---
type: article
status: Published
slug: "napoleon-letters-josephine"
title: "Letters to Josephine"
author: "Napoléon Bonaparte"
tradition: "european"
language: "fr"
genre: "letters"
period: "1795–1812"
source_url: "https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Bonaparte_-_Œuvres_littéraires,_tome_1,_1888.djvu"
certainty: observed
source: "https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Bonaparte_-_Œuvres_littéraires,_tome_1,_1888.djvu"
---
# Letters to Josephine

## Original

### Letter 001 — I

Paris, 28 octobre 1795.

Je ne conçois pas ce qui a pu donner lieu à votre lettre. Je vous prie de me faire le plaisir de croire que personne ne désire autant votre amitié que moi et n’est plus prêt que moi à faire quelque chose qui puisse le prouver. Si mes occupations me l’avaient permis, je serais venu moi-même porter ma lettre.

Buonaparte.

### Letter 002 — II

Paris, décembre 1795.

Je me réveille plein de toi. Ton portrait et l’enivrante soirée d’hier n’ont point laissé de repos à mes sens. Douce et incomparable Joséphine, quel effet bizarre faites-vous sur mon cœur; vous fâchez-vous; vous vois-je triste, êtes-vous inquiète; … mon âme est brisée de douleur et il n’est point de repos pour votre ami, mais en est-il donc davantage pour moi, lorsque me livrant au sentiment profond qui me maîtrise, je puise sur vos lèvres, sur votre cœur, une flamme qui me brûle? Ah! c’est cette nuit que je me suis bien aperçu que votre portrait n’est pas vous. Tu pars à midi, je te verrai dans trois heures. En attendant, mio dolce amor, un millier de baisers, mais ne m’en donne pas, car ils brûlent mon sang.

### Letter 003 — III

Chanceaux, 14 mars 1796.

Je t’ai écrit de Châtillon, et je t’ai envoyé une procuration pour que tu touches différentes sommes qui me reviennent. Chaque instant m’éloigne de toi, adorable amie, et, à chaque instant, je trouve moins de force pour supporter d’être éloigné de toi. Tu es l’objet perpétuel de ma pensée; mon imagination s’épuise à chercher ce que tu fais. Si je te vois triste, mon cœur se déchire, et ma douleur s’accroît. Si tu es gaie, folâtre avec tes amis, je te reproche d’avoir bientôt oublié la douloureuse séparation de trois jours; tu es alors légère, et, dès lors, tu n’es affectée par aucun sentiment profond. Comme tu vois, je ne suis pas facile à contenter; mais, ma bonne amie, c’est bien autre chose, si je crains que ta santé ne soit altérée, ou que tu aies des raisons d’être chagrine; alors, je regrette la vitesse avec laquelle on m’éloigne de mon cœur. Je sens vraiment que ta bonté naturelle n’existe plus pour moi, et que ce n’est que tout assuré qu’il ne t’arrive rien de fâcheux que je puis être content. Si l’on me fait la question si j’ai bien dormi, je sens qu’avant de répondre, j’aurais besoin de recevoir un courrier qui m’annonçât que tu as bien reposé. Les maladies, les fureurs des hommes ne m’affectent que par l’idée qu’elles peuvent te frapper, ma bonne amie. Que mon génie, qui m’a toujours garanti au milieu des grands dangers, t’environne, te couvre, et je me livre au découvert. Ah! ne sois pas gaie, mais un peu mélancolique, et surtout que ton âme soit exempte de chagrin, comme ton corps de maladie; tu sais ce que dit là-dessus notre bon Ossian. Écris-moi, ma tendre amie, et bien longuement, et reçois les mille et un baisers de l’ami le plus tendre et le plus vrai.

### Letter 004 — IV

Port-Maurice, le 14 germinal (3 avril 1796).

J’ai reçu toutes tes lettres, mais aucune n’a fait sur moi l’impression de ta dernière. Y penses-tu, mon adorable amie, de m’écrire en ces termes? Crois-tu donc que ma position n’est pas déjà assez cruelle, sans encore accroître mes regrets, et bouleverser mon âme? Quel style! quels sentiments que ceux que tu peins! Ils sont de feu, ils brûlent mon pauvre cœur. Mon unique Joséphine, loin de toi il n’est pas de gaieté; loin de toi, le monde est un désert où je reste isolé, et sans éprouver la douceur de m’épancher. Tu m’as ôté plus que mon âme; tu es l’unique pensée de ma vie. Si je suis ennuyé du tracas des affaires, si j’en crains l’issue, si les hommes me dégoûtent, si je suis prêt à maudire la vie, je mets la main sur mon cœur; ton portrait y bat, je le regarde, et l’amour est pour moi le bonheur absolu, et tout est riant hors le temps que je me vois absent de mon amie.

Par quel art as-tu su captiver toutes mes facultés, concentrer en toi mon existence morale? Vivre pour Joséphine! voilà l’histoire de ma vie. J’agis pour arriver près de toi; je me meurs pour t’approcher. Insensé! je ne m’aperçois pas que je m’en éloigne. Que de pays, que de contrées nous séparent! que de temps avant que tu lises ces caractères, faibles expressions d’une âme émue où tu règnes! Ah! mon adorable femme! je ne sais quel sort m’attend; mais s’il m’éloigne plus longtemps de toi il me sera insupportable: mon courage ne va pas jusque-là. Il fut un temps où je m’enorgueillissais de mon courage, et quelquefois, en jetant les yeux sur le mal que pourraient me faire les hommes, sur le sort que pourrait me réserver le destin, je fixais les malheurs les plus inouïs sans froncer le sourcil, sans me sentir étonné. Mais aujourd’hui, l’idée que ma Joséphine peut être mal, l’idée qu’elle pourrait être malade, et surtout la cruelle, la funeste pensée qu’elle pourrait m’aimer moins, flétrit mon âme, arrête mon sang, me rend triste, abattu, ne me laisse pas même le courage de la fureur et du désespoir. Je me disais souvent jadis: les hommes ne peuvent rien à celui qui meurt sans regret; mais aujourd’hui, mourir sans être aimé de toi, mourir sans cette certitude, c’est le tourment de l’enfer, c’est l’image vive et frappante de l’anéantissement absolu. Il me semble que je me sens étouffer. Mon unique compagne, toi que le sort a destinée pour faire avec moi le voyage pénible de la vie, le jour où je n’aurai plus ton cœur sera celui où la nature sera pour moi sans chaleur et sans végétation… Je m’arrête, ma douce amie; mon âme est triste, mon corps est fatigué, mon esprit est alourdi, les hommes m’ennuient. Je devrais bien les détester, ils m’éloignent de mon cœur.

Je suis à Port-Maurice, près Oneille; demain je suis à Albenga. Les deux armées se remuent; nous cherchons à nous tromper. Au plus habile la victoire. Je suis assez content de Beaulieu; il manœuvre bien; il est plus fort que son prédécesseur. Je le battrai, j’espère, de la belle manière. Sois sans inquiétude; aime-moi comme tes yeux; mais ce n’est pas assez, comme toi; plus que toi, que ta pensée, ton esprit, ta vie, ton tout. Donc, amie, pardonne-moi, je délire; la nature est faible pour qui sent vivement, pour celui que tu aimes. À Barras, Sucy, madame Tallien, amitié sincère; à madame Château-Renard, civilités d’usage; à Eugène, à Hortense, amour vrai.

### Letter 005 — V

Albenga, le 18 germinal (7 avril 1796).

Je reçois une lettre que tu interromps pour aller, dis-tu, à la campagne; et, après cela, tu te donnes le ton d’être jalouse de moi, qui suis ici accablé d’affaires et de fatigues. Ah! ma bonne amie!… Il est vrai que j’ai tort. Dans les premiers temps, la campagne est belle; et puis, l’amant de dix-neuf ans s’y trouvait sans doute. Le moyen de perdre un instant de plus à écrire à celui qui, éloigné de trois cents lieues de toi, ne vit, ne jouit, n’existe que pour ton souvenir, qui lit tes lettres comme on dévore, après six heures de chasse, les mets que l’on aime. Je ne suis pas content. Ta dernière lettre est froide comme l’amitié. Je n’y ai pas trouvé ce feu qui allume tes regards, ce que j’ai cru quelquefois y voir. Mais quelle est ma bizarrerie! J’ai trouvé que tes lettres précédentes oppressaient trop mon âme; la révolution qu’elles y produisaient attaquait mon repos, et asservissait mes sens. Je désirais des lettres plus froides, mais elles me donnent le glacé de la mort. La crainte de ne pas être aimé de Joséphine, l’idée de la voir inconstante, de la… Mais je me forge des peines. Il en est tant de réelles! Faut-il encore s’en fabriquer? Tu ne peux m’avoir inspiré un amour sans bornes sans le partager, et avec ton âme, ta pensée et ta raison, l’on ne peut pas, en retour de l’abandon, du dévouement, donner en échange le coup de mort… Un souvenir de mon unique femme et une victoire du destin, voilà mes souhaits: un souvenir unique, entier, digne de celui qui pense à toi à tous les instants.

### Letter 006 — VI

Cherasco, 3 floréal (24 avril 1796).

Mon frère te remettra cette lettre; j’ai pour lui la plus vive amitié. Il obtiendra, j’espère, la tienne; il la mérite. La nature l’a doué d’un caractère doux et inaltérablement bon; il est tout plein de bonnes qualités. J’écris à Barras pour qu’on le nomme consul dans quelque port d’Italie. Il désire vivre éloigné avec sa petite femme du grand tourbillon et des grandes affaires; je te le recommande. J’ai reçu tes lettres du 16 et du 21. Tu as été bien des jours sans m’écrire. Que fais-tu donc? Oui, ma bonne amie, je suis non pas jaloux, mais quelquefois inquiet. Viens vite; je te préviens, si tu tardes, tu me trouveras malade. Les fatigues et ton absence, c’est trop à la fois. Tes lettres font le plaisir de mes journées, et mes journées heureuses ne sont pas fréquentes. Junot porte à Paris vingt-deux drapeaux.

Tu dois revenir avec lui, entends-tu?… Malheur sans remède, douleur sans consolation, peines continues si j’avais le malheur de le voir revenir seul, mon adorable amie. Il te verra, il respirera dans ton temple; peut-être même lui accorderas-tu la faveur unique et inappréciable de baiser ta joue, et moi je serai seul et bien, bien loin. Mais tu vas revenir, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas être ici à côté de moi, sur mon cœur, dans mes bras? Prends des ailes, viens, viens! Mais voyage doucement. La route est longue, mauvaise, fatigante. Si tu allais verser ou prendre mal; si la fatigue… Viens vivement, mon adorable amie, mais lentement.

### Letter 007 — VII

Cherasco, 29 avril 1796.

Je ne sais pourquoi depuis ce matin, je suis plus content. J’ai un pressentiment que tu es partie pour ici. Cette idée me comble de joie.

Ne vas pas surtout être malade. Non, ma bonne amie, tu viendras ici; tu te porteras très bien; tu feras un petit enfant, joli comme sa mère, qui t’aimera comme son père, et quand tu seras bien vieille, bien vieille, que tu auras cent ans, il fera ta consolation et ton bonheur.

### Letter 008 — VIII

Tortone, midi, le 27 prairial an IV de la République. (15 juin 1796.)

Ma vie est un cauchemar perpétuel. Un pressentiment funeste m’empêche de respirer. Je ne vis plus, j’ai perdu plus que la vie, plus que le bonheur, plus que le repos; je suis presque sans espoir. Je t’expédie un courrier. Il ne restera que quatre heures à Paris et puis m’apportera ta réponse. Écris-moi dix pages; cela seul peut me consoler un peu. Tu es malade, tu m’aimes, je t’ai affligée, tu es grosse et je ne te vois pas. Cette idée me confond. J’ai tant de torts envers toi, que je ne sais comment les expier. Je t’accuse de rester à Paris, et tu y étais malade. Pardonne-moi, ma bonne amie; l’amour que tu m’as inspiré m’a ôté la raison; je ne la retrouverai jamais. L’on ne guérit pas de ce mal-là. Mes pressentiments sont si funestes que je me bornerais à te voir, à te presser deux heures sur mon cœur et mourir ensemble. Qui est-ce qui a soin de toi? J’imagine que tu as fait appeler Hortense; j’aime mille fois plus cette aimable enfant depuis que je pense qu’elle peut te consoler un peu. Quant à moi, point de consolation, point de repos, point d’espoir, jusqu’à ce que j’aie reçu le courrier que je t’expédie, et que par une longue lettre tu m’expliques ce que c’est que ta maladie, et jusqu’à quel point elle doit être sérieuse. Si elle est dangereuse, je t’en préviens, je pars de suite pour Paris… J’ai été toujours heureux; jamais mon sort n’a résisté à ma volonté, et aujourd’hui je suis frappé dans ce qui me touche uniquement… Sans appétit, sans sommeil, sans intérêt pour l’amitié, pour la gloire, pour la patrie, toi, toi, et le reste du monde n’existe pas plus pour moi que s’il était anéanti. Je tiens à l’honneur puisque tu y tiens, à la victoire puisque cela te fait plaisir, sans quoi j’aurais tout quitté pour me rendre à tes pieds.

Ma bonne amie, aie soin de me dire que tu es convaincue que je t’aime au delà de tout ce qu’il est possible d’imaginer; que tu es persuadée que tous mes instants te sont consacrés, que jamais il ne se passe une heure sans penser à toi; que jamais il ne m’est venu dans l’idée de penser à une autre femme; qu’elles sont toutes à mes yeux sans grâce, sans beauté et sans esprit; que toi, toi tout entière, telle que je te vois, que tu es, pouvais me plaire et absorber toutes les facultés de mon âme; que tu en as touché toute l’étendue, que mon cœur n’a point de replis que tu ne voies, point de pensées qui ne te soient subordonnées; que mes forces, mes bras, mon esprit sont tout à toi; que mon âme est dans ton corps, et que le jour où tu aurais changé, ou le jour où tu cesseras de vivre, serait celui de ma mort; que la nature, la terre n’est belle que parce que tu l’habites. Si tu ne crois pas cela, si ton âme n’en est pas convaincue, pénétrée, tu m’affliges, tu ne m’aimes pas. Il est un fluide magnétique entre les personnes qui s’aiment. Tu sais que je ne pourrais te voir un amant, encore moins t’en souffrir un: lui déchirer le cœur et le voir serait pour moi la même chose, et puis si je pouvais porter la main sur ta personne sacrée… Non, je ne l’oserais jamais, mais je sortirais d’une vie où ce qui existe de plus vertueux m’aurait trompé. Je suis sûr et fier de ton amour. Les malheurs sont des épreuves qui nous décèlent mutuellement la force de notre passion. Un enfant adorable comme sa maman va voir le jour dans tes bras. Infortuné, je me contenterais d’une journée. Mille baisers sur tes yeux, sur tes lèvres… Adorable femme, quel est ton ascendant! Je suis bien malade de ta maladie. J’ai encore une fièvre brûlante! Ne garde pas plus de six heures le courrier, et qu’il retourne de suite me porter la lettre chérie de ma souveraine.

### Letter 009 — IX

Roverbella, 6 juillet 1796.

J’ai battu l’ennemi. Kilmaine t’enverra la copie de la relation. Je suis mort de fatigue. Je te prie de partir tout de suite pour te rendre à Vérone; j’ai besoin de toi, car je crois que je vais être bien malade. Je te donne mille baisers. Je suis au lit.

### Letter 010 — X

Vérone, 11 juillet 1796.

À peine parti de Roverbella, j’ai su que l’ennemi se présentait à Vérone. Masséna faisait des dispositions qui ont été très heureuses. Nous avons fait six cents prisonniers, et nous avons pris trois pièces de canon. Le général Brune a eu sept balles dans ses habits, sans avoir été touché par aucune; c’est jouer de bonheur. Je te donne mille baisers. Je me porte très bien. Nous n’avons eu que dix hommes tués et cent blessés.

### Letter 011 — XI

Marmirolo, 17 juillet 1796, neuf heures du soir.

Je reçois ta lettre, mon adorable amie; elle a rempli mon cœur de joie. Je te suis obligé de la peine que tu as prise de me donner de tes nouvelles, ta santé doit être meilleure aujourd’hui; je suis sûr que tu es guérie. Je t’engage fort à monter à cheval, cela ne peut manquer de te faire du bien. Depuis que je t’ai quittée j’ai toujours été triste. Mon bonheur est d’être près de toi. Sans cesse je repasse dans ma mémoire tes baisers, tes larmes, ton aimable jalousie, et les charmes de l’incomparable Joséphine allument sans cesse une flamme vive et brûlante dans mon cœur et dans mes sens. Quand, libre de toute inquiétude, de toute affaire, pourrais-je passer tous mes instants près de toi, n’avoir qu’à t’aimer, et ne penser qu’au bonheur de te le dire et de te le prouver? Je t’enverrai ton cheval, mais j’espère que tu pourras bientôt me rejoindre.

Je croyais t’aimer, il y a quelques jours; mais, depuis que t’ai vue, je sens que je t’aime mille fois plus encore. Depuis que je te connais, je t’adore tous les jours davantage: cela prouve combien la maxime de La Bruyère, que l’amour vient tout d’un coup, es fausse. Tout, dans la nature, a un cours et différents degrés d’accroissement. Ah! je t’en prie, laisse-moi voir quelques-uns de tes défauts! Sois moins belle, moins gracieuse, moins tendre, moins bonne surtout; ne sois jamais jalouse, ne pleure jamais; tes larmes m’ôtent la raison, brûlent mon sang. Crois bien qu’il n’est plus en mon pouvoir d’avoir une pensée qui ne soit pas à toi et une idée qui ne te soit pas soumise. Repose-toi bien: retablis vite ta santé. Viens me rejoindre, et au moins, qu’avant de mourir, nous puissions dire: « Nous fûmes tant de jours heureux! »

Million de baisers, et même à Fortuné, en dépit de sa méchanceté.

### Letter 012 — XII

Marmirolo, le 18 juillet 1796.

J’ai passé toute la nuit sous les armes. J’aurais eu Mantoue par un coup hardi et heureux; mais les eaux du lac ont promptement baissé, de sorte que ma colonne, qui était embarquée, n’a pas pu arriver. Ce soir, je recommence d’une autre manière… Je reçois une lettre d’Eugène que je t’envoie. Je te prie d’écrire de ma part à ces aimables enfants et de leur envoyer quelques bijoux. Assure-les bien que je les aime comme mes enfants. Ce qui est à toi ou à moi se confond tellement dans mon cœur, qu’il n’y a aucune différence. Je suis fort inquiet de savoir comment tu te portes, ce que tu fais. J’ai été dans le village de Virgile, sur les bords du lac, au clair argentin de la lune, et pas un instant sans songer à Joséphine.

### Letter 013 — XIII

Marmirolo, 19 juillet 1796.

Il y a deux jours que je suis sans lettre de toi. Voilà trente fois aujourd’hui que je me suis fait cette observation; tu sens que cela est bien triste; tu ne peux pas douter cependant de la tendre et unique sollicitude que tu m’inspires. Nous avons attaqué hier Mantoue. Nous l’avons chauffée avec deux batteries à boulets rouges et des mortiers. Toute la nuit, cette misérable ville a brûlé. Ce spectacle était horrible et imposant. Nous nous sommes emparés de plusieurs ouvrages extérieurs, nous ouvrons la tranchée cette nuit. Je vais partir pour Castiglione demain avec le quartier général, et je compte y coucher. J’ai reçu un courrier de Paris. Il y avait deux lettres pour toi; je les ai lues. Cependant, bien que cette action me paraisse toute simple et que tu m’en aies donné la permission l’autre jour, je crains que cela ne te fâche, et cela m’afflige bien. J’aurais voulu les recacheter. Fi! ce serait une horreur. Si je suis coupable, je te demande grâce; je te jure que ce n’est pas par jalousie; non, certes, j’ai de mon adorable amie une trop grande opinion pour cela. Je voudrais que tu me donnasses permission entière de lire tes lettres; avec cela il n’y aurait plus de remords ni de crainte. Achille arrive en courrier de Milan; pas de lettres de mon adorable amie! Adieu, mon unique bien! Quand pourras-tu venir me rejoindre? Je viendrai te prendre moi-même à Milan. Mille baisers aussi brûlants que mon cœur, aussi purs que toi. Je fais appeler le courrier; il me dit qu’il est passé chez toi, et que tu lui as dit que tu n’avais rien à lui ordonner. Fi! méchante, laide, cruelle, tyranne, petit joli monstre! Tu te ris de mes menaces, de mes sottises; ah! si je pouvais, tu sais bien, t’enfermer dans mon cœur je t’y mettrais en prison. Apprends-moi que tu es gaie, bien portante et bien tendre.

### Letter 014 — XIV

Castiglione, 21 juillet 1796.

J’espère qu’en arrivant ce soir, je recevrai une de tes lettres. Tu sais, ma chère Joséphine, le plaisir qu’elles me font, et je suis sûr que tu te plais à les écrire. Je partirai cette nuit pour Peschiera, pour Vérone, et de là j’irai à Mantoue, et peut-être à Milan, recevoir un baiser, puisque tu m’assures qu’ils ne sont pas glacés; j’espère que tu seras parfaitement rétablie alors, et que tu pourras m’accompagner à mon quartier général pour ne plus me quitter. N’es-tu pas l’âme de ma vie et le sentiment de mon cœur?… Adieu, belle et bonne, toute non pareille, toute divine; mille baisers amoureux!

### Letter 015 — XV

Castiglione, 22 juillet 1796.

Les besoins de l’armée exigent ma présence dans ces environs; il est impossible que je puisse m’éloigner jusqu’à venir à Milan; il me faudrait cinq ou six jours et il peut arriver pendant ce temps-là des mouvements où ma présence pourrait être urgente ici. Tu m’assures que ta santé est bonne; je te prie, en conséquence, de venir à Brescia. J’envoie, à l’heure même, Murat pour t’y préparer un logement dans la ville, comme tu le désires. Je crois que tu feras bien d’aller coucher le 6 (thermidor), en partant fort tard de Milan, et de venir le 7 à Brescia, où le plus tendre des amants t’attend. Je suis désespéré que tu puisses croire, ma bonne amie, que mon cœur puisse s’ouvrir à d’autres qu’à toi; il t’appartient par droit de conquête, et cette conquête sera solide et éternelle. Je ne sais pourquoi tu parles de madame T., dont je me soucie fort peu, ainsi que des femmes de Brescia. Quant à tes lettres, qu’il te fâche que j’ouvre, celle-ci sera la dernière; ta lettre n’était pas arrivée. Adieu, ma tendre amie, donne-moi souvent de tes nouvelles. Viens promptement me joindre, et sois heureuse et sans inquiétude; tout va bien, et mon cœur est à toi pour la vie. Aie soin de rendre à l’adjudant-général Miollis la boîte de médailles qu’il m’écrit t’avoir remise. Les hommes sont si mauvaises langues et si méchants, qu’il faut se mettre en règle sur tout. Santé, amour et prompte arrivée à Brescia. J’ai à Milan une voiture à la fois de ville et de campagne, tu te serviras de celle-là pour venir. Porte avec toi ton argenterie et une partie des objets qui te sont nécessaires. Voyage à petites journées et pendant le frais, afin de ne pas te fatiguer. La troupe ne met que trois jours pour se rendre à Brescia. Il y a en poste pour quatorze heures de chemin. Je t’invite à coucher le 6 (thermidor) à Cassano; je viendrai à ta rencontre le 7, le plus loin possible. Adieu, ma Joséphine, mille tendres baisers.

### Letter 016 — XVI

Brescia, le 10 août 1796.

J’arrive, mon adorable amie, ma première pensée est de t’écrire. Ta santé et ton image ne sont pas sortis un instant de ma mémoire pendant toute la route. Je ne serai tranquille que lorsque j’aurai reçu des lettres de toi. J’en attends avec impatience. Il n’est pas possible que tu te peignes mon inquiétude. Je t’ai laissée triste, chagrine et demi-malade. Si l’amour le plus profond et le plus tendre pouvait te rendre heureuse, tu devrais l’être… Je suis accablé d’affaires. Adieu, ma douce Joséphine; aime-moi bien, porte-toi bien, et pense souvent à moi.

### Letter 017 — XVII

Brescia, le 31 août 1796.

Je pars à l’instant pour Vérone. J’avais espéré recevoir une lettre de toi; cela me met dans une inquiétude affreuse. Tu étais un peu malade lors de mon départ, je t’en prie, ne me laisse pas dans une pareille inquiétude. Tu m’avais promis plus d’exactitude; ta langue était cependant bien d’accord alors avec ton cœur… Toi, à qui la nature a donné douceur, aménité et tout ce qui plaît, comment peux-tu oublier celui qui t’aime avec tant de chaleur? Trois jours sans lettre de toi; je t’ai cependant écrit plusieurs fois. L’absence est horrible, les nuits sont longues, ennuyeuses et fades; la journée est monotone. Aujourd’hui, seul avec les pensées, les travaux, les écritures, les hommes et les fastueux projets, je n’ai pas même un billet de toi que je puisse presser contre mon cœur. Le quartier général est parti; je pars dans une heure. J’ai reçu cette nuit un exprès de Paris; il n’y avait pour toi que la lettre ci-jointe, qui te fera plaisir. Pense à moi, vis pour moi, sois souvent avec ton bien-aimé, et crois qu’il n’est pour lui qu’un seul malheur qui l’effraie, ce serait de n’être plus aimé de Joséphine. Mille baisers bien doux, bien tendres et bien exclusifs.

