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.

January 8, 1809.

I have received yours of the 23rd and 26th. I am sorry to see you have toothache. I have been here two days. The 140 weather is what we must expect at this season. The English are embarking. I am in good health.

Adieu, dear.

I am writing Hortense. Eugène has a daughter.

Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 14.

To the Empress, at Paris.

January 9, 1809.

Moustache brings me your letter of 31st December. I see from it, dear, that you are sad and have very gloomy disquietudes. Austria will not make war on me; if she does, I have 150,000 men in Germany and as many on the Rhine, and 400,000 Germans to reply to her. Russia will not separate herself from me. They are foolish in Paris; all goes well.

I shall be at Paris the moment I think it worth while. I advise you to beware of ghosts; one fine day, at two o'clock in the morning.

But adieu, dear; I am well, and am yours ever,

Napoleon.

141

SERIES L

"Berthier, incapable of acting a principal part, was surprised, and making a succession of false movements that would have been fatal to the French army, if the Emperor, journeying night and day, had not arrived at the very hour when his lieutenant was on the point of consummating the ruin of the army. But then was seen the supernatural force of Napoleon's genius. In a few hours he changed the aspect of affairs, and in a few days, maugre their immense number, his enemies, baffled and flying in all directions, proclaimed his mastery in an art which, up to that moment, was imperfect; for never, since troops first trod a field of battle, was such a display of military genius made by man."—Napier.

142

SERIES L

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 278-295.)

143

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE DURING THE AUSTRIAN CAMPAIGN, 1809.

Events of 1809.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Donauwoerth, April 17, 1809.

I arrived here yesterday at 4 A.M.; I am just leaving it. Everything is under way. Military operations are in full activity. Up to the present, there is nothing new.

My health is good.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Enns, May 6, 1809, Noon.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. The ball that touched me has not wounded me; it barely grazed the tendon Achilles.

My health is very good. You are wrong to be uneasy.

My affairs here go excellently.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

Kind regards to Hortense and the Duke de Berg.[32]

145

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Saint-Polten, May 9, 1809.

My Dear,—I write you from Saint-Polten. To-morrow I shall be before Vienna; it will be exactly a month to the day after the Austrians crossed the Inn, and violated peace.

My health is good, the weather splendid, and the soldiery very cheerful; there is wine here.

Keep well.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Schoenbrunn, May 12, 1809.

I am despatching the brother of the Duchess of Montebello to let you know that I am master of Vienna, and that everything here goes perfectly. My health is very good.

Napoleon.

146

No. 5.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Ebersdorf, May 27, 1809.

I am despatching a page to tell you that Eugène has rejoined me with all his army; that he has completely performed the task that I entrusted him with; and has almost entirely destroyed the enemy's army opposed to him.

I send you my proclamation to the army of Italy, which will make you understand all this.

I am very well.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

P.S.—You can have this proclamation printed at Strasburg, and have it translated into French and German, in order that it may be scattered broadcast over Germany. Give a copy of the proclamation to the page who goes on to Paris.

No. 6.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Ebersdorf, May 29, 1809, 7 P.M.

My Dear,—I have been here since yesterday; I am stopped by the river. The bridge has been burnt; I shall cross at midnight. Everything here goes as I wish it, viz., very well.

The Austrians have been overwhelmed (frappès de la foudre).

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 7.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Ebersdorf May 31, 1809.

Your letter of the 26th to hand. I have written you that you can go to Plombières. I do not care for you to go to Baden; 147 it is not necessary to leave France. I have ordered the two princes to re-enter France.[33]

The loss of the Duke of Montebello, who died this morning, has grieved me exceedingly. Thus everything ends!!

Adieu, dear; if you can help to console the poor Maréchale, do so.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Strasburg.

Schoenbrunn, June 9, 1809.

I have received your letter; I see with pleasure that you are going to the waters at Plombières, they will do you good.

Eugène is in Hungary with his army. I am well, the weather very fine. I note with pleasure that Hortense and the Duke of Berg are in France.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Schoenbrunn, June 16, 1809.

I despatch a page to tell you that, on the 14th, the anniversary of Marengo, Eugène won a battle against the Archduke 148 John and the Archduke Palatine, at Raab, in Hungary; that he has taken 3000 men, many pieces of cannon, 4 flags, and pursued them a long way on the road to Buda-Pesth.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Schoenbrunn, June 19, 1809, Noon.

I have your letter, which tells me of your departure for Plombières. I am glad you are making this journey, because I trust it may do you good.

Eugène is in Hungary, and is well. My health is very good, and the army in fighting trim.

I am very glad to know that the Grand Duke of Berg is with you.

Adieu, dear. You know my affection for my Josephine; it never varies.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 11.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Ebersdorf, July 7, 1809, 5 A.M.

I am despatching a page to bring you the good tidings of the victory of Enzersdorf, which I won on the 5th, and that of Wagram, which I won on the 6th. 149

The enemy's army flies in disorder, and all goes according to my prayers (voeux).

Eugène is well. Prince Aldobrandini is wounded, but slightly.

Bessières has been shot through the fleshy part of his thigh; the wound is very slight. Lasalle was killed. My losses are full heavy, but the victory is decisive and complete. We have taken more than 100 pieces of cannon, 12 flags, many prisoners.

I am sunburnt.

Adieu, dear. I send you a kiss. Kind regards to Hortense.

Napoleon.

No. 12.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Wolkersdorf, July 9, 1809, 2 A.M.

My Dear,—All goes here as I wish. My enemies are defeated, beaten, utterly routed. They were in great numbers; I have wiped them out. To-day my health is good; yesterday I was rather ill with a surfeit of bile, occasioned by so many hardships, but it has done me much good.

Adieu, dear. I am in excellent health.

Napoleon.

No. 13.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

In the Camp, before Znaim, July 13, 1809.

I send you the suspension of arms concluded yesterday with the Austrian General. Eugène is on the Hungary side, and is well. 150 Send a copy of the suspension of arms to Cambacérès, in case he has not yet received one.

I send you a kiss, and am very well.

Napoleon.

You may cause this suspension of arms to be printed at Nancy.

No. 14.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Schoenbrunn, July 17, 1809.

My Dear,—I have sent you one of my pages. You will have learnt the result of the battle of Wagram, and, later, of the suspension of arms of Znaim.

My health is good. Eugène is well, and I long to know that you, as well as Hortense, are the same.

Give a kiss for me to Monsieur, the Grand Duke of Berg.

Napoleon.

No. 15.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Schoenbrunn, July 24, 1809.

I have just received yours of July 18th. I note with pleasure that the waters are doing you good. I see no objection to you going back to Malmaison after you have finished your treatment.

It is hot enough here in all conscience. My health is excellent.

Adieu, dear. Eugène is at Vienna, in the best of health.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

151

No. 16.

To the Empress, at Plombières.

Schoenbrunn, August 7, 1809.

I see from your letter that you are at Plombières, and intend to stay there. You do well; the waters and the fine climate can only do you good.

I remain here. My health and my affairs follow my wishes.

Please give my kind regards to Hortense and the Napoleons.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 17.

To the Empress, at Paris.

Schoenbrunn, August 21, 1809.

I have received your letter of August 14th, from Plombières; I see from it that by the 18th you will be either at Paris or Malmaison. The heat, which is very great here, will have upset you. Malmaison must be very dry and parched at this time of year.

My health is good. The heat, however, has brought on a slight catarrh.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 18.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Schoenbrunn, August 26, 1809.

I have your letter from Malmaison. They bring me word that you are plump, florid, and in the best of health, I assure 152 you Vienna is not an amusing city. I would very much rather be back again in Paris.

Adieu, dear. Twice a week I listen to the comedians (bouffons); they are but very middling; it, however, passes the evenings. There are fifty or sixty women of Vienna, but outsiders (au parterre), as not having been presented.

Napoleon.

No. 19.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Schoenbrunn, August 31, 1809.

I have had no letter from you for several days; the pleasures of Malmaison, the beautiful greenhouses, the beautiful gardens, cause the absent to be forgotten. It is, they say, the rule of your sex. Every one speaks only of your good health; all this is very suspicious.

To-morrow I am off with Eugène for two days in Hungary.

My health is fairly good.

Adieu, dear.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 20.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Krems, September 9, 1809.

My Dear,—I arrived here yesterday at 2 A.M.; I have come here to see my troops. My health has never been better. I know that you are very well.

I shall be in Paris at a moment when nobody will expect me. Everything here goes excellently and to my satisfaction.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

153

No. 21.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Schoenbrunn, September 23, 1809.

