Napoleon's Letters to Josephine, 1796-1812. Emperor of the French Napoleon I
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. 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.
June 27th.—Leghorn occupied by Murat and Vaubois.
June 29th.—Surrender of citadel of Milan; 1600 prisoners and 150 cannon taken.
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.
SERIES B
(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 211-223.)
| LETTER | PAGE | |
| No. 1. | Sortie from Mantua | 211 |
| No. 2. | Marmirolo | 211 |
| Fortuné | 212 | |
| No. 3. | The village of Virgil | 212 |
| No. 4. | Achille | 212 |
| No. 5. | Will-o'-the-Wisp | 213 |
| No. 6. | The needs of the army | 213-215 |
| No. 7. | Brescia | 215 |
| No. 9. | I hope we shall get into Trent | 216 |
| No. 12. | One of these nights the doors will be burst open | 216-218 |
| No. 13. | Corsica is ours | 218 |
| No. 14. | Verona | 219 |
| No. 15. | Once more I breathe freely | 220 |
| No. 18. | "The 29th" | 220 |
| No. 20. | General Brune | 221 |
| No. 21. | February 3rd | 221 |
| No. 24. | Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope | 222 |
| No. 25. | The unlimited power you hold over me | 222 |
No. 1.
July 5th.—Archduke Charles defeated by Moreau at Radstadt.
July 6th.—Sortie from Mantua: Austrians fairly successful.
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.
July 9th.—Bonaparte asks Kellermann for reinforcements.
July 14th.—Frankfort on the Main captured by Kléber.
July 16th.—Sortie from Mantua: Austrians defeated.
No. 2.
July 17th.—Attempted coup de main at Mantua: French unsuccessful.
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, 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.