### Letter 018 — XVIII

Ala, 3 septembre 1796.

Nous sommes en pleine campagne, mon adorable amie; nous avons culbuté les postes ennemis; nous leur avons pris huit ou dix chevaux avec un pareil nombre de cavaliers. J’espère que nous ferons de bonnes affaires, et que nous entrerons dans Trente le 19 (fructidor). Point de lettres de toi, cela m’inquiète vraiment; l’on m’assure cependant que tu te portes bien, et que même tu as été te promener au lac de Côme. J’attends tous les jours, et avec impatience, le courrier où tu m’apprendras de tes nouvelles; tu sais combien elles me sont chères. Je ne vis pas, loin de toi; le bonheur de la vie est près de ma douce Joséphine. Pense à moi! écris-moi souvent, bien souvent; c’est le seul remède à l’absence; elle est cruelle, mais sera j’espère momentanée.

### Letter 019 — XIX

Montebello, 10 septembre 1796.

L’ennemi a perdu, ma chère amie, dix-huit mille hommes prisonniers; le reste est tué ou blessé. Wurmser avec une colonne de cinq cents chevaux et cinq mille hommes d’infanterie, n’a plus d’autre ressource qu’à se jeter dans Mantoue. Jamais nous n’avons eu de succès aussi constants et aussi grands. L’Italie, le Frioul, le Tyrol, sont assurés à la République. Il faut que l’empereur crée une seconde armée: artillerie, équipages de pont, bagages, tout est pris.

Sous peu de jours, nous nous verrons; c’est la plus douce récompense de mes fatigues et de mes peines.

Mille baisers ardents et bien amoureux.

### Letter 020 — XX

Vérone, 17 septembre 1796.

Je t’écris, ma bonne amie, bien souvent et toi peu. Tu es une méchante et une laide, bien laide autant que tu es légère. Cela est perfidie, tromper un pauvre mari, un tendre amant! Doit-il perdre ses droits parce qu’il est loin, chargé de besogne, de fatigue et de peine? Qu’y ferait-il? Nous avons eu hier une affaire très sanglante; l’ennemi a perdu beaucoup de monde et a été complètement battu. Nous lui avons pris le faubourg de Mantoue. Adieu, adorable Joséphine. Une de ces nuits, les portes s’ouvriront avec fracas, comme un jaloux et me voilà dans tes bras. Mille baisers amoureux.

### Letter 021 — XXI

Modène, le 17 octobre 1796, neuf heures du soir.

J’ai été avant-hier toute la journée en campagne. J’ai gardé hier le lit. La fièvre et un violent mal de tête, tout cela m’a empêché d’écrire à mon adorable amie; mais j’ai reçu ses lettres, je les ai pressées contre mon cœur et mes lèvres, et la douleur de l’absence, cent milles d’éloignement, ont disparu. Dans ce moment, je t’ai vue près de moi, non capricieuse et fâchée, mais douce, tendre, avec cette onction de bonté, qui est exclusivement le partage de ma Joséphine. C’était un rêve; juge si cela m’a guéri de la fièvre. Tes lettres sont froides comme cinquante ans; elles ressemblent à quinze ans de mariage. On y voit l’amitié et les sentiments de cet hiver de la vie. Fi! Joséphine!… C’est bien méchant, bien mauvais, bien traître à vous. Que vous reste-t-il pour me rendre bien à plaindre? Ne plus m’aimer? Eh! c’est déjà fait, Me haïr? Eh bien, je le souhaite; tout avilit, hors la haine; mais l’indifférence au pouls de marbre, à l’œil fripon, à la démarche monotone!… Mille baisers bien tendres, comme mon cœur.

### Letter 022 — XXII

Vérone, le 9 novembre 1796.

Je suis arrivé depuis avant-hier à Vérone, ma bonne amie. Quoique fatigué, je suis bien portant, bien affairé, et je t’aime toujours à la passion. Je monte à cheval. Je t’embrasse mille fois.

### Letter 023 — XXIII

Caldiéro, le 13 novembre 1796.

Je ne t’aime plus du tout; au contraire je te déteste. Tu es une vilaine, bien gauche, bien bête, bien cendrillon. Tu ne m’écris pas du tout, tu n’aimes pas ton mari; tu sais le plaisir que tes lettres lui font, et tu ne lui écris pas six lignes jetées au hasard! Que faites-vous donc toute la journée, madame? Quelle affaire si importante vous ôte le temps d’écrire à votre bien bon amant? Quelle affection étouffe et met de côté l’amour, le tendre et constant amour que vous lui avez promis? Quel peut être ce merveilleux, ce nouvel amant qui absorbe tous vos instants, tyrannise vos journées et vous empêche de vous occuper de votre mari? Joséphine, prenez-y garde, une belle nuit les portes enfoncées, et me voilà. En vérité, je suis inquiet, ma bonne amie, de ne pas recevoir de tes nouvelles; écris-moi vite quatre pages, et de ces aimables choses qui remplissent mon cœur de sentiment et de plaisir. J’espère qu’avant peu je te serrerai dans mes bras, et je te couvrirai d’un million de baisers brûlants comme sous l’Équateur.

### Letter 024 — XXIV

Vérone, le 19 novembre 1796.

Enfin, mon adorable Joséphine, je renais; la mort n’est plus devant mes yeux, et la gloire et l’honneur sont encore dans mon cœur, l’ennemi est battu à Arcole. Demain nous réparons la sottise de Vaubois qui a abandonné Rivoli. Mantoue dans huit jours sera à nous, et je pourrai bientôt dans tes bras te donner mille preuves de l’ardent amour de ton mari. Dès l’instant que je le pourrai, je me rendrai à Milan; je suis un peu fatigué.

J’ai reçu une lettre d’Eugène et d’Hortense; ces enfants sont charmants.

Comme toute ma maison est un peu dispersée, du moment que tout m’aura rejoint, je te les enverrai.

Nous avons fait cinq mille prisonniers et tué au moins six mille hommes aux ennemis; adieu, mon adorable Joséphine; pense à moi souvent. Si tu cessais d’aimer ton Achille, ou si ton cœur se refroidissait pour lui, tu serais bien affreuse, bien injuste; mais je suis sûr que tu seras toujours mon amante comme je serai toujours ton tendre ami

La mort, elle seule, pourra rompre l’union que la sympathie, l’amour et le sentiment ont formée.

Donne-moi des nouvelles du petit ventre. Mille et mille baisers tendres et amoureux.

### Letter 025 — XXV

Vérone, 24 novembre 1796.

J’espère bientôt, ma douce amie, être dans tes bras. Je t’aime à la fureur. J’écris à Paris par ce courrier. Tout va bien. Wurmser a été battu hier sous Mantoue. Il ne manque à ton mari que l’amour de Joséphine pour être heureux.

### Letter 026 — XXVI

Milan, novembre 1796.

J’arrive à Milan; je me précipite dans ton appartement; j’ai tout quitté pour te voir, te presser dans mes bras… tu n’y étais pas; tu cours les villes avec les fêtes; tu t’éloignes de moi, lorsque j’arrive et ne te soucies plus de ton cher Napoléon. Un caprice t’a fait l’aimer, l’inconstance te le rend indifférent. Accoutumé aux dangers, je sais le remède aux ennuis et aux maux de la vie. Le malheur que j’éprouve est incalculable; j’avais le droit de n’y pas compter. Je serai ici jusqu’au 9 (frimaire) dans la journée. Ne te dérange pas, cours les plaisirs, le bonheur est fait pour toi. Le monde entier est trop heureux s’il peut te plaire, et ton mari seul est bien, bien malheureux.

### Letter 027 — XXVII

Milan, le 28 novembre 1796.

Je reçois le courrier que Berthier avait expédié à Gênes. Tu n’as pas eu le temps de m’écrire, je le sens facilement. Environnée de plaisirs et de jeux, tu aurais tort de me faire le moindre sacrifice. Berthier a bien voulu me montrer la lettre que tu lui as écrite. Mon intention n’est pas que tu déranges rien à tes calculs, ni aux parties de plaisir qui te sont offertes; je n’en vaux pas la peine, et le bonheur ou le malheur d’un homme que tu n’aimes pas, n’a pas le droit d’intéresser. Pour moi, t’aimer seule, te rendre heureuse, ne rien faire qui puisse te contrarier, voilà le destin et le but de ma vie. Sois heureuse, ne me reproche rien, ne t’intéresse pas à la félicité d’un homme qui ne vit que de ta vie, ne jouit que de tes plaisirs et de ton bonheur. Quand j’exige de toi un amour pareil au mien, j’ai tort. Pourquoi vouloir que la dentelle pèse autant que l’or? Quand je te sacrifie tous mes désirs, toutes mes pensées, tous les instants de ma vie, j’obéis à l’ascendant que tes charmes, ton caractère et toute ta personne ont su prendre sur mon malheureux cœur. J’ai tort, si la nature ne m’a pas donné les attraits pour te captiver; mais ce que je mérite de la part de Joséphine, ce sont des égards, de l’estime, car je l’aime à la fureur et uniquement.

Adieu, femme adorable, adieu, ma Joséphine. Puisse le sort concentrer dans mon cœur tous les chagrins et toutes les peines; mais qu’il donne à ma Joséphine des jours prospères et heureux. Qui le mérite plus qu’elle? Quand il sera constaté qu’elle ne peut plus aimer, je renfermerai ma douleur profonde, et je me contenterai de pouvoir lui être utile et bon à quelque chose. Je rouvre ma lettre pour te donner un baiser… Ah! Joséphine! Joséphine!

### Letter 028 — XXVIII

Ancône, le 10 février 1797.

Nous sommes à Ancône depuis deux jours. Nous avons pris la citadelle après une petite fusillade, et par un coup de main. Nous avons fait douze cents prisonniers; j’ai renvoyé les cinquante officiers chez eux. Je suis toujours à Ancône. Je ne te fais pas venir, parce que tout n’est pas encore terminé; mais sous peu de jours j’espère que cela sera terminé. D’ailleurs, ce pays-ci est très maussade, et tout le monde a peur. Je pars demain pour les montagnes. Tu ne m’écris point; tu devais cependant me donner de tes nouvelles tous les jours. Je te prie d’aller te promener tous les jours; cela te fera du bien. Je te donne un million de baisers. Je ne me suis jamais autant ennuyé qu’à cette vilaine guerre-ci. Adieu, ma douce amie, pense à moi.

### Letter 029 — XXIX

Ancône, le 13 février 1797.

Je ne reçois pas de tes nouvelles, et je ne doute pas que tu ne m’aimes plus. Je t’ai envoyé des journaux et différentes lettres. Je pars à l’instant pour passer les montagnes. Du moment que je saurai à quoi m’en tenir, je te ferai venir avec moi; c’est le vœu le plus cher de mon cœur. Mille et mille baisers.

### Letter 030 — XXX

Bologne, le 16 février 1797.

Tu es triste, tu es malade, tu ne m’écris plus, tu veux t’en aller à Paris. N’aimerais-tu plus ton ami? Cette idée me rend malheureux. Ma douce amie, la vie est pour moi insupportable, depuis que je suis instruit de ta tristesse. Je m’empresse de t’envoyer Mascati, afin qu’il puisse te soigner. Ma santé est un peu faible, mon rhume dure toujours. Je te prie de te ménager, de m’aimer autant que je t’aime, et de m’écrire tous les jours. Mon inquiétude est sans égale. J’ai dit à Mascati de t’accompagner à Ancône, si tu veux y venir. Je t’écrirai là pour te faire savoir où je suis. Peut-être ferai-je la paix avec le Pape, et serai-je bientôt près de toi: c’est le vœu le plus ardent de mon âme. Je te donne cent baisers. Crois que rien n’égale mon amour, si ce n’est mon inquiétude. Écris-moi tous les jours toi-même. Adieu, très chère amie.

### Letter 031 — XXXI

Tolentino, le 19 février 1797.

La paix avec Rome vient d’être signée. Bologne, Ferrare, la Romagne sont cédées à la République. Le pape nous donne trente millions dans peu de temps, et des objets d’art. Je pars demain matin pour Ancône, et de là pour Rimini, Ravenne et Bologne. Si ta santé te le permet, viens à Rimini ou Ravenne, mais ménage-toi, je t’en conjure.

Pas un mot de ta main, bon Dieu! qu’ai-je donc fait? Ne penser qu’à toi, n’aimer que Joséphine, ne vivre que pour ma femme, ne jouir que du bonheur de mon amie, cela doit-il me mériter de sa part un traitement si rigoureux? Mon amie, je t’en conjure, pense souvent à moi, et écris-moi tous les jours; tu es malade ou tu ne m’aimes pas! Crois-tu donc que mon cœur soit de marbre? Et mes peines t’intéressent-elles si peu? Tu me connaîtrais bien mal! Je ne puis le croire.

Toi, à qui la nature a donné l’esprit, la douceur et la beauté, toi qui seule pouvais régner dans mon cœur, toi qui sais trop, sans doute, l’empire absolu que tu as sur moi. Écris-moi, pense à moi, et aime-moi. Pour la vie à toi.

### Letter 032 — XXXII

La Malmaison, 1er juillet 1803.

J’ai reçu ta lettre du 10 messidor. Tu ne me parles pas de ta santé ni de l’effet des bains. Je vois que tu comptes être de retour dans huit jours; cela fait grand plaisir à ton ami, qui s’ennuie d’être seul. Tu dois avoir vu le général Ney, qui part pour Plombières; il se mariera à son retour. Hortense a joué hier Rosine dans le Barbier de Séville avec son intelligence ordinaire.

### Letter 033 — XXXIII

Calais, le 6 août 1804.

Mon amie, je suis à Calais, depuis minuit; je pense en partir ce soir pour Dunkerque. Je suis content de ce que je vois et assez bien de santé. Je désire que les eaux te fassent autant de bien que m’en font le mouvement, la vue des camps et la mer. Eugène est parti pour Blois. Hortense se porte bien. Louis est à Plombières. Je désire beaucoup te voir. Tu es toujours nécessaire à mon bonheur. Mille choses aimables chez toi.

### Letter 034 — XXXIV

Ostende, le 14 août1804.

Mon amie, je n’ai pas reçu de tes nouvelles depuis plusieurs jours; cependant j’aurais été fort aise d’être instruit du bon effet des eaux et de la manière dont tu passes ton temps. Je suis depuis huit jours à Ostende. Je serai après-demain à Boulogne pour une fête assez brillante. Instruis-moi, par le courrier, de ce que tu comptes faire, et de l’époque où tu dois terminer tes bains. Je suis très satisfait de l’armée et des flottilles. Eugène est toujours à Blois. Je n’entends pas plus parler d’Hortense que si elle était au Congo. Je lui écris pour la gronder. Mille choses aimables pour tous.

### Letter 035 — XXXV

Manheim, le 2 octobre 1805.

Je suis encore ici en bonne santé. Je pars pour Stuttgard, où je serai ce soir. Les grandes manœuvres commencent. L’armée de Wurtemberg et de Bade se réunit à la mienne. Je suis en bonne position et je t’aime.

### Letter 036 — XXXVI

Louisbourg, le 4 octobre 1805.

Je suis à Louisbourg. Je pars cette nuit. Il n’y a encore rien de nouveau. Ma réunion avec les Bavarois est faite. Je me porte bien. J’espère avoir, dans peu de jours, quelque chose d’intéressant à te mander. Porte-toi bien, et crois à tous mes sentiments. Il y a ici une très belle cour, une nouvelle mariée fort belle et en tout des gens fort aimables; même notre électrice, qui paraît fort bonne, quoique fille du roi d’Angleterre.

### Letter 037 — XXXVII

Louisbourg, le 5 octobre 1805.

Je pars à l’instant pour continuer ma marche. Tu seras, mon amie, cinq ou six jours sans avoir de mes nouvelles; ne t’inquiète pas, cela tient aux opérations qui vont avoir lieu. Tout va bien, et comme je le pouvais espérer. J’ai assisté ici à une noce du fils de l’électeur de Wurtemberg avec une nièce du roi de Prusse. Je désire donner une corbeille de 36 à 40 000 francs à la jeune princesse. Fais-la faire et envoie-la par un de mes chambellans à la nouvelle mariée, lorsque ces chambellans viendront me rejoindre. Il faut que ce soit fait sur-le-champ. Adieu, mon amie, je t’aime et je t’embrasse.

### Letter 038 — XXXVIII

Augsbourg, le 10 octobre 1805.

J’ai couché aujourd’hui chez l’ancien électeur de Trêves, qui est fort bien logé. Depuis huit jours je cours. Des succès assez notables ont commencé la campagne. Je me porte fort bien, quoiqu’il pleuve presque tous les jours. Les événements se suivent avec rapidité. J’ai envoyé en France 4 000 prisonniers, 8 drapeaux, et j’ai 14 pièces de canon à l’ennemi. Adieu, mon amie, je t’embrasse.

### Letter 039 — XXXIX

Le 12 octobre 1805.

Mon armée est entrée à Munich. L’ennemi est au delà de l’Inn d’un côté; l’autre armée de 60 000 hommes, je la tiens bloquée sur l’Iller, entre Ulm et Memmingen. L’ennemi est perdu, a perdu la tête, et tout m’annonce la plus heureuse campagne, la plus courte et la plus brillante qui ait été faite. Je pars dans une heure pour Burgon-sur-l’Iller. Je me porte bien; le temps est cependant affreux. Je change d’habit deux fois par jour, tant il pleut. Je t’aime et t’embrasse.

### Letter 040 — XL

Elchingen, le 18 octobre 1805.

J’ai été, ma bonne Joséphine, plus fatigué qu’il ne le fallait; une semaine entière et toutes les journées l’eau sur le corps et les pieds froids, m’ont fait un peu de mal; mais, la journée d’aujourd’hui, où je ne suis pas sorti, m’a reposé. J’ai rempli mon dessein; j’ai détruit l’armée antrichienne par de simples marches; j’ai fait 60 000 prisonniers, pris 120 pièces de canon, plus de 90 drapeaux et plus de 30 généraux. Je vais me porter sur les Russes; il sont perdus. Je suis content de mon armée. Je n’ai perdu que, 1 500 hommes dont les deux tiers faiblement blessés. Adieu, ma Joséphine; mille choses aimables partout. Le prince Charles vient couvrir Vienne. Je pense que Masséna doit être à cette heure à Vienne. Dès l’instant que je serai tranquille pour l’Italie, je ferai battre Eugène. Mille choses aimables à Hortense.

### Letter 041 — XLI

Ulm, le 21 octobre 1805.

Je me porte assez bien, ma bonne amie. Je pars à l’instant pour Augsbourg. J’ai fait mettre bas les armes à 33 000 hommes. J’ai de 60 à 70 000 prisonniers, plus de 90 drapeaux et de 200 pièces de canon. Jamais catastrophe pareille dans les annales militaires! Porte-toi bien. Je suis un peu harassé. Le temps est beau depuis trois jours. La première colonne de prisonniers file aujourd’hui sur la France. Chaque colonne est de 6 000 hommes.

### Letter 042 — XLII

Augsbourg, le 23 octobre 1805.

Les deux dernières nuits m’ont bien reposé, et je vais partir demain pour Munich. Je mande M. de Talleyrand et M. Maret près de moi; je les verrai peu et je vais me rendre sur l’Inn, pour attaquer l’Autriche au sein de ses États héréditaires. J’aurais bien désiré te voir: mais ne compte pas que je t’appelle, à moins qu’il n’y ait un armistice ou des quartiers d’hiver. Adieu, mon amie; mille baisers. Mille compliments à ces dames.

### Letter 043 — XLIII

Munich, le 27 octobre 1805.

J’ai reçu par Lemarrois ta lettre. J’ai vu avec peine que tu t’étais trop inquiétée. L’on m’a donné des détails qui m’ont prouvé toute la tendresse que tu me portes; mais il faut plus de force et de confiance. J’avais d’ailleurs prévenu que je serais six jours sans t’écrire. J’attends demain l’électeur. À midi, je pars pour confirmer mon mouvement sur l’Inn. Ma santé est assez bonne. Il ne faut pas penser passer le Rhin avant quinze ou vingt jours. Il faut être gaie, t’amuser, et espérer qu’avant la fin du mois (brumaire) nous nous verrons. Je m’avance contre l’armée russe. Dans quelques jours j’aurai passé l’Inn. Adieu, ma bonne amie; mille choses aimables à Hortense, à Eugène, et aux deux Napoléon. Garde la corbeille quelque temps encore. J’ai donné hier aux dames de cette cour un concert. Le maître de chapelle est un homme de mérite. J’ai chassé à une faisanderie de l’électeur; tu vois que je ne suis pas si fatigué. M. de Talleyrand est arrivé.

### Letter 044 — XLIV

Haag, le 3 novembre 1805.

Je suis en grande marche; le temps est très froid, la terre couverte d’un pied de neige. Cela est un peu rude. Il ne manque heureusement pas de bois; nous sommes ici toujours dans les forêts. Je me porte assez bien. Mes affaires vont d’une manière satisfaisante; mes ennemis doivent avoir plus de soucis que moi. Je désire avoir de tes nouvelles et apprendre que tu es sans inquiétude. Adieu, mon amie, je vais me coucher.

### Letter 045 — XLV

Lintz, le 5 novembre 1805.

Je suis à Lintz. Le temps est beau. Nous sommes à vingt-huit lieues de Vienne. Les Russes ne tiennent pas; ils sont en grande retraite. La maison d’Autriche est fort embarrassée; à Vienne, on évacue tous les bagages de la cour. Il est probable que d’ici à cinq ou six jours, il y aura du nouveau. Je désire bien te revoir. Ma santé est bonne, je t’embrasse.

### Letter 046 — XLVI

Vienne, le 15 novembre 1805.

Je suis à Vienne depuis deux jours, ma bonne amie, un peu fatigué. Je n’ai pas encore vu la ville de jour; je l’ai parcourue la nuit. Demain, je reçois les notables. Presque toutes mes troupes sont au delà du Danube, à la poursuite des Russes. Adieu, ma Joséphine; du moment que cela sera possible, je te ferai venir. Mille choses aimables pour toi.

### Letter 047 — XLVII

Vienne, le 16 novembre 1805.

J’écris à M. d’Harville pour que tu partes et que tu te rendes à Bade, de là à Stuttgard et de là à Munich. Tu donneras, à Stuttgard, la corbeille à la princesse Paul. Il suffit qu’il y ait pour quinze à vingt mille francs; le reste sera pour faire des prêsents, à Munich, aux filles de l’électeur de Bavière. Tout ce que tu as su par madame de Sérent est définitivement arrangé. Porte de quoi faire des présents aux dames et aux officiers qui seront de service près de toi. Sois honnête, mais reçois tous les hommages: l’on te doit tout, et tu ne dois rien que par honnêteté. L’électrice de Wurtemberg est fille du roi d’Angleterre; c’est une bonne femme, tu dois la bien traiter, mais cependant sans affectation. Je serai bien aise de te voir, du moment que mes affaires me le permettront. Je pars pour mon avant-garde. Il fait un temps affreux, il neige beaucoup; du reste, toutes mes affaires vont bien; adieu, ma bonne amie.

### Letter 048 — XLVIII

Austerlitz, le 3 décembre 1805.

Je t’ai expédié Lebrun du champ de bataille. J’ai battu l’armée russe et autrichienne commandées par les deux empereurs. Je me suis un peu fatigué: j’ai bivouaqué huit jours en plein air, par des nuits assez fraîches. Je couche ce soir dans le château du prince de Kaunitz, où je vais dormir deux ou trois heures. L’armée russe est non seulement battue mais détruite. Je t’embrasse.

### Letter 049 — XLIX

Austerlitz, le 4 décembre 1805.

J’ai conclu une trêve. Les Russes s’en vont. La bataille d’Austerlitz est la plus belle de toutes celles que j’ai données: 45 drapeaux, plus de 150 pièces de canon, les étendards de la garde de Russie, 20 généraux, plus de 20 000 tués; spectacle horrible! L’empereur Alexandre est au désespoir, et s’en va en Russie. J’ai vu hier à mon bivouac l’empereur d’Allemagne; nous causâmes deux heures; nous sommes convenus de faire vite la paix. Le temps n’est pas encore très mauvais. Voilà enfin le repos rendu au continent; il faut espérer qu’il va l’être au monde, les Anglais ne sauraient nous faire front. Je verrai avec bien du plaisir le moment qui me rapprochera de toi. Il court un petit mal d’yeux qui dure deux jours; je n’ai pas encore été atteint. Adieu, ma bonne amie, je me porte assez bien et suis fort désireux de t’embrasser.

### Letter 050 — L

Austerlitz, le 7 décembre 1805.