I have received your letter of the 16th, and note that you are well. The old maid's house is only worth 120,000[34] francs; they will never get more for it. Still, I leave you mistress to do what you like, since it amuses you; only, once purchased, don't pull it down to put a rockery there.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 22.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Schoenbrunn, September 25, 1809.

I have received your letter. Be careful, and I advise you to be vigilant, for one of these nights you will hear a loud knocking.

My health is good. I know nothing about the rumours; I have never been better for many a long year. Corvisart was no use to me.

Adieu, dear; everything here prospers.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 23.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Schoenbrunn, October 14, 1809.

My Dear,—I write to advise you that Peace was signed two hours ago between Champagny and Prince Metternich.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

154

No. 24.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Nymphenburg, near Munich, October 21, 1809.

I arrived here yesterday in the best of health, but shall not start till to-morrow. I shall spend a day at Stuttgard. You will be advised twenty-four hours in advance of my arrival at Fontainebleau.

I look forward with pleasure to seeing you again, and I await that moment impatiently.

I send you a kiss.—Yours ever,

Napoleon.

No. 25.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Munich, October 22, 1809.

My Dear,—I start in an hour. I shall be at Fontainebleau from the 26th to 27th; you may meet me there with some of your ladies.

Napoleon.

155

SERIES M

"Josephine, my excellent Josephine, thou knowest if I have loved thee! To thee, to thee alone do I owe the only moments of happiness which I have enjoyed in this world. Josephine, my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affections must be silent before the interests of France."—Bourrienne's Napoleon.[35]

156

SERIES M

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 295-304.)

157

LETTERS OF THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON TO THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE AFTER THE DIVORCE AND BEFORE HIS MARRIAGE WITH MARIE LOUISE.

December, 1809, to April 2, 1810.

No. 1.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

December 1809, 8 P.M.

My Dear,—I found you to-day weaker than you ought to be. You have shown courage; it is necessary that you should maintain it and not give way to a doleful melancholy. You must be contented and take special care of your health, which is so precious to me.

If you are attached to me and if you love me, you should show strength of mind and force yourself to be happy. You cannot question my constant and tender friendship, and you would know very imperfectly all the affection I have for you if you imagined that I can be happy if you are unhappy, and contented if you are ill at ease.

Adieu, dear. Sleep well; dream that I wish it.

Napoleon.

158

No. 2.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Tuesday, 6 o'clock.

The Queen of Naples, whom I saw at the hunt in the Bois de Boulogne, where I rode down a stag, told me that she left you yesterday at 1 P.M. in the best of health.

Please tell me what you are doing to-day. As for me, I am very well. Yesterday, when I saw you, I was ill. I expect you will have been for a drive.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Trianon, 7 P.M.

My Dear,—I have just received your letter. Savary tells me that you are always crying; that is not well. I trust that you have been for a drive to-day. I sent you my quarry. I shall come to see you when you tell me you are reasonable, and that your courage has the upper hand.

To-morrow, the whole day, I am receiving Ministers.

Adieu, dear. I also am sad to-day; I need to know that you are satisfied and to learn that your equilibrium (aplomb) is restored. Sleep well.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Thursday, Noon, 1809.

My Dear,—I wished to come and see you to-day, but I was very busy and rather unwell. Still, I am just off to the Council.

Please tell me how you are.

This weather is very damp, and not at all healthy.

Napoleon.

159

No. 5.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Trianon.

I should have come to see you to-day if I had not been obliged to come to see the King of Bavaria, who has just arrived in Paris. I shall come to see you to-night at eight o'clock, and return at ten.

I hope to see you to-morrow, and to see you cheerful and placid.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 6.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Trianon, Tuesday.

My Dear,—I lay down after you left me yesterday;[36] I am going to Paris. I wish to hear that you are cheerful. I shall come to see you during the week.

I have received your letters, which I am going to read in the carriage.

Napoleon.

No. 7.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Paris, Wednesday, Noon, 27th December 1809.

Eugène told me that you were very miserable all yesterday. That is not well, my dear; it is contrary to what you promised me.

I have been thoroughly tired in revisiting the Tuileries; that great palace seemed empty to me, and I felt lost in it.

Adieu, dear. Keep well.

Napoleon.

160

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Paris, Sunday, December 31, 10 A.M., 1809.

My Dear,—To-day I have a grand parade; I shall see all my Old Guard and more than sixty artillery trains.

The King of Westphalia is returning home, which will leave a house vacant in Paris. I am sad not to see you. If the parade finishes before 3 o'clock, I will come; otherwise, to-morrow.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Thursday Evening, 1810.

My Dear,—Hortense, whom I saw this afternoon, has given me news of you. I trust that you will have been able to see your plants to-day, the weather having been fine. I have only been out for a few minutes at three o'clock to shoot some hares.

Adieu, dear; sleep well.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Friday, 8 P.M., 1810.

I wished to come and see you to-day, but I cannot; it will be, I hope, in the morning. It is a long time since I heard from you. I learnt with pleasure that you take walks in your garden these cold days.

Adieu, dear; keep well, and never doubt my affection.

Napoleon.

161

No. 11.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Sunday, 8 P.M., 1810.

I was very glad to see you yesterday; I feel what charms your society has for me.

To-day I walked with Estève.[37] I have allowed £4000 for 1810, for the extraordinary expenses at Malmaison. You can therefore do as much planting as you like; you will distribute that sum as you may require. I have instructed Estève to send £8000 the moment the contract for the Maison Julien shall be made. I have ordered them to pay for your parure of rubies, which will be valued by the Department, for I do not wish to be robbed by jewellers. So, there goes the £16,000 that this may cost me.

I have ordered them to hold the million which the Civil List owes you for 1810 at the disposal of your man of business, in order to pay your debts.

You should find in the coffers of Malmaison twenty to twenty-five thousand pounds; you can take them to buy your plate and linen.

I have instructed them to make you a very fine porcelain service; they will take your commands in order that it may be a very fine one.

Napoleon.

No. 12.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Wednesday, 6 P.M., 1810.

My Dear,—I see no objection to your receiving the King of Westphalia whenever you wish. The King and Queen of Bavaria will probably come to see you on Friday.

I long to come to Malmaison, but you must really show fortitude 162 and self-restraint; the page on duty this morning told me that he saw you weeping.

I am going to dine quite alone.

Adieu, dear. Never doubt the depth of my feelings for you; you would be unjust and unfair if you did.

Napoleon.

No. 13.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Saturday, 1 P.M., 1810.

My Dear,—Yesterday I saw Eugène, who told me that you gave a reception to the kings. I was at the concert till eight o'clock, and only dined, quite alone, at that hour.

I long to see you. If I do not come to-day, I will come after mass.

Adieu, dear. I hope to find you sensible and in good health. This weather should indeed make you put on flesh.

Napoleon.

No. 14.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Trianon, January 17, 1810.

My Dear,—D'Audenarde, whom I sent to you this morning, tells me that since you have been at Malmaison you have no longer any courage. Yet that place is full of our happy memories, which can and ought never to change, at least on my side.

I want badly to see you, but I must have some assurance that 163 you are strong and not weak; I too am rather like you, and it makes me frightfully wretched.

Adieu, Josephine; good-night. If you doubted me, you would be very ungrateful.

Napoleon.

No. 15.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

January 20, 1810.

My Dear,—I send you the box that I promised you the day before yesterday—representing the Island of Lobau. I was rather tired yesterday. I work much, and do not go out.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 16.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Noon, Tuesday, 1810.

I hear that you are making yourself miserable; this is too bad. You have no confidence in me, and all the rumours that are being spread strike you; this is not knowing me, Josephine. I am much annoyed, and if I do not find you cheerful and contented, I shall scold you right well.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 17.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Sunday, 9 P.M., 1810.

My Dear,—I was very glad to see you the day before yesterday.

I hope to go to Malmaison during the week. I have had all your affairs looked after here, and ordered that everything be brought to the Elysée-Napoléon.

Please take care of yourself.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

164

No. 18.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

January 30, 1810.

My Dear,—Your letter to hand. I hope the walk you had yesterday, in order to show people your conservatories, has done you good.

I will gladly see you at the Elysée, and shall be very glad to see you oftener, for you know how I love you.

Napoleon.

No. 19.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Saturday, 6 P.M., 1810.

I told Eugène that you would rather give ear to the vulgar gossip of a great city than to what I told you; yet people should not be allowed to invent fictions to make you miserable.

I have had all your effects moved to the Elysée. You shall come to Paris at once; but be at ease and contented, and have full confidence in me.

Napoleon.

No. 20.

To the Empress, at the Elysée-Napoleon.

