg, October 23, 1806, Noon.

I have received several of your letters. I write you only a
line. My affairs prosper. To-morrow I shall be at Potsdam,
and at Berlin on the 25th. I am wonderfully well, and thrive
on hard work. I am very glad to hear you are with Hortense and
Stephanie, en grande compagnie. So far, the weather has been fine.

Kind regards to Stephanie, and to everybody, not forgetting
M. Napoleon.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 7.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Potsdam, October 24, 1806.

My Dear,—I have been at Potsdam since yesterday, and shall
remain there to-day. I continue satisfied with my undertakings.
81
My health is good; the weather very fine. I find Sans-Souci
very pleasant.

Adieu, dear. Best wishes to Hortense and to M. Napoleon.

Napoleon.

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

November 1, 1806, 2 A.M.

Talleyrand has just arrived and tells me, my dear, that you do
nothing but cry. What on earth do you want? You have your
daughter, your grandchildren, and good news; surely these are
sufficient reasons for being happy and contented.

The weather here is superb; there has not yet fallen during
the whole campaign a single drop of water. I am very well, and
all goes excellently.

Adieu, dear; I have received a letter from M. Napoleon;
I do not believe it is from him, but from Hortense. Kindest
regards to everybody.

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Berlin, November 2, 1806.

Your letter of October 26th to hand. We have splendid
weather here. You will see by the bulletin that we have taken
82
Stettin—it is a very strong place. All my affairs go as well as
possible, and I am thoroughly satisfied. One pleasure is alone
wanting—that of seeing you, but I hope that will not long be
deferred.

Kindest regards to Hortense, Stephanie, and to the little
Napoleon.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 9a.

From the Memoirs of Mademoiselle d’Avrillon (vol. i. 128).

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Berlin, Monday, Noon.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. I am glad to know
that you are in a place which pleases me, and especially to know
that you are very well there. Who should be happier than you?
You should live without a worry, and pass your time as pleasantly
as possible; that, indeed, is my intention.

I forbid you to see Madame Tallien, under any pretext
whatever. I will admit of no excuse. If you desire a continuance
of my esteem, if you wish to please me, never transgress
the present order. She may possibly come to your apartments,
to enter them by night; forbid your porter to admit her.

I shall soon be at Malmaison. I warn you to have no lovers
there that night; I should be sorry to disturb them. Adieu,
dear; I long to see you and assure you of my love and affection.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

November 6, 1806, 9 P.M.

Yours to hand, in which you seem annoyed at the bad things
I say about women; it is true that I hate intriguing women
83
more than anything. I am used to kind, gentle, persuasive
women; these are the kind I like. If I have been spoilt, it is
not my fault, but yours. Moreover, you shall learn how kind I
have been to one who showed herself sensible and good, Madame
d’Hatzfeld. When I showed her husband’s letter to her she
admitted to me, amid her sobs, with profound emotion, and
frankly, “Ah! it is indeed his writing!” While she was
reading, her voice went to my heart; it pained me. I said,
“Well, madame, throw that letter on the fire, I shall then
have no longer the power to punish your husband.” She burnt
the letter, and seemed very happy. Her husband now feels at
ease; two hours later he would have been a dead man. You see
then how I like kind, frank, gentle women; but it is because such
alone resemble you.

Adieu, dear; my health is good.

Napoleon.

No. 11.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Berlin, November 9, 1806.

My Dear,—I am sending good news. Magdeburg has capitulated,
and on November 7th I took 20,000 men at Lubeck who
escaped me last week. The whole Prussian army, therefore, is
captured; even beyond the Vistula there does not remain to
84
Prussia 20,000 men. Several of my army corps are in Poland.
I am still at Berlin. I am very fairly well.

Adieu, dear; heartiest good wishes to Hortense, Stephanie,
and the two little Napoleons.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 12.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Berlin, November 16, 1806.

I received your letter of November 11th. I note with satisfaction
that my convictions give you pleasure. You are wrong
to think flattery was intended; I was telling you of yourself as I
see you. I am grieved to think that you are tired of Mayence.
Were the journey less long, you might come here, for there is no
longer an enemy, or, if there is, he is beyond the Vistula; that is
to say, more than three hundred miles away. I will wait to hear
what you think about it. I should also be delighted to see M.
Napoleon.

Adieu, my dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

I have still too much business here for me to return to Paris.

No. 13.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

November 22, 1806, 10 P.M.

Your letter received. I am sorry to find you in the dumps;
yet you have every reason to be cheerful. You are wrong to
85
show so much kindness to people who show themselves unworthy
of it. Madame L—— is a fool; such an idiot that you ought to
know her by this time, and pay no heed to her. Be contented,
happy in my friendship, and in the great influence you possess.
In a few days I shall decide whether to summon you hither or
send you to Paris.

Adieu, dear; you can go at once, if you like, to Darmstadt,
or to Frankfort; that will make you forget your troubles.

Kindest regards to Hortense.

Napoleon.

No. 14.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Kustrin, November 26, 1806.

I am at Kustrin, making a tour and spying out the land a
little; I shall see in a day or two whether you should come.
You can keep ready. I shall be very pleased if the Queen of
Holland be of the party. The Grand Duchess of Baden must
write to her husband about it.

It is 2 A.M. I am just getting up; it is the usage of war.

Kindest regards to you and to every one.

Napoleon.

No. 15.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Meseritz, November 27, 1806, 2 A.M.

I am about to make a tour in Poland. This is the first town
there. To-night I shall be at Posen, after which I shall send for
you to come to Berlin, so that you can arrive there the same day
86
as I. My health is good, the weather rather bad; it has rained
for the past three days. My affairs prosper. The Russians are
in flight.

Adieu, dear; kindest regards to Hortense, Stephanie, and the
little Napoleons.

Napoleon.

No. 16.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, November 29, 1806, Noon.

I am at Posen, capital of Great Poland. The cold weather
has set in; I am in good health. I am about to take a circuit
round Poland. My troops are at the gates of Warsaw.

Adieu, dear; very kindest regards, and a hearty embrace.