J’ai conclu un armistice; avant huit jours la paix sera faite. Je désire apprendre que tu es arrivée à Munich en bonne santé. Les Russes s’en vont, ils ont fait une perte immense. Plus de 20 000 morts, et 30 000 pris; leur armée est réduite des trois quarts. Buxhowden, leur général en chef, est tué. J’ai 3 000 blessés et 7 à 800 morts. J’ai un peu mal aux yeux; c’est une maladie courante et très peu de chose. Adieu, mon amie; je désire bien te revoir. Je vais coucher ce soir à Vienne.

### Letter 051 — LI

Brunn, le 10 décembre 1805.

Il y a fort longtemps que je n’ai reçu de tes nouvelles. Les belles fêtes de Bade, de Stuttgard et de Munich, font-elles oublier les pauvres soldats qui vivent couverts de boue, de pluie et de sang? Je vais partir sous peu pour Vienne. On travaille à conclure la paix. Les Russes sont partis, et fuient loin d’ici; ils s’en retournent en Russie bien battus et fort humiliés. Je désire bien me retrouver près de toi. Adieu, mon amie; mon mal d’yeux est guéri.

### Letter 052 — LII

Brunn, le 19 décembre 1805.

Grande impératrice, pas une lettre de vous depuis votre départ de Strasbourg. Vous avez passé à Bade, à Stuttgard, à Munich, sans nous écrire un mot. Ce n’est pas bien aimable, ni bien tendre! Je suis toujours à Brunn. Les Russes sont partis, j’ai une trève. Dans peu de jours, je verrai ce que je deviendrai. Daignez, du haut de vos grandeurs, vous occuper un peu de vos esclaves.

### Letter 053 — LIII

Schœnbrunn, le 29 frimaire an XIV (20 décembre 1805.)

Je reçois ta lettre du 25 (frimaire). J’apprends avec peine que tu es souffrante; ce n’est pas là une bonne disposition pour faire cent lieues dans cette saison. Je ne sais ce que je ferai: je dépends des événements; je n’ai pas de volonté: j’attends tout de leur issue. Reste à Munich, amuse-toi; cela n’est pas difficile lorsqu’on a tant de personnes aimables, et dans un si beau pays. Je suis, moi, assez occupé. Dans quelques jours, je serai décidé. Adieu, mon amie, mille choses aimables et tendres.

### Letter 054 — LIV

5 octobre 1806.

Il n’y a pas d’inconvénient que la princesse de Bade se rende à Mayence. Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu pleures; tu as tort de te faire du mal. Hortense est un peu pédante; elle aime à donner des conseils. Elle m’a écrit, je lui réponds. Il faut qu’elle soit heureuse et gaie. Le courage et la gaieté, voilà la recette.

### Letter 055 — LV

Bamberg, 7 octobre 1806.

Je pars ce soir, mon amie, pour Cronach. Toute mon armée est en mouvement. Tout marche bien, ma santé est parfaite. Je n’ai encore reçu qu’une lettre de toi. J’en ai reçu d’Eugène et d’Hortense. Stéphanie doit être chez toi. Son mari veut faire la guerre; il est avec moi. Adieu, mille baisers et bonne santé.

### Letter 056 — LVI

Géra, le 13 octobre 1806, deux heures du matin.

Je suis aujourd’hui à Géra, ma bonne amie; mes affaires vont fort bien, et tout comme je pouvais l’espérer. Avec l’aide de Dieu, en peu de jours cela aura un caractère bien terrible, je crois, pour le pauvre roi de Prusse, que je plains personnellement, parce qu’il est bon. La reine est à Erfurt avec le roi. Si elle veut voir une bataille, elle aura ce cruel plaisir. Je me porte à merveille; j’ai déjà engraissé depuis mon départ; cependant, je fais de ma personne vingt et vingt-cinq lieues par jour, à cheval, en voiture, de toutes les manières. Je me couche à huit heures, et suis levé à minuit: je songe quelquefois que tu n’es pas encore couchée. Tout à toi.

### Letter 057 — LVII

Iéna, le 15 octobre 1806, trois heures du matin.

Mon amie, j’ai fait de belles manœuvres contre les Prussiens. J’ai remporté hier une grande victoire. Ils étaient 150 000 hommes; j’ai fait 20 000 prisonniers, pris 100 pièces de canon et des drapeaux. J’étais en présence et près du roi de Prusse; j’ai manqué de le prendre, ainsi que la reine. Je bivouaque depuis deux jours. Je me porte à merveille. Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien, et aime-moi. Si Hortense est à Mayence, donne-lui un baiser, ainsi qu’à Napoléon et au petit.

### Letter 058 — LVIII

Weimar,le 16 octobre 1806.

M. Talleyrand t’aura montré le bulletin, ma bonne amie; tu y auras vu mes succès. Tout a été comme je l’avais calculé, et jamais une armée n’a été plus battue, et plus entièrement perdue. Il me reste à te dire que je me porte bien, et que la fatigue, le bivouac, les veilles m’ont engraissé. Adieu, ma bonne amie, mille choses aimables à Hortense et au grand M. Napoléon.

### Letter 059 — LIX

Vittemberg, 23 octobre 1806.

J’ai reçu plusieurs lettres de toi. Je ne t’écris qu’un mot: mes affaires vont bien. Je serai demain à Postdam, et le 25 à Berlin. Je me porte à merveille; la fatigue me réussit. Je suis bien aise de te savoir avec Hortense et Stéphanie en grande compagnie. Le temps a été beau jusqu’à présent. Mille amitiés à Stéphanie et à tout le monde, sans oublier M. Napoléon. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 060 — LX

Postdam, 24 octobre 1806.

Je suis à Postdam, ma bonne amie, depuis hier; j’y resterai aujourd’hui. Je continue à être satisfait des affaires. Ma santé est bonne; le temps très beau. Je trouve Sans-Souci très agréable Adieu, mon amie. Bien des choses à Hortense et à M. Napoléon.

### Letter 061 — LXI

Berlin, le 1er novembre 1806.

Talleyrand arrive, et me dit, mon amie, que tu ne fais que pleurer. Que veux-tu donc? Tu as ta fille, tes petits-enfants et de bonnes nouvelles; voilà bien des moyens d’être contente et heureuse. Le temps est ici superbe; il n’a pas encore tombé de toute la campagne une seule goutte d’eau. Je me porte fort bien, et tout va au mieux. Adieu, mon amie, j’ai reçu une lettre de M. Napoléon; je ne crois pas qu’elle soit de lui, mais d’Hortense. Mille choses à tout le monde.

### Letter 062 — LXII

Berlin, le 6 novembre 1806, neuf heures du soir.

J’ai reçu la lettre où tu me parais fâchée du mal que je dis des femmes; il est vrai que je hais les femmes intrigantes, au delà de tout. Je suis accoutumé à des femmes bonnes, douces et conciliantes; ce sont celles que j’aime. Si elles m’ont gâté, ce n’est pas ma faute, mais la tienne. Au reste, tu verras que j’ai été fort bon pour une qui s’est montrée sensible et bonne, madame d’Hatzfeld. Lorsque je lui montrai la lettre de son mari, elle me dit en sanglotant, avec une profonde sensibilité et naïvement: « Ah! c’est bien là son écriture! » Lorsqu’elle lisait, son accent allait à l’âme; elle me fit peine. Je lui dis: « Eh bien! madame, jetez cette lettre au feu, je ne serai pas assez puissant pour faire punir votre mari. » Elle brûla la lettre, et me parut bien heureuse. Son mari est depuis fort tranquille; deux heures plus tard, il était perdu. Tu vois donc que j’aime les femmes bonnes, naïves et douces; mais c’est que celles-là seules te ressemblent. Adieu, mon amie, je me porte bien.

### Letter 063 — LXIII

Berlin, le 16 novembre 1806.

Je vois avec satisfaction que mes sentiments te font plaisir. Tu as tort de penser qu’ils puissent être flattés, je t’ai parlé de toi comme je te vois. Je suis affligé de penser que tu t’ennuies à Mayence. Si le voyage n’était pas si long, tu pourrais venir jusqu’ici car il n’y a plus d’ennemi, ou il est au delà de la Vistule, c’est-à-dire à plus de cent vingt lieues d’ici. J’attendrai ce que tu en penses. Je serai bien aise aussi de voir M. Napoléon. Adieu, ma bonne amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 064 — LXIV

Berlin, le 22 novembre 1806.

Sois contente, heureuse de mon amitié, de tout ce que tu m’inspires. Je me déciderai dans quelques jours à t’appeler ici, ou à t’envoyer à Paris. Adieu, mon amie; tu peux actuellement aller, si tu veux, à Darmstadt, à Francfort; cela te dissipera. Mille choses à Hortense.

### Letter 065 — LXV

Custrin, 26 novembre 1806.

Je suis à Custrin pour faire quelques reconnaissances, je verrai dans deux jours si tu dois venir. Tu peux te tenir prête. Je serai fort aise que la reine de Hollande soit du voyage. Il faut que la grande-duchesse de Bade en écrive à son mari. Il est deux heures du matin; je viens de me lever; c’est l’usage de la guerre. Mille choses aimables à toi et à tout le monde.

### Letter 066 — LXVI

Meseritz, le 27 novembre 1806.

Je vais faire un tour en Pologne; c’est ici la première ville. Je serai ce soir à Posen, après quoi je t’appellerai à Berlin, afin que tu y arrives le même jour que moi. Ma santé est bonne, le temps un peu mauvais; il pleut depuis trois jours. Mes affaires vont bien. Les Russes fuient.

### Letter 067 — LXVII

Posen, le 28 novembre 1806.

Je suis à Posen, capitale de la grande Pologne. Le froid commence; je me porte bien. Je vais faire une tournée en Pologne. Mes troupes sont aux portes de Varsovie. Adieu, mon amie, mille choses aimables. Je t’embrasse de cœur.

### Letter 068 — LXVIII

Posen, le 2 décembre 1806.

C’est aujourd’hui l’anniversaire d’Austerlitz. J’ai été à un bal de la ville. Il pleut. Je me porte bien. Je t’aime et te désire. Mes troupes sont à Varsovie. Il n’a pas encore fait froid. Toutes ces Polonaises sont Françaises, mais il n’y a qu’une femme pour moi. La connaîtrais-tu? Je te ferais bien son portrait; mais il faudrait trop le flatter pour que tu te reconnusses; cependant, à dire vrai, mon cœur n’aurait que de bonnes choses à en dire. Ces nuits-ci sont longues, tout seul. Tout à toi.

### Letter 069 — LXIX

Posen, le 3 décembre 1806, midi.

Je reçois ta lettre du 26 novembre; j’y vois deux choses: tu me dis que je ne lis pas tes lettres; cela est mal pensé. Je te sais mauvais gré d’une si mauvaise opinion. Tu me dis que ce pourrait être par quelque rêve de la nuit, et tu ajoutes que tu n’es pas jalouse. Je me suis aperçu depuis longtemps que les gens colères soutiennent toujours qu’ils ne sont pas colères; que ceux qui ont peur disent souvent qu’ils n’ont pas peur; tu es donc convaincue de jalousie; j’en suis enchanté! Du reste, tu as tort; je ne pense à rien moins, et dans les déserts de la belle Pologne l’on songe peu aux belles. J’ai eu hier un bal de la noblesse de la province; d’assez belles femmes, assez riches, assez mal mises, quoique à la mode de Paris.

### Letter 070 — LXX

Posen, le 3 décembre 1806, six heures du soir.

Je reçois ta lettre du 27 novembre, où je vois que ta petite tête s’est montée. Je me suis souvenu de ce vers:

Désir de femme est un feu qui dévore.

Il faut cependant te calmer. Je t’ai écrit que j’étais en Pologne, que, lorsque les quartiers d’hiver seraient assis, tu pourrais venir; il faut donc rester quelques jours. Plus on est grand, et moins on doit avoir de volonté; l’on dépend des événements et des circonstances. Tu peux aller à Francfort et à Darmstadt. J’espère, sous peu de jours, t’appeler; mais il faut que les événements le veuillent. La chaleur de ta lettre me fait voir que vous autres jolies femmes, vous ne connaissez pas de barrières; ce que vous voulez doit être; mais moi je me déclare le plus esclave des hommes: mon maître n’a pas d’entrailles, et ce maître c’est la nature des choses.

### Letter 071 — LXXI

Posen, le 10 décembre 1806.

Un officier m’apporte un tapis de ta part; il est un peu court et étroit; je ne t’en remercie pas moins. Je me porte assez bien. Le temps est fort variable. Mes affaires vont assez bien. Je t’aime et te désire beaucoup. Adieu, mon amie; je t’écrirai de venir avec au moins autant de plaisir que tu viendras.

### Letter 072 — LXXII

Posen, le 12 décembre 1806.

Ma santé est bonne, le temps très doux; la mauvaise saison n’est pas commencée, mais les chemins sont mauvais dans un pays où il n’y a pas de chaussées. Hortense viendra donc avec Napoléon; j’en suis enchanté. Il me tarde bien de voir les choses pouvoir me mettre à même de te faire venir. J’ai fait ma paix avec la Saxe. L’électeur est roi, et de la Confédération. Adieu, ma bien-aimée Joséphine. Tout à toi. Un baiser à Hortense, Napoléon et à Stéphanie. Paër, le fameux musicien, sa femme, virtuose que tu as vue à Milan, il y a douze ans, et Brizzi sont ici; ils me donnent un peu de musique tous les soirs.

### Letter 073 — LXXIII

Posen, le 16 décembre 1806.

Mon amie, je pars pour Varsovie. Dans une quinzaine de jours je serai de retour. J’espère alors que je pourrai t’appeler. Toutefois, si cela était long, je verrais avec plaisir que tu retournasses à Paris, où tu es désirée. Tu sais bien que je dépends des événements.

### Letter 074 — LXXIV

Golimin, le 29 décembre 1806, cinq heures du matin.

Je ne t’écris qu’un mot, mon amie, je suis dans une mauvaise grange. J’ai battu les Russes, je leur ai pris trente pièces de canon, leurs bagages, et fait six mille prisonniers; mais le temps est affreux; il pleut, nous avons de la boue jusqu’aux genoux.

### Letter 075 — LXXV

Pultusk, le 31 décembre 1806.

J’ai bien ri en recevant tes dernières lettres. Tu le fais des belles de la grande Pologne une idée qu’elles ne méritent pas. J’ai eu deux ou trois jours le plaisir d’entendre Paër et deux chanteuses qui m’ont fait de la très bonne musique. J’ai reçu ta lettre dans une mauvaise grange, ayant de la boue, du vent et de la paille pour tout lit.

### Letter 076 — LXXVI

Varsovie, le 3 janvier 1807.

J’ai reçu ta lettre, mon amie. Ta douleur me touche; mais il faut bien se soumettre aux événements. Il y a trop de pays à traverser depuis Mayence jusqu’à Varsovie; il faut donc que les événements me permettent de me rendre à Berlin, pour que je t’écrive d’y venir. Cependant l’ennemi, battu, s’éloigne; mais j’ai bien des choses à régler ici. Je serais assez d’opinion que tu retournasses à Paris où tu es nécessaire. Renvoie ces dames qui ont leurs affaires; tu gagneras d’être débarrassée de gens qui ont dû bien te fatiguer. Je me porte bien; il fait mauvais. Je t’aime de cœur.

### Letter 077 — LXXVII

Varsovie, le 7 janvier 1807,

Mon amie, je suis touché de tout ce que tu me dis; mais la saison est froide, les chemins très mauvais, peu sûrs, je ne puis donc consentir à t’exposer à tant de fatigues. Rentre à Paris pour y passer l’hiver. Va aux Tuileries; reçois, et fais la même vie que tu as l’habitude de mener quand j’y suis; c’est là ma volonté. Peut-être ne tarderai-je pas à t’y rejoindre; mais il est indispensable que tu renonces à faire trois cents lieues dans cette saison, à travers des pays ennemis, et sur les derrières de l’armée. Crois qu’il m’en coûte plus qu’à toi de retarder de quelques semaines le bonheur de te voir; mais ainsi l’ordonnent les événements et le bien des affaires. Adieu, mon amie, sois gaie et montre du caractère.

### Letter 078 — LXXVIII

Varsovie, le 8 janvier 1807.

Ma bonne amie, je reçois ta lettre du 27 avec celles de M. Napoléon et d’Hortense, qui y étaient jointes. Je t’avais priée de rentrer à Paris: la saison est trop mauvaise, les chemins peu sûrs et détestables, les espaces trop considérables pour que je permette que tu viennes jusqu’ici, où mes affaires me retiennent. Il te faudrait au moins un mois pour arriver. Tu arriverais malade; il faudrait peut-être repartir alors; ce serait donc folie. Ton séjour à Mayence est trop triste, Paris te réclame; vas-y, c’est mon désir. Je suis plus contrarié que toi; j’eusse aimé à partager les longues nuits de cette saison avec toi; mais il faut obéir aux circonstances.

### Letter 079 — LXXIX

Varsovie, le 16 janvier 1807.

Je me porte fort bien, un peu ennuyé quelquefois de la longueur des nuits. Je vois ici, jusqu’à cette heure, assez peu de monde.

### Letter 080 — LXXX

Varsovie, le 16 janvier 1807.

Ma bonne amie, j’ai reçu ta lettre du 5 janvier; tout ce que tu me dis de ta douleur me peine. Pourquoi des larmes, du chagrin? N’as-tu donc plus de courage? Je te verrai bientôt: ne doute jamais de mes sentiments; et, si tu veux m’être plus chère encore, montre du caractère et de la force d’âme. Je suis humilié de penser que ma femme puisse se méfier de mes destinées. Adieu, mon amie; Je t’aime, je désire te voir, et veux te savoir contente et heureuse.

### Letter 081 — LXXXI

Varsovie, le 18 janvier 1807.

Je crains que tu n’aies bien du chagrin de notre séparation qui doit encore se prolonger de quelques semaines, et de ton retour à Paris. J’exige que tu aies plus de force. L’on me dit que tu pleures toujours: fi! que cela est laid! Ta lettre du 7 janvier me fait de la peine. Sois digne de moi, et prends plus de caractère. Fais à Paris la représentation convenable, et surtout sois contente. Je me porte très bien, et je t’aime beaucoup; mais si tu pleures toujours je te croirai sans courage et sans caractère. Je n’aime pas les lâches; une impératrice doit avoir du cœur.

### Letter 082 — LXXXII

Varsovie, janvier 1807.

Je reçois ta lettre du 15 janvier. Il est impossible que je permette à des femmes un voyage comme celui-ci: mauvais chemins, chemins peu sûrs et fangeux. Retourne à Paris, sois-y gaie, contente; peut-être y serai-je aussi bientôt. J’ai ri de ce que tu me dis, que tu as pris un mari pour être avec lui. Je pensais, dans mon ignorance, que la femme était faite pour le mari, le mari pour la patrie, la famille et la gloire. Pardon de mon ignorance. On apprend toujours avec nos belles dames. Adieu, mon amie; crois qu’il m’en coûte de ne pas te faire venir. Dis-toi: c’est une preuve combien je lui suis précieuse.

### Letter 083 — LXXXIII

Sans date (janvier 1807.)

Mon amie, ta lettre du 20 janvier m’a fait de la peine; elle est trop triste. Voilà le mal de n’être pas un peu dévote! Tu me dis que ton bonheur fait ta gloire. Cela n’est pas généreux; il faut dire: le bonheur des autres fait ma gloire. Cela n’est pas conjugal; il faut dire: le bonheur de mon mari fait ma gloire. Cela n’est pas maternel; il faudrait dire: le bonheur de mes enfants fait ma gloire. Or, comme les peuples, ton mari, tes enfants ne peuvent être heureux qu’avec un peu de gloire, il ne faut pas tant en faire fi. Joséphine, votre cœur est excellent, et votre raison faible; vous sentez à merveille, mais vous raisonnez moins bien. Voilà assez de querelle; je veux que tu sois gaie, contente de ton sort et que tu obéisses, non en grondant et en pleurant, mais de gaieté de cœur et avec un peu de bonheur. Adieu, mon amie, je pars cette nuit pour parcourir mes avant-postes.

### Letter 084 — LXXXIV

Eylau, trois heures du matin, 9 février 1807.

Mon amie, il y a eu hier une grande bataille; la victoire m’est restée, mais j’ai perdu bien du monde; la perte de l’ennemi, qui est plus considérable encore, ne me console pas. Enfin je t’écris ces deux lignes moi-même, quoique je sois bien fatigué, pour te dire que je suis bien portant et que je t’aime. Tout à toi.

### Letter 085 — LXXXV

Eylau, 9 février 1807, six heures du soir.

Je t’écris un mot, mon amie, afin que tu ne sois pas inquiète. L’ennemi a perdu la bataille, 40 pièces de canon, 10 drapeaux, 12 000 prisonniers; il a horriblement souffert. J’ai perdu du monde, 1 600 tués, 3 à 4 000 blessés. Ton cousin Tascher se porte bien; je l’ai appelé près de moi avec le titre d’officier d’ordonnance. Corbineau a été tué d’un obus.; je m’étais singulièrement attaché à cet officier, qui avait beaucoup de mérite; cela me fait de la peine Ma garde à cheval s’est couverte de gloire. D’Allemagne est blessé dangereusement. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 086 — LXXXVI

Eylau, le 11 février 1807; trois heures du matin.

Je t’écris un mot, mon amie; tu dois avoir été bien inquiète. J’ai battu l’ennemi dans une mémorable journée, mais qui m’a coûté bien des braves. Le mauvais temps qu’il fait me porte à prendre mes cantonnements. Ne te désole pas, je te prie; tout cela finira bientôt, et le bonheur de te voir me fera promptement oublier mes fatigues. Du reste, je n’ai jamais été si bien portant. Le petit Tascher, du 4e de ligne, s’est bien comporté; il a eu une rude épreuve. Je l’ai appelé près de moi, je l’ai fait officier d’ordonnance; ainsi, voilà ses peines finies. Ce jeune homme m’intéresse. Adieu, mon amie, mille baisers.

### Letter 087 — LXXXVII

Landsberg, le 18 février 1807.

Je t’écris deux mots. Je me porte bien. Je suis en mouvement pour mettre mon armée en quartier d’hiver. Il pleut et dégèle comme au mois d’avril. Nous n’avons pas encore eu une journée froide. Adieu, mon amie, tout à toi.

### Letter 088 — LXXXVIII

Liebstadt, 20 février 1807.

Je t’écris deux mots, mon amie, pour que tu ne sois pas inquiète. Ma santé est fort bonne et mes affaires vont bien. J’ai remis mon armée en cantonnements. La saison est bizarre: il gèle et dégèle; elle est humide et inconstante. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 089 — LXXXIX

Liebstadt, 21 février 1807.

Je reçois ta lettre du 4 février; j’y vois avec plaisir que ta santé est bonne. Paris achèvera de te rendre la gaieté et le repos, le retour à tes habitudes, la santé. Je me porte à merveille. Le temps et le pays sont mauvais. Mes affaires vont assez bien; il dégèle et gèle dans vingt-quatre heures; l’on ne peut voir un hiver aussi bizarre. Adieu, mon amie; je t’aime, je pense à toi et désire te savoir contente, gaie et heureuse. Tout à toi.

### Letter 090 — XC

Liebstadt, 22 février 1807.

Je reçois ta lettre du 8, mon amie; je vois avec plaisir que tu as été à l’Opéra et que tu as le projet de recevoir toutes les semaines. Va quelquefois au spectacle, et toujours en grande loge. Je vois aussi avec plaisir les fêtes qu’on te donne. Je me porte très bien. Le temps est toujours incertain; il gèle et dégèle. J’ai remis mon armée en cantonnements pour la reposer. Ne sois jamais triste, aime-moi, et crois à tous mes sentiments.

### Letter 091 — XCI

Au quartier-général, à Osterode, mars 1807.

Je suis dans un mauvais village, où je passerai encore bien du temps; cela ne vaut pas la grande ville. Je te le répète, je ne me suis jamais si bien porté; tu me trouveras fort engraissé. J’ai ordonné ce que tu désires pour la Malmaison; sois gaie et heureuse, c’est ma volonté. — J’attends la belle saison, qui ne doit pas tarder à venir. Je t’aime, et te veux savoir contente et gaie. L’on dira beaucoup de bêtises sur la bataille d’Eylau; le bulletin dit tout; les pertes y sont plutôt exagérées qu’amoindries.

### Letter 092 — XCII

Osterode, le 23 mars 1807.

J’apprends, mon amie, que les mauvais propos que l’on tenait dans ton salon à Mayence se renouvellent; fais-les donc taire. Je te saurais fort mauvais gré si tu n’y portais pas remède. Tu te laisses affliger par les propos de gens qui devraient te consoler. Je te recommande un peu de caractère, et de savoir mettre tout le monde à sa place. — Mon amie, il ne faut pas aller en petite loge aux petits spectacles; cela ne convient pas à votre rang; vous ne devez aller qu’aux quatre grands théâtres et toujours en grande loge. — Pour m’être agréable, il faut, absolument en tout, vivre comme tu vivais lorsque j’étais à Paris. Alors tu ne sortais pas pour aller à de petits spectacles, ou autres lieux. Tu dois toujours aller en grande loge. Pour la vie de chez toi, recevoir là, et avoir tes cercles réglés; voilà, mon amie, le seul moyen de mériter mon approbation. Les grandeurs ont leurs inconvénients; une impératrice ne peut pas aller où va une simple particulière.