February 19, 1810.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. I long to see you, but the reflections that you make may be true. It is, perhaps, 165 not desirable that we should be under the same roof for the first year. Yet Bessières' country-house is too far off to go and return in one day; moreover I have rather a cold, and am not sure of being able to go there.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 21.

To the Empress, at the Elysée-Napoleon.

Friday, 6 P.M., 1810.

Savary, as soon as he arrived, brought me your letter; I am sorry to see you are unhappy. I am very glad that you saw nothing of the fire.

I had fine weather at Rambouillet.

Hortense told me that you had some idea of coming to a dinner at Bessières, and of returning to Paris to sleep. I am sorry that you have not been able to manage it.

Adieu, dear. Be cheerful, and consider how much you please me thereby.

Napoleon.

No. 22.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

March 12, 1810.

My Dear,—I trust that you will be pleased with what I have done for Navarre. You must see from that how anxious I am to make myself agreeable to you.

Get ready to take possession of Navarre; you will go there on March 25, to pass the month of April.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

167

SERIES N

1810

April 2nd—December 31st
(after the Marriage with Marie Louise).

"Bella gerant alii, tu, felix Austria! nube."

168

SERIES N

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 304-310.)

169

No. 1.

Letter of the Empress Josephine to the Emperor Napoleon.

Navarre, April 19, 1810.

Sire,-I have received, by my son, the assurance that your Majesty consents to my return to Malmaison, and grants to me the advances asked for in order to make the château of Navarre habitable. This double favour, Sire, dispels to a great extent the uneasiness, nay, even the fears which your Majesty's long silence had inspired. I was afraid that I might be entirely banished from your memory; I see that I am not. I am therefore less wretched to-day, and even as happy as henceforward it will be possible for me to be.

I shall go at the end of the month to Malmaison, since your Majesty sees no objection to it. But I ought to tell you, Sire, that I should not so soon have taken advantage of the latitude which your Majesty left me in this respect had the house of Navarre not required, for my health's sake and for that of my household, repairs which are urgent. My idea is to stay at Malmaison a very short time; I shall soon leave it in order to go to the waters. But while I am at Malmaison, your Majesty may be sure that I shall live there as if I were a thousand leagues from Paris. I have made a great sacrifice, Sire, and every day I realise more its full extent. Yet that sacrifice will be, as it ought to be, a complete one on my part. Your Highness, amid your happiness, shall be troubled by no expression of my regret.

I shall pray unceasingly for your Majesty's happiness, perhaps even I shall pray that I may see you again; but your Majesty 170 may be assured that I shall always respect our new relationship. I shall respect it in silence, relying on the attachment that you had to me formerly; I shall call for no new proof; I shall trust to everything from your justice and your heart.

I limit myself to asking from you one favour: it is, that you will deign to find a way of sometimes convincing both myself and my entourage that I have still a small place in your memory and a great place in your esteem and friendship. By this means, whatever happens, my sorrows will be mitigated without, as it seems to me, compromising that which is of permanent importance to me, the happiness of your Majesty.

Josephine.

No. 1a.

(Reply of the Emperor Napoleon to the preceding.)

To the Empress Josephine, at Navarre.

Compiègne, April 21, 1810.

My Dear,—I have yours of April 18th; it is written in a bad style. I am always the same; people like me do not change. I know not what Eugène has told you. I have not written to you because you have not written to me, and my sole desire is to fulfil your slightest inclination.

I see with pleasure that you are going to Malmaison and that you are contented; as for me, I shall be so likewise on hearing news from you and in giving you mine. I say no more about it until you have compared this letter with yours, and after that I will leave you to judge which of us two is the better friend.

Adieu, dear; keep well, and be just for your sake and mine.

Napoleon.

171

No. 2.

Reply of the Empress Josephine.

A thousand, thousand loving thanks for not having forgotten me. My son has just brought me your letter. With what impetuosity I read it, and yet I took a long time over it, for there was not a word which did not make me weep; but these tears were very pleasant ones. I have found my whole heart again—such as it will always be; there are affections which are life itself, and which can only end with it.

I was in despair to find my letter of the 19th had displeased you; I do not remember the exact expressions, but I know what torture I felt in writing it—the grief at having no news from you.

I wrote you on my departure from Malmaison, and since then how often have I wished to write you! but I appreciated the causes of your silence and feared to be importunate with a letter. Yours has been the true balm for me. Be happy, be as much so as you deserve; it is my whole heart which speaks to you. You have also just given me my share of happiness, and a share which I value the most, for nothing can equal in my estimation a proof that you still remember me.

Adieu, dear; I again thank you as affectionately as I shall always love you.

Josephine.

No. 2a.

To the Empress Josephine, at the Château Navarre.

Compiègne, April 28, 1810.

My Dear,—I have just received two letters from you. I am writing to Eugène. I have ordered that the marriage of Tascher with the Princess de la Leyen shall take place.

To-morrow I shall go to Antwerp to see my fleet and to give orders about the works. I shall return on May 15th.

Eugène tells me that you wish to go to the waters; trouble yourself about nothing. Do not listen to the gossip of Paris; it 172 is idle and far from knowing the real state of things. My affection for you does not change, and I long to know that you are happy and contented.

Napoleon.

No. 3.

To the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison.

My Dear,—I have your letter. Eugène will give you tidings of my journey and of the Empress. I am very glad that you are going to the waters. I trust they may do you good.

I wish very much to see you. If you are at Malmaison at the end of the month, I will come to see you. I expect to be at St. Cloud on the 30th of the month. My health is very good ... it only needs to hear that you are contented and well. Let me know in what name you intend to travel.

Never doubt the whole truth of my affection for you; it will last as long as I. You would be very unjust if you doubted it.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress Josephine, at the Waters of Aix, in Savoy.

Rambouillet, July 8, 1810.

My Dear,—I have your letter of July 8th. You will have seen Eugène, and his presence will have done you good. I learn with pleasure that the waters are beneficial to you. The King of Holland has just abdicated the throne, while leaving the Regency, according to the Constitution, in the hands of the Queen. He has quitted Amsterdam and left the Grand Duke of Berg behind.

I have reunited Holland to France, which has, however, the advantage of setting the Queen at liberty, and that[38] unfortunate 173 girl is coming to Paris with her son the Grand Duke of Berg—that will make her perfectly happy.

My health is good. I have come here to hunt for a few days. I shall see you this autumn with pleasure. Never doubt my friendship; I never change.

Keep well, be cheerful, and believe in the truth of my attachment.

Napoleon.

No. 5.

To the Empress Josephine, at the Waters of Aix, in Savoy.

St. Cloud, July 20, 1810.

My Dear,—I have received your letter of July 14th, and note with pleasure that the waters are doing you good, and that you like Geneva. I think that you are doing well to go there for a few weeks.

My health is fairly good. The conduct of the King of Holland has worried me.

Hortense is shortly coming to Paris. The Grand Duke of Berg is on his way; I expect him to-morrow.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 6.

To the Empress Josephine, at the Waters of Aix, in Savoy.

Trianon, August 10, 1810.

Your letter to hand. I was pained to see what a risk you had run. For an inhabitant of the isles of the ocean to die in a lake would have been a fatality indeed!

174 The Queen is better, and I hope her health will be re-established. Her husband is in Bohemia, apparently not knowing what to do.

I am fairly well, and beg you to believe in my sincere attachment.

Napoleon.

No. 7.

To the Empress Josephine, at the Waters of Aix, in Savoy.

St. Cloud, September 14, 1810.

My Dear,—I have your letter of September 9th. I learn with pleasure that you keep well. There is no longer the slightest doubt that the Empress has entered on the fourth month of her pregnancy; she is well, and is much attached to me. The young Princes Napoleon are very well; they are in the Pavillon d'Italie, in the Park of St. Cloud.

My health is fairly good. I wish to learn that you are happy and contented. I hear that one of your entourage has broken a leg while going on the glacier.

Adieu, dear. Never doubt the interest I take in you and the affection that I bear towards you.

Napoleon.

175

No. 8.

To the Empress, at Malmaison.

Paris, this Friday.

My Dear,—Yours to hand. I am sorry to see that you have been ill; I fear it must be this bad weather.

Madame de la T—— is one of the most foolish women of the Faubourg. I have borne her cackle for a very long time; I am sick of it, and have ordered that she does not come again to Paris. There are five or six other old women that I equally wish to send away from Paris; they are spoiling the young ones by their follies.

I will name Madame de Makau Baroness since you wish it, and carry out your other commissions.

My health is pretty good. The conduct of B—— appears to me very ridiculous. I trust to hear that you are better.

Adieu, dear.

Napoleon.

No. 9.

To the Empress Josephine, at Geneva.

Fontainebleau, October 1, 1810.