No. 17.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, December 2, 1806.

To-day is the anniversary of Austerlitz. I have been to a
city ball. It is raining; I am in good health. I love you and
long for you. My troops are at Warsaw. So far the cold has
not been severe. All these fair Poles are Frenchwomen at
heart; but there is only one woman for me. Would you know
her? I could draw her portrait very well; but I should have to
flatter it too much for you to recognise yourself;—yet, to tell
the truth, my heart would only have nice things to say to you.
These nights are long, all alone.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

87

No. 18.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

December 3, 1806, Noon.

Yours of November 26th received. I notice two things in
it. You say I do not read your letters: it is an unkind thought.
I take your bad opinion anything but kindly. You tell me that
perhaps it is a mere phantasy of the night, and you add that you
are not jealous. I found out long ago that angry persons always
assert that they are not angry; that those who are afraid keep on
repeating that they have no fear; you therefore are convinced of
jealousy. I am delighted to hear it! Nevertheless, you are
wrong; I think of nothing less, and in the desert plains of
Poland one thinks little about beauties….

I had yesterday a ball of the provincial nobility—the women
good-looking enough, rich enough, dowdy enough, although in
Paris fashions.

Adieu, dear; I am in good health.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 19.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, December 3, 1806, 6 p.m.

Yours of November 27th received, from which I see that
your little head is quite turned. I am reminded of the verse—

“Désir de femme est un feu qui dévore.”

Still you must calm yourself. I wrote you that I was in
Poland; that, when we were established in winter quarters, you
could come; you will have to wait a few days. The greater
one becomes, the less one can consult one’s wishes—being
dependent on events and circumstances. You can come to
88
Frankfort or Darmstadt. I am hoping to send for you in a few
days; that is, if circumstances will permit. The warmth of
your letter makes me realise that you, like other pretty women,
know no bounds. What you will, must be; but, as for me,
I declare that of all men I am the greatest slave; my master has
no pity, and this master is the nature of things.

Adieu, dear; keep well. The person that I wished to speak
to you about is Madame L——, of whom every one is speaking
ill; they assure me that she is more Prussian than French
woman. I don’t believe it, but I think her an idiot who talks
nothing but trash.

Napoleon.

No. 20.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, December 9, 1806.

Yours of December 1st received. I see with pleasure that
you are more cheerful; that the Queen of Holland wishes to
come with you. I long to give the order; but you must still
wait a few days. My affairs prosper.

Adieu, dear; I love you and wish to see you happy.

Napoleon.

No. 21.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, December 10, 1806, 5 P.M.

An officer has just brought me a rug, a gift from you; it is
somewhat short and narrow, but I thank you for it none the less.
I am in fair health. The weather is very changeable. My
affairs prosper pretty well. I love you and long for you much.
89

Adieu, dear; I shall write for you to come with at least as
much pleasure as you will have in coming.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

A kiss to Hortense, Stephanie, and Napoleon.

No. 22.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Posen, December 12th, 1806, 7 P.M.

My Dear,—I have not received any letters from you, but
know, nevertheless, that you are well. My health is good, the
weather very mild; the bad season has not begun yet, but the
roads are bad in a country where there are no highways. Hortense
will come then with Napoleon; I am delighted to hear it.
I long to see things shape themselves into a position to enable
you to come.

I have made peace with Saxony. The Elector is King and
one of the confederation.

Adieu, my well-beloved Josephine.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

A kiss to Hortense, Napoleon, and Stephanie.

Päer, the famous musician, his wife, a virtuoso whom you
saw at Milan twelve years ago, and Brizzi are here; they give
me a little music every evening.

No. 23.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

December 15, 1806, 3 P.M.

My Dear,—I start for Warsaw. In a fortnight I shall be
back; I hope then to be able to send for you. But if that seems
90
a long time, I should be very glad if you would return to Paris,
where you are wanted. You well know that I am dependent on
events. All my affairs go excellently. My health is very good;
I am as well as possible.

Adieu, dear. I have made peace with Saxony.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 24.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, December 20, 1806, 3 P.M.

I have no news from you, dear. I am very well. The last
two days I have been at Warsaw. My affairs prosper. The
weather is very mild, and even somewhat humid. It has as yet
barely begun to freeze; it is October weather.

Adieu, dear; I should much have liked to see you, but trust
that in five or six days I shall be able to send for you.

Kindest regards to the Queen of Holland and to her little
Napoleons.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 25.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Golymin, December 29, 1806, 5 A.M.

I write you only a line, my dear. I am in a wretched barn.
I have beaten the Russians, taken thirty pieces of cannon, their
91
baggage, and 6000 prisoners; but the weather is frightful. It is
raining; we have mud up to our knees.

In two days I shall be at Warsaw, whence I shall write you.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

No. 26.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Pultusk, December 31, 1806.

I have had a good laugh over your last letters. You idealise
the fair ones of Great Poland in a way they do not deserve. I
have had for two or three days the pleasure of hearing Päer and
two lady singers, who have given me some very good music. I
received your letter in a wretched barn, having mud, wind, and
straw for my only bed. To-morrow I shall be at Warsaw. I
think all is over for this year. The army is entering winter
quarters. I shrug my shoulders at the stupidity of Madame de
L——; still you should show her your displeasure, and counsel
her not to be so idiotic. Such things become common property,
and make many people indignant.

For my part, I scorn ingratitude as the worst fault in a human
heart. I know that instead of comforting you, these people have
given you pain.

Adieu, dear; I am in good health. I do not think you ought
to go to Cassel; that place is not suitable. You may go to
Darmstadt.

Napoleon.

No. 27.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 3, 1807.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. Your grief pains
me; but one must bow to events. There is too much country
to travel between Mayence and Warsaw; you must, therefore,
92
wait till circumstances allow me to come to Berlin, in order that
I may write you to come thither. It is true that the enemy,
defeated, is far away; but I have many things here to put to
rights. I should be inclined to think that you might return to
Paris, where you are needed. Send away those ladies who have
their affairs to look after; you will be better without people who
have given you so much worry.