### Letter 093 — XCIII

Osterode, le 27 mars 1807.

Mon amie, ta lettre me fait de la peine. Tu ne dois pas mourir; tu te portes bien, et tu ne peux avoir aucun sujet raisonnable de chagrin. Je pense que tu dois aller au mois de mai à Saint-Cloud; mais il faut rester tout le mois d’avril à Paris… Tu ne dois pas penser à voyager cet été; tout cela n’est pas possible; tu ne dois pas courir les auberges et les camps. Je désire, autant que toi, te voir et vivre tranquille. Je sais faire autre chose que la guerre; mais le devoir passe avant tout. Toute ma vie, j’ai tout sacrifié, tranquillité, intérêt, bonheur à ma destinée.

### Letter 094 — XCIV

Finkestein, le 2 avril 1807.

Mon amie, je t’écris un mot. Je viens de porter mon quartier-général dans un très beau château, dans le genre de celui de Bessières, où j’ai beaucoup de cheminées; ce qui m’est fort agréable, me levant souvent la nuit; j’aime à voir le feu. Ma santé est parfaite. Le temps est beau, mais encore froid. Le thermomètre est de quatre à cinq degrés. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 095 — XCV

Finkestein, le 14 mai 1807.

Je conçois tout le chagrin que doit te causer la mort de ce pauvre Napoléon. Tu peux comprendre la peine que j’éprouve. Je voudrais être près de toi, pour que tu fusses modérée et sage dans ta douleur. Tu as eu le bonheur de ne jamais perdre d’enfants; mais c’est une des conditions et des peines attachées à notre misère humaine. Que j’apprenne que tu as été raisonnable, et que tu te portes bien! Voudrais-tu accroître ma peine? Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 096 — XCVI

Finkestein, 24 mai 1807.

Hortense n’est pas raisonnable, et ne mérite pas qu’on l’aime, puisqu’elle n’aimait que ses enfants. Tâche de la calmer, et ne me fais point de peine. À tout mal sans remède, il faut trouver des consolations.

### Letter 097 — XCVII

Finkestein, 26 mai 1807.

Je reçois ta lettre du 16. J’ai vu avec plaisir qu’Hortense était arrivée à Laeken. Je suis fâché de ce que tu me mandes de l’espèce de stupeur où elle est encore. Il faut qu’elle ait plus de courage, et qu’elle prenne sur elle. Je ne conçois pas pourquoi on veut qu’elle aille aux eaux; elle serait bien plus dissipée à Paris. Prends sur toi, sois gaie, et porte-toi bien. Ma santé est fort bonne. Adieu, mon amie; je souffre bien de toutes tes peines; je suis contrarié de ne pas être auprès de toi.

### Letter 098 — XCVIII

Dantzick, le 2 juin 1807.

Mon amie, j’apprends ton arrivée à la Malmaison. Je n’ai point de lettres de toi. Je suis fâché contre Hortense; elle ne m’écrit pas un mot. Tout ce que tu me dis d’elle me peine. Comment n’as-tu pas pu un peu la distraire? tu pleures! J’espère que tu prendras sur toi, afin que je ne te trouve pas triste. Je suis à Dantzick depuis deux jours: le temps est fort beau; je me porte bien. Je pense plus à toi que tu ne penses à un absent. Adieu, mon amie, mille choses aimables. Fais passer cette lettre à Hortense.

Pour la reine Hortense:

2 juin. — Ma fille, vous ne m’avez pas écrit un mot dans votre juste et grande douleur. Vous avez tout oublié, comme si vous n’aviez pas encore de pertes à faire. L’on dit que vous n’aimez plus rien, que vous êtes indifférente à tout; je m’en aperçois à votre silence. Cela n’est pas bien, Hortense. Ce n’est pas ce que vous nous promettiez. Votre fils était tout pour vous. Votre mère et moi, nous ne sommes donc rien? Si j’avais été à la Malmaison, j’aurais partagé votre peine; mais j’aurais aussi voulu que vous vous rendissiez à vos meilleurs amis. Adieu, ma fille; soyez gaie; il faut se résigner. Portez-vous bien pour remplir tous vos devoirs. Ma femme est toute triste de votre état; ne lui faites plus de chagrin. Votre affectionné père.

### Letter 099 — XCIX

Le 14 juin 1807.

Mon amie, je ne t’écris qu’un mot, car je suis bien fatigué; voilà bien des jours que je bivouaque. Mes enfants ont dignement célébré l’anniversaire de la bataille de Marengo. La bataille de Friedland sera aussi célèbre et est aussi glorieuse pour mon peuple. Toute l’armée russe mise en route, 80 pièces de canon, 30 000 hommes pris ou tués, 25 généraux russes tués, blessés ou pris, la garde russe écrasée; c’est une digne sœur de Marengo, Austerlitz, Iéna. Le bulletin te dira le reste. Ma perte n’est pas considérable; j’ai manœuvré l’ennemi avec succès. Sois sans inquiétude et contente. Adieu, mon amie, je monte à cheval.

### Letter 100 — C

Le 15 juin 1807.

Mon amie, je t’ai expédié hier Moustache avec la nouvelle de la bataille de Friedland. Depuis, j’ai continué à poursuivre l’ennemi. Kœnigsberg, qui est une ville de 80 000 âmes, est en mon pouvoir. J’y ai bien trouvé des canons, beaucoup de magasins et enfin plus de 60 000 fusils venant d’Angleterre. Adieu, mon amie, ma santé est parfaite, quoique je sois enrhumé par la pluie et le froid du bivouac. Sois contente et gaie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 101 — CI

Tilsitt, le 19 juin 1807.

J’ai expédié Tascher près de toi pour calmer toutes tes inquiétudes. Tout va ici au mieux. La bataille de Friedland a décidé de tout. L’ennemi est confondu, abattu, extrêmement affaibli. Ma santé est bonne, et mon armée est superbe. Adieu, mon amie, sois gaie et contente.

### Letter 102 — CII

Tilsitt, le 20 juin 1807.

Mon amie, je viens de voir l’empereur Alexandre; j’ai été fort content de lui; c’est un fort beau, bon et jeune empereur; il a de l’esprit plus qu’on ne le pense communément. Il vient loger en ville à Tilsitt demain. Adieu, mon amie, je désire fort que tu te portes bien, et sois contente. Ma santé est fort bonne.

### Letter 103 — CIII

Tilsitt, le 3 juillet 1807.

Mon amie, M. de Turenne te donnera tous les détails de ce qui se passe ici; tout va fort bien. Je crois t’avoir dit que l’empereur de Russie porte ta santé avec beaucoup d’amabilité. Il dîne, ainsi que le roi de Prusse, tous les jours chez moi. Je désire que tu sois contente. Adieu, mon amie, mille choses aimables.

### Letter 104 — CIV

Tilsitt, 6 juillet 1807.

J’ai reçu ta lettre du 25 juin. J’ai vu avec peine que tu étais égoïste, et que les succès de mes armes seraient pour toi sans attraits. La belle reine de Prusse doit venir dîner avec moi aujourd’hui. Je me porte bien, et désire beaucoup te revoir, quand le destin l’aura marqué. Cependant, il est possible que cela ne tarde pas.

### Letter 105 — CV

Tilsitt, 7 juillet 1807.

Mon amie, la reine de Prusse a dîné hier avec moi. J’ai eu à me défendre de ce qu’elle voulait m’obliger à faire encore quelques concessions à son mari; mais j’ai été galant, et je me suis tenu à ma politique. Elle est fort aimable. J’irai te donner des détails qu’il me serait impossible de te donner sans être bien long. Quand tu liras cette lettre, la paix avec la Prusse et la Russie sera conclue, et Jérôme reconnu roi de Westphalie avec trois millions de population. Ces nouvelles pour toi seule. Adieu, mon amie; je t’aime et veux te savoir contente et gaie.

### Letter 106 — CVI

Dresde, le 18 juillet 1807.

Mon amie, je suis arrivé hier, à cinq heures du soir, à Dresde, fort bien portant, quoique je sois resté cent heures en voiture, sans sortir. Je suis ici chez le roi de Saxe, dont je suis fort content. Je suis donc rapproché de toi de plus de la moitié du chemin. Il se peut qu’une de ces belles nuits, je tombe à Saint-Cloud comme un jaloux, je t’en préviens. Adieu, mon amie; j’aurai grand plaisir à te voir. Tout à toi.

### Letter 107 — CVII

Milan, le 25 novembre 1807.

Je suis ici, mon amie, depuis deux jours. Je suis bien aise de ne te pas avoir emmenée; tu aurais horriblement souffert au passage du Mont-Cenis, où une tourmente m’a retenu vingt-quatre heures. J’ai trouvé Eugène bien portant; je suis fort content de lui. La princesse est malade; j’ai été la voir à Monza; elle a fait une fausse-couche; elle va mieux. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 108 — CVIII

Venise, le 30 novembre 1807.

Je reçois ta lettre du 22 novembre. Je suis à Venise depuis deux jours. Le temps est fort mauvais, ce qui ne m’a pas empêché de courir les lagunes, pour voir les différents forts. Je vois avec plaisir que tu t’amuses à Paris. Le roi de Bavière, avec sa famille, ainsi que la princesse Élisa sont ici. Passé le 2 décembre, que je ferai ici, je serai sur mon retour et fort aise de te voir. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 109 — CIX

Udine, le 11 décembre 1807.

J’ai reçu, mon amie, ta lettre du 3 décembre, où je vois que tu as été fort contente du Jardin des Plantes. Me voilà au terme le plus éloigné de mon voyage; il est possible que je sois bientôt à Paris, où je serai fort aise de te revoir. Le temps n’a pas encore été froid ici, mais très pluvieux. J’ai profité du dernier moment de la saison, car je suppose qu’à Noël l’hiver se fera enfin sentir. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 110 — CX

Erfurt, le 29 septembre 1808.

Je suis un peu enrhumé. J’ai reçu ta lettre de Malmaison. Je suis fort satisfait ici de l’empereur et de tout le monde. Il est une heure après minuit, et je suis fatigué. Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien.

### Letter 111 — CXI

Erfurt, le 9 octobre 1808.

J’ai reçu, mon amie, ta lettre. Je vois avec plaisir que tu te portes bien. Je viens de chasser sur le champ de bataille d’Iéna. Nous avons déjeuné dans l’endroit où j’avais passé la nuit au bivouac. J’ai assisté au bal de Weimar. L’empereur Alexandre danse; mais moi, non; quarante ans sont quarante ans. Ma santé est bonne au fond, malgré quelques petits maux. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi. J’espère te voir bientôt.

### Letter 112 — CXII

Erfurt, octobre 1808.

Mon amie, je t’écris peu, je suis fort occupé. Des conversations de journées entières, cela n’arrange pas mon rhume. Cependant tout va bien. Je suis content d’Alexandre, il doit l’être de moi. S’il était femme, je crois que j’en ferais mon amoureuse. Je serai chez toi dans peu; porte-toi bien, et que je te trouve fraîche et grasse.

### Letter 113 — CXIII

Tolosa, le 5 novembre 1808.

Je suis à Tolosa; je pars pour Vittoria, où je serai dans peu d’heures. Je me porte assez bien, et j’espère que tout cela sera bientôt fini.

### Letter 114 — CXIV

Burgos, le 14 novembre 1808.

Les affaires marchent ici avec une grande activité. Le temps est fort beau. Nous avons des succès. Ma santé est fort bonne.

### Letter 115 — CXV

26 novembre 1808.

J’ai reçu ta lettre. Je désire que ta santé soit aussi bonne que la mienne. Tout marche bien ici. Je pense que tu dois retourner aux Tuileries le 21 décembre, et, à dater de cette époque, donner un concert tous les huit jours.

### Letter 116 — CXVI

Madrid, 7 décembre 1808.

Je reçois ta lettre du 28. Je vois avec plaisir que tu te portes bien. Tu as su que le jeune Tascher se comporte bien; cela m’a fait plaisir. Ma santé est bonne. Il fait ici le temps de la dernière quinzaine de mai à Paris. Nous avons chaud, et point de feu, si ce n’est la nuit, qui est assez fraîche. Madrid est tranquille. Toutes mes affaires vont bien. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 117 — CXVII

Madrid, 10 décembre 1808.

Mon amie, je reçois ta lettre. Tu me dis qu’il fait mauvais à Paris; il fait ici le plus beau temps du monde. Dis-moi, je te prie, ce que veulent dire les réformes que fait Hortense; l’on dit qu’elle renvoie ses domestiques. Est-ce qu’on lui refuserait ce qui lui est nécessaire? Dis-moi un mot là-dessus; les réformes ne sont pas convenables. Adieu, mon amie. Tout va fort bien, et je te prie de te bien porter.

### Letter 118 — CXVIII

Madrid, le 21 décembre 1808.

Tu dois être entrée aux Tuileries le 12. J’espère que tu auras été contente de tes appartements. J’ai autorisé la présentation à toi et à la famille de Kourakin; reçois-le bien, et fais-le jouer avec toi. Adieu, mon amie; je me porte bien; le temps est pluvieux; il fait un peu froid.

### Letter 119 — CXIX

Madrid, le 22 décembre 1808.

Je pars à l’instant pour manœuvrer les Anglais, qui paraissent avoir reçu leur renfort, et vouloir faire les crânes. Le temps est beau, ma santé parfaite; sois sans inquiétude.

### Letter 120 — CXX

Le 31 décembre 1808.

Mon amie, je suis à la poursuite des Anglais depuis quelques jours; mais ils fuient épouvantés. Ils ont lâchement abandonné les débris de l’armée de la Romana, pour ne pas retarder leur retraite d’une demi-journée. Plus de cent chariots de bagages sont déjà pris. Le temps est bien mauvais. Lefèvre a été pris; il m’a fait une échauffourée avec 300 chasseurs: ces crânes ont passé une rivière à la nage, et ont été se jeter au milieu de la cavalerie anglaise; ils ont beaucoup tué; mais, au retour, Lefèvre a eu son cheval blessé; il se noyait; le courant l’a conduit sur la rive où étaient les Anglais; il a été pris. Console sa femme. Adieu, mon amie. Bessières, avec dix mille chevaux, est sur Astorga. Bonne année à tout le monde.

### Letter 121 — CXXI

Le 3 janvier 1809.

Je reçois, mon amie, tes lettres du 18 et du 21. Je poursuis les Anglais l’épée dans les reins. Le temps est froid et rigoureux, mais tout va bien. Adieu, mon amie, tout à toi! Bonne et bien bonne année à ma Joséphine.

### Letter 122 — CXXII

Bénavente, le 5 janvier 1809.

Mon amie, je t’écris un mot. Les Anglais sont dans une grande déroute. J’ai chargé le duc de Dalmatie de les poursuivre l’épée dans les reins. Je me porte bien. Le temps est mauvais. Adieu, mon amie;

### Letter 123 — CXXIII

Mansilla, le 8 janvier 1809.

Je reçois tes lettres du 23 et du 26. Je vois avec peine que tu souffres des dents. Je suis ici depuis deux jours. Le temps est comme la saison le comporte. Les Anglais s’embarquent. Je suis bien portant. Adieu, mon amie. J’écris à Hortense. Eugène a une fille. Tout à toi.

### Letter 124 — CXXIV

Le 9 janvier 1809.

Moustache m’apporte une lettre de toi, du 31 décembre. Je vois, mon amie, que tu as l’inquiétude noire. L’Autriche ne me fera pas la guerre. Si elle me la fait, j’ai 150 000 hommes en Allemagne, et autant sur le Rhin, et 400 000 Allemands pour lui répondre. La Russie ne se séparera pas de moi. On est fou à Paris; tout marche bien. Je serai à Paris aussitôt que je le croirai utile. Je te conseille de prendre garde aux revenants; un beau jour, à deux heures du matin… Mais, adieu, mon amie; je me porte bien, et suis tout à toi.

### Letter 125 — CXXV

Le 8 mai 1809.

Mon amie, j’ai reçu ta lettre. La balle qui m’a touché ne m’a pas blessé; elle a à peine rasé le talon d’Achille. Ma santé est fort bonne. Tu as tort de t’inquiéter. Mes affaires ici vont fort bien. Tout à toi.

### Letter 126 — CXXVI

Saint-Pœlten, le 9 mai 1809.

Mon amie, je t’écris de Saint-Pœlten. Demain, je serai devant Vienne. Ce sera juste un mois après le même jour où les Autrichiens ont passé l’Inn et violé la paix. Ma santé est fort bonne, le temps superbe, et le soldat fort gai; il y a ici du vin. Porte-toi bien. Tout à toi.

### Letter 127 — CXXVII

Schœnbrunn, le 12 mai 1809.

Je t’expédie le frère de la duchesse de Montebello pour t’apprendre que je suis maître de Vienne, et que tout va ici parfaitement. Ma santé est fort bonne.

### Letter 128 — CXXVIII

Schœnbrunn, le 31 mai 1809.

La perte du duc de Montebello, qui est mort ce matin, m’a fort affligé. Ainsi tout finit!… Adieu, mon amie; si tu peux contribuer à consoler la pauvre maréchale, fais-le. Tout à toi.

### Letter 129 — CXXIX

Schœnbrunn, le 16 juin 1809.

Je t’expédie un page pour t’annoncer que, le 14, anniversaire de Marengo, Eugène a gagné une bataille contre l’archiduc Jean et l’archiduc Palatin, à Raab, en Hongrie; qu’il leur a pris trois mille hommes, plusieurs pièces de canon, quatre drapeaux, et les a poursuivis fort loin sur le chemin de Bude.

### Letter 130 — CXXX

Ebersdorf, le 7 juillet 1809: cinq heures du matin.

Je t’expédie un page pour te donner la bonne nouvelle de la victoire d’Ebersdorf, que j’ai remportée le 5 et celle de Wagram, que j’ai remportée le 6. L’armée ennemie fuit en désordre, et tout marche selon mes vœux. Eugène se porte bien. Le prince Aldobrandini est blessé, mais légèrement. Bessières a eu un boulet qui lui a touché le gras de la cuisse; la blessure est très légère. Lasalle a été tué; mes pertes sont assez fortes; mais la victoire est décisive et complète. Nous avons plus de cent pièces de canon, douze drapeaux, beaucoup de prisonniers. Je suis brûlé par le soleil. Adieu, mon amie, je t’embrasse. Bien des choses à Hortense.

### Letter 131 — CXXXI

Le 9 juillet 1809, à deux heures du matin.

Tout va ici selon mes désirs. Mes ennemis sont défaits, battus, tout à fait en déroute. Ils étaient très nombreux. Je les ai écrasés. Ma santé est bonne aujourd’hui. Hier, j’ai été un peu malade d’un débordement de bile, occasionné par tant de fatigues; mais cela me fait grand bien. Adieu, mon amie, je me porte fort bien.

### Letter 132 — CXXXII

Au camp, devant Znaïm, le 13 juillet 1809.

Je t’envoie la suspension d’armes qui a été conclue hier avec le général autrichien. Eugène est du côté de la Hongrie et se porte bien. Envoie une copie de la suspension d’armes à Cambacérès, en cas qu’il ne l’ait pas déjà reçue. Je t’embrasse, et me porte fort bien.

### Letter 133 — CXXXIII

Le 24 juillet 1809.

Je reçois ta lettre du 18 juillet. Je vois avec plaisir que les eaux te font du bien. Je ne vois aucun inconvénient qu’à la fin de tes eaux tu ailles à la Malmaison. La chaleur est assez grande ici. Ma santé est fort bonne. Adieu, mon amie. Eugène est à Vienne, et très bien portant. Tout à toi.

### Letter 134 — CXXXIV

Schœnbrunn, le 7 août 1809.

Je vois par ta lettre que tu es à Plombières, et que tu comptes y rester; tu fais bien; les eaux et le beau climat ne peuvent que te faire du bien. Je reste ici. Ma santé et mes affaires vont selon mes souhaits. Je te prie de dire bien des choses aimables à Hortense et aux Napoléon. Tout à toi.

### Letter 135 — CXXXV

Schœnbrunn, le 21 août 1809.

J’ai reçu ta lettre du 14 août, de Plombières; j’y vois que tu seras arrivée le 18 à Paris, ou à la Malmaison. Tu auras été malade de la chaleur, qui est bien grande ici. Malmaison doit être bien sec et brûlé par ce temps-là. Ma santé est bonne. Je suis cependant un peu enrhumé de la chaleur. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 136 — CXXXVI

Schœnbrunn, le 26 août 1809.

Je reçois ta lettre de Malmaison. L’on m’a rendu compte que tu étais grasse, fraîche et bien portante. Je t’assure que Vienne n’est pas une ville amusante. Je voudrais fort être déjà à Paris. Adieu, mon amie. J’entends deux fois par semaine les Bouffons; ils sont assez médiocres; cela amuse les soirées. Il y a cinquante ou soixante femmes de Vienne, mais au parterre, comme n’ayant pas été présentées.

### Letter 137 — CXXXVII

Schœnbrunn, le 31 août 1809.

Je n’ai pas reçu de lettres de toi depuis plusieurs jours; les plaisirs de Malmaison, les belles serres, les beaux jardins font oublier les absents; c’est la règle, dit-on, chez vous autres. Tout le monde ne parle que de ta bonne santé, tout cela m’est fort sujet à caution. Je vais demain faire une absence de deux jours en Hongrie, avec Eugène. Adieu, mon amie. Tout à toi.

### Letter 138 — CXXXVIII

Kems, le 9 septembre 1809.

Mon amie, je suis ici depuis hier, à deux heures du matin; j’y suis venu pour voir mes troupes. Ma santé n’a jamais été meilleure. Je sais que tu es bien portante. Je serai à Paris au moment où personne ne m’attendra plus. Tout va ici fort bien, et à ma satisfaction. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 139 — CXXXIX

Le 23 septembre 1809.

J’ai reçu ta lettre du 16; je vois que tu te portes bien. La maison de la vieille fille ne vaut que 120 000 francs; ils n’en trouveront jamais plus. Cependant, je te laisse maîtresse de faire ce que tu voudras, puisque cela t’amuse; mais, une fois achetée, ne fais pas démolir pour y faire quelques rochers. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 140 — CXL

Le 25 septembre 1809.

J’ai reçu ta lettre. Ne te fie pas, et je te conseille de te bien garder la nuit; car une des prochaines tu entendras grand bruit. Ma santé est fort bonne; je ne sais ce que l’on débite; je ne me suis jamais mieux porté depuis bien des années. Corvisart ne m’était point utile. Adieu, mon amie; tout va ici fort bien. Tout à toi.

### Letter 141 — CXLI

Nymphenbourg, près Munich, le 21 octobre 1809.

Je suis ici depuis hier bien portant; je ne partirai pas encore demain. Je m’arrêterai un jour à Stuttgard. Tu seras prévenue vingt-quatre heures d’avance de mon arrivée à Fontainebleau. Je me fais une fête de te revoir, et j’attends ce moment avec impatience. Je t’embrasse. Tout à toi.

### Letter 142 — CXLII

Octobre 1809.

Mon amie, je t’écris pour t’apprendre que la paix a été signée, il y a deux heures, entre Champagny et le prince de Metternich. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 143 — CXLIII

Munich, octobre 1809.

Mon amie, je pars dans une heure. Je serai arrivé à Fontainebleau du 26 au 27: tu peux t’y rendre avec quelques dames.

### Letter 144 — CXLIV

Trianon, 18 décembre 1809, huit heures du soir.

Mon amie, je t’ai trouvée aujourd’hui plus faible que tu ne devrais être. Tu as montré du courage; il faut que tu en trouves pour te soutenir; il ne faut pas te laisser aller à une funeste mélancolie; il faut te trouver contente et surtout soigner ta santé, qui m’est si précieuse. Si tu m’es attachée et si tu m’aimes, tu dois te comporter avec force et te placer heureuse. Tu ne peux pas mettre en doute ma constante et tendre amitié, et tu connaîtrais bien mal tous les sentiments que je te porte si tu supposais que je puisse être heureux si tu n’es pas heureuse et surtout si tu ne te tranquillises. Adieu, mon amie; dors bien; songe que je le veux.

### Letter 145 — CXLV

Mardi, à six heures. (Trianon, 19 décembre 1809.)

La reine de Naples, que j’ai vue à la chasse au bois de Boulogne, où j’ai forcé un cerf, m’a dit qu’elle t’avait laissée hier, à une heure de l’après-midi, bien portante. Je te prie de me dire ce que tu as fait aujourd’hui. Moi, je me porte fort bien. Hier, quand je t’ai vue, j’étais malade. Je pense que tu auras été te promener. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 146 — CXLVI

Mercredi, 7 heures du soir. (Trianon, 20 décembre 1809.)