I have received your letter. Hortense, whom I have seen, will have told you what I think. Go to see your son this winter; come back to the waters of Aix next year, or, still better, wait for the spring at Navarre. I would advise you to go to Navarre at once, if I did not fear you would get tired of it. In my view, the only suitable places for you this winter are either Milan or Navarre; after that, I approve of whatever you may do, for I do not wish to vex you in anything.

Adieu, dear. The Empress is as I told you in my last letter. I am naming Madame de Montesquiou governess of the Children 176 of France. Be contented, and do not get excited; never doubt my affection for you.

Napoleon.

No. 10.

To the Empress Josephine, at Navarre.

Fontainebleau, November 14, 1810.

My Dear,—I have received your letter. Hortense has spoken to me about it. I note with pleasure that you are contented. I hope that you are not very tired of Navarre.

My health is very good. The Empress progresses satisfactorily. I will do the various things you ask regarding your household. Take care of your health, and never doubt my affection for you.

Napoleon.

No. 11.

To the Empress Josephine, at Navarre.

I have your letter. I see no objection to the marriage of Mackau with Wattier, if he wishes it; this general is a very brave man. I am in good health. I hope to have a son; I shall let you know immediately.

Adieu, dear. I am very glad that Madame d'Arberg[39] has told you things which please you. When you see me, you will find me with my old affection for you.

Napoleon.

177

SERIES O

1811

178

SERIES O

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 311-312.)

179

No. 1.

To the Empress Josephine, at Navarre.

Paris, January 8th, 1811.

I have your New Year's letter. I thank you for its contents. I note with pleasure that you are well and happy. I hear that there are more women than men at Navarre.

My health is excellent, though I have not been out for a fortnight. Eugène appears to have no fears about his wife; he gives you a grandson.

Adieu, dear; keep well.

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress Josephine, at Navarre.

Paris, March 22nd, 1811.

My Dear,—I have your letter. I thank you for it.

My son is fat, and in excellent health. I trust he may continue to improve. He has my chest, my mouth, and my eyes. I hope he may fulfil his destiny. I am always well pleased with Eugène; he has never given me the least anxiety.

Napoleon.

180

No. 3.

To the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison.

Trianon, August 25th, 1811.

I have your letter. I see with pleasure that you are in good health. I have been for some days at Trianon. I expect to go to Compiègne. My health is very good.

Put some order into your affairs. Spend only £60,000, and save as much every year; that will make a reserve of £600,000 in ten years for your grandchildren. It is pleasant to be able to give them something, and be helpful to them. Instead of that, I hear you have debts, which would be really too bad. Look after your affairs, and don't give to every one who wants to help himself. If you wish to please me, let me hear that you have accumulated a large fortune. Consider how ill I must think of you, if I know that you, with £125,000 a year, are in debt.

Adieu, dear; keep well.

Napoleon.

No. 4.

To the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison.

Friday, 8 A.M., 1811.

I send to know how you are, for Hortense tells me you were in bed yesterday. I was annoyed with you about your debts. I do not wish you to have any; on the contrary, I wish you to put a million aside every year, to give to your grandchildren when they get married.

181 Nevertheless, never doubt my affection for you, and don't worry any more about the present embarrassment.

Adieu, dear. Send me word that you are well. They say that you are as fat as a good Normandy farmeress.

Napoleon.

183

SERIES P

1812

184

SERIES P

(For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 312-315.)

185

1812.

186

No. 1.

To the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison.

June 12th, 1812.

My Dear,—I shall always receive news from you with great interest.

The waters will, I hope, do you good, and I shall see you with much pleasure on your return.

Never doubt the interest I feel in you. I will arrange all the matters of which you speak.

Napoleon.

No. 2.

To the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison.

Gumbinnen, June 20th, 1812.

I have your letter of June 10th. I see no obstacle to your going to Milan, to be near the Vice-Reine. You will do well to go incognito. You will find it very hot. 187

My health is very good. Eugène is well, and is doing good work. Never doubt the interest I have in you, and my friendship.

Napoleon.

1813.

1814.

198

NOTES

THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGNS, 1796-97

SERIES A

(The numbers correspond to the numbers of the Letters.)

No. 1.

Bonaparte made Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Italy.—Marmont's account of how this came to pass is probably substantially correct, as he has less interest in distorting the facts than any other writer as well fitted for the task. The winter had rolled by in the midst of pleasures—soirées at the Luxembourg, dinners of Madame Tallien, "nor," he adds, "were we hard to please." "The Directory often conversed with General Bonaparte about the army of Italy, whose general—Schérer—was always representing the position as difficult, and never ceasing to ask for help in men, victuals, and money. General Bonaparte showed, in many concise observations, that all that was superfluous. He strongly blamed the little advantage taken from the victory at Loano, and asserted that, even yet, all that could be put right. Thus a sort of controversy was maintained between Schérer and the Directory, counselled and inspired by Bonaparte." At last when Bonaparte drew up plans—afterwards followed—for the invasion of Piedmont, Schérer replied roughly that he who had drawn up the plan of campaign had better come and execute it. They took him at his word, and Bonaparte was named General-in-Chief of the army of Italy (vol. i. 93).

"7 A.M."—Probably written early in March. Leaving Paris on March 11th, Napoleon writes Letourneur, President of the 199 Directory, of his marriage with the "citoyenne Tascher Beauharnais," and tells him that he has already asked Barras to inform them of the fact. "The confidence which the Directory has shown me under all circumstances makes it my duty to keep it advised of all my actions. It is a new link which binds me to the fatherland; it is one more proof of my fixed determination to find safety only in the Republic."[41]

No. 2.

"Our good Ossian."—The Italian translation of Ossian by Cesarotti was a masterpiece; better, in fact, than the original. He was a friend of Macpherson, and had learnt English in order to translate his work. Cesarotti lived till an advanced age, and was sought out in his retirement in order to receive honours and pensions from the Emperor Napoleon.

"Our good Ossian" speaks, like Homer, of the joy of grief.

No. 4.

"Chauvet is dead."—Chauvet is first mentioned in Napoleon's correspondence in a letter to his brother Joseph, August 9, 1795. Mdme. Junot, Memoirs, i. 138, tells us that Bonaparte was very fond of him, and that he was a man of gentle manners and very ordinary conversation. She declares that Bonaparte had been a suitor for the hand of her mother shortly before his marriage with Josephine, and that because the former rejected him, the general had refused a favour to her son; this had caused a quarrel which Chauvet had in vain tried to settle. On March 27th Bonaparte had written Chauvet from Nice that every day that he delayed joining him, "takes away from my operations one chance of probability for their success."

No. 5.

St. Amand notes that Bonaparte begins to suspect his wife in this letter, while the previous ones, especially that of April 3rd, show perfect confidence. Napoleon is on the eve of a 200 serious battle, and has only just put his forces into fighting trim. On the previous day (April 6th) he wrote to the Directory that the movement against Genoa, of which he does not approve, has brought the enemy out of their winter quarters almost before he has had time to make ready. "The army is in a state of alarming destitution; I have still great difficulties to surmount, but they are surmountable: misery has excused want of discipline, and without discipline never a victory. I hope to have all in good trim shortly—there are signs already; in a few days we shall be fighting. The Sardinian army consists of 50,000 foot, and 5000 horse; I have only 45,000 men at my disposal, all told. Chauvet, the commissary-general, died at Genoa: it is a heavy loss to the army, he was active and enterprising."

Two days later Napoleon, still at Albenga, reports that he has found Royalist traitors in the army, and complains that the Treasury had not sent the promised pay for the men, "but in spite of all, we shall advance." Massena, eleven years older than his new commander-in-chief, had received him coldly, but soon became his right-hand man, always genial, and full of good ideas. Massena's men are ill with too much salt meat, they have hardly any shoes, but, as in 1800,[42] he has never a doubt that Bonaparte will make a good campaign, and determines to loyally support him. Poor Laharpe, so soon to die, is a man of a different stamp—one of those, doubtless, of whom Bonaparte thinks when he writes to Josephine, "Men worry me." The Swiss, in fact, was a chronic grumbler, but a first-rate fighting man, even when his men were using their last cartridges.

"The lovers of nineteen."—The allusion is lost. Aubenas, who reproduces two or three of these letters, makes a comment to this sentence, "Nous n'avons pu trouver un nom à mettre sous cette fantasque imagination" (vol. i. 317).

"My brother," viz. Joseph.—He and Junot reached Paris in five days, and had a great ovation. Carnot, at a dinner-party, showed Napoleon's portrait next to his heart, because "I foresee he will be the saviour of France, and I wish him to know that he has at the Directory only admirers and friends."

201

No. 6.