My health is good; the weather bad. I love you from my
heart.

Napoleon.

No. 28.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 7, 1807.

My Dear,—I am pained by all that you tell me; but the
season being cold, the roads very bad and not at all safe, I cannot
consent to expose you to so many fatigues and dangers. Return
to Paris in order to spend the winter there. Go to the Tuileries;
receive, and lead the same life as you are accustomed to do when
I am there; that is my wish. Perhaps I shall not be long in
rejoining you there; but it is absolutely necessary for you to give
up the idea of making a journey of 750 miles at this time of the
year, through the enemy’s country, and in the rear of the army.
Believe that it costs me more than you to put off for some weeks
the pleasure of seeing you, but so events and the success of my
enterprise order it.

Adieu, my dear; be cheerful, and show character.

Napoleon.

93

No. 29.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 8, 1807.

My Dear,—I received your letter of the 27th with those of
M. Napoleon and Hortense, which were enclosed with it. I had
begged you to return to Paris. The season is too inclement, the
roads unsafe and detestable; the distances too great for me to
permit you to come hither, where my affairs detain me. It
would take you at least a month to come. You would arrive
ill; by that time it might perhaps be necessary to start back
again; it would therefore be folly. Your residence at Mayence
is too dull; Paris reclaims you; go there, it is my wish. I am
more vexed about it than you. I should have liked to spend the
long nights of this season with you, but we must obey circumstances.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 30.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 11, 1807.

Your letter of the 27th received, from which I note that
you are somewhat uneasy about military events. Everything is
settled, as I have told you, to my satisfaction; my affairs prosper.
The distance is too great for me to allow you to come so far at
this time of year. I am in splendid health, sometimes rather
wearied by the length of the nights.

Up to the present I have seen few people here.

Adieu, dear. I wish you to be cheerful, and to give a little
life to the capital. I would much like to be there.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

I hope that the Queen has gone to the Hague with M.
Napoleon.

94

No. 31.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

January 16, 1807.
My Dear,—I have received your letter of the 5th of January;
all that you tell me of your unhappiness pains me. Why these
tears, these repinings? Have you then no longer any fortitude?
I shall see you soon. Never doubt my feelings; and if you wish
to be still dearer to me, show character and strength of mind. I
am humiliated to think that my wife can distrust my destinies.

Adieu, dear. I love you, I long to see you, and wish to
learn that you are content and happy.

Napoleon.

No. 32.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 18, 1807.

I fear that you are greatly grieved at our separation and at
your return to Paris, which must last for some weeks longer. I
insist on your having more fortitude. I hear you are always
weeping. Fie! how unbecoming it is! Your letter of January
7th makes me unhappy. Be worthy of me; assume more
character. Cut a suitable figure at Paris; and, above all, be
contented.

I am very well, and I love you much; but, if you are always
crying, I shall think you without courage and without character.
I do not love cowards. An empress ought to have fortitude.

Napoleon.

95

No. 33.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 19, 1807.

My Dear,—Your letter to hand. I have laughed at your fear
of fire. I am in despair at the tone of your letters and at what I
hear. I forbid you to weep, to be petulant and uneasy; I want
you to be cheerful, lovable, and happy.

Napoleon.

No. 34.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

Warsaw, January 23, 1807.

Your letter of January 15th to hand. It is impossible to
allow women to make such a journey as this—bad roads, miry
and unsafe. Return to Paris; be cheerful and content there.
Perhaps even I shall soon be there. I have laughed at what
you say about your having taken a husband to be with him. I
thought, in my ignorance, that the wife was made for the husband,
the husband for his country, his family, and glory. Pardon
my ignorance; one is always learning from our fair ladies.

Adieu, my dear. Think how much it costs me not to send
for you. Say to yourself, “It is a proof how precious I am to
him.”

Napoleon.

No. 35.

To the Empress, at Mayence.

January 25, 1807.

I am very unhappy to see you are in pain. I hope that you
are at Paris; you will get better there. I share your griefs, and
do not groan. For I could not risk losing you by exposing you
to fatigues and dangers which befit neither your rank nor
your sex.
96

I wish you never to receive T—— at Paris; he is a black
sheep. You would grieve me by doing otherwise.

Adieu, my dear. Love me, and be courageous.

Napoleon.

No. 36.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Warsaw, January 26, 1807, Noon.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. It pains me to see
how you are fretting yourself. The bridge of Mayence neither
increases nor decreases the distance which separates us. Remain,
therefore, at Paris. I should be vexed and uneasy to know that
you were so miserable and so isolated at Mayence. You must
know that I ought, that I can, consider only the success of my
enterprise. If I could consult my heart I should be with you, or
you with me; for you would be most unjust if you doubted my
love and entire affection.

Napoleon.

No. 37.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Willemberg, February 1, 1807, Noon.

Your letter of the 11th, from Mayence, has made me laugh.

To-day, I am a hundred miles from Warsaw; the weather is
cold, but fine.

Adieu, dear; be happy, show character.

Napoleon.

No. 38.

To the Empress, at Paris.

My Dear,—Your letter of January 20th has given me pain;
it is too sad. That’s the fault of not being a little more devout!
97
You tell me that your glory consists in your happiness. That is
narrow-minded; one should say, my glory consists in the happiness
of others. It is not conjugal; one should say, my glory
consists in the happiness of my husband. It is not maternal;
one should say, my glory consists in the happiness of my children.
Now, since nations—your husband, your children—can only be
happy with a certain amount of glory, you must not make little
of it. Fie, Josephine! your heart is excellent and your arguments
weak. You feel acutely, but you don’t argue as well.

That’s sufficient quarrelling. I want you to be cheerful,
happy in your lot, and that you should obey, not with grumbling
and tears, but with gaiety of heart and a little more good temper.

Adieu, dear; I start to-night to examine my outposts.

Napoleon.

No. 39.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Eylau, February 9, 1807, 3 A.M.