Je reçois ta lettre, mon amie. Savary me dit que tu pleures toujours. J’espère que tu auras pu te promener aujourd’hui. Je t’ai envoyé de ma chasse. Je viendrai te voir, lorsque tu me diras que tu es raisonnable et que ton courage prend le dessus. Demain, toute la journée, j’ai les ministres. Adieu, mon amie; je suis triste aussi aujourd’hui; j’ai besoin de te savoir satisfaite et d’apprendre que tu prends de l’aplomb. Dors bien.

### Letter 147 — CXLVII

Jeudi, à midi. (Trianon, le 21 décembre 1809.)

Je voulais venir te voir aujourd’hui, mon amie; mais je suis très occupé et un peu indisposé. Je vais cependant aller au conseil. Je te prie de me dire comment tu te portes. Ce temps est bien humide et pas du tout sain.

### Letter 148 — CXLVIII

Trianon, mardi 26 décembre 1809.

Je me suis couché hier après que tu as été partie, mon amie. Je vais à Paris. Je désire te savoir aie. Je viendrai te voir dans la semaine. J’ai reçu tes lettres, que je vais lire en voiture.

### Letter 149 — CXLIX

Mercredi, à midi. (Paris, le 27 décembre 1809.)

Eugène m’a dit que tu avais été toute triste hier; cela n’est pas bien, mon amie, c’est contraire à ce que tu m’avais promis. J’ai été fort ennuyé de revoir les Tuileries; ce grand palais m’a paru vide, et je m’y suis trouvé isolé. Adieu, mon amie; porte-toi bien.

### Letter 150 — CL

Paris, vendredi 29 décembre 1809.

Mon amie, je reçois ta lettre; je vois avec peine que tu as été malade; je crains que ce ne soit ce mauvais temps. Madame de la T… est une des plus folles du faubourg; j’ai souffert fort longtemps son caquet; je m’en suis ennuyé, et j’ai ordonné qu’elle ne revînt plus à Paris. Il y a cinq ou six autres vieilles femmes que je veux également renvoyer de Paris; elles gâtent les jeunes par leurs sottises. Je nommerai madame de Mackau baronne, puisque tu le désires, et ferai tes autres commissions. Ma santé est assez bonne. La conduite de B… me paraît fort ridicule. Je désire te savoir bien portante. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 151 — CLI

Paris, le 31 décembre 1809. (Dimanche, à dix heures du matin.)

J’ai aujourd’hui grande parade, mon amie; je verrai toute ma vieille garde, et plus de soixante trains d’artillerie. Le roi de Westphalie s’en va chez lui, ce qui pourra donner une maison vacante à Paris. Je suis triste de ne pas te voir. Si la parade finit avant trois heures, je viendrai; sans cela, à demain. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 152 — CLII

Paris, le 4 janvier 1810, jeudi soir.

Hortense, que j’ai vue cette après-midi, m’a donné, mon amie, de tes nouvelles. J’espère que tu auras été voir aujourd’hui tes plantes, la journée ayant été belle. Je ne suis sorti qu’un instant à trois heures, pour tirer quelques lièvres. Adieu, mon amie, dors bien.

### Letter 153 — CLIII

Vendredi, à huit heures. (Paris, le 5 janvier 1810.)

Je voulais venir te voir aujourd’hui; mais je ne le puis; ce sera, j’espère, pour demain. Il y a bien longtemps que tu ne m’as donné de tes nouvelles. J’ai appris avec plaisir que tu t’étais promenée dans ton jardin pendant ces froids. Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien, et ne doute jamais de mes sentiments.

### Letter 154 — CLIV

Le 7 janvier 1810. (Dimanche, à huit heures du soir.)

J’ai été bien content de t’avoir vue hier; je sens combien ta société a de charmes pour moi. J’ai travaillé aujourd’hui avec Estève. J’ai accordé 100 000 francs pour 1810, pour l’extraordinaire de la Malmaison. Tu peux donc faire planter tout ce que tu voudras; tu distribueras cette somme comme tu l’entendras. J’ai chargé Estève de remettre 200 000 francs aussitôt que le contrat de la maison Julien sera fait. J’ai ordonné que l’on paierait ta parure de rubis, laquelle sera évaluée par l’intendance, car je ne veux pas de voleries de bijoutiers. Ainsi, voilà 400 000 francs que cela me coûte. J’ai ordonné que l’on tînt le million que la liste civile te doit, pour 1810, à la disposition de ton homme d’affaires, pour payer tes dettes. Tu dois trouver, dans l’armoire de la Malmaison, 5 à 600 000 francs; tu peux les prendre pour faire ton argenterie et ton linge. J’ai ordonné qu’on te fît un très beau service de porcelaine; on prendra tes ordres pour qu’il soit très beau.

### Letter 155 — CLV

Mardi, 9 janvier 1810. Midi.

Je serais venu te voir aujourd’hui, si je n’avais dû aller voir le roide Bavière, qui vient d’arriver à Paris. Je serai chez lui ce soir à huit heures, et de retour à dix. J’espère te voir demain, et te trouver gaie et d’aplomb. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 156 — CLVI

Le mercredi, 10 janvier 1810.

Mon amie, je ne vois pas d’inconvénient que tu reçoives le roi de Wurtemberg quand tu voudras. Le roi et la reine de Bavière doivent aller te voir après-demain. Je désire fort aller à la Malmaison; mais il faut que tu sois forte et tranquille; le page de ce matin dit qu’il t’a vue pleurer. Adieu, mon amie; ne doute jamais de mes sentiments pour toi; tu serais injuste et mauvaise.

### Letter 157 — CLVII

Paris, le 13 janvier 1810. (Samedi, à une heure après-midi.)

Mon amie, j’ai vu hier Eugène qui m’a dit que tu recevrais les rois. J’ai été au concert jusqu’à huit heures; je n’ai dîné, tout seul, qu’à cette heure-là. Je désire bien te voir. Si je ne viens pas aujourd’hui, je viendrai après la messe. Adieu, mon amie; j’espère te trouver sage et bien portante. Ce temps-là doit bien te peser.

### Letter 158 — CLVIII

Le 17 janvier 1810.

Mon amie, d’Audenarde, que je t’ai envoyé ce matin, me dit que tu n’as plus de courage depuis que tu es à la Malmaison. Ce lieu est cependant tout plein de nos sentiments, qui ne peuvent et ne doivent jamais changer, du moins de mon côté. J’ai bien envie de te voir, mais il faut que je sois sûr que tu es forte, et non faible; je le suis aussi un peu, et cela me fait un mal affreux. Adieu, Joséphine; bonne nuit. Si tu doutais de moi, tu serais bien ingrate.

### Letter 159 — CLIX

Le 20 janvier 1810.

Je t’envoie, mon amie, la boîte que je t’avais promise avant-hier, et qui représente l’île de Lobau. J’ai été un peu fatigué hier. Je travaille beaucoup et ne sors pas. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 160 — CLX

Le 30 janvier 1810.

Mon amie, je reçois ta lettre. J’espère que la promenade que tu as faite aujourd’hui pour montrer ta serre, t’aura fait du bien. Je te saurai avec plaisir à l’Élysée, et fort heureux de te voir plus souvent, car tu sais combien je t’aime.

### Letter 161 — CLXI

Mardi, midi, 30 janvier 1810.

J’apprends que tu t’affliges, cela n’est pas bien. Tu es sans confiance en moi, et tous les bruits que l’on répand te frappent; ce n’est pas me connaître, Joséphine. Je t’en veux, et si je n’apprends que tu es gaie et contente, j’irai te gronder bien fort. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 162 — CLXII

Le 3 février 1810.

J’ai dit à Eugène que tu aimais plutôt à écouter les bavards d’une grande ville que ce que je te disais; qu’il ne faut pas que l’on te fasse des contes en l’air pour t’affliger. J’ai fait transporter tes effets à l’Élysée. Tu viendras incessamment à Paris; mais sois tranquille et contente, et aie confiance entière en moi.

### Letter 163 — CLXIII

Le 19 février 1810.

Mon amie, j’ai reçu ta lettre. Je désire te voir; mais les réflexions que tu fais sont peut-être vraies. Il y a peut-être quelque inconvénient à nous trouver sous le même toit pendant la première année. Cependant la campagne de Bessières est trop loin pour pouvoir revenir; d’un autre côté je suis un peu enrhumé, et je ne suis pas sûr d’y aller. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 164 — CLXIV

Le 12 mars 1810.

Mon amie, j’espère que tu auras été contente de ce que j’ai fait pour Navarre. Tu y auras vu un nouveau témoignage du désir que j’ai de t’être agréable. Fais prendre possession de Navarre; tu pourras y aller le 25 mars passer le mois d’avril. Adieu, mon amie.

### Letter 165 — CLXV bis

Compiègne, le 21 avril 1810.

Mon amie, je reçois ta lettre du 19 avril; elle est d’un mauvais style. Je suis toujours le même; mes pareils ne changent jamais. Je ne sais ce qu’Eugène a pu te dire. Je ne t’ai pas écrit, parce que tu ne l’as pas fait, et que j’ai désiré tout ce qui peut t’être agréable. Je vois avec plaisir que tu ailles à la Malmaison, et que tu sois contente; mais, je le serai de recevoir de tes nouvelles, et de te donner des miennes. Je n’en dis pas davantage jusqu’à ce que tu aies comparé cette lettre à la tienne; et, après cela, je te laisse juge qui est meilleur et plus ami de toi ou de moi. Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien, et sois juste pour toi et pour moi.

### Letter 166 — CLXVI

Compiègne, 26 avril 1810.

Mon amie, je reçois deux lettres de toi. J’écris à Eugène. J’ai ordonné que l’on fît le mariage de Tascher avec la princesse de La Layen. J’irai demain à Anvers voir ma flotte et ordonner des travaux. Je serai de retour le 15 mai. Eugène me dit que tu veux aller aux eaux; ne te gêne en rien. N’écoute pas les bavardages de Paris: ils sont oiseux et bien loin de connaître le véritable état des choses. Mes sentiments pour toi ne changent pas, et je désire beaucoup te savoir heureuse et contente.

### Letter 167 — CLXVII

Rambouillet, le 8 juillet 1810.

Mon amie, j’ai reçu ta lettre du 3 juillet. Tu auras vu Eugène, et sa présence t’aura fait du bien. J’ai appris avec plaisir que les eaux te sont bonnes. Le roi de Hollande vient d’abdiquer la couronne, en laissant la régence, selon la Constitution, à la reine. Il a quitté Amsterdam, et laissé le grand-duc de Berg. J’ai réuni la Hollande à la France; mais cet acte a cela d’heureux, qu’il émancipe la reine, et ton infortunée fille va venir à Paris avec son fils, le grand-duc de Berg; cela la rendra parfaitement heureuse. Ma santé est bonne. Je suis venu pour chasser quelques jours. Je te verrai avec plaisir cet automne. Ne doute jamais de mon amitié. Je ne change jamais. Porte-toi bien, sois gaie, et crois à la vérité de mes sentiments.

### Letter 168 — CLXVIII

Juillet 1810.

J’ai vu avec peine le danger que tu as couru. Pour une habitante des îles de l’Océan, mourir dans un lac, c’eût été une fatalité.

### Letter 169 — CLXIX

Fontainebleau, 1er octobre 1810.

J’ai reçu ta lettre. Hortense, que j’ai vue, t’aura dit ce que je pensais; va voir ton fils, cet hiver, reviens aux eaux d’Aix l’année prochaine, ou bien reste au printemps à Navarre. Je te conseillerais d’aller à Navarre tout de suite, si je ne craignais que tu ne t’y ennuyasses. Mon opinion est que tu ne peux être, l’hiver, convenablement qu’à Milan ou à Navarre; après cela, j’approuve tout ce que tu feras; car je ne te veux gêner en rien. Adieu, mon amie. L’impératrice est grosse de quatre mois; je nomme madame de Montesquiou gouvernante des enfants de France. Sois contente, et ne te monte jamais la tête; ne doute jamais de mes sentiments.

### Letter 170 — CLXX

Paris, le 8 janvier 1811.

J’ai reçu ta lettre pour le nouvel an. Je vois avec plaisir que tu es contente. On dit qu’il y a, à Navarre, plus de femmes que d’hommes. Ma santé est fort bonne, quoiqu’il y ait quinze jours que je ne sois sorti. Eugène me paraît sans inquiétude pour sa femme; il te donne un petit garçon. Adieu, mon amie, porte-toi bien.

### Letter 171 — CLXXI

Paris, le 22 mars 1811.

Mon amie, j’ai reçu ta lettre, je te remercie. Mon fils est gros et très bien portant. J’espère qu’il viendra bien. Il a ma poitrine, ma bouche et mes yeux. J’espère qu’il remplira sa destinée. Je suis toujours très content d’Eugène; il ne m’a jamais donné aucun chagrin.

### Letter 172 — CLXXII

Gubin, le 20 juin 1812.

Je ne vois pas d’inconvénient à ce que tu ailles à Milan, près de la vice-reine. Tu feras bien d’aller incognito. Tu auras bien chaud. Ma santé est fort bonne. Eugène se porte et se conduit bien. Ne doute jamais de mon intérêt et de mon amitié.

## Translation — Mouseia

> Machine-assisted Musean English translated from the French of the 172 Napoleon letters selected from Tancrède Martel, ed., Œuvres littéraires de Napoléon Bonaparte, tome 1 (Albert Savine, Paris, 1888). French Wikisource contributors supplied the scan-backed transcription: https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Bonaparte_-_Œuvres_littéraires,_tome_1,_1888.djvu (page histories credit contributors). The transcription is CC BY-SA 4.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/; this adapted text and translations are shared under the same license. Extraction removes markup and editorial notes; selected transcription repairs were checked against print images.

### Letter 001 — I

Paris, October 28, 1795.

I cannot imagine what could have prompted your letter. Please do me the kindness of believing that no one desires your friendship more than I do, or is more ready to do something to prove it. Had my duties allowed, I would have come to deliver my letter myself.

Buonaparte.

### Letter 002 — II

Paris, December 1795.

I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and yesterday's intoxicating evening have left my senses no rest. Sweet, incomparable Joséphine, what a strange effect you have on my heart! If you are angry, if I see you sad, if you are troubled, … my soul is broken with pain and your friend can find no rest. But do I find any more when, yielding to the deep feeling that masters me, I draw from your lips, from your heart, a flame that burns me? Ah! It was last night that I truly realized your portrait is not you. You leave at noon; I shall see you in three hours. Until then, my sweet love, a thousand kisses—but do not give me any, for they set my blood on fire.

### Letter 003 — III

Chanceaux, March 14, 1796.

I wrote to you from Châtillon and sent you a power of attorney so that you could collect various sums due to me. Every moment takes me farther from you, adorable friend, and every moment I find less strength to bear the distance. You are the constant object of my thoughts; my imagination exhausts itself trying to discover what you are doing. If I see you sad, my heart breaks and my pain grows. If you are cheerful, playful with your friends, I reproach you for so soon forgetting our painful separation of three days; then you are fickle and touched by no deep feeling. As you see, I am not easy to satisfy. But, my dear friend, it is quite another matter if I fear your health has suffered or that you have cause for sorrow; then I regret the speed with which they carry me away from my heart. I truly feel that your natural goodness no longer exists for me, and that only when I am fully assured that nothing unpleasant has happened to you can I be content. If anyone asks whether I have slept well, I feel that before answering I would need a courier to tell me that you have rested well. Illness and the fury of men affect me only through the thought that they might strike you, my dear friend. May my guardian spirit, who has always protected me amid great dangers, surround and shield you, while I expose myself unprotected. Ah! Do not be cheerful, but a little melancholy, and above all let your soul be free from sorrow, as your body from illness; you know what our good Ossian says about that. Write to me, my tender friend, at great length, and receive the thousand and one kisses of the most tender and faithful of friends.

### Letter 004 — IV

Port-Maurice, 14 Germinal (April 3, 1796).

I have received all your letters, but none has affected me as your last did. Do you realize what it is to write to me in such terms, my adorable friend? Do you think my position is not cruel enough already, without adding to my regrets and throwing my soul into turmoil? What style! What feelings you portray! They are fire; they burn my poor heart. My only Joséphine, away from you there is no joy; away from you the world is a desert where I remain alone, denied the sweetness of pouring out my heart. You have taken more than my soul from me; you are the only thought of my life. If I am weary of the trouble of affairs, if I fear their outcome, if men disgust me, if I am ready to curse life, I put my hand on my heart; your portrait beats there, I look at it, and love is absolute happiness to me, and all is joyful except the time when I find myself absent from my friend.

By what art have you captured all my faculties, centered my moral existence in yourself? To live for Joséphine! That is the story of my life. I act in order to come near you; I am dying to be close to you. Fool that I am! I do not see that I am moving farther away. How many lands, how many regions separate us! How long before you read these words, the frail expression of a moved soul in which you reign! Ah, my adorable wife! I do not know what fate awaits me; but if it keeps me away from you much longer, it will be unbearable: my courage does not reach so far. There was a time when I took pride in my courage, and sometimes, contemplating the harm men might do me, the lot destiny might reserve for me, I faced the most unheard-of misfortunes without a frown, without feeling astonished. But now the thought that my Joséphine may be unwell, that she might be ill, and above all the cruel, fatal thought that she might love me less, withers my soul, stops my blood, makes me sad and dejected, and leaves me not even the courage for fury and despair. I used to say to myself: men can do nothing to one who dies without regret. But now, to die without being loved by you, to die without that certainty, is the torment of hell, the vivid, striking image of absolute annihilation. I feel as though I am suffocating. My only companion, you whom fate destined to make with me the painful journey of life, the day I no longer have your heart will be the day nature loses all warmth and vegetation for me… I stop, my sweet friend; my soul is sad, my body tired, my mind heavy, men weary me. I ought to hate them; they keep me from my heart.

I am at Port-Maurice, near Oneille; tomorrow I shall be at Albenga. The two armies are moving; we are trying to deceive each other. Victory to the more skillful. I am fairly satisfied with Beaulieu; he maneuvers well; he is stronger than his predecessor. I hope to beat him handsomely. Do not worry; love me as you love your eyes—but that is not enough—as yourself; more than yourself, than your thoughts, your mind, your life, your all. So, my friend, forgive me, I am delirious; nature is weak in one who feels deeply, in the man you love. To Barras, Sucy, Madame Tallien, sincere friendship; to Madame Château-Renard, the customary courtesies; to Eugène and Hortense, true love.

### Letter 005 — V

Albenga, 18 Germinal (April 7, 1796).

I receive a letter you interrupt to go, you say, to the country; and after that you put on an air of jealousy toward me, who am overwhelmed here with affairs and fatigue. Ah, my dear friend! … It is true, I am wrong. In the early days the country is beautiful; and besides, the nineteen-year-old lover was no doubt there. How could you waste another moment writing to the man who, three hundred leagues away from you, lives, takes pleasure, exists only for the memory of you, who reads your letters as one devours a favorite dish after six hours of hunting? I am not content. Your last letter is cold as friendship. I did not find in it the fire that lights your eyes, what I sometimes thought I saw there. But how strange I am! I found that your earlier letters oppressed my soul too much; the upheaval they caused disturbed my rest and enslaved my senses. I wanted colder letters, but they give me the chill of death. The fear of not being loved by Joséphine, the thought of seeing her inconstant, of … But I invent troubles for myself. There are so many real ones! Must I manufacture more? You could not have inspired boundless love in me without sharing it, and with your soul, your mind and your reason, one cannot give a deathblow in return for surrender and devotion… A remembrance from my only wife and a victory of fate: those are my wishes—a singular, complete remembrance, worthy of the man who thinks of you at every moment.

### Letter 006 — VI

Cherasco, 3 Floréal (April 24, 1796).

My brother will give you this letter; I have the warmest affection for him. I hope he will win yours; he deserves it. Nature has given him a gentle and unalterably good character; he is full of fine qualities. I am writing to Barras to have him appointed consul in some Italian port. He wishes to live with his little wife away from the great whirl and great affairs; I commend him to you. I have received your letters of the 16th and 21st. You went many days without writing to me. What are you doing? Yes, my dear friend, I am not jealous, but sometimes anxious. Come quickly; I warn you, if you delay, you will find me ill. Fatigue and your absence are too much at once. Your letters are the pleasure of my days, and my happy days are not frequent. Junot is taking twenty-two flags to Paris.

You must return with him, do you hear? … Irremediable misery, inconsolable sorrow, continual suffering would be mine if I had the misfortune to see him return alone, my adorable friend. He will see you, he will breathe in your temple; perhaps you will even grant him the unique and priceless favor of kissing your cheek, while I shall be alone and very, very far away. But you will come back, won't you? You will be here beside me, against my heart, in my arms? Take wing, come, come! But travel gently. The road is long, bad, exhausting. If your carriage were to overturn or you were to fall ill; if the fatigue… Come quickly, my adorable friend, but slowly.

### Letter 007 — VII

Cherasco, April 29, 1796.

I do not know why I have been happier since this morning. I have a feeling that you have set out for here. The thought fills me with joy.

Above all, do not fall ill. No, my dear friend, you will come here; you will be in excellent health; you will have a little child, pretty as its mother, who will love you as its father does, and when you are very old, very old, a hundred years old, it will be your comfort and happiness.

### Letter 008 — VIII

Tortone, noon, 27 Prairial, Year IV of the Republic. (June 15, 1796.)

My life is a perpetual nightmare. A fatal presentiment keeps me from breathing. I no longer live; I have lost more than life, more than happiness, more than peace; I am almost without hope. I am sending you a courier. He will stay only four hours in Paris and then bring me your answer. Write me ten pages; that alone can console me a little. You are ill, you love me, I have distressed you, you are pregnant and I cannot see you. The thought overwhelms me. I have so many wrongs toward you that I do not know how to atone for them. I accuse you of staying in Paris, and you were ill there. Forgive me, my dear friend; the love you inspired in me has robbed me of reason; I shall never recover it. One does not recover from that illness. My forebodings are so dire that I would be content to see you, hold you to my heart for two hours, and die together. Who is taking care of you? I imagine you have sent for Hortense; I love that charming child a thousand times more since thinking she might console you a little. As for me, no consolation, no rest, no hope until I have received the courier I am sending you, and until you explain in a long letter what your illness is and how serious it may be. If it is dangerous, I warn you, I shall leave at once for Paris… I have always been fortunate; my fate has never resisted my will, and today I am struck in the one thing that matters to me… Without appetite, without sleep, without interest in friendship, glory, or country—you, you, and the rest of the world no longer exists for me any more than if it had been annihilated. I care for honor because you care for it, for victory because it gives you pleasure; otherwise I would have left everything to come to your feet.

My dear friend, be sure to tell me you are convinced that I love you beyond anything imaginable; that you are persuaded every moment of mine is devoted to you, that not an hour passes without my thinking of you; that the thought of another woman has never entered my mind; that in my eyes they are all without grace, beauty, or wit; that you, you entirely, as I see you, as you are, alone could please me and absorb every faculty of my soul; that you have touched its whole extent, that my heart has no recess you cannot see, no thought that is not subject to you; that my strength, my arms, my mind are all yours; that my soul is in your body, and that the day you changed, or the day you ceased to live, would be the day of my death; that nature, the earth, is beautiful only because you inhabit it. If you do not believe this, if your soul is not convinced, permeated by it, you distress me, you do not love me. There is a magnetic fluid between people who love each other. You know I could not see you with a lover, still less tolerate one: to tear out his heart and to see him would be the same thing for me, and then, if I could lay a hand on your sacred person… No, I would never dare, but I would leave a life in which the most virtuous being in existence had deceived me. I am sure and proud of your love. Misfortunes are trials that reveal to each of us the strength of our passion. A child as adorable as its mother is about to see the light in your arms. Unhappy as I am, I would be content with one day. A thousand kisses on your eyes, on your lips… Adorable woman, what power you hold! Your illness makes me very ill. I still have a burning fever! Do not keep the courier more than six hours, and let him return at once with the cherished letter of my sovereign.

### Letter 009 — IX

Roverbella, July 6, 1796.

I have beaten the enemy. Kilmaine will send you a copy of the report. I am dead with fatigue. Please leave at once for Verona; I need you, for I believe I am going to be very ill. I give you a thousand kisses. I am in bed.

### Letter 010 — X

Verona, July 11, 1796.

I had scarcely left Roverbella when I learned that the enemy was approaching Verona. Masséna made dispositions that proved very successful. We took six hundred prisoners and three cannon. General Brune had seven bullets in his clothes without being hit by any of them; that is playing with luck. I give you a thousand kisses. I am very well. We had only ten men killed and a hundred wounded.

### Letter 011 — XI

Marmirolo, July 17, 1796, nine in the evening.

I have received your letter, my adorable friend; it has filled my heart with joy. I am grateful for the trouble you took to send me news of yourself; your health must be better today; I am sure you are cured. I urge you to ride on horseback; it cannot fail to do you good. Since I left you I have been sad all the time. My happiness is to be near you. I constantly recall your kisses, your tears, your charming jealousy, and the charms of the incomparable Joséphine continually kindle a bright, burning flame in my heart and senses. When, free of every worry and every affair, shall I be able to spend all my moments near you, with nothing to do but love you, thinking only of the happiness of telling you so and proving it? I shall send you your horse, but I hope you can join me soon.