Unalterably good.—"C'est Joseph peint d'un seul trait."—Aubenas (vol. i. 320).

"If you want a place for any one, you can send him here. I will give him one."—Bonaparte was beginning to feel firm in the saddle, while at Paris Josephine was treated like a princess. Under date April 25th, Letourneur, as one of the Directory, writes him, "A vast career opens itself before you; the Directory has measured the whole extent of it." They little knew! The letter concludes by expressing confidence that their general will never be reproached with the shameful repose of Capua. In a further letter, bearing the same date, Letourneur insists on a full and accurate account of the battles being sent, as they will be necessary "for the history of the triumphs of the Republic." In a private letter to the Directory (No. 220, vol. i. of the Correspondence, 1858), dated Carru, April 24th, Bonaparte tells them that when he returns to camp, worn-out, he has to work all night to put matters straight, and repress pillage. "Soldiery without bread work themselves into an excess of frenzy which makes one blush to be a man."[43]... "I intend to make terrible examples. I shall restore order, or cease to command these brigands. The campaign is not yet decided. The enemy is desperate, numerous, and fights well. He knows I am in want of everything, and trusts entirely to time; but I trust entirely to the good genius of the Republic, to the bravery of the soldiers, to the harmony of the officers, and even to the confidence they repose in me."

No. 7.

Aubenas goes into ecstasies over this letter, "the longest, most eloquent, and most impassioned of the whole series" (vol. i. 322).

202

Facsimile of Letter dated April 24, 1796.

203

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204 June 15.—Here occurs the first gap in the correspondence, but his letters to the Directory between this date and the last letter to Josephine extant (April 24) are full of interest, including his conscientious disobedience at Cherasco, and the aura of his destiny to "ride the whirlwind and direct the storm" which first inspired him after Lodi. On April 28th was signed the armistice of Cherasco, by which his rear was secured by three strong fortresses.[44] He writes the Directory that Piedmont is at their mercy, and that in making the armistice into a definite peace he trusts they will not forget the little island of Saint-Pierre, which will be more useful in the future than Corsica and Sardinia combined. He looks upon northern Italy as practically conquered, and speaks of invading Bavaria through the Tyrol. "Prodigious" is practically the verdict of the Directory, and later of Jomini. "My columns are marching; Beaulieu flees. I hope to catch him. I shall impose a contribution of some millions on the Duke of Parma: he will sue for peace: don't be in a hurry, so that I may have time to make him also contribute to the cost of the campaign, by replenishing our stores and rehorsing our waggons at his expense." Bonaparte suggests that Genoa should pay fifteen millions indemnity for the frigates and vessels taken in the port. Certain risks had to be run in invading Lombardy, owing to want of horse artillery, but at Cherasco he secured artillery and horses. When writing to the Directory for a dozen companies, he tells them not to entrust the execution of this measure "to the men of the bureaus, for it takes them ten days to forward an order." Writing to Carnot on the same day he states he is marching against Beaulieu, who has 26,000 foot out of 38,000 at commencement of campaign. Napoleon's force is 28,000, but he has less cavalry. On May 1st, in a letter dated Acqui to Citizen Faipoult, he asks for particulars of the pictures, 205 statues, &c., of Milan, Parma, Placentia, Modena, and Bologna. On the same day Massena writes that his men are needing shoes. On May 6th Bonaparte announces the capture of Tortona, "a very fine fortress, which cost the King of Sardinia over fifteen millions," while Cherasco has furnished him with twenty-eight guns. Meanwhile Massena has taken possession of Alessandria, with all its stores. On May 9th Napoleon writes to Carnot, "We have at last crossed the Po. The second campaign is begun; Beaulieu ... has fool-hardiness but no genius. One more victory, and Italy is ours." A clever commissary-general is all he needs, and his men are growing fat—with good meat and good wine. He sends to Paris twenty old masters, with fine examples of Correggio and Michael-Angelo. It is pleasant to find Napoleon's confidence in Carnot, in view of Barras' insinuations that the latter had cared only for Moreau—his type of Xenophon. In this very letter Napoleon writes Carnot, "I owe you my special thanks for the care that you have kindly given to my wife; I recommend her to you, she is a sincere patriot, and I love her to distraction." He is sending "a dozen millions" to France, and hopes that some of it will be useful to the army of the Rhine. Meanwhile, and two days before Napoleon's letter to Carnot just mentioned, the latter, on behalf of the Directory, suggests the division of his command with the old Alsatian General Kellermann. The Directory's idea of a gilded pill seems to be a prodigiously long letter. It is one of those heart-breaking effusions that, even to this day, emanate from board-rooms, to the dismay and disgust of their recipients. After plastering him with sickening sophistries as to his "sweetest recompense," it gives the utterly unnecessary monition, "March! no fatal repose, there are still laurels to gather"! Nevertheless, his plan of ending the war by an advance through the Tyrol strikes them as too risky. He is to conquer the Milanais, and then divide his army with Kellermann, who is to guard the conquered province, while he goes south to Naples and Rome. As an implied excuse for not sending adequate reinforcements, Carnot adds, "The exaggerated rumours that you have skilfully disseminated as to the numbers of the French troops in Italy, will augment the fear of our enemies and almost double your means of action." The 206 Milanais is to be heavily mulcted, but he is to be prudent. If Rome makes advances, his first demand should be that the Pope may order immediate public prayers for the prosperity and success of the French Republic! The sending of old masters to France to adorn her National Galleries seems to have been entirely a conception of Napoleon's. He has given sufficiently good reasons, from a patriotic point of view; for money is soon spent, but a masterpiece may encourage Art among his countrymen a generation later. The plunderers of the Parthenon of 1800 could not henceforward throw stones at him in this respect. But his real object was to win the people of Paris by thus sending them Glory personified in unique works of genius.

The Directory, already jealous of his fame, endeavour to neutralise the effect of his initiative by hearty concurrence, and write, "Italy has been illumined and enriched by their possession, but the time is now come when their reign should pass to France to stablish and beautify that of Liberty." The despatch adds somewhat naïvely that the effects of the vandalism committed during their own Republican orgies would be obliterated by this glorious campaign, which should "join to the splendour of military trophies the charm of beneficent and restful arts." The Directory ends by inviting him to choose one or two artists to select the most valuable pictures and other masterpieces.

Meanwhile, the Directory's supineness in pushing on the war on the Rhine is enabling the Austrians to send large reinforcements against Napoleon. Bonaparte, who has recently suffered (Jomini, vol. viii. 113) from Kellermann's tardiness in sending reinforcements at an important moment, replies to the letters of May 7th a week later, and writes direct to Citizen Carnot from Lodi, as well as to the Executive Directory. "On the receipt of the Directory's letter of the 7th your wishes were fulfilled, and the Milanais is ours. I shall shortly march, to carry out your intentions, on Leghorn and Rome; all that will soon be done. I am writing the Directory relatively to their idea of dividing the army. I swear that I have no thought beyond the interest of my country. Moreover, you will always find me straight (dans la ligne droite).... As it might happen that this letter to the Directory may be badly construed, and since you have assured 207 me of your friendship, I take this opportunity of addressing you, begging you to make what use of it your prudence and attachment for me may suggest.... Kellermann will command the army as well as I, for no one is more convinced than I am that the victories are due to the courage and pluck of the army; but I think joining Kellermann and myself in Italy is to lose everything. I cannot serve willingly with a man who considers himself the first general in Europe; and, besides, I believe one bad general is better than two good ones. War is like government: it is an affair of tact. To be of any use, I must enjoy the same confidence that you testified to me in Paris. Where I make war, here or there, is a matter of indifference. To serve my country, to deserve from posterity a page in our history, to give the Government proofs of my attachment and devotion—that is the sum of my ambition. But I am very anxious not to lose in a week the fatigues, anxieties, and dangers of two months, and to find myself fettered. I began with a certain amount of fame; I wish to continue worthy of you." To the Directory he writes that the expeditions to Leghorn, Rome, and Naples are small affairs, but to be safely conducted must have one general in command. "I have made the campaign without consulting a soul; I should have done no good if I had had to share my views with another. I have gained some advantages over superior forces, and in utter want of everything, because, certain of your confidence, my marches have been as quick as my thoughts." He foretells disaster if he is shackled with another general. "Every one has his own method of making war. General Kellermann has more experience, and will do it better than I; but both together will do it very badly." With Barras he knew eloquence was useless, and therefore bribed him with a million francs. On May 10th was gained the terrible battle of the Bridge of Lodi, where he won promotion from his soldiers, and became their "little corporal," and where he told Las Cases that he "was struck with the possibility of becoming famous. It was then that the first spark of my ambition was kindled." On entering Milan he told Marmont, "Fortune has smiled on me to-day, only because I despise her favours; she is a woman, and the more she does for me, the more I shall exact from her. In our day no 208 one has originated anything great; it is for me to give the example."