My Dear,—Yesterday there was a great battle; the victory
has remained with me, but I have lost many men. The loss of
the enemy, which is still more considerable, does not console me.
To conclude, I write you these two lines myself, although I am
very tired, to tell you that I am well and that I love you.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

No. 40.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Eylau, February 9, 1807, 6 P.M.

My Dear,—I write you a line in order that you may not be
uneasy. The enemy has lost the battle, 40 pieces of cannon,
98
10 flags, 12,000 prisoners; he has suffered frightfully. I have lost
many: 1600 killed, 3000 or 4000 wounded.

Your cousin Tascher conducts himself well; I have summoned
him near me with the title of orderly officer.

Corbineau has been killed by a shell; I was singularly attached
to that officer, who had much merit; I am very unhappy
about him. My mounted guard has covered itself with glory.
Dahlman is dangerously wounded.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 41.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Eylau, February 11, 1807, 3 A.M.

My Dear,—I write you a line; you must have been very
anxious. I have beaten the enemy in a fight to be remembered,
but it has cost many brave lives. The bad weather that has set
in forces me to take cantonments.

Do not afflict yourself, please; all this will soon be over, and
the happiness of seeing you will make me promptly forget my
fatigues. Besides, I have never been in better health.

Young Tascher, of the 4th Regiment, has behaved well; he
has had a rough time of it. I have summoned him near me; I
have made him an orderly officer—there’s an end to his troubles.
This young man interests me.

Adieu, dear; a thousand kisses.

Napoleon.

No. 42.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Preussich-Eylau, February 12, 1807.

I send you a letter from General Darmagnac. He is a very
good soldier, who commanded the 32nd. He is much attached
99
to me. If this Madame de Richmond be well off, and it is a
good match, I shall see this marriage with pleasure. Make this
known to both of them.

Napoleon.

No. 43.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Eylau, February 14, 1807.

My Dear,—I am still at Eylau. This country is covered
with dead and wounded. It is not the bright side of warfare;
one suffers, and the mind is oppressed at the sight of so many
victims. My health is good. I have done as I wished, and
driven back the enemy, while making his projects fail.

You are sure to be uneasy, and that thought troubles me.
Nevertheless, calm yourself, my dear, and be cheerful.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

Tell Caroline and Pauline that the Grand Duke and the
Prince[22] are in excellent health.

No. 44.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Eylau, February 17, 1807, 3 A.M.

Your letter to hand, informing me of your arrival at Paris.
I am very glad to know you are there. My health is good.

The battle of Eylau was very sanguinary, and very hardly
contested. Corbineau was slain. He was a very brave man. I
had grown very fond of him.

Adieu, dear; it is as warm here as in the month of April;
everything is thawing. My health is good.

Napoleon.

100

No. 45.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Landsberg, February 18, 1807, 3 A.M.

I write you two lines. My health is good. I am moving to
set my army in winter quarters.

It rains and thaws as in the month of April. We have not
yet had one cold day.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 46.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Liebstadt, February 20, 1807, 2 A.M.

I write you two lines, dear, in order that you may not be
uneasy. My health is very good, and my affairs prosper.

I have again put my army into cantonments.

The weather is extraordinary; it freezes and thaws; it is
wet and unsettled.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 47.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Liebstadt, February 21, 1807, 2 A.M.

Your letter of the 4th February to hand; I see with pleasure
that your health is good. Paris will thoroughly re-establish it by
giving you cheerfulness and rest, and a return to your accustomed
habits.

I am wonderfully well. The weather and the country are
vile. My affairs are fairly satisfactory. It thaws and freezes
within twenty-four hours; there can never have been known
such an extraordinary winter.
101

Adieu, dear; I love you, I think of you, and wish to know
that you are contented, cheerful, and happy.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 48.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Liebstadt, February 21, 1807, Noon.

My Dear,—Your letter of the 8th received; I see with
pleasure that you have been to the opera, and that you propose
holding receptions weekly. Go occasionally to the theatre, and
always into the Royal box. I notice also with pleasure the
banquets you are giving.

I am very well. The weather is still unsettled; it freezes
and thaws.

I have once more put my army into cantonments in order to
rest them.

Never be doleful, love me, and believe in my entire affection.

Napoleon.

No. 49.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, February 23, 1807, 2 P.M.

My Dear,—Your letter of the 10th received. I am sorry to
see you are a little out of sorts.

I have been in the country for the past month, experiencing
frightful weather, because it has been unsettled, and varying from
cold to warm within a week. Still, I am very well.

Try and pass your time pleasantly; have no anxieties, and
never doubt the love I bear you.

Napoleon.

102

No. 50.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 2, 1807.

My Dear,—It is two or three days since I wrote to you; I
reproach myself for it; I know your uneasiness. I am very well;
my affairs prosper. I am in a wretched village, where I shall
pass a considerable time; it is not as good as the great city! I
again assure you, I was never in such good health; you will find
me very much stouter.

It is spring weather here; the snow has gone, the streams
are thawing—which is what I want.

I have ordered what you wish for Malmaison; be cheerful
and happy; it is my will.

Adieu, dear; I embrace you heartily.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 51.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 10, 1807, 4 P.M.

My Dear,—I have received your letter of the 25th. I see
with pleasure that you are well, and that you sometimes make a
pilgrimage to Malmaison.

My health is good, and my affairs prosper.

The weather has become rather cold again. I see that the
winter has been very variable everywhere.

Adieu, dear; keep well, be cheerful, and never doubt my
affection,—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

103

No. 52.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 11, 1807.

My Dear,—I received your letter of the 27th. I am sorry to
see from it that you are ill; take courage. My health is good;
my affairs prosper. I am waiting for fine weather, which should
soon be here. I love you and want to know that you are content
and cheerful.

A great deal of nonsense will be talked of the battle of Eylau;
the bulletin tells everything; our losses are rather exaggerated in
it than minimised.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 53.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 13, 1807, 2 P.M.

My Dear,—I learn that the vexatious tittle-tattle that occurred
in your salon at Mayence has begun again; make people hold
their tongues. I shall be seriously annoyed with you if you do
not find a remedy. You allow yourself to be worried by the
chatter of people who ought to console you. I desire you to
have a little character, and to know how to put everybody into
his (or her) proper place.

