Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Book| | | | | | |141-154| L|1809 | 25 | | all | |278-295| | | | | | | | | | |155-165| M|1809-10| 22 | | all | |295-304| | | | | | | | | | |167-176| N|1810 |11[13]| | all | |304-310| | | | | | | | | | |177-181| O|1811 | 4 | | all | |311-312| | | | | | | | | | |183-197| P|1812-14| 2 | | all | |312-315| | | | |------| | | | | | | | | 242 | | | | | 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. FOOTNOTES [13] Exclusive of two from Josephine to Napoleon. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS NAPOLEON _Frontispiece_ FROM AN ENGRAVING BY T. WRIGHT, AFTER AN ORIGINAL DRAWING (_Photogravure_) EUGÈNE BEAUHARNAIS _Face page_ 121 AFTERWARDS VICEROY OF ITALY (_Photogravure_) JOSEPHINE BEAUHARNAIS _Face page_ 198 _Circa_ 1795 (_Photogravure_) FAC-SIMILE OF LETTER, DATED APRIL 24, 1796 _Pages_ 202-3 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. SERIES A (For subjoined Notes to this Series see pages 198-211.) LETTER PAGE _Bonaparte made Commander-in-Chief_ 198 No. 1. 7 A.M. 198 No. 2. _Our good Ossian_ 199 No. 4. _Chauvet is dead_ 199 No. 5. Napoleon's suspicions 199 _The lovers of nineteen_ 200 _My brother_ 200 No. 6. _Unalterably good_ 201 _If you want a place for any one_ 201 No. 7. A criticism by Aubenas 201 _June 15th_ 204 _Presentiment of ill_ 210 No. 8. The Treaty with Rome 210 _Fortuné_ 211 1796. _February 23rd.--Bonaparte made Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Italy._ 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 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 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 migh |