On May 15th, thirty-five days after the commencement of the campaign, he entered Milan, under a triumphal arch and amid the acclamations of the populace. On the previous evening he was guilty of what Dr. Johnson would have considered a fitting herald of his spoliation of picture-galleries—the perpetration of a pun. At a dinner-table the hostess observed that his youth was remarkable in so great a conqueror, whereat he replied, "Truly, madam, I am not very old at present—barely twenty-seven—but in less than twenty-four hours I shall count many more, for I shall have attained Milan" (mille ans).

On May 22nd he returned to Lodi, but heard immediately that Lombardy in general, and Pavia in particular, was in open revolt. He makes a terrible example of Pavia, shooting its chief citizens, and, for the only time, giving up a town to three hours' pillage. The Directory congratulates him on these severe measures: "The laws of war and the safety of the army render them legitimate in such circumstances." He writes them that had the blood of a single Frenchman been spilt, he would have erected a column on the ruins of Pavia, on which should have been inscribed, "Here was the town of Pavia."

On May 21st, Carnot replies to the letter from Lodi: "You appear desirous, citizen general, of continuing to conduct the whole series of military operations in Italy, at the actual seat of war. The Directory has carefully considered your proposition, and the confidence that they place in your talents and republican zeal has decided this question in the affirmative.... The rest of the military operations towards the Austrian frontier and round Mantua are absolutely dependent on your success against Beaulieu. The Directory feels how difficult it would be to direct them from Paris. It leaves to you in this respect the greatest latitude, while recommending the most extreme prudence. Its intention is, however, that the army shall cross into the Tyrol only after the expedition to the south of Italy."

This was a complete victory for Bonaparte (Bingham calls it the Directory's "abject apology"), and, as Scott points out, he now "obtained an ascendency which he took admirable care not 209 to relinquish; and it became the sole task of the Directory, so far as Italy was concerned, to study phrases for intimating their approbation of the young general's measures."

He had forged a sword for France, and he now won her heart by gilding it. On May 16th the Directory had asked him to supply Kellermann with money for the army of the Alps, and by May 22nd he is able to write that six or eight million francs in gold, silver, ingots, or jewels is lying at their disposal with one of the best bankers in Genoa, being superfluous to the needs of the army. "If you wish it, I can have a million sent to Bâle for the army of the Rhine." He has already helped Kellermann, and paid his men. He also announces a further million requisitioned from Modena. "As it has neither fortresses nor muskets, I could not ask for them."

Henceforth he lubricates the manifold wheels of French policy with Italian gold, and gains thereby the approbation and gratitude of the French armies and people. Meanwhile he does not neglect those who might bear him a grudge. To Kellermann and to all the Directors he sends splendid chargers. From Parma he has the five best pictures chosen for Paris—the Saint Jerome and the Madonna della Scodella, both by Correggio; the Preaching of St. John in the Desert, a Paul Veronese, and a Van Dyck, besides fine examples of Raphael, Caracci, &c.

The Directory is anxious that he shall chastise the English at Leghorn, as the fate of Corsica is somewhat dependent on it, whose loss "will make London tremble." They secretly dread a war in the Tyrol, forgetting that Bonaparte is a specialist in mountain fighting, educated under Paoli. They remind him that he has not sent the plans of his battles. "You ought not to lack draughtsmen in Italy. Eh! what are your young engineer officers doing?"

On May 31st Carnot writes to urge him to press the siege of Mantua, reasserting that the reinforcements which Beaulieu has received will not take from that army its sense of inferiority, and that ten battalions of Hoche's army are on the way. It approves and confirms the "generous fraternity" with which Bonaparte offers a million francs to the armies on the Rhine. 210 On June 7th he tells the Directory that Rome is about to fulminate a bull against the French Royalists, but that he thinks the expedition to Naples should be deferred, and also a quarrel with Venice—at least till he has beaten his other enemies; it is not expedient to tackle every one at once. On June 6th he thanks Carnot for a kind letter, adding that the best reward to sweeten labour and perils is the esteem of the few men one really admires. He fears the hot weather for his men: "we shall soon be in July, when every march will cost us 200 sick." The same day he writes General Clarke that all is flourishing, but that the dog-star is coming on at a gallop, and that there is no remedy against its malign influence. "Luckless beings that we are! Our position with nature is merely observation, without control." He holds that the only safe way to end the campaign without being beaten is not to go to the south of Italy. On the 9th he thanks Kellermann for the troops he sends, and their excellent discipline. On the 11th—always as anxious to help his generals as himself—he urges the Directory to press the Swiss Government to refund La Harpe's property to his children.

"Presentiment of ill."—Marmont tells us what this was. The glass of his wife's portrait, which he always carried with him, was found to be broken. Turning frightfully pale, he said to Marmont, "My wife is either very ill, or unfaithful." She left Paris June 24th. Marmont says, "Once at Milan, General Bonaparte was very happy, for at that time he lived only for his wife.... Never love more pure, more true, more exclusive, has possessed the heart of any man."

No. 8.

Between June 15th and the renewal of Josephine's correspondence a glance at the intervening dates will show that Bonaparte and his army were not wasting time. The treaty with Rome was a masterpiece, as in addition to money and works of art, he obtained the port of Ancona, siege-guns with which to bombard Mantua, and best of all, a letter from the Pope to the faithful of France, recommending submission to the new government there. In consideration of this, and possibly 211 yielding to the religious sentiments of Josephine, he spared Rome his presence—the only capital which he abstained from entering, when he had, as in the present case, the opportunity. It was not, however, until February 1797 that the Pope fulfilled his obligations under this Treaty, and then under new compulsion.

Fortuné.—Josephine's dog (see note 45 to Letter 2, Series B).

SERIES B

No. 1.

July 6, Sortie from Mantua of the Austrians.—According to Jomini the French on this occasion were not successful (vol. viii. 162). In one of his several letters to the Directory on this date is seen Bonaparte's anxiety for reinforcements; the enemy has already 67,000 men against his available 40,000. Meanwhile he is helping the Corsicans to throw off the British yoke, and believes that the French possession of Leghorn will enable the French to gain that island without firing a shot.

No. 2.

Marmirolo.—On July 12th he writes to the Directory from Verona that for some days he and the enemy have been watching each other. "Woe to him who makes a false move." He indicates that he is about to make a coup de main on Mantua, with 300 men dressed in Austrian uniforms. He is by no means certain of success, which "depends entirely on luck—either on a dog[45] or a goose." He complains of much sickness among his men round Mantua, owing to the heat and miasmata from the marshes, but so far no deaths. He will be ready to make Venice disgorge a few millions shortly, if the Directory make a quarrel in the interim.

On the 13th he was with Josephine, as he writes from Milan, but leaves on the 14th, and on the 17th is preparing a coup de

212 main with 800 grenadiers, which, as we see from the next letter, fails.

Fortuné.—Arnault tells an anecdote of this lap-dog, which in 1794, in the days of the Terror, had been used as a bearer of secret despatches between Josephine in prison and the governess of her children outside the grille. Henceforward Josephine would never be parted from it. One day in June 1797 the dog was lying on the same couch as its mistress, and Bonaparte, accosting Arnault and pointing to the dog with his finger, said, "You see that dog there. He is my rival. He was in possession of Madame's bed when I married her. I wished to make him get out—vain hope! I was told I must resign myself to sleep elsewhere, or consent to share with him. That was sufficiently exasperating, but it was a question of taking or leaving, and I resigned myself. The favourite was less accommodating than I. I bear the proof of it in this leg."

Not content with barking at every one, he bit not only men but other dogs, and was finally killed by a mastiff, much to Bonaparte's secret satisfaction; for, as St. Amand adds, "he could easily win battles, accomplish miracles, make or unmake principalities, but could not show a dog the door."

No. 3.

"The village of Virgil."—Michelet (Jusqu'au 18 Brumaire) thinks that here he got the idea of the Fête of Virgil, established a few months later. In engravings of the hero of Italy we see him near the tomb of Virgil, his brows shaded by a laurel crown.

No. 4.

Achille.—Murat. He had been appointed one of Bonaparte's aides-de-camp February 29th, made General of Brigade after the Battle of Lodi (May 10th); is sent to Paris after Junot with nine trophies, and arrives there first. He flirts there outrageously with Josephine, but does not escort her back to her husband. 213

No. 5.