I am in excellent health. My affairs here are good. We
are resting a little, and organising our food supply.

Adieu, dear; keep well.

Napoleon.

No. 54.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 15, 1807.

I received your letter of the 1st of March, from which I see
that you were much upset by the catastrophe of Minerva at the
104
opera. I am very glad to see that you go out and seek distractions.

My health is very good. My affairs go excellently. Take
no heed of all the unfavourable rumours that may be circulated.
Never doubt my affection, and be without the least uneasiness.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

No. 55.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 17, 1807.

My Dear,—It is not necessary for you to go to the small
plays and into a private box; it ill befits your rank; you should
only go to the four great theatres, and always into the Royal box.
Live as you would do if I were at Paris.

My health is very good. The cold weather has recommenced.
The thermometer has been down to 8°.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 56.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 17, 1807, 10 P.M.

I have received yours of March 5th, from which I see with
pleasure that you are well. My health is perfect. Yet the
weather of the past two days has been cold again; the thermometer
to-night has been at 10°, but the sun has given us a
very fine day.

Adieu, dear. Very kindest regards to everybody.

Tell me something about the death of that poor Dupuis;
have his brother told that I wish to help him.

My affairs here go excellently.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

105

No. 57.

To the Empress, at Paris.

March 25, 1807.

I have received your letter of March 13th. If you really
wish to please me, you must live exactly as you live when I am
at Paris. Then you were not in the habit of visiting the second-rate
theatres or other places. You ought always to go into the
Royal box. As for your home life: hold receptions there, and
have your fixed circles of friends; that, my dear, is the only way
to deserve my approbation. Greatness has its inconveniences;
an Empress cannot go where a private individual may.

Very best love. My health is good. My affairs prosper.

Napoleon.

No. 58.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, March 27, 1807, 7 P.M.

My Dear,—Your letter pains me. There is no question of
your dying. You are in good health, and you can have no just
ground for grief.

I think you should go during May to St. Cloud; but you
must spend the whole month of April at Paris.

My health is good. My affairs prosper.

You must not think of travelling this summer; nothing of
that sort is feasible. You ought not to frequent inns and camps.
I long as much as you for our meeting and for a quiet life.

I can do other things besides fight; but duty stands first and
foremost. All my life long I have sacrificed everything to my
destiny—peace of mind, personal advantage, happiness.

Adieu, dear. See as little as possible of that Madame de
106
P——. She is a woman who belongs to the lowest grade of
society; she is thoroughly common and vulgar.

Napoleon.

I have had occasion to find fault with M. de T——. I have
sent him to his country house in Burgundy. I wish no longer
to hear his name mentioned.

No. 59.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Osterode, April 1, 1807.

My Dear,—I have just got your letter of the 20th. I am
sorry to see you are ill. I wrote you to stay at Paris the whole
month of April, and to go to St. Cloud on May 1st. You
may go and spend the Sundays, and a day or two, at Malmaison.
At St. Cloud you may have your usual visitors.

My health is good. It is still quite cold enough here. All
is quiet.

I have named the little princess Josephine.[23] Eugène should
be well pleased.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 60.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 2, 1807.

My Dear,—I write you a line. I have just moved my headquarters
into a very fine château, after the style of Bessières’,
where I have several fireplaces, which is a great comfort to me;
getting up often in the night, I like to see the fire.

My health is perfect. The weather is fine, but still cold.
The thermometer is at four to five degrees.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

107

No. 61.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 6, 1807, 3 P.M.

My Dear,—I have received your letter, from which I see you
have spent Holy Week at Malmaison, and that your health is
better. I long to hear that you are thoroughly well.

I am in a fine château, where there are fireplaces, which I
find a great comfort. It is still very cold here; everything is
frozen.

You will have seen that I have good news from Constantinople.

My health is good. There is nothing fresh here.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

No. 62.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 10, 1807, 6 P.M.

My Dear,—My health is excellent. Here spring is beginning;
but as yet there is no vegetation. I wish you to be
cheerful and contented, and never to doubt my attachment.
Here all goes well.

Napoleon.

No. 63.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 14, 1807, 7 P.M.

I have received your letter of April 3rd. I see from it that
you are well, and that it has been very cold in Paris. The
weather here is very unsettled; still I think the spring has come
at length; already the ice has almost gone. I am in splendid
health.

Adieu, dear. I ordered some time ago for Malmaison all that
you ask for,—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

108

No. 64.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 18, 1807.

I have received your letter of April 5th. I am sorry to see
from it that you are grieved at what I have told you. As usual,
your little Creole head becomes flurried and excited in a moment.
Let us not, therefore, speak of it again. I am very well, but yet
the weather is rainy. Savary is very ill of a bilious fever, before
Dantzic; I hope it will be nothing serious.

Adieu, dear; my very best wishes to you.

Napoleon.

No. 65.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, April 24, 1807, 7 P.M.

I have received your letter of the 12th. I see from it that
your health is good, and that you are very happy at the thought
of going to Malmaison.

The weather has changed to fine; I hope it may continue so.

There is nothing fresh here. I am very well.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 66.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, May 2, 1807, 4 P.M.

My Dear,—I have just received your letter of the 23rd; I
see with pleasure that you are well, and that you are as fond as
ever of Malmaison. I hear the Arch-Chancellor is in love. Is
this a joke, or a fact? It has amused me; you might have
given me a hint about it!

109
I am very well, and the fine season commences. Spring
shows itself at length, and the leaves begin to shoot.

Adieu, dear; very best wishes.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 67.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, May 10, 1807.

I have just received your letter. I know not what you tell
me about ladies in correspondence with me. I love only my
little Josephine, sweet, pouting, and capricious, who can quarrel
with grace, as she does everything else, for she is always
lovable, except when she is jealous; then she becomes a regular
shrew.[24] But let us come back to these ladies. If I had leisure
for any among them, I assure you that I should like them to be
pretty rosebuds.

Are those of whom you speak of this kind?