I thought I loved you a few days ago; but since I saw you, I feel I love you a thousand times more. Since I have known you, I adore you more every day: that proves how false La Bruyère's maxim is, that love comes all at once. Everything in nature has its course and different degrees of growth. Ah, I beg you, let me see some of your faults! Be less beautiful, less graceful, less tender, above all less good; never be jealous, never weep; your tears rob me of reason and burn my blood. Believe that it is no longer in my power to have a thought that is not yours, or an idea that is not subject to you. Rest well; recover your health quickly. Come and join me, so that at least before we die we may say: “We were happy for so many days!”

A million kisses, even for Fortuné, despite his wickedness.

### Letter 012 — XII

Marmirolo, July 18, 1796.

I spent the whole night under arms. I would have taken Mantua by a bold and successful stroke, but the waters of the lake quickly fell, so that my column, which had embarked, could not arrive. Tonight I begin again in another way… I have received a letter from Eugène, which I am sending you. Please write to those charming children on my behalf and send them some jewels. Assure them that I love them as my own children. What belongs to you and what belongs to me are so mingled in my heart that there is no difference. I am very anxious to know how you are and what you are doing. I went to Virgil's village, on the shores of the lake, in the silvery moonlight, and not a moment passed without my thinking of Joséphine.

### Letter 013 — XIII

Marmirolo, July 19, 1796.

It has been two days since I had a letter from you. I have made that observation to myself thirty times today; you can feel how sad it is. You cannot doubt, however, the tender and singular concern you inspire in me. Yesterday we attacked Mantua. We gave it a hot reception with two batteries firing red-hot shot and mortars. All night that miserable city burned. The sight was horrible and imposing. We captured several outer works; tonight we open the trench. Tomorrow I shall leave with headquarters for Castiglione, where I expect to sleep. I received a courier from Paris. There were two letters for you; I read them. Yet although the action seems quite natural to me, and you gave me permission the other day, I fear it may anger you, and that distresses me greatly. I wanted to seal them again. Shame! That would be dreadful. If I am guilty, I ask your pardon; I swear it was not from jealousy; no, certainly not, I think too highly of my adorable friend for that. I wish you would give me full permission to read your letters; then there would be no more remorse or fear. Achille arrives as courier from Milan; no letters from my adorable friend! Farewell, my only treasure! When can you come and join me? I shall come and fetch you myself in Milan. A thousand kisses as burning as my heart, as pure as you. I send for the courier; he tells me he called on you and you told him you had nothing for him to do. Shame! Wicked, ugly, cruel tyrant, pretty little monster! You laugh at my threats, my foolishness; ah, if I could, you know, shut you up in my heart, I would make you a prisoner there. Tell me that you are cheerful, healthy, and full of tenderness.

### Letter 014 — XIV

Castiglione, July 21, 1796.

I hope that on arriving this evening I shall receive one of your letters. You know, my dear Joséphine, what pleasure they give me, and I am sure you take pleasure in writing them. I shall leave tonight for Peschiera, for Verona, and from there go to Mantua, and perhaps to Milan to receive a kiss, since you assure me they are not icy; I hope you will be completely recovered by then and able to accompany me to my headquarters, never to leave me again. Are you not the soul of my life and the feeling in my heart? … Farewell, beautiful and good, wholly incomparable, wholly divine; a thousand loving kisses!

### Letter 015 — XV

Castiglione, July 22, 1796.

The needs of the army require my presence in this area; it is impossible for me to go as far as Milan. I would need five or six days, and during that time movements may occur that make my presence here urgent. You assure me your health is good; I therefore ask you to come to Brescia. I am sending Murat at this very hour to prepare lodgings for you in the city, as you wish. I think you would do well to leave Milan very late and sleep on the 6th (Thermidor) along the way, and come on the 7th to Brescia, where the tenderest of lovers awaits you. I am distraught that you can believe, my dear friend, that my heart could open to anyone but you; it belongs to you by right of conquest, and that conquest will be lasting and eternal. I do not know why you speak of Madame T., for whom I care very little, as I do for the women of Brescia. As for your letters, which you are displeased that I open, this will be the last; your letter had not arrived. Farewell, my tender friend, send me news of yourself often. Come quickly to join me, and be happy and free from worry; all is well, and my heart is yours for life. Be sure to return to Adjutant General Miollis the box of medals he writes that he gave you. People are so malicious and spiteful that one must keep everything in order. Health, love, and a swift arrival in Brescia. I have a carriage in Milan suited both to town and country; use it to come. Bring your silver and some of the things you need. Travel in short stages and in the cool hours, so as not to tire yourself. The troops take only three days to reach Brescia. By post it is a journey of fourteen hours. I suggest you sleep at Cassano on the 6th (Thermidor); I shall come as far as possible to meet you on the 7th. Farewell, my Joséphine, a thousand tender kisses.

### Letter 016 — XVI

Brescia, August 10, 1796.

I have arrived, my adorable friend; my first thought is to write to you. Your health and your image were not for a moment out of my mind during the whole journey. I shall not be at ease until I receive letters from you. I await them impatiently. You cannot imagine my anxiety. I left you sad, distressed, and half ill. If the deepest and tenderest love could make you happy, you ought to be… I am overwhelmed with affairs. Farewell, my sweet Joséphine; love me dearly, keep well, and think often of me.

### Letter 017 — XVII

Brescia, August 31, 1796.

I leave this instant for Verona. I had hoped to receive a letter from you; not having one fills me with terrible anxiety. You were a little ill when I left; I beg you, do not leave me in such suspense. You had promised me greater regularity; your tongue was in such close accord with your heart then… You, to whom nature has given gentleness, kindness, and everything that pleases, how can you forget the man who loves you so passionately? Three days without a letter from you, though I have written to you several times. Absence is horrible; the nights are long, tedious, and dull; the day is monotonous. Today, alone with thoughts, work, papers, men, and grand projects, I do not even have a note from you to press against my heart. Headquarters has left; I leave in an hour. Last night I received an express from Paris; there was nothing for you but the enclosed letter, which will give you pleasure. Think of me, live for me, be often with your beloved, and believe that there is only one misfortune he fears: that Joséphine should no longer love him. A thousand very sweet, very tender, and very exclusive kisses.

### Letter 018 — XVIII

Ala, September 3, 1796.

We are in the midst of the campaign, my adorable friend; we have overthrown the enemy outposts and taken eight or ten horses with as many riders. I hope we shall do well and enter Trent on the 19th (Fructidor). No letters from you; that truly worries me. I am assured, however, that you are well and have even gone for an outing on Lake Como. Every day I impatiently await the courier who will bring me news of you; you know how precious it is to me. I do not live away from you; life's happiness is near my sweet Joséphine. Think of me! Write to me often, very often; it is the only remedy for absence. Absence is cruel, but I hope it will be brief.

### Letter 019 — XIX

Montebello, September 10, 1796.

The enemy has lost eighteen thousand men taken prisoner, my dear friend; the rest are killed or wounded. Wurmser, with a column of five hundred horse and five thousand infantry, has no resource left but to throw himself into Mantua. Never have we had such constant and such great successes. Italy, Friuli, and the Tyrol are secured for the Republic. The emperor must create a second army: artillery, bridge trains, baggage, everything has been captured.

In a few days we shall see each other; that is the sweetest reward for my fatigue and troubles.

A thousand ardent and deeply loving kisses.

### Letter 020 — XX

Verona, September 17, 1796.

I write to you very often, my dear friend, and you to me very little. You are a wicked, ugly creature, as ugly as you are fickle. It is treachery to deceive a poor husband, a tender lover! Must he lose his rights because he is far away, burdened with work, fatigue, and trouble? What can he do about it? Yesterday we had a very bloody engagement; the enemy lost many men and was completely beaten. We took the suburb of Mantua from him. Farewell, adorable Joséphine. One of these nights the doors will burst open with a crash, and like a jealous man, there I shall be in your arms. A thousand loving kisses.

### Letter 021 — XXI

Modena, October 17, 1796, nine in the evening.

The day before yesterday I was in the field all day. Yesterday I stayed in bed. Fever and a violent headache kept me from writing to my adorable friend; but I received her letters, pressed them to my heart and lips, and the pain of absence, a hundred miles of separation, vanished. At that moment I saw you near me, not capricious and angry, but sweet, tender, with that soothing kindness which belongs exclusively to my Joséphine. It was a dream; imagine whether it cured my fever. Your letters are cold as fifty years; they resemble fifteen years of marriage. One sees friendship in them and the feelings of that winter of life. Shame, Joséphine! … It is very wicked, very wrong, very treacherous of you. What remains for you to do to make me truly pitiable? Stop loving me? Why, that is already done. Hate me? Well, I wish you would; everything degrades except hatred—but indifference, with its marble pulse, its sly eye, its monotonous gait! … A thousand kisses as tender as my heart.

### Letter 022 — XXII

Verona, November 9, 1796.

I arrived in Verona the day before yesterday, my dear friend. Though tired, I am well, very busy, and still love you passionately. I am mounting my horse. I embrace you a thousand times.

### Letter 023 — XXIII

Caldiéro, November 13, 1796.

I no longer love you at all; on the contrary, I detest you. You are a nasty creature, very awkward, very silly, a real Cinderella. You do not write to me at all, you do not love your husband; you know the pleasure your letters give him, and you do not write him six lines dashed off at random! What do you do all day, madam? What business so important deprives you of the time to write to your very good lover? What affection stifles and sets aside the love, the tender and constant love you promised him? Who can this marvelous new lover be, who absorbs all your moments, tyrannizes your days, and prevents you from attending to your husband? Joséphine, take care: one fine night the doors will be broken down, and there I shall be. In truth, I am worried, my dear friend, at receiving no news from you; write me four pages quickly, full of those charming things that fill my heart with feeling and pleasure. I hope before long to hold you in my arms and cover you with a million kisses as burning as under the Equator.

### Letter 024 — XXIV

Verona, November 19, 1796.

At last, my adorable Joséphine, I am born again; death is no longer before my eyes, and glory and honor are still in my heart. The enemy is beaten at Arcole. Tomorrow we shall repair Vaubois's blunder in abandoning Rivoli. In eight days Mantua will be ours, and soon, in your arms, I shall be able to give you a thousand proofs of your husband's ardent love. As soon as I can, I shall come to Milan; I am a little tired.

I have received a letter from Eugène and Hortense; those children are charming.

As my whole household is somewhat scattered, as soon as they have all rejoined me, I shall send them to you.

We have taken five thousand prisoners and killed at least six thousand enemy men; farewell, my adorable Joséphine; think of me often. If you ceased to love your Achille, or if your heart grew cold toward him, you would be very cruel, very unjust; but I am sure you will always be my lover, as I shall always be your tender friend.

Death alone can break the union that sympathy, love, and feeling have formed.

Send me news of the little belly. A thousand and a thousand tender, loving kisses.

### Letter 025 — XXV

Verona, November 24, 1796.

I hope soon to be in your arms, my sweet friend. I love you to the point of madness. I am writing to Paris by this courier. All is well. Wurmser was beaten yesterday outside Mantua. Your husband lacks only Joséphine's love to be happy.

### Letter 026 — XXVI

Milan, November 1796.

I arrive in Milan; I rush to your apartment; I have left everything to see you, to hold you in my arms… you were not there; you go from city to city with the festivities; you move away from me when I arrive and no longer care for your dear Napoléon. A whim made you love him; inconstancy makes you indifferent to him. Accustomed to danger, I know the remedy for the troubles and ills of life. The misfortune I suffer is beyond measure; I had a right not to expect it. I shall be here until sometime during the 9th (Frimaire). Do not put yourself out; pursue your pleasures, happiness is made for you. The whole world is only too happy if it can please you, and your husband alone is very, very unhappy.

### Letter 027 — XXVII

Milan, November 28, 1796.

I have received the courier Berthier sent to Genoa. You did not have time to write to me; I can easily understand that. Surrounded by pleasures and amusements, you would be wrong to make the slightest sacrifice for me. Berthier was kind enough to show me the letter you wrote him. I do not intend you to change any of your plans or the amusements offered you; I am not worth the trouble, and the happiness or unhappiness of a man you do not love has no right to interest you. For me, to love you alone, make you happy, do nothing that might displease you: that is the destiny and purpose of my life. Be happy, reproach me for nothing, take no interest in the happiness of a man who lives only through your life, enjoys only your pleasures and your happiness. When I demand of you a love like mine, I am wrong. Why expect lace to weigh as much as gold? When I sacrifice all my desires, all my thoughts, every moment of my life to you, I obey the power your charms, your character, your whole person have gained over my unhappy heart. I am wrong if nature has not given me the attractions to captivate you; but what I deserve from Joséphine is consideration and esteem, for I love her madly and her alone.

Farewell, adorable woman, farewell, my Joséphine. May fate gather all sorrows and all suffering in my heart, but give my Joséphine prosperous and happy days. Who deserves them more than she? When it is established that she can love no longer, I shall contain my deep sorrow and be content to be useful to her and good for something. I reopen my letter to give you a kiss… Ah, Joséphine! Joséphine!

### Letter 028 — XXVIII

Ancona, February 10, 1797.

We have been in Ancona for two days. We took the citadel after a little exchange of fire, in a surprise attack. We took twelve hundred prisoners; I sent the fifty officers home. I am still in Ancona. I am not calling you here because everything is not yet settled, but I hope it will be in a few days. Besides, this country is very dreary, and everyone is afraid. Tomorrow I leave for the mountains. You do not write to me; yet you were supposed to send me news every day. Please go out for a walk every day; it will do you good. I give you a million kisses. I have never been so bored as in this wretched war. Farewell, my sweet friend, think of me.

### Letter 029 — XXIX

Ancona, February 13, 1797.

I receive no news from you, and I do not doubt that you no longer love me. I have sent you newspapers and various letters. I leave this instant to cross the mountains. As soon as I know where matters stand, I shall send for you to join me; that is my heart's dearest wish. A thousand and a thousand kisses.

### Letter 030 — XXX

Bologna, February 16, 1797.

You are sad, you are ill, you no longer write to me, you want to leave for Paris. Could it be that you no longer love your friend? The thought makes me unhappy. My sweet friend, life has been unbearable to me since I learned of your sadness. I hasten to send you Mascati so that he can care for you. My health is a little weak; my cold still persists. Please take care of yourself, love me as much as I love you, and write to me every day. My anxiety is beyond compare. I have told Mascati to accompany you to Ancona if you wish to come there. I shall write to you there to tell you where I am. Perhaps I shall make peace with the Pope and soon be near you: that is my soul's most ardent wish. I give you a hundred kisses. Believe that nothing equals my love except my anxiety. Write to me yourself every day. Farewell, dearest friend.

### Letter 031 — XXXI

Tolentino, February 19, 1797.

Peace with Rome has just been signed. Bologna, Ferrara, and the Romagna are ceded to the Republic. The Pope is giving us thirty million shortly, and works of art. Tomorrow morning I leave for Ancona, and from there for Rimini, Ravenna, and Bologna. If your health permits, come to Rimini or Ravenna, but take care of yourself, I implore you.

Not a word in your hand, good God! What have I done? To think only of you, love only Joséphine, live only for my wife, find pleasure only in my friend's happiness—must that earn me such harsh treatment from her? My friend, I implore you, think often of me and write to me every day; you are ill or you do not love me! Do you think my heart is made of marble? And do my troubles concern you so little? You would know me very poorly! I cannot believe it.

You, to whom nature has given wit, gentleness, and beauty, you who alone could reign in my heart, you who know only too well, no doubt, the absolute power you have over me. Write to me, think of me, and love me. Yours for life.

### Letter 032 — XXXII

La Malmaison, July 1, 1803.

I have received your letter of 10 Messidor. You tell me nothing of your health or the effect of the baths. I see you expect to be back in eight days; that gives great pleasure to your friend, who is weary of being alone. You must have seen General Ney, who is leaving for Plombières; he will marry on his return. Yesterday Hortense played Rosine in The Barber of Seville with her usual intelligence.

### Letter 033 — XXXIII

Calais, August 6, 1804.

My friend, I have been in Calais since midnight; I expect to leave this evening for Dunkirk. I am pleased with what I see and fairly well in health. I hope the waters do you as much good as movement, the sight of the camps, and the sea do me. Eugène has left for Blois. Hortense is well. Louis is at Plombières. I long to see you. You are still necessary to my happiness. Many kind regards to everyone at your home.

### Letter 034 — XXXIV

Ostend, August 14, 1804.

My friend, I have had no news of you for several days; yet I would have been very glad to learn of the good effect of the waters and how you spend your time. I have been in Ostend for eight days. The day after tomorrow I shall be at Boulogne for a rather splendid celebration. Tell me by courier what you intend to do and when you are to finish your baths. I am very satisfied with the army and the flotillas. Eugène is still at Blois. I hear no more of Hortense than if she were in the Congo. I am writing to scold her. Many kind regards to everyone.

### Letter 035 — XXXV

Manheim, October 2, 1805.

I am still here in good health. I leave for Stuttgard, where I shall be this evening. The great maneuvers are beginning. The army of Württemberg and Baden is joining mine. I am in a good position and I love you.

### Letter 036 — XXXVI

Louisbourg, October 4, 1805.

I am at Louisbourg. I leave tonight. There is nothing new yet. I have joined forces with the Bavarians. I am well. I hope in a few days to have something interesting to tell you. Keep well and believe in all my affection. There is a very fine court here, a very beautiful new bride, and altogether very amiable people; even our electress, who seems very good, although she is the daughter of the king of England.

### Letter 037 — XXXVII

Louisbourg, October 5, 1805.

I leave this instant to continue my march. You will be five or six days without news of me, my friend; do not worry, that is because of the operations about to take place. All is well, and as I could have hoped. I attended a wedding here of the son of the Elector of Württemberg and a niece of the king of Prussia. I wish to give the young princess a wedding gift worth 36,000 to 40,000 francs. Have it made and send it to the bride by one of my chamberlains when they come to join me. It must be done immediately. Farewell, my friend, I love and embrace you.

### Letter 038 — XXXVIII

Augsburg, October 10, 1805.

I slept today at the home of the former Elector of Trier, who is very comfortably lodged. I have been on the move for eight days. Some quite notable successes have opened the campaign. I am very well, although it rains almost every day. Events follow one another rapidly. I have sent 4,000 prisoners and 8 flags to France, and I have 14 cannon from the enemy. Farewell, my friend, I embrace you.

### Letter 039 — XXXIX

October 12, 1805.

My army has entered Munich. On one side the enemy is beyond the Inn; the other army of 60,000 men I hold blockaded on the Iller, between Ulm and Memmingen. The enemy is lost, has lost its head, and everything points to the most fortunate campaign, the shortest and most brilliant ever fought. In an hour I leave for Burgon-sur-l’Iller. I am well; the weather, however, is dreadful. I change clothes twice a day, so much does it rain. I love and embrace you.

### Letter 040 — XL

Elchingen, October 18, 1805.

I have been more tired than I should have been, my dear Joséphine; a whole week of being wet through every day and having cold feet has done me some harm; but today, when I did not go out, has rested me. I have achieved my purpose; I have destroyed the Austrian army by marches alone; I have taken 60,000 prisoners, 120 cannon, more than 90 flags, and more than 30 generals. I am going to move against the Russians; they are lost. I am pleased with my army. I have lost only 1,500 men, two thirds of them lightly wounded. Farewell, my Joséphine; many kind regards to everyone. Prince Charles is coming to cover Vienna. I think Masséna must by now be in Vienna. As soon as I am at ease about Italy, I shall have Eugène beaten. Many kind regards to Hortense.

### Letter 041 — XLI

Ulm, October 21, 1805.

I am fairly well, my dear friend. I leave this instant for Augsburg. I have made 33,000 men lay down their arms. I have 60,000 to 70,000 prisoners, more than 90 flags and more than 200 cannon. Never has there been such a catastrophe in the annals of war! Keep well. I am a little worn out. The weather has been fine for three days. The first column of prisoners sets off for France today. Each column consists of 6,000 men.

### Letter 042 — XLII

Augsburg, October 23, 1805.

The last two nights have rested me well, and tomorrow I leave for Munich. I am summoning M. de Talleyrand and M. Maret to my side; I shall see little of them, and I am going to the Inn to attack Austria in the heart of its hereditary states. I would very much have liked to see you, but do not count on my sending for you unless there is an armistice or winter quarters. Farewell, my friend; a thousand kisses. Many compliments to the ladies.

### Letter 043 — XLIII

Munich, October 27, 1805.

I received your letter through Lemarrois. I was sorry to see that you had worried too much. I have been given details that proved all the tenderness you feel for me; but you must have more strength and confidence. Besides, I had warned you that I would go six days without writing. I expect the Elector tomorrow. At noon I leave to confirm my movement toward the Inn. My health is fairly good. There is no thought of crossing the Rhine before fifteen or twenty days. You must be cheerful, enjoy yourself, and hope that before the end of the month (Brumaire) we shall see each other. I am advancing against the Russian army. In a few days I shall have crossed the Inn. Farewell, my dear friend; many kind regards to Hortense, Eugène, and the two Napoléons. Keep the wedding gift a little longer. Yesterday I gave a concert for the ladies of this court. The chapel master is a man of merit. I hunted at one of the Elector's pheasantries; you see I am not so tired. M. de Talleyrand has arrived.

### Letter 044 — XLIV

Haag, November 3, 1805.

I am on a long march; the weather is very cold, the ground covered with a foot of snow. It is a little harsh. Fortunately, there is no lack of wood; here we are always in the forests. I am fairly well. My affairs are going satisfactorily; my enemies must have more to trouble them than I do. I long for news of you and to learn that you are free from anxiety. Goodbye, my friend, I am going to bed.

### Letter 045 — XLV

Lintz, November 5, 1805.

I am at Lintz. The weather is beautiful. We are twenty-eight leagues from Vienna. The Russians are not holding their ground; they are in full retreat. The house of Austria is in great difficulty; in Vienna, all the court's baggage is being evacuated. There will probably be news within five or six days. I long to see you again. My health is good; I embrace you.

### Letter 046 — XLVI

Vienna, November 15, 1805.

I have been in Vienna for two days, my good friend, and am a little tired. I have not yet seen the city by daylight; I have traveled through it at night. Tomorrow I receive the leading citizens. Almost all my troops are beyond the Danube, pursuing the Russians. Goodbye, my Joséphine; as soon as it is possible, I will send for you. A thousand kind thoughts for you.

### Letter 047 — XLVII

Vienna, November 16, 1805.

I am writing to M. d’Harville so that you may leave and go to Baden, from there to Stuttgard and from there to Munich. At Stuttgard you will give the wedding gifts to Princess Paul. Fifteen to twenty thousand francs' worth will be enough; the rest will be for presents at Munich to the daughters of the Elector of Bavaria. Everything you learned from Madame de Sérent is definitively settled. Take what you need to make presents to the ladies and officers who will be attending you. Be courteous, but receive every homage: everyone owes you everything, and you owe nothing except out of courtesy. The Electress of Württemberg is the daughter of the King of England; she is a good woman, and you should treat her well, but without affectation. I shall be very glad to see you as soon as my affairs allow it. I am leaving for my advance guard. The weather is dreadful, and it is snowing heavily; otherwise all my affairs are going well. Goodbye, my good friend.

### Letter 048 — XLVIII

Austerlitz, December 3, 1805.

I sent Lebrun to you from the battlefield. I have defeated the Russian and Austrian armies commanded by the two emperors. I am a little tired: I bivouacked for eight days in the open air, on rather cold nights. Tonight I am sleeping in Prince Kaunitz's castle, where I shall sleep for two or three hours. The Russian army is not merely defeated but destroyed. I embrace you.

### Letter 049 — XLIX

Austerlitz, December 4, 1805.

I have concluded a truce. The Russians are leaving. The battle of Austerlitz is the finest of all those I have fought: 45 flags, more than 150 cannon, the standards of the Russian Guard, 20 generals, more than 20,000 killed; a horrible sight! Emperor Alexander is in despair and is leaving for Russia. Yesterday I saw the Emperor of Germany at my bivouac; we talked for two hours and agreed to make peace quickly. The weather is not yet very bad. At last peace has been restored to the continent; we must hope it will be restored to the world, for the English cannot stand against us. I shall look forward with great pleasure to the moment that brings me nearer to you. A slight eye complaint is going around, lasting two days; I have not yet caught it. Goodbye, my good friend, I am fairly well and long to embrace you.

### Letter 050 — L

Austerlitz, December 7, 1805.

I have concluded an armistice; peace will be made within eight days. I long to learn that you have arrived in Munich in good health. The Russians are leaving; they have suffered immense losses. More than 20,000 dead and 30,000 captured; their army has been reduced by three quarters. Buxhowden, their commander in chief, has been killed. I have 3,000 wounded and 700 to 800 dead. My eyes are a little sore; it is a common complaint and nothing serious. Goodbye, my friend; I long to see you again. I am going to sleep in Vienna tonight.

### Letter 051 — LI

Brunn, December 10, 1805.