'Will o' the wisp,' i.e. l'ardent.—This word, according to Ménage, was given by the Sieur de St. Germain to those lively young sparks who, about the year 1634, used to meet at the house of Mr. Marsh (M. de Marest), who was one of them.

No. 6.

The needs of the army.—Difficulties were accumulating, and Napoleon was, as he admits at St. Helena, seriously alarmed. Wurmser's force proves to be large, Piedmont is angry with the Republic and ready to rise, and Venice and Rome would willingly follow its example; the English have taken Porto-Ferrajo, and their skilful minister, Windham, is sowing the seeds of discord at Naples. Although on July 20th he has written a friend in Corsica that "all smiles on the Republic," he writes Saliceti, another brother Corsican, very differently on August 1st. "Fortune appears to oppose us at present.... I have raised the siege of Mantua; I am at Brescia with nearly all my army. I shall take the first opportunity of fighting a battle with the enemy which will decide the fate of Italy—if I'm beaten, I shall retire on the Adda; if I win, I shall not stop in the marshes of Mantua.... Let the citadels of Milan, Tortona, Alessandria, and Pavia be provisioned.... We are all very tired; I have ridden five horses to death." Reading between the lines of this letter to Josephine, it is evident that he thinks she will be safer with him than at Milan—Wurmser having the option of advancing viâ Brescia on Milan, and cutting off the French communications. The Marshal's fatal mistake was in using only half his army for the purpose. This raising of the siege of Mantua (July 31st) was heart-rending work for Bonaparte, but, as Jomini shows, he had no artillery horses, and it was better to lose the siege train, consisting of guns taken from the enemy, than to jeopardise the whole army. Wurmser had begun his campaign successfully by defeating Massena, and pushing back Sauret at Salo. "The Austrians," wrote Massena, "are drunk with brandy, and fight furiously," while his men are famished and can only hang on by 214 their teeth. Bonaparte calls his first war council, and thinks for a moment of retreat, but Augereau insists on fighting, which is successfully accomplished while Wurmser is basking himself among the captured artillery outside Mantua. Bonaparte had been perfectly honest in telling the Directory his difficulties, and sends his brother Louis to the Directory for that purpose on the eve of battle. He is complimented in a letter from the Directory dated August 12th—a letter probably the more genuine as they had just received a further despatch announcing a victory. On August 3rd Bonaparte won a battle at Lonato, and the next day Augereau gained great laurels at Castiglione; in later years the Emperor often incited Augereau by referring to those "fine days of Castiglione." Between July 29th and August 12th the French army took 15,000 prisoners, 70 guns, and wounded or killed 25,000, with little more than half the forces of the Austrians. Bonaparte gives his losses at 7000, exclusive of the 15,000 sick he has in hospital; from July 31st to August 6th he never changed his boots, or lay down in a bed. Nevertheless, Jomini thinks that he showed less vigour in the execution of his plans than in the earlier part of the campaign; but, as an opinion per contra, we may note that the French grenadiers made their "little Corporal" Sergeant at Castiglione. Doubtless the proximity of his wife at the commencement (July 31st) made him more careful, and therefore less intrepid. On August 18th he wrote Kellermann with an urgent request for troops. On August 17th Colonel Graham, after hinting at the frightful excesses committed by the Austrians in their retreat, adds in a postscript—"From generals to subalterns the universal language of the army is that we must make peace, as we do not know how to make war."[46]

On August 13th Bonaparte sent to the Directory his opinion of most of his generals, in order to show that he required some better ones. Some of his criticisms are interesting:—

Of eight more he has little good to say, but the Directory in acknowledging his letter of August 23rd remarks that he has forgotten several officers, and especially the Irish general Kilmaine.

About the same time Colonel Graham (Lord Lynedoch) was writing to the British Government from Trent that the Austrians, despite their defeats, were "undoubtedly brave fine troops, and an able chief would put all to rights in a little time."[47] On August 18th he adds—"When the wonderful activity, energy, and attention that prevail in the French service, from the commander-in-chief downward, are compared to the indecision, indifference, and indolence universal here, the success of their rash but skilful manœuvres is not surprising."

No. 7.

Brescia.—Napoleon was here on July 27th, meeting Josephine about the date arranged (July 25th), and she returned with him. On July 29th they were nearly captured by an Austrian ambuscade near Ceronione, and Josephine wept with fright. "Wurmser," said Napoleon, embracing her, "shall pay dearly for those tears." She accompanies him to Castel Nova, and sees a skirmish at Verona; but the sight of wounded men makes her leave the army, and, finding it impossible to reach Brescia, she flees viâ Ferrara 216 and Bologna to Lucca. She leaves the French army in dire straits and awaits news anxiously, while the Senate of Lucca presents her with the oil kept exclusively for royalty. Thence she goes viâ Florence to Milan. By August 7th the Austrian army was broken and in full retreat, and Bonaparte conducts his correspondence from Brescia from August 11th to 18th. On the 25th he is at Milan, where he meets his wife after her long pilgrimage, and spends four days. By August 30th he is again at Brescia, and reminds her that he left her "vexed, annoyed, and not well." From a letter to her aunt, Madame de Renaudin, at this time, quoted by Aubenas, we can see her real feelings: "I am fêted wherever I go; all the princes of Italy give me fêtes, even the Grand Duke of Tuscany, brother of the Emperor. Ah, well, I prefer being a private individual in France. I care not for honours bestowed in this country. I get sadly bored. My health has undoubtedly a great deal to do with making me unhappy; I am often out of sorts. If happiness could assure health, I ought to be in the best of health. I have the most amiable husband imaginable. I have no time to long for anything. My wishes are his. He is all day long in adoration before me, as if I were a divinity; there could not possibly be a better husband. M. Serbelloni will tell you how he loves me. He often writes to my children; he loves them dearly. He is sending Hortense, by M. Serbelloni, a lovely repeater, jewelled and enamelled; to Eugène a splendid gold watch."

No. 9.

"I hope we shall get into Trent by the 5th."—He entered the city on that day. In his pursuit of Wurmser, he and his army cover sixty miles in two days, through the terrific Val Saguna and Brenta gorges, brushing aside opposition by the way.

No. 12.

"One of these nights the doors will be burst open with a bang."—Apparently within two or three days, for Bonaparte is at Milan on September 21st, and stays with his wife till October 12th. 217 On October 1st he writes to the Directory that his total forces are only 27,900; and that the Austrians, within six weeks, will have 50,000. He asks for 26,000 more men to end the war satisfactorily: "If the preservation of Italy is dear to you, citizen directors, send me help." On the 8th they reply with the promise of 10,000 to 12,000, to which he replies (October 11th) that if 10,000 have started only 5000 will reach him. The Directory at this time are very poverty stricken, and ask him once more to pay Kellermann's Army of the Alps, as being "to some extent part of that which you command." This must have been "nuts and wine" for the general who was to have been superseded by Kellermann a few months earlier. On October 1st they advise him that Wurmser's name is on the list of emigrants, and that if the Marshal will surrender Mantua at once he need not be sent to Paris for trial. If, however, Bonaparte thinks that this knowledge will make the old Marshal more desperate, he is not to be told. Bonaparte, of course, does not send the message. For some time these letters had been signed by the President Lareveillère Lépeaux, but on September 19th there was a charming letter from Carnot: "Although accustomed to unprecedented deeds on your part, our hopes have been surpassed by the victory of Bassano. What glory is yours, immortal Bonaparte! Moreau was about to effect a juncture with you when that wretched reculade of Jourdan upset all our plans. Do not forget that immediately the armies go into winter quarters on the Rhine the Austrians will have forces available to help Wurmser." At Milan Bonaparte advises the Directory that he is dealing with unpunished "fripponeries" in the commissariat department. Here he receives from young Kellermann, afterwards the hero of Marengo, a précis of the condition of the Brescia fever-hospitals, dated October 6th: "A wretched mattress, dirty and full of vermin, a coarse sheet to each bed, rarely washed, no counterpanes, much dilatoriness, such is the spectacle that the fever-hospitals of Brescia present; it is heart-rending. The soldiers justly complain that, having conquered opulent Italy at the cost of their life-blood, they might, without enjoying comforts, at least find the help and attention which their situation demands. Bread and rice are the only passable foods, but the meat is hard. 218 I beg that the general-in-chief will immediately give attention to his companions in glory, who wish for restored health only that they may gather fresh laurels." Thus Bonaparte had his Bloemfontein, and perhaps his Burdett-Coutts.