I wish you to have only those persons to dinner who have
dined with me; that your list be the same for your assemblies;
that you never make intimates at Malmaison of ambassadors and
foreigners. If you should do the contrary, you would displease
me. Finally, do not allow yourself to be duped too much by
persons whom I do not know, and who would not come to the
house, if I were there.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 68.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Finckenstein, May 12, 1807.

I have just received your letter of May 2nd, in which I see
that you are getting ready to go to St. Cloud. I was sorry to
see the bad conduct of Madame ——. Might you not speak to
110
her about mending her ways, which at present might easily
cause unpleasantness on the part of her husband?

From what I hear, Napoleon is cured; I can well imagine
how unhappy his mother has been; but measles is an ailment to
which every one is liable. I hope that he has been vaccinated,
and that he will at least be safe from the smallpox.

Adieu, dear. The weather is very warm, and vegetation has
begun; but it will be some days before there is any grass.

Napoleon.

No. 69.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Finckenstein, May 14, 1807.

I realise the grief which the death of this poor Napoleon[25]
must cause you; you can imagine what I am enduring.
I should like to be by your side, in order that your sorrow
might be kept within reasonable bounds. You have had
the good fortune never to lose children; but it is one of the
pains and conditions attached to our miseries here below. I
trust I may hear you have been rational in your sorrow, and
that your health remains good! Would you willingly augment
my grief?

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 70.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Finckenstein, May 16, 1807.

I have just received your letter of May 6th. I see from it
how ill you are already; and I fear that you are not rational,
and that you are making yourself too wretched about the misfortune
which has come upon us.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

111

No. 71.

To the Empress, at Lacken.

Finckenstein, May 20, 1807.

I have just received your letter of May 10th. I see that you
have gone to Lacken. I think you might stay there a fortnight;
it would please the Belgians and serve to distract you.

I am sorry to see that you have not been rational. Grief has
bounds which should not be passed. Take care of yourself for
the sake of your friend, and believe in my entire affection.

Napoleon.

No. 72.

To the Empress, at Lacken.

Finckenstein, May 24, 1807.

Your letter from Lacken just received. I am sorry to see
your grief undiminished, and that Hortense has not yet come;
she is unreasonable, and does not deserve our love, since she only
loves her children.

Try to calm her, and do not make me wretched. For every
ill without a remedy consolations must be found.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 73.

To the Empress, at Lacken.

Finckenstein, May 26, 1807.

I have just received your letter of the 16th. I have seen
with pleasure that Hortense has arrived at Lacken. I am annoyed
at what you tell me of the state of stupor in which she
still is. She must have more courage, and force herself to have it.
112
I cannot imagine why they want her to go to take the waters;
she will forget her trouble much better at Paris, and find more
sources of consolation.

Show force of character, be cheerful, and keep well. My
health is excellent.

Adieu, dear. I suffer much from all your griefs; it is a great
trouble to me not to be by your side.

Napoleon.

No. 74.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Dantzig, June 2, 1807.

My Dear,—I note your arrival at Malmaison. I have no
letters from you; I am vexed with Hortense, she has never
written me a line. All that you tell me about her grieves me.
Why have you not found her some distractions? Weeping
won’t do it! I trust you will take care of yourself in order that
I may not find you utterly woebegone.

I have been the two past days at Dantzic; the weather is
very fine, my health excellent. I think more of you than you
are thinking of a husband far away.

Adieu, dear; very kindest regards. Pass on this letter to
Hortense.

Napoleon.

No. 75.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Marienburg, June 3, 1807.

This morning I slept at Marienburg. Yesterday I left
Dantzic; my health is very good. Every letter that comes from
113
St. Cloud tells me you are always weeping. That is not well;
it is necessary for you to keep well and be cheerful.

Hortense is still unwell; what you tell me of her makes me
very sorry for her.

Adieu, dear; think of all the affection I bear for you.

Napoleon.

No. 76.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Finckenstein, June 6, 1807.

My Dear,—I am in flourishing health. Your yesterday’s
letter pained me; it seems to me that you are always grieving,
and that you are not reasonable. The weather is very fine.

Adieu, dear; I love you and wish to see you cheerful and
contented.

Napoleon.

No. 77.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Friedland, June 15, 1807.

My Dear,—I write you only a line, for I am very tired, by
reason of several days’ bivouacking. My children have worthily
celebrated the anniversary of the battle of Marengo.

The battle of Friedland will be as celebrated for my people,
and equally glorious. The entire Russian army routed, 80 pieces
of cannon captured, 30,000 men taken or slain, 25 Russian
generals killed, wounded, or taken, the Russian Guard wiped out.
114
The battle is worthy of her sisters—Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena.
The bulletin will tell you the rest. My loss is not considerable.
I out-manœuvred the enemy successfully.

Be content and without uneasiness.

Adieu, dear; my horse is waiting.

Napoleon.

You may give this news as official, if it arrives before the
bulletin. They may also fire salvoes. Cambacères will make
the proclamation.

No. 78.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Friedland, June 16, 1807, 4 P.M.

My Dear,—Yesterday I despatched Moustache with the news
of the battle of Friedland. Since then I have continued to
pursue the enemy. Königsberg, which is a town of 80,000
souls, is in my power. I have found there many cannon, large
stores, and, lastly, more than 160,000 muskets, which have come
from England.

Adieu, dear. My health is perfect, although I have a slight
catarrh caused by bivouacking in the rain and cold. Be happy
and cheerful.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 79.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, June 19, 1807.

This morning I despatched Tascher to you, to calm all your
fears. Here all goes splendidly. The battle of Friedland has
115
decided everything. The enemy is confounded, overwhelmed,
and greatly weakened.

My health is good, and my army is superb.

Adieu, dear. Be cheerful and contented.

Napoleon.

No. 80.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, June 22, 1807.

My Dear,—I have your letter of June 10th. I am sorry to
see you are so depressed. You will see by the bulletin that I
have concluded a suspension of arms, and that we are negotiating
peace. Be contented and cheerful.