It has been a very long time since I heard from you. Do the splendid festivities at Baden, Stuttgard, and Munich make you forget the poor soldiers who live covered in mud, rain, and blood? I shall leave shortly for Vienna. They are working to conclude peace. The Russians have left and are fleeing far from here; they are returning to Russia badly beaten and deeply humiliated. I long to be near you again. Goodbye, my friend; my eye complaint is cured.

### Letter 052 — LII

Brunn, December 19, 1805.

Great Empress, not a letter from you since your departure from Strasbourg. You have passed through Baden, Stuttgard, and Munich without writing us a word. That is neither very kind nor very tender! I am still at Brunn. The Russians have left; I have a truce. In a few days I shall see what is to become of me. Deign, from the heights of your greatness, to give a little thought to your slaves.

### Letter 053 — LIII

Schönbrunn, 29 Frimaire, Year XIV (December 20, 1805).

I have received your letter of the 25th (Frimaire). I am sorry to learn that you are unwell; that is hardly a good condition in which to travel a hundred leagues at this season. I do not know what I shall do: I depend on events; I have no will of my own; I await everything from their outcome. Stay in Munich and enjoy yourself; that is not difficult when one has so many pleasant people about one, and is in such a beautiful country. I am rather busy myself. In a few days I shall have made up my mind. Goodbye, my friend, a thousand kind and tender thoughts.

### Letter 054 — LIV

October 5, 1806.

There is no objection to the Princess of Baden going to Mainz. I do not know why you are crying; you are wrong to make yourself unhappy. Hortense is a little pedantic; she likes to give advice. She has written to me, and I am answering her. She must be happy and cheerful. Courage and cheerfulness: that is the prescription.

### Letter 055 — LV

Bamberg, October 7, 1806.

I leave this evening, my friend, for Cronach. My whole army is on the move. Everything is going well, my health is perfect. I have received only one letter from you so far. I have received letters from Eugène and Hortense. Stéphanie must be with you. Her husband wants to go to war; he is with me. Goodbye, a thousand kisses and good health.

### Letter 056 — LVI

Géra, October 13, 1806, two in the morning.

I am at Géra today, my good friend; my affairs are going very well, just as I could have hoped. With God's help, in a few days they will take a very terrible turn, I believe, for the poor King of Prussia, whom I pity personally, because he is a good man. The Queen is at Erfurt with the King. If she wishes to see a battle, she will have that cruel pleasure. I am wonderfully well; I have already grown fatter since I left; yet I travel twenty and twenty-five leagues a day myself, on horseback, in a carriage, in every manner. I go to bed at eight and am up at midnight: sometimes I think that you have not yet gone to bed. All yours.

### Letter 057 — LVII

Iéna, October 15, 1806, three in the morning.

My friend, I have made fine maneuvers against the Prussians. Yesterday I won a great victory. They had 150,000 men; I took 20,000 prisoners, 100 cannon, and flags. I was in the presence of and close to the King of Prussia; I nearly captured him, as well as the Queen. I have been bivouacking for two days. I am wonderfully well. Goodbye, my friend, keep well and love me. If Hortense is in Mainz, give her a kiss, and one to Napoléon and the little one too.

### Letter 058 — LVIII

Weimar, October 16, 1806.

M. Talleyrand will have shown you the bulletin, my good friend; you will have seen my successes in it. Everything happened as I had calculated, and never was an army more thoroughly beaten and ruined. It remains for me to tell you that I am well, and that fatigue, bivouacking, and sleepless nights have made me fat. Goodbye, my good friend, a thousand kind thoughts to Hortense and the great M. Napoléon.

### Letter 059 — LIX

Vittemberg, October 23, 1806.

I have received several letters from you. I write you only a word: my affairs are going well. Tomorrow I shall be at Postdam, and on the 25th in Berlin. I am wonderfully well; fatigue agrees with me. I am glad to know you are with Hortense and Stéphanie in a large company. The weather has been beautiful so far. A thousand affectionate greetings to Stéphanie and everyone, not forgetting M. Napoléon. Goodbye, my friend. All yours.

### Letter 060 — LX

Postdam, October 24, 1806.

I have been at Postdam since yesterday, my good friend; I shall remain here today. I continue to be satisfied with affairs. My health is good; the weather very beautiful. I find Sans-Souci very pleasant. Goodbye, my friend. Many kind thoughts to Hortense and M. Napoléon.

### Letter 061 — LXI

Berlin, November 1, 1806.

Talleyrand has arrived and tells me, my friend, that you do nothing but weep. What more do you want? You have your daughter, your grandchildren, and good news; those are ample means of being content and happy. The weather here is magnificent; not a single drop of rain has fallen during the whole campaign. I am very well, and everything is going as well as possible. Goodbye, my friend, I have received a letter from M. Napoléon; I do not believe it is from him, but from Hortense. A thousand kind thoughts to everyone.

### Letter 062 — LXII

Berlin, November 6, 1806, nine in the evening.

I have received your letter in which you seem angry at the ill I speak of women; it is true that I detest scheming women beyond everything. I am accustomed to women who are good, gentle, and accommodating; those are the ones I love. If they have spoiled me, it is not my fault, but yours. Besides, you will see that I have been very kind to one who showed herself sensitive and good, Madame d’Hatzfeld. When I showed her the letter from her husband, she said to me, sobbing, with deep feeling and innocence, “Ah! That is indeed his handwriting!” As she read, her voice went straight to the soul; she moved me to pity. I said to her, “Well, Madame, throw this letter into the fire; I shall not be powerful enough to have your husband punished.” She burned the letter and seemed very happy. Her husband has been quite undisturbed since then; two hours later he would have been lost. You see, then, that I love women who are good, innocent, and gentle; but that is because they alone resemble you. Goodbye, my friend, I am well.

### Letter 063 — LXIII

Berlin, November 16, 1806.

I see with pleasure that my feelings give you pleasure. You are wrong to think they could be flattering; I spoke of you as I see you. I am saddened to think you are bored in Mainz. If the journey were not so long, you could come here, for there is no longer an enemy, or else he is beyond the Vistula, that is, more than a hundred and twenty leagues from here. I shall wait to hear what you think. I should also be very glad to see M. Napoléon. Goodbye, my good friend. All yours.

### Letter 064 — LXIV

Berlin, November 22, 1806.

Be content, happy in my affection, in all that you inspire in me. In a few days I shall decide whether to call you here or send you to Paris. Goodbye, my friend; you may now go, if you wish, to Darmstadt and Frankfurt; it will divert you. A thousand kind thoughts to Hortense.

### Letter 065 — LXV

Custrin, November 26, 1806.

I am at Custrin to make some reconnaissance; in two days I shall see whether you should come. You can hold yourself ready. I shall be very glad if the Queen of Holland makes the journey. The Grand Duchess of Baden must write to her husband about it. It is two in the morning; I have just risen; that is the custom of war. A thousand kind thoughts to you and everyone.

### Letter 066 — LXVI

Meseritz, November 27, 1806.

I am going to make a tour of Poland; this is the first town. I shall be at Posen tonight, after which I shall call you to Berlin, so that you arrive there on the same day as I do. My health is good, the weather a little bad; it has been raining for three days. My affairs are going well. The Russians are fleeing.

### Letter 067 — LXVII

Posen, November 28, 1806.

I am at Posen, capital of Greater Poland. The cold is beginning; I am well. I am going to make a tour of Poland. My troops are at the gates of Warsaw. Goodbye, my friend, a thousand kind thoughts. I embrace you with all my heart.

### Letter 068 — LXVIII

Posen, December 2, 1806.

Today is the anniversary of Austerlitz. I went to a ball given by the city. It is raining. I am well. I love and long for you. My troops are in Warsaw. It has not yet been cold. All these Polish women are French, but there is only one woman for me. Do you know her? I could paint her portrait for you; but I would have to flatter it too much for you to recognize yourself; yet, to tell the truth, my heart would have only good things to say of her. These nights are long, all alone. All yours.

### Letter 069 — LXIX

Posen, December 3, 1806, noon.

I have received your letter of November 26; I see two things in it: you tell me that I do not read your letters; that is ill judged. I resent your having so poor an opinion of me. You tell me it might be because of some dream in the night, and you add that you are not jealous. I have long noticed that angry people always insist they are not angry; that those who are afraid often say they are not afraid; so you stand convicted of jealousy, and I am delighted! Besides, you are wrong; nothing is further from my thoughts, and in the wilderness of beautiful Poland one thinks little of beautiful women. Yesterday I attended a ball given by the provincial nobility; some fairly beautiful women, fairly rich, rather badly dressed, although in the Paris fashion.

### Letter 070 — LXX

Posen, December 3, 1806, six in the evening.

I have received your letter of November 27, in which I see that your little head has become excited. I remembered this line:

A woman's desire is a consuming fire.

Yet you must calm yourself. I wrote to you that I was in Poland, that when winter quarters were established, you could come; you must therefore wait a few days. The greater one is, the less one must have a will of one's own; one depends on events and circumstances. You can go to Frankfurt and Darmstadt. I hope to call you here in a few days; but events must allow it. The heat of your letter shows me that you pretty women know no barriers; what you want must be; but I declare myself the most enslaved of men: my master has no compassion, and that master is the nature of things.

### Letter 071 — LXXI

Posen, December 10, 1806.

An officer brings me a rug from you; it is a little short and narrow; I thank you no less for it. I am fairly well. The weather is very changeable. My affairs are going fairly well. I love and long for you very much. Goodbye, my friend; I shall write for you to come with at least as much pleasure as you will take in coming.

### Letter 072 — LXXII

Posen, December 12, 1806.

My health is good, the weather very mild; the bad season has not begun, but the roads are bad in a country where there are no paved roads. Hortense will come with Napoléon, then; I am delighted. I long for circumstances to put me in a position to send for you. I have made my peace with Saxony. The Elector is king and a member of the Confederation. Goodbye, my beloved Joséphine. All yours. A kiss to Hortense, Napoléon, and Stéphanie. Paër, the famous musician, his wife, the virtuoso you saw at Milan twelve years ago, and Brizzi are here; they give me a little music every evening.

### Letter 073 — LXXIII

Posen, December 16, 1806.

My friend, I am leaving for Warsaw. In about a fortnight I shall be back. I hope then to be able to call you here. Still, if it takes a long time, I should be glad for you to return to Paris, where you are wanted. You know well that I depend on events.

### Letter 074 — LXXIV

Golimin, December 29, 1806, five in the morning.

I write you only a word, my friend; I am in a wretched barn. I have beaten the Russians, taken thirty cannon and their baggage, and made six thousand prisoners; but the weather is dreadful; it is raining, and we have mud up to our knees.

### Letter 075 — LXXV

Pultusk, December 31, 1806.

I laughed heartily on receiving your last letters. You have an idea of the beauties of Greater Poland that they do not deserve. For two or three days I had the pleasure of hearing Paër and two singers, who made very fine music for me. I received your letter in a wretched barn, with mud, wind, and straw for my whole bed.

### Letter 076 — LXXVI

Warsaw, January 3, 1807.

I have received your letter, my friend. Your sorrow touches me; but we must submit to events. There is too much country to cross between Mainz and Warsaw; events must therefore allow me to go to Berlin before I can write for you to come there. Meanwhile the enemy, defeated, is withdrawing; but I have many things to settle here. I am rather of the opinion that you should return to Paris, where you are needed. Send away those ladies who have their own affairs to attend to; you will have the advantage of being rid of people who must have tired you greatly. I am well; the weather is bad. I love you with all my heart.

### Letter 077 — LXXVII

Warsaw, January 7, 1807.

My friend, I am touched by everything you tell me; but the season is cold, the roads very bad and unsafe, and so I cannot consent to expose you to such hardships. Return to Paris to spend the winter there. Go to the Tuileries; receive guests and lead the same life you are accustomed to lead when I am there; that is my wish. Perhaps I shall soon join you there; but you must give up the idea of traveling three hundred leagues at this season, through enemy countries and behind the army. Believe me, it costs me more than it costs you to delay by a few weeks the happiness of seeing you; but events and the good of affairs demand it. Goodbye, my friend, be cheerful and show character.

### Letter 078 — LXXVIII

Warsaw, January 8, 1807.

My good friend, I have received your letter of the 27th, with those of M. Napoléon and Hortense enclosed. I had asked you to return to Paris: the season is too bad, the roads unsafe and dreadful, the distances too great for me to allow you to come here, where my affairs keep me. It would take you at least a month to arrive. You would arrive ill; perhaps you would have to leave again then; so it would be madness. Your stay in Mainz is too sad, Paris calls for you; go there, that is my wish. I am more disappointed than you; I would have liked to share the long nights of this season with you; but we must obey circumstances.

### Letter 079 — LXXIX

Warsaw, January 16, 1807.

I am very well, sometimes a little weary of the length of the nights. So far I see rather few people here.

### Letter 080 — LXXX

Warsaw, January 16, 1807.

My good friend, I have received your letter of January 5; everything you tell me of your sorrow pains me. Why tears, why grief? Have you no courage left? I shall see you soon: never doubt my feelings; and, if you wish to be still dearer to me, show character and strength of soul. I am humiliated to think that my wife could distrust my destiny. Goodbye, my friend; I love you, I long to see you, and I want to know you are content and happy.

### Letter 081 — LXXXI

Warsaw, January 18, 1807.

I fear you are deeply grieved by our separation, which must still last a few weeks, and by your return to Paris. I require you to show more strength. I am told that you are always crying: shame! how ugly that is! Your letter of January 7 pains me. Be worthy of me, and show more character. In Paris maintain the state that befits you, and above all be content. I am very well, and I love you dearly; but if you are always crying I shall think you lack courage and character. I do not love cowards; an empress must have courage.

### Letter 082 — LXXXII

Warsaw, January 1807.

I have received your letter of January 15. It is impossible for me to permit women to make a journey like this: bad roads, unsafe and muddy roads. Return to Paris, be cheerful and content there; perhaps I too shall soon be there. I laughed at what you tell me, that you took a husband to be with him. In my ignorance I thought that a wife was made for her husband, a husband for his country, his family, and glory. Forgive my ignorance. One is always learning from our beautiful ladies. Goodbye, my friend; believe me, it costs me not to send for you. Say to yourself: it is a proof of how precious I am to him.

### Letter 083 — LXXXIII

Undated (January 1807).

My friend, your letter of January 20 pained me; it is too sad. That is the trouble with not being a little devout! You tell me that your happiness makes your glory. That is not generous; you must say: the happiness of others makes my glory. That is not marital; you must say: my husband's happiness makes my glory. That is not maternal; you should say: my children's happiness makes my glory. Now, since the people, your husband, your children cannot be happy without a little glory, you must not hold it in such contempt. Joséphine, your heart is excellent, and your reason weak; your feelings are wonderful, but you reason less well. Enough quarreling; I want you to be cheerful, content with your lot, and obedient, not grumbling and weeping, but gladly and with a little happiness. Goodbye, my friend, I leave tonight to make a tour of my outposts.

### Letter 084 — LXXXIV

Eylau, three in the morning, February 9, 1807.

My friend, there was a great battle yesterday; victory remained mine, but I lost a great many men; the enemy's loss, greater still, does not console me. At any rate, I am writing these two lines to you myself, though I am very tired, to tell you that I am well and that I love you. All yours.

### Letter 085 — LXXXV

Eylau, February 9, 1807, six in the evening.

I write you a word, my friend, so that you will not be anxious. The enemy has lost the battle, 40 cannon, 10 flags, and 12,000 men taken prisoner; he has suffered terribly. I have lost men, 1,600 killed, 3,000 to 4,000 wounded. Your cousin Tascher is well; I have called him to my side with the title of orderly officer. Corbineau was killed by a shell; I had grown especially attached to this officer, who had great merit; it grieves me. My mounted Guard covered itself with glory. D’Allemagne is dangerously wounded. Goodbye, my friend.

### Letter 086 — LXXXVI

Eylau, February 11, 1807, three in the morning.

I write you a word, my friend; you must have been very anxious. I defeated the enemy in a memorable day, but it cost me many brave men. The bad weather is leading me to take up quarters. Do not be distressed, I beg you; all this will soon end, and the happiness of seeing you will quickly make me forget my hardships. Besides, I have never been so well. Little Tascher, of the 4th Line, behaved well; he went through a hard trial. I have called him to my side and made him an orderly officer; so now his hardships are over. This young man interests me. Goodbye, my friend, a thousand kisses.

### Letter 087 — LXXXVII

Landsberg, February 18, 1807.

I write you a few words. I am well. I am on the move to place my army in winter quarters. It rains and thaws as in April. We have not yet had a cold day. Farewell, my dear friend, wholly yours.

### Letter 088 — LXXXVIII

Liebstadt, February 20, 1807.

I write you a few words, my dear friend, so that you will not be anxious. My health is excellent and my affairs are going well. I have put my army back into cantonments. The season is strange: it freezes and thaws; it is damp and changeable. Farewell, my dear friend.

### Letter 089 — LXXXIX

Liebstadt, February 21, 1807.

I have received your letter of February 4; I am glad to see that your health is good. Paris will complete the restoration of your gaiety and peace, and the return to your accustomed ways, of your health. I am wonderfully well. The weather and the country are bad. My affairs are going fairly well; it thaws and freezes within twenty-four hours; one could not see a stranger winter. Farewell, my dear friend; I love you, I think of you, and I long to know you are contented, cheerful, and happy. Wholly yours.

### Letter 090 — XC

Liebstadt, February 22, 1807.

I have received your letter of the 8th, my dear friend; I am glad to see that you have been to the Opera and plan to receive guests every week. Go to the theater sometimes, and always in a large box. I am also glad to hear of the festivities given in your honor. I am very well. The weather is still uncertain; it freezes and thaws. I have put my army back into cantonments to give it rest. Never be sad, love me, and believe in all my affection.

### Letter 091 — XCI

At headquarters, Osterode, March 1807.

I am in a wretched village, where I shall spend a good deal more time; it is no match for the great city. I repeat, I have never been so well; you will find I have grown quite fat. I have ordered what you want for Malmaison; be cheerful and happy, that is my wish.—I await the fair season, which cannot be long in coming. I love you, and I want to know you are contented and cheerful. Many foolish things will be said about the battle of Eylau; the bulletin tells everything; the losses are more likely exaggerated there than understated.

### Letter 092 — XCII

Osterode, March 23, 1807.

I hear, my dear friend, that the malicious talk once heard in your salon at Mainz has begun again; put a stop to it. I would take it very ill if you did not remedy it. You let yourself be distressed by the words of people who ought to console you. I urge you to show a little character, and know how to put everyone in their place.—My dear friend, you must not go in a small box to the smaller theaters; that does not befit your rank; you should go only to the four great theaters and always in a large box.—To please me, you must live, in absolutely every respect, as you lived when I was in Paris. Then you did not go out to small theaters or other such places. You must always go in a large box. As for life at home, receive there, and hold your gatherings at regular times; that, my dear friend, is the only way to earn my approval. Greatness has its inconveniences; an empress cannot go where an ordinary private person goes.

### Letter 093 — XCIII

Osterode, March 27, 1807.

My dear friend, your letter grieves me. You must not die; you are well, and you can have no reasonable cause for sorrow. I think you should go to Saint-Cloud in May; but you must stay in Paris throughout April… You must not think of traveling this summer; none of that is possible; you must not go wandering through inns and camps. I long as much as you do to see you and live in peace. I know how to do things besides wage war; but duty comes before all else. All my life, I have sacrificed everything—peace, interest, happiness—to my destiny.

### Letter 094 — XCIV

Finkestein, April 2, 1807.

My dear friend, I write you a word. I have just moved my headquarters to a very beautiful château, like Bessières's, where I have many fireplaces; this delights me, since I often rise at night; I love to watch the fire. My health is perfect. The weather is fine, but still cold. The thermometer is at four to five degrees. Farewell, my dear friend. Wholly yours.

### Letter 095 — XCV

Finkestein, May 14, 1807.

I understand all the grief the death of poor Napoléon must cause you. You can understand the sorrow I feel. I wish I were beside you, so that you might be measured and sensible in your grief. You have had the happiness never to lose children; but that is one of the conditions and sorrows bound up with our human misery. Let me hear that you have been reasonable and are well! Would you add to my sorrow? Farewell, my dear friend.

### Letter 096 — XCVI

Finkestein, May 24, 1807.

Hortense is not being reasonable, and does not deserve to be loved, since she loved only her children. Try to calm her, and do not give me pain. For every ill without a remedy, one must find consolation.

### Letter 097 — XCVII

Finkestein, May 26, 1807.

I have received your letter of the 16th. I was glad to see that Hortense had arrived at Laeken. I am sorry to hear what you tell me of the kind of stupor in which she still remains. She must have more courage and master herself. I cannot understand why people want her to go to the waters; she would be far more distracted in Paris. Master yourself, be cheerful, and keep well. My health is very good. Farewell, my dear friend; I suffer greatly from all your sorrows; I am distressed not to be beside you.

### Letter 098 — XCVIII

Dantzick, June 2, 1807.

My dear friend, I hear of your arrival at Malmaison. I have no letters from you. I am displeased with Hortense; she does not write me a word. All you tell me of her grieves me. How could you not distract her a little? You weep! I hope you will master yourself, so that I do not find you sad. I have been in Dantzick for two days: the weather is very fine; I am well. I think of you more than you think of one who is absent. Farewell, my dear friend, a thousand affectionate thoughts. Send this letter on to Hortense.

For Queen Hortense:

June 2.—My daughter, you have not written me a word in your great and just grief. You have forgotten everything, as if you had no further losses to face. They say you no longer love anything, that you are indifferent to everything; I see it in your silence. This is not right, Hortense. It is not what you promised us. Your son was everything to you. Are your mother and I, then, nothing? Had I been at Malmaison, I would have shared your sorrow; but I would also have wished you to yield to your best friends. Farewell, my daughter; be cheerful; you must resign yourself. Keep well so that you may fulfill all your duties. My wife is very sad at your condition; cause her no more sorrow. Your affectionate father.

### Letter 099 — XCIX

June 14, 1807.

My dear friend, I write only a word, for I am very tired; I have been bivouacking for many days now. My children have fittingly celebrated the anniversary of the battle of Marengo. The battle of Friedland will be just as famous and is just as glorious for my people. The whole Russian army routed, 80 cannon, 30,000 men taken or killed, 25 Russian generals killed, wounded, or taken, the Russian Guard crushed: it is a worthy sister to Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena. The bulletin will tell you the rest. My losses are not considerable; I maneuvered successfully against the enemy. Be free from anxiety and content. Farewell, my dear friend, I am mounting my horse.

### Letter 100 — C

June 15, 1807.

My dear friend, yesterday I sent Moustache to you with news of the battle of Friedland. Since then, I have continued to pursue the enemy. Königsberg, a city of 80,000 souls, is in my power. I found cannon there, a great many stores, and finally more than 60,000 muskets from England. Farewell, my dear friend, my health is perfect, though I have caught cold from the rain and the cold of bivouac. Be contented and cheerful. Wholly yours.

### Letter 101 — CI

Tilsit, June 19, 1807.

I have sent Tascher to you to calm all your fears. Everything here is going as well as possible. The battle of Friedland has decided everything. The enemy is confounded, brought low, and greatly weakened. My health is good, and my army is magnificent. Farewell, my dear friend, be cheerful and content.

### Letter 102 — CII

Tilsit, June 20, 1807.

My dear friend, I have just seen Emperor Alexander; I was very pleased with him; he is a very handsome, good, and young emperor; he has more intelligence than is commonly thought. Tomorrow he comes to stay in the town of Tilsit. Farewell, my dear friend, I very much wish you to be well and content. My health is very good.

### Letter 103 — CIII

Tilsit, July 3, 1807.

My dear friend, M. de Turenne will give you every detail of what is happening here; all is going very well. I believe I told you that the Emperor of Russia drinks to your health with great graciousness. He dines with me every day, as does the King of Prussia. I wish you to be content. Farewell, my dear friend, a thousand affectionate thoughts.

### Letter 104 — CIV

Tilsit, July 6, 1807.

I have received your letter of June 25. I was pained to see that you were selfish, and that the successes of my arms would have no charm for you. The beautiful Queen of Prussia is to dine with me today. I am well, and long to see you again, when destiny has appointed it. Yet it is possible that this will not be long.

### Letter 105 — CV

Tilsit, July 7, 1807.

My dear friend, the Queen of Prussia dined with me yesterday. I had to defend myself against her attempts to make me grant her husband a few more concessions; but I was gallant, and held to my policy. She is very charming. I shall come and give you details that I could not give you without writing at great length. When you read this letter, peace with Prussia and Russia will have been concluded, and Jérôme recognized as King of Westphalia, with a population of three million. This news is for you alone. Farewell, my dear friend; I love you and want to know you are contented and cheerful.

### Letter 106 — CVI

Dresden, July 18, 1807.

My dear friend, I arrived yesterday at five in the evening in Dresden, in very good health, although I had spent a hundred hours in the carriage without getting out. I am here with the King of Saxony, with whom I am very pleased. I am thus more than halfway nearer to you. It may be that one of these fine nights I shall drop in at Saint-Cloud like a jealous husband; I warn you. Farewell, my dear friend; I shall take great pleasure in seeing you. Wholly yours.

### Letter 107 — CVII

Milan, November 25, 1807.

I have been here, my dear friend, for two days. I am glad I did not bring you; you would have suffered terribly crossing Mont-Cenis, where a storm held me up for twenty-four hours. I found Eugène well; I am very pleased with him. The princess is ill; I went to see her at Monza; she has had a miscarriage; she is better. Farewell, my dear friend.

### Letter 108 — CVIII

Venice, November 30, 1807.

I have received your letter of November 22. I have been in Venice for two days. The weather is very bad, which has not prevented me from ranging over the lagoons to see the various forts. I am glad to see that you are enjoying yourself in Paris. The King of Bavaria and his family, as well as Princess Élisa, are here. After December 2, which I shall spend here, I shall be on my way back and very glad to see you. Farewell, my dear friend.

### Letter 109 — CIX

Udine, December 11, 1807.

I have received, my dear friend, your letter of December 3, in which I see that you were very pleased with the Jardin des Plantes. Here I am at the farthest point of my journey; it is possible that I shall soon be in Paris, where I shall be very glad to see you again. The weather here has not yet been cold, but very rainy. I have taken advantage of the last moment of the season, for I suppose that by Christmas winter will at last make itself felt. Farewell, my dear friend. Wholly yours.

### Letter 110 — CX

Erfurt, September 29, 1808.

I have a slight cold. I have received your letter from Malmaison. I am very pleased here with the emperor and with everyone. It is one in the morning, and I am tired. Farewell, my dear friend, keep well.

### Letter 111 — CXI

Erfurt, October 9, 1808.

I have received your letter, my dear friend. I am glad to see that you are well. I have just been hunting on the battlefield of Jena. We had breakfast at the place where I spent the night in bivouac. I attended the ball at Weimar. Emperor Alexander dances; but I do not; forty years are forty years. My health is good at bottom, despite a few minor ailments. Farewell, my dear friend. Wholly yours. I hope to see you soon.

### Letter 112 — CXII

Erfurt, October 1808.

My dear friend, I write you little, I am very busy. Conversations that last whole days do nothing to help my cold. Still, all is well. I am pleased with Alexander; he must be pleased with me. If he were a woman, I think I would make him my sweetheart. I shall be with you before long; keep well, and let me find you fresh and plump.

### Letter 113 — CXIII

Tolosa, November 5, 1808.

I am in Tolosa; I leave for Vittoria, where I shall be in a few hours. I am fairly well, and I hope all this will soon be over.

### Letter 114 — CXIV

Burgos, November 14, 1808.

Affairs here are moving with great energy. The weather is very fine. We are having successes. My health is very good.

### Letter 115 — CXV

November 26, 1808.

I have received your letter. I wish your health to be as good as mine. Everything is going well here. I think you should return to the Tuileries on December 21, and from that date give a concert every eight days.

### Letter 116 — CXVI

Madrid, December 7, 1808.

I have received your letter of the 28th. I am glad to see that you are well. You have heard that young Tascher is conducting himself well; this pleased me. My health is good. The weather here is like the last two weeks of May in Paris. We are warm and have no fire, except at night, which is rather cool. Madrid is peaceful. All my affairs are going well. Farewell, my dear friend. Wholly yours.

### Letter 117 — CXVII

Madrid, December 10, 1808.

My dear friend, I have received your letter. You tell me the weather is bad in Paris; here it is the finest weather in the world. Tell me, please, what is meant by the economies Hortense is making; they say she is dismissing her servants. Would anyone refuse her what she needs? Tell me a word about it; these economies are not fitting. Farewell, my dear friend. Everything is going very well, and I beg you to keep well.

### Letter 118 — CXVIII

Madrid, December 21, 1808.

You should have moved into the Tuileries on the 12th. I hope you will have been pleased with your apartments. I have authorized Kourakin’s presentation to you and the family; receive him well, and have him play with you. Farewell, my dear friend; I am well; the weather is rainy; it is a little cold.

### Letter 119 — CXIX

Madrid, December 22, 1808.

I leave at once to maneuver against the English, who appear to have received their reinforcements and to want to play the bold fellows. The weather is fine, my health perfect; do not be anxious.

### Letter 120 — CXX

December 31, 1808.

My dear friend, I have been pursuing the English for some days; but they are fleeing in terror. They have cowardly abandoned the remnants of La Romana's army, so as not to delay their retreat by half a day. More than a hundred baggage wagons have already been taken. The weather is very bad. Lefèvre has been captured; he got into a skirmish with 300 chasseurs: those bold fellows swam across a river and threw themselves into the midst of the English cavalry; they killed many; but on the way back Lefèvre's horse was wounded; he was drowning; the current carried him to the bank where the English were; he was captured. Console his wife. Farewell, my dear friend. Bessières, with ten thousand horsemen, is advancing on Astorga. A happy new year to everyone.

### Letter 121 — CXXI

January 3, 1809.

I have received, my dear friend, your letters of the 18th and the 21st. I am pursuing the English with a sword at their backs. The weather is cold and severe, but all is well. Farewell, my dear friend, wholly yours! A happy, very happy new year to my Joséphine.

### Letter 122 — CXXII

Bénavente, January 5, 1809.

My dear friend, I write you a word. The English are in full rout. I have charged the Duke of Dalmatia with pursuing them with a sword at their backs. I am well. The weather is bad. Farewell, my dear friend;

### Letter 123 — CXXIII

Mansilla, January 8, 1809.

I have received your letters of the 23rd and the 26th. I am sorry to see that you are suffering from your teeth. I have been here for two days. The weather is as the season warrants. The English are embarking. I am well. Farewell, my dear friend. I am writing to Hortense. Eugène has a daughter. Wholly yours.

### Letter 124 — CXXIV

January 9, 1809.

Moustache brings me a letter from you, dated December 31. I see, my dear friend, that you are sunk in the darkest anxiety. Austria will not make war on me. If she does, I have 150,000 men in Germany, as many on the Rhine, and 400,000 Germans to answer her. Russia will not part from me. People in Paris are mad; all is going well. I shall be in Paris as soon as I believe it useful. I advise you to beware of ghosts; one fine day, at two in the morning… But farewell, my dear friend; I am well, and wholly yours.

### Letter 125 — CXXV

May 8, 1809.

My dear friend, I have received your letter. The bullet that struck me did not wound me; it barely grazed my Achilles heel. My health is very good. You are wrong to worry. My affairs here are going very well. Wholly yours.

### Letter 126 — CXXVI

Saint-Pœlten, May 9, 1809.

My dear friend, I write to you from Saint-Pœlten. Tomorrow I shall be before Vienna. It will be exactly one month after the day on which the Austrians crossed the Inn and violated the peace. My health is very good, the weather superb, and the soldiers very cheerful; there is wine here. Keep well. Wholly yours.

### Letter 127 — CXXVII

Schönbrunn, May 12, 1809.

I am sending you the brother of the Duchess of Montebello to tell you that I am master of Vienna, and that everything here is going perfectly. My health is very good.

### Letter 128 — CXXVIII

Schönbrunn, May 31, 1809.

The loss of the Duke of Montebello, who died this morning, has grieved me deeply. So everything ends!… Farewell, my dear friend; if you can help console the poor marshal's wife, do so. Wholly yours.

### Letter 129 — CXXIX

Schönbrunn, June 16, 1809.

I am sending you a page to announce that on the 14th, the anniversary of Marengo, Eugène won a battle against Archduke John and the Archduke Palatine at Raab in Hungary; that he took three thousand men, several cannon, and four flags from them, and pursued them a great distance along the road to Buda.

### Letter 130 — CXXX

Ebersdorf, July 7, 1809: five in the morning.

I am sending you a page to bring you the good news of the victory of Ebersdorf, which I won on the 5th, and that of Wagram, which I won on the 6th. The enemy army is fleeing in disorder, and everything is going as I wish. Eugène is well. Prince Aldobrandini is wounded, but only slightly. A cannonball grazed the flesh of Bessières's thigh; the wound is very slight. Lasalle was killed; my losses are rather heavy, but the victory is decisive and complete. We have more than a hundred cannon, twelve flags, and many prisoners. I am burned by the sun. Farewell, my friend, I embrace you. Give my warm regards to Hortense.

### Letter 131 — CXXXI

July 9, 1809, at two in the morning.

Everything here is going as I wish. My enemies are defeated, beaten, utterly routed. They were very numerous. I crushed them. My health is good today. Yesterday I was a little ill from an excess of bile, brought on by so much exertion; but it does me a great deal of good. Farewell, my friend, I am very well.

### Letter 132 — CXXXII

In camp before Znaïm, July 13, 1809.

I am sending you the armistice concluded yesterday with the Austrian general. Eugène is in the direction of Hungary and is well. Send a copy of the armistice to Cambacérès, in case he has not already received it. I embrace you, and am very well.

### Letter 133 — CXXXIII

July 24, 1809.

I have received your letter of July 18. I am pleased to see that the waters are doing you good. I see no objection to your going to Malmaison when you have finished taking the waters. The heat is rather great here. My health is very good. Farewell, my friend. Eugène is in Vienna, and in excellent health. All yours.

### Letter 134 — CXXXIV

Schönbrunn, August 7, 1809.

I see from your letter that you are at Plombières and intend to stay there; you are right to do so. The waters and the fine climate can only do you good. I am staying here. My health and my affairs are going as I wish. Please give my warm regards to Hortense and the Napoléons. All yours.

### Letter 135 — CXXXV

Schönbrunn, August 21, 1809.

I have received your letter of August 14 from Plombières; I see from it that you will have arrived on the 18th in Paris or at Malmaison. You must have been ill from the heat, which is very great here. Malmaison must be quite dry and scorched in such weather. My health is good. I have, however, caught a slight cold from the heat. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 136 — CXXXVI

Schönbrunn, August 26, 1809.

I have received your letter from Malmaison. I have been told that you are plump, fresh, and well. I assure you that Vienna is not an amusing city. I very much wish I were already in Paris. Farewell, my friend. Twice a week I hear the Bouffons; they are rather mediocre, but they entertain one in the evenings. There are fifty or sixty women of Vienna there, but in the pit, since they have not been presented.

### Letter 137 — CXXXVII

Schönbrunn, August 31, 1809.

I have received no letters from you for several days; the pleasures of Malmaison, the fine greenhouses, the lovely gardens make one forget the absent; that is the rule, they say, among people like you. Everyone speaks only of your good health; I am very doubtful of it all. Tomorrow I leave for a two-day trip to Hungary with Eugène. Farewell, my friend. All yours.

### Letter 138 — CXXXVIII

Kems, September 9, 1809.

My friend, I have been here since two yesterday morning; I came to see my troops. My health has never been better. I know that you are well. I shall be in Paris at the moment when no one expects me anymore. Everything here is going very well, and to my satisfaction. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 139 — CXXXIX

September 23, 1809.

I have received your letter of the 16th; I see that you are well. The old maid's house is worth only 120,000 francs; they will never get more for it. Still, I leave you free to do as you wish, since it amuses you; but once it is bought, do not have anything demolished to make a few rock formations. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 140 — CXL

September 25, 1809.

I have received your letter. Do not be overconfident, and I advise you to guard yourself well at night; for one of these nights you will hear a great noise. My health is very good; I do not know what people are saying; I have not been so well for many years. Corvisart was of no use to me. Farewell, my friend; everything here is going very well. All yours.

### Letter 141 — CXLI

Nymphenbourg, near Munich, October 21, 1809.

I have been here since yesterday and am well; I shall not leave tomorrow either. I shall stop for a day at Stuttgard. You will be notified twenty-four hours before my arrival at Fontainebleau. I look forward to seeing you again with delight, and await that moment impatiently. I embrace you. All yours.

### Letter 142 — CXLII

October 1809.

My friend, I write to tell you that peace was signed two hours ago between Champagny and Prince Metternich. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 143 — CXLIII

Munich, October 1809.

My friend, I leave in an hour. I shall arrive at Fontainebleau on the 26th or 27th; you may go there with a few ladies.

### Letter 144 — CXLIV

Trianon, December 18, 1809, eight in the evening.

My friend, I found you today weaker than you ought to be. You have shown courage; you must find enough to sustain you. You must not give yourself up to a fatal melancholy; you must find contentment and, above all, care for your health, which is so precious to me. If you are attached to me and love me, you must conduct yourself with strength and find happiness. You cannot doubt my constant and tender friendship, and you would know very little of all the feelings I have for you if you supposed that I could be happy when you are not happy, and above all when you cannot find peace. Farewell, my friend; sleep well; remember that I wish it.

### Letter 145 — CXLV

Tuesday, at six. (Trianon, December 19, 1809.)

The Queen of Naples, whom I saw hunting in the Bois de Boulogne, where I ran a stag to ground, told me she had left you yesterday at one in the afternoon in good health. Please tell me what you have done today. As for me, I am very well. Yesterday, when I saw you, I was ill. I expect you will have gone out for a walk. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 146 — CXLVI

Wednesday, seven in the evening. (Trianon, December 20, 1809.)

I have received your letter, my friend. Savary tells me you are still weeping. I hope you were able to go out for a walk today. I sent you some of the game from my hunt. I shall come to see you when you tell me that you are being reasonable and that your courage is gaining the upper hand. Tomorrow I have the ministers with me all day. Farewell, my friend; I too am sad today; I need to know that you are content and to hear that you are regaining your composure. Sleep well.

### Letter 147 — CXLVII

Thursday, at noon. (Trianon, December 21, 1809.)

I wanted to come and see you today, my friend, but I am very busy and a little unwell. I shall nevertheless go to the council. Please tell me how you are. This weather is very damp and not at all healthy.

### Letter 148 — CXLVIII

Trianon, Tuesday, December 26, 1809.

I went to bed yesterday after you had gone, my friend. I am going to Paris. I wish to know that you are cheerful. I shall come to see you during the week. I have received your letters, which I shall read in the carriage.

### Letter 149 — CXLIX

Wednesday, at noon. (Paris, December 27, 1809.)

Eugène told me that you were very sad yesterday; that is not right, my friend, it is contrary to what you promised me. I was very distressed to see the Tuileries again; that great palace seemed empty to me, and I felt alone there. Farewell, my friend; take care of yourself.

### Letter 150 — CL

Paris, Friday, December 29, 1809.

My friend, I have received your letter; I am sorry to see that you have been ill; I fear it is this bad weather. Madame de la T… is one of the most foolish women of the faubourg; I put up with her chatter for a very long time; I grew tired of it, and ordered that she should not return to Paris. There are five or six other old women whom I also intend to send away from Paris; they corrupt the young with their foolishness. I shall make Madame de Mackau a baroness, since you wish it, and attend to your other requests. My health is fairly good. B…'s conduct seems very ridiculous to me. I wish to hear that you are well. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 151 — CLI

Paris, December 31, 1809. (Sunday, at ten in the morning.)

I have a grand parade today, my friend; I shall see all my Old Guard and more than sixty artillery trains. The King of Westphalia is going home, which may leave a house vacant in Paris. I am sad not to see you. If the parade ends before three, I shall come; otherwise, tomorrow. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 152 — CLII

Paris, Thursday evening, January 4, 1810.

Hortense, whom I saw this afternoon, gave me news of you, my friend. I hope you went to see your plants today, since it was a fine day. I went out only for a moment at three o'clock to shoot a few hares. Farewell, my friend, sleep well.

### Letter 153 — CLIII

Friday, at eight. (Paris, January 5, 1810.)

I wanted to come and see you today, but I cannot; I hope it will be tomorrow. It has been a long time since you sent me news of yourself. I was pleased to hear that you had walked in your garden during this cold weather. Farewell, my friend, take care of yourself, and never doubt my feelings.

### Letter 154 — CLIV

January 7, 1810. (Sunday, at eight in the evening.)

I was very happy to have seen you yesterday; I feel how charming your company is to me. I worked today with Estève. I have granted 100,000 francs for 1810 for extraordinary expenses at Malmaison. You may therefore have anything you wish planted; you will distribute this sum as you see fit. I have instructed Estève to hand over 200,000 francs as soon as the contract for the Julien house is made. I have ordered payment for your set of ruby jewelry, which will be valued by the administration, for I will not have jewelers cheating us. Thus it costs me 400,000 francs. I have ordered that the million the civil list owes you for 1810 be placed at your business agent's disposal to pay your debts. You should find 500,000 to 600,000 francs in the cabinet at Malmaison; you may take it for your silver and linens. I have ordered a very beautiful porcelain service to be made for you; your instructions will be taken so that it may be very beautiful.

### Letter 155 — CLV

Tuesday, January 9, 1810. Noon.

I would have come to see you today if I had not had to visit the King of Bavaria, who has just arrived in Paris. I shall be at his residence this evening at eight and back at ten. I hope to see you tomorrow and find you cheerful and composed. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 156 — CLVI

Wednesday, January 10, 1810.

My friend, I see no objection to your receiving the King of Württemberg whenever you wish. The King and Queen of Bavaria are to visit you the day after tomorrow. I very much wish to go to Malmaison, but you must be strong and calm; the page this morning says he saw you weeping. Farewell, my friend; never doubt my feelings for you; you would be unjust and unkind.

### Letter 157 — CLVII

Paris, January 13, 1810. (Saturday, at one in the afternoon.)

My friend, I saw Eugène yesterday, and he told me you would receive the kings. I was at the concert until eight; I did not dine, all alone, until then. I very much wish to see you. If I do not come today, I shall come after Mass. Farewell, my friend; I hope to find you sensible and well. This weather must weigh heavily on you.

### Letter 158 — CLVIII

January 17, 1810.

My friend, d’Audenarde, whom I sent to you this morning, tells me that you have lost your courage since you have been at Malmaison. Yet that place is filled with our feelings, which cannot and must never change, at least on my side. I very much want to see you, but I must be sure that you are strong, not weak; I too am a little weak, and it causes me terrible pain. Farewell, Joséphine; good night. If you doubted me, you would be very ungrateful.

### Letter 159 — CLIX

January 20, 1810.

I am sending you, my friend, the box I promised you the day before yesterday, which depicts the island of Lobau. I was a little tired yesterday. I work a great deal and do not go out. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 160 — CLX

January 30, 1810.

My friend, I have received your letter. I hope that the walk you took today to show your greenhouse will have done you good. I shall be glad to know you are at the Élysée, and very happy to see you more often, for you know how much I love you.

### Letter 161 — CLXI

Tuesday, noon, January 30, 1810.

I hear that you are grieving; that is not right. You have no confidence in me, and every rumor people spread affects you; that is not knowing me, Joséphine. I am angry with you, and if I do not hear that you are cheerful and content, I shall come and scold you severely. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 162 — CLXII

February 3, 1810.

I told Eugène that you preferred listening to the gossips of a great city to what I told you; that people must not tell you idle tales to distress you. I have had your belongings moved to the Élysée. You will come to Paris very soon; but be calm and content, and have complete confidence in me.

### Letter 163 — CLXIII

February 19, 1810.

My friend, I have received your letter. I wish to see you, but the reflections you make may be true. There may be some objection to our being under the same roof during the first year. Still, Bessières's country house is too far away for me to return; on the other hand, I have a slight cold, and I am not sure I shall go there. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 164 — CLXIV

March 12, 1810.

My friend, I hope you were pleased with what I have done for Navarre. You will have seen in it a fresh sign of my desire to please you. Have possession taken of Navarre; you may go there on March 25 and spend April there. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 165 — CLXV bis

Compiègne, April 21, 1810.

My friend, I have received your letter of April 19; it is written in a poor style. I am always the same; people like me never change. I do not know what Eugène may have said to you. I have not written to you because you have not done so, and because I have wished for everything that can please you. I am glad to see that you are going to Malmaison and that you are content; but I shall be glad to receive news of you and to give you mine. I shall say no more until you have compared this letter with yours; after that, I leave you to judge which of us is better and more a friend to the other. Farewell, my friend, take care of yourself, and be fair to yourself and to me.

### Letter 166 — CLXVI

Compiègne, April 26, 1810.

My friend, I have received two letters from you. I am writing to Eugène. I have ordered that Tascher be married to the Princess of La Layen. Tomorrow I shall go to Antwerp to see my fleet and order work to be done. I shall be back on May 15. Eugène tells me that you want to go to the waters; do not put yourself out in any way. Do not listen to the gossip of Paris: the people who spread it are idle and far from knowing the true state of affairs. My feelings for you do not change, and I very much wish to know that you are happy and content.

### Letter 167 — CLXVII

Rambouillet, July 8, 1810.

My friend, I have received your letter of July 3. You will have seen Eugène, and his presence will have done you good. I was pleased to hear that the waters are good for you. The King of Holland has just abdicated the crown, leaving the regency, according to the Constitution, to the Queen. He has left Amsterdam, and left the Grand Duke of Berg behind. I have united Holland with France; but this act has the happy consequence of setting the Queen free, and your unfortunate daughter will come to Paris with her son, the Grand Duke of Berg; this will make her perfectly happy. My health is good. I have come to hunt for a few days. I shall be glad to see you this fall. Never doubt my friendship. I never change. Take care of yourself, be cheerful, and believe in the truth of my feelings.

### Letter 168 — CLXVIII

July 1810.

I was distressed to learn of the danger you ran. For a woman from the islands of the Ocean to die in a lake would have been a cruel fate.

### Letter 169 — CLXIX

Fontainebleau, October 1, 1810.

I have received your letter. Hortense, whom I have seen, will have told you what I thought; go and see your son this winter, return to the waters of Aix next year, or else stay at Navarre in the spring. I would advise you to go to Navarre at once, if I did not fear that you would be bored there. My opinion is that in winter you can suitably stay only in Milan or at Navarre; beyond that, I approve of whatever you do, for I do not wish to constrain you in any way. Farewell, my friend. The Empress is four months pregnant; I am appointing Madame de Montesquiou governess of the children of France. Be content, and never let your imagination run away with you; never doubt my feelings.

### Letter 170 — CLXX

Paris, January 8, 1811.

I have received your New Year's letter. I am pleased to see that you are content. They say there are more women than men at Navarre. My health is very good, although I have not been out for fifteen days. Eugène seems to me unworried about his wife; he is giving you a little boy. Farewell, my friend, take care of yourself.

### Letter 171 — CLXXI

Paris, March 22, 1811.

My friend, I have received your letter; thank you. My son is large and very healthy. I hope he will thrive. He has my chest, my mouth, and my eyes. I hope he will fulfill his destiny. I am always very pleased with Eugène; he has never given me any sorrow.

### Letter 172 — CLXXII

Gubin, June 20, 1812.

I see no objection to your going to Milan to be near the vicereine. You would do well to travel incognito. You will be very hot. My health is very good. Eugène is well and conducting himself well. Never doubt my concern and my friendship.

## Translation — Mouseia

> Independent machine-assisted Plain English translation from the 1888 Martel French edition, not a historical English translation. French Wikisource contributors supplied the scan-backed transcription: https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Livre:Bonaparte_-_Œuvres_littéraires,_tome_1,_1888.djvu (page histories credit contributors). The adapted transcription and translation are shared under CC BY-SA 4.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/. Extraction removes markup and editorial notes and makes documented transcription repairs. French-source model review is not human specialist certification or a complete scan collation.

### Letter 001 — I

Paris, October 28, 1795.

I cannot understand what led you to write to me. Please believe that nobody wants your friendship more than I do, or is more willing to give you some proof of it. Had my work permitted, I would have delivered my letter in person.

Buonaparte.

### Letter 002 — II

Paris, December 1795.

I wake with you entirely on my mind. Your portrait and the heady evening we spent yesterday have kept my senses awake. Sweet Joséphine, there is no one like you, and you have such a strange effect on my heart! Are you angry? Do I see you looking sad? Are you worried? My soul breaks with pain, and your friend can find no rest. But am I any more at rest when I give myself over to the deep feeling that rules me and take from your lips and your heart a flame that burns me? Ah, last night I truly understood that your portrait is not you. You leave at noon; in three hours I will see you. Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses—but give me none, because they make my blood burn.

### Letter 003 — III

Chanceaux, March 14, 1796.

From Châtillon I sent you a letter and a power of attorney authorizing you to receive several amounts due to me. With each passing moment, beloved friend, I am carried farther away, and with each I find less strength to endure our separation. My thoughts never leave you; my imagination wears itself out wondering what you are doing. When I imagine you unhappy, my heart is torn and my own anguish deepens. If you are merry, playing with your friends, I accuse you of having so soon forgotten the painful parting three days ago; then you are fickle, and feel nothing deeply. As you see, I am hard to please. But it is quite another matter, my dear, if I fear that your health has suffered or that you have reason to be unhappy; then I lament the speed with which they take me away from my heart. I feel keenly that your natural kindness is no longer there for me, and only complete assurance that nothing bad has happened to you can make me content. If someone asks whether I have slept well, I feel I would need a courier to tell me you had rested well before I could answer. Illness and the fury of men trouble me only because they might strike you, my dear. May my guardian spirit, which has always protected me amid great dangers, surround and shelter you, while I leave myself exposed. Ah, do not be cheerful, but a little melancholy; above all, may your soul be free from sorrow, as your body is from illness. You know our good Ossian’s thoughts on the subject. Write at great length, my tender friend, and accept a thousand and one kisses from the truest and most loving of friends.

### Letter