On October 12th he tells the Directory that Mantua will not fall till February—the exact date of its capitulation. One is tempted to wonder if Napoleon was human enough to have inserted one little paragraph of his despatch of October 12th from Milan with one eye on its perusal by his wife, as it contains a veiled sneer at Hoche's exploits: "Send me rather generals of brigade than generals of division. All that comes to us from La Vendée is unaccustomed to war on a large scale; we have the same reproach against the troops, but they are well-hardened." On the same day he shows them that all the marvels of his six months' campaign have cost the French Government only £440,000 (eleven million francs). He pleads, however, for special auditors to have charge of the accounts. Napoleon had not only made war support war, but had sent twenty million francs requisitioned in Italy to the Republic. On October 12th he leaves Milan for Modena, where he remains from the 14th to the 18th, is at Bologna on the 19th, and Ferrara from the 19th to the 22nd, reaching Verona on the 24th.

Jomini has well pointed out that Napoleon's conception of making two or three large Italian republics in place of many small ones minimised the power of the Pope, and also that of Austria, by abolishing its feudal rigours.

By this time Bonaparte is heartily sick of the war. On October 2nd he writes direct to the Emperor of Germany: "Europe wants peace. This disastrous war has lasted too long;" and on the 16th to Marshal Wurmser: "The siege of Mantua, sir, is more disastrous than two campaigns." His weariness is tempered with policy, as Alvinzi was en route, and the French reinforcements had not arrived, not even the 10,000 promised in May.

No. 13.

"Corsica is ours."—At St. Helena he told his generals, "The King of England wore the Corsican crown only two years. 219 This whim cost the British treasury five millions sterling. John Bull's riches could not have been worse employed." He writes to the Directory on the same day: "The expulsion of the English from the Mediterranean has considerable influence on the success of our military operations in Italy. We can exact more onerous conditions from Naples, which will have the greatest moral effect on the minds of the Italians, assures our communications, and makes Naples tremble as far as Sicily." On October 25th he writes: "Wurmser is at his last gasp; he is short of wine, meat, and forage; he is eating his horses, and has 15,000 sick. In fifty days Mantua will either be taken or delivered."

No. 14.

Verona.—Bonaparte had made a long stay at Verona, to November 4th, waiting reinforcements which never came. On November 5th he writes to the Directory: "All the troops of the Directory arrive post-haste at an alarming rate, and we—we are left to ourselves. Fine promises and a few driblets of men are all we have received;" and on November 13th he writes again: "Perchance we are on the eve of losing Italy. None of the expected reinforcements have arrived.... I am doing my duty, the officers and men are doing theirs; my heart is breaking, but my conscience is at rest. Help—send me help!... I despair of preventing the relief of Mantua, which in a week would have been ours. The wounded are the pick of the army; all our superior officers, all our picked generals are hors de combat; those who have come to me are so incompetent, and they have not the soldiers' confidence. The army of Italy, reduced to a handful of men, is exhausted. The heroes of Lodi, Millesimo, Castiglione, and Bassano have died for their country, or are in hospital;[48] to the corps remain only their reputation and their glory. Joubert, Lannes, Lanusse, Victor, Murat, Chabot, Dupuy, Rampon, Pijon, Menard, Chabran, and St. Hilaire are wounded.... In a few days we shall make a last effort. Had I received the 83rd, 3500 strong, and of good repute in the army, 220 I would have answered for everything. Perhaps in a few days 40,000 will not suffice." The reason for this unwonted pessimism was the state of his troops. His brother Louis reported that Vaubois' men had no shoes and were almost naked, in the midst of snow and mountains; that desertions were taking place of soldiers with bare and bleeding feet, who told the enemy the plans and conditions of their army. Finally Vaubois bungles, through not knowing the ground, and is put under the orders of Massena, while two of his half-brigades are severely censured by Napoleon in person for their cowardice.

No. 15.

"Once more I breathe freely."—Thrice had Napoleon been foiled, as much by the weather and his shoeless soldiers as by numbers (40,000 Austrians to his 28,000), and his position was well-nigh hopeless on November 14th. He trusts Verona to 3000 men, and the blockade of Mantua to Kilmaine, and the defence of Rivoli to Vaubois—the weakest link in the chain—and determines to manœuvre by the Lower Adige upon the Austrian communications. He gets forty-eight hours' start, and wins Arcola; in 1814 he deserved equal success, but bad luck and treachery turned the scale. The battle of Arcola lasted seventy-two hours, and for forty-eight hours was in favour of the Austrians. Pending the arrival of the promised reinforcements, the battle was bought too dear, and weakened Bonaparte more than the Austrians, who received new troops almost daily. He replaced Vaubois by Joubert.

No. 18.

"The 29th."—But he is at Milan from November 27th to December 16th. Most people know, from some print or other, the picture by Gros of Bonaparte, flag in hand, leading his men across the murderous bridge of Arcola. It was during this visit to Milan that his portrait was taken, and Lavalette has preserved for us the domestic rather than the dignified manner of the sitting accorded. He refused to give a fixed time, and the artist was in despair, 221 until Josephine came to his aid by taking her husband on her knees every morning after breakfast, and keeping him there a short time. Lavalette assisted at three of these sittings—apparently to remove the bashful embarrassment of the young painter. St. Amand suggests that Gros taking the portrait of Bonaparte at Milan, just after Arcola, would, especially under such novel conditions, prove a fitting theme for our artists to-day! From December 16th to 21st Bonaparte is at Verona, whence he returns to Milan. There is perhaps a veiled innuendo in Barras' letter of December 30th. Clarke had advised the Directory that Alvinzi was planning an attack, which Barras mentions, but adds: "Your return to Milan shows that you consider another attack in favour of Wurmser unlikely, or, at least, not imminent." He is at Milan till January 7th, whence he goes to Bologna, the city which, he says, "of all the Italian cities has constantly shown the greatest energy and the most considerable share of real information."

No. 20.

General Brune.—This incident fixes the date of this letter to be 23 Nivôse (January 12), and not 23 Messidor (July 11), as hitherto published in the French editions of this letter. On January 12, 1797, he wrote General Clarke from Verona (No. 1375 of the Correspondence) almost an exact duplicate of this letter—a very rare coincidence in the epistles of Napoleon. "Scarcely set out from Roverbella, I learnt that the enemy had appeared at Verona. Massena made his dispositions, which have been very successful; we have made 600 prisoners, and we have taken three pieces of cannon. General Brune has had seven bullets in his clothes, without having been touched by one of them; this is what it is to be lucky. We have had only ten men killed, and a hundred wounded." Bonaparte had left Bologna on January 10, reaching Verona viâ Roverbella on the 12th.

No. 21.

February 3rd.—"I wrote you this morning."—This and probably other letters describing Rivoli, La Favorite, and the imminent 222 fall of Mantua, are missing. In summing up the campaign Thiers declares that in ten months 55,000 French (all told, including reinforcements) had beaten more than 200,000 Austrians, taken 80,000 of them prisoners, killed and wounded 20,000. They had fought twelve pitched battles, and sixty actions. These figures are probably as much above the mark as those of Napoleon's detractors are below it.

One does not know which to admire most, Bonaparte's absence from Marshal Wurmser's humiliation, or his abstention from entering Rome as a conqueror. The first was the act of a perfect gentleman, worthy of the best traditions of chivalry, the second was the very quintessence of far-seeing sagacity, not "baulking the end half-won, for an instant dole of praise." As he told Mdme. de Rémusat at Passeriano, "I conquered the Pope better by not going to Rome than if I had burnt his capital." Scott has compared his treatment of Wurmser to that of the Black Prince with his royal prisoner, King John of France. Wurmser was an Alsatian on the list of émigrés, and Bonaparte gave the Marshal his life by sending him back to Austria, a fact which Wurmser requited by warning Bonaparte of a conspiracy to poison him[49] in Romagna, which Napoleon thinks would otherwise have been successful.

No. 24.

"Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope."—On February 12th the Pope had written to "his dear son, General Bonaparte," to depute plenipotentiaries for a peace, and ends by assuring him "of our highest esteem," and concluding with the paternal apostolic benediction. Meanwhile Napoleon, instead of sacking Faenza, has just invoked the monks and priests to follow the precepts of the Gospel.

No. 25.

"The unlimited power you hold over me."—There seems no question that during the Italian campaigns he was absolutely faithful to Josephine, although there was scarcely a beauty in 223 Milan who did not aspire to please him and to conquer him. In his fidelity there was, says St. Amand, much love and a little calculation. As Napoleon has said himself, his position was delicate in the extreme; he commanded old generals; every one of his movements was jealously watched; his circumspection was extreme. His fortune lay in his wisdom. He would have to forget himself for one hour, and how many of his victories depended upon no more! The celebrated singer, La Grassini, who had all Italy at her feet, cared only for the young general who would not at that time vouchsafe her a glance.

SERIES C

THE CAMPAIGN OF MARENGO, 1800