I despatched Borghèse to you, and, twelve hours later, Moustache;
therefore you should have received in good time my
letters and the news of the grand battle of Friedland.

I am wonderfully well, and wish to hear that you are
happy.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 81.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, June 25, 1807.

My Dear,—I have just seen the Emperor Alexander. I was
much pleased with him. He is a very handsome, young, and
kind-hearted Emperor; he has more intelligence than people
usually give him credit for. To-morrow he will lodge in the
town of Tilsit.

Adieu, dear. I am very anxious to hear that you are well
and happy. My health is very good.

Napoleon.

116

No. 82.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, July 3, 1807.

My Dear,—M. de Turenne will give you full details of all
that has occurred here. Everything goes excellently. I think I
told you that the Emperor of Russia drinks your health with
much cordiality. He, as well as the King of Prussia, dines with
me every day. I sincerely trust that you are happy.
Adieu, dear. A thousand loving remembrances.

Napoleon.

No. 83.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, July 6, 1807.

I have your letter of June 25th. I was grieved to see that
you were selfish, and that the success of my arms should have no
charm for you.

The beautiful Queen of Prussia is to come to-morrow to
dine with me.

I am well, and am longing to see you again, when destiny
shall so order it. Still, it may be sooner than we expect.

Adieu, dear; a thousand loving remembrances.

Napoleon.

No. 84.

July 7th.—Peace signed between France and Russia.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, July 7, 1807.

My Dear,—Yesterday the Queen of Prussia dined with me.
I had to be on the defence against some further concessions she
117
wished me to make to her husband; but I was very polite, and
yet held firmly to my policy. She is very charming. I shall
soon give you the details, which I could not possibly give you
now unless at great length. When you read this letter, peace
with Prussia and Russia will be concluded, and Jerome acknowledged
King of Westphalia, with a population of three millions.
This news is for yourself alone.

Adieu, dear; I love you, and wish to know that you are
cheerful and contented.

Napoleon.

No. 85.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Tilsit, July 8,[26] 1807.

The Queen of Prussia is really charming; she is full of
coquetterie for me; but don’t be jealous; I am an oil-cloth over
which all that can only glide. It would cost me too much to
play the lover.

Napoleon.

No. 12,875 of the Correspondence (taken from Las Cases).

No. 86.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Dresden, July 18, 1807, Noon.

My Dear,—Yesterday I arrived at Dresden at 5 P.M., in
excellent health, although I remained a hundred hours in the
carriage without getting out. I am staying here with the King
of Saxony, with whom I am highly pleased. I have now therefore
traversed more than half the distance that separates us.

118

It is very likely that one of these fine nights I may descend
upon St. Cloud like a jealous husband, so beware.

Adieu, dear; I shall have great pleasure in seeing you.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

119

SERIES H

“Napoleon was received with unbounded adulation by all
the towns of Italy…. He was the Redeemer of France,
but the Creator of Italy.”—Alison, Hist. of Europe (vol. xi.
280).

120

SERIES H

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 264–267.)

121

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
DURING THE JOURNEY HE MADE IN ITALY, 1807.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Milan, November 25, 1807.

My Dear,—I have been here two days. I am very glad that
I did not bring you here; you would have suffered dreadfully in
crossing Mont Cenis, where a storm detained me twenty-four
hours.

I found Eugène in good health; I am very pleased with him.
The Princess is ill; I went to see her at Monza. She has had a
miscarriage; she is getting better.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Venice, November 30, 1807.

I have your letter of November 22nd. The last two days I
have been at Venice. The weather is very bad, which has not
122
prevented me from sailing over the lagoons in order to see the
different forts.

I am glad to see you are enjoying yourself at Paris.

The King of Bavaria, with his family, as well as the Princess
Eliza, are here.

I am spending December 2nd[27] here, and that past I shall be on my
way home, and very glad to see you.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Udine, December 11, 1807.

My Dear,—I have your letter of December 3rd, from which
I note that you were much pleased with the Jardin des Plantes.
Here I am at the extreme limit of my journey; it is possible I
may soon be in Paris, where I shall be very glad to see you
again. The weather has not as yet been cold here, but very
rainy. I have profited by this good season up to the last moment,
for I suppose that at Christmas the winter will at length make
itself felt.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

123

SERIES I

“The imbecility of Charles IV., the vileness of Ferdinand,
and the corruption of Godoy were undoubtedly the proximate
causes of the calamities which overwhelmed Spain.”—Napier’s
Peninsular War (vol. i. preface).

124

SERIES I

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 267–269.)

125

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
DURING THE STAY THAT HE MADE AT BAYONNE, 1808.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Bordeaux.

Bayonne, April 16, 1808.

I have arrived here in good health, rather tired by a dull
journey and a very bad road.
126

I am very glad you stayed behind, for the houses here are
wretched and very small.

I go to-day into a small house in the country, about a mile
from the town.

Adieu, dear. Take care of yourself.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Bordeaux.

Bayonne, April 17, 1808.

I have just received yours of April 15th. What you tell me
of the owner of the country-house pleases me. Go and spend
the day there sometimes.

I am sending an order for you to have 20,000 francs per
month additional while I am away, counting from the 1st of
April.

I am lodged atrociously. I am leaving this place in an hour,
to occupy a country-house (bastide) about a mile away. The
Infant Don Carlos and five or six Spanish grandees are here, the
Prince of the Asturias fifty miles away. King Charles and the
Queen are due. I know not how I shall lodge all these people.
Everything here is still most primitive (à l’auberge). The health
of my troops in Spain is good.

It took me some time to understand your little jokes; I have
laughed at your recollections. O you women, what memories
you have!

My health is fairly good, and I love you most affectionately.
I wish you to give my kind regards to everybody at Bordeaux; I
have been too busy to send them to anybody.

Napoleon.

127

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Bordeaux.

April 21, 1808.

I have just received your letter of April 19th. Yesterday I
had the Prince of the Asturias and his suite to dinner, which
occasioned me considerable embarrassment. I am waiting for
Charles IV. and the Queen.

My health is good. I am now sufficiently recovered for the
campaign.

Adieu, dear. Your letters always give me much pleasure.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Bordeaux.

Bayonne, April 23, 1808.

My Dear,—A son has been born to Hortense;[28] I am highly
delighted. I am not surprised that you tell me nothing of it,
since your letter is dated the 21st, and the child was only born
on the 20th,[29] during the night.

You can start on the 26th, sleep at Mont de Marsan, and
arrive here on the 27th. Have your best dinner-service sent on
here on the 25th, in the evening. I have made arrangements
for you to have a little house in the country, next to the one I
have. My health is good.

I am waiting for Charles IV. and his wife.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

129

SERIES J

—Kipling.

130

SERIES J

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 269–273)

131

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
DURING HIS STAY AT ERFURT, 1808.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

Erfurt, September 29, 1808.

I have rather a cold. I have received your letter, dated
Malmaison. I am well pleased with the Emperor and every
one here.

It is an hour after midnight, and I am tired.

Adieu, dear; take care of yourself.

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

October 9, 1808.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. I note with pleasure
that you are well. I have just been shooting over the battlefield
of Jena. We had breakfast (déjeuné) at the spot where I
bivouacked on the night of the battle.

I assisted at the Weimar ball. The Emperor Alexander
dances; but not I. Forty years are forty years.

My health is really sound, in spite of a few trifling ailments.

Adieu, dear; I hope to see you soon.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

132

No. 3.

To the Empress, at St. Cloud.

My Dear,—I write you seldom; I am very busy. Conversations
which last whole days, and which do not improve my cold.
Still all goes well. I am pleased with Alexander; he ought to
be with me. If he were a woman, I think I should make him
my sweetheart.

I shall be back to you shortly; keep well and let me find
you plump and rosy.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

133

SERIES K

“The winter campaign commenced on the 1st of November
1808, and terminated on the 1st of March 1809, to the advantage
of the French, who, for that reason, denominate it the Imperial
Campaign. The Spaniards were long before they could recover
from the terror caused by the defeat of their armies, the capture of
Madrid, the surrender of Saragossa, and the departure of the English
from Corunna.”—Sarrazin’s History of the War in Spain and
Portugal, 1815.

134

SERIES K

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 273–278.)

135

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
DURING THE SPANISH CAMPAIGN, 1808 AND 1809.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Paris.

November 3, 1808.

I arrived to-night[30] with considerable trouble. I had ridden
several stages at full speed. Still, I am well.

To-morrow I start for Spain.

My troops are arriving in force.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Tolosa, November 5, 1808.

I am at Tolosa. I am starting for Vittoria, where I shall be
in a few hours. I am fairly well, and I hope everything will
soon be completed.

Napoleon.

136

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Vittoria, November 7.

My Dear,—I have been the last two days at Vittoria. I am
in good health. My troops are arriving daily; the Guard arrived
to-day.

The King is in very good health. I am very busy.

I know that you are in Paris. Never doubt my affection.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Burgos, November 14, 1808.

Matters here are progressing at a great rate. The weather is
very fine. We are successful. My health is very good.

Napoleon.

No. 5.

To the Empress, at Paris.

November 26, 1808.

I have received your letter. I trust that your health be as
good as mine is, although I am very busy. All goes well here.
137

I think you should return to the Tuileries on December 21st,
and from that date give a concert daily for eight days.—Yours
ever,

Napoleon.

Kind regards to Hortense and to M. Napoleon.

No. 6.

To the Empress, at Paris.

December 7, 1808.

Your letter of the 28th to hand. I am glad to see that you
are well. You will have seen that young Tascher has distinguished
himself, which has pleased me. My health is good.

Here we are enjoying Parisian weather of the last fortnight
in May. We are hot, and have no fires; but the nights are
rather cool.

Madrid is quiet. All my affairs prosper.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

Kind regards to Hortense and to M. Napoleon.

No. 7.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Chamartin, December 10, 1808.

My Dear,—Yours to hand, in which you tell me what bad
weather you are having in Paris; here it is the best weather
imaginable. Please tell me what mean these alterations Hortense
is making; I hear she is sending away her servants. Is it because
they have refused to do what was required? Give me
some particulars. Reforms are not desirable.
138

Adieu, dear. The weather here is delightful. All goes
excellently, and I pray you to keep well.

Napoleon.

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Paris.

December 21, 1808.

You ought to have been at the Tuileries on the 12th. I
trust you may have been pleased with your rooms.

I have authorised the presentation of Kourakin to you and
the family; be kind to him, and let him take part in your plays.

Adieu, dear. I am well. The weather is rainy; it is rather
cold.

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Madrid, December 22, 1808.

I start at once to outmanœuvre the English, who appear to
have received reinforcements and wish to look big.

The weather is fine, my health perfect; don’t be uneasy.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Benavento, December 31, 1808.

My Dear,—The last few days I have been in pursuit of the
English, but they flee panic-stricken. They have pusillanimously
abandoned the remnant of La Romana’s army in order not to
delay its retreat a single half day. More than a hundred waggons
of their baggage have already been taken. The weather is
very bad.

139
Lefebvre[31] has been captured. He took part in a skirmish with
300 of his chasseurs; these idiots crossed a river by swimming and
threw themselves in the midst of the English cavalry; they killed
several, but on their return Lefebvre had his horse wounded; it
was swimming, the current took him to the bank where the
English were; he was taken. Console his wife.

Adieu, dear. Bessières, with 10,000 cavalry, is at Astorga.

Napoleon.

A happy New Year to everybody.

No. 11.

To the Empress, at Paris.

January 3, 1809.

My Dear,—I have received your letters of the 18th and 21st.
I am close behind the English.

The weather is cold and rigorous, but all goes well.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

A happy New Year, and a very happy one, to my Josephine.

No. 12.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Benavento, January 5, 1809.

My Dear,—I write you a line. The English are in utter
rout; I have instructed the Duke of Dalmatia to pursue them
closely (l’épee dans les reins). I am well; the weather bad.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 13.

To the Empress, at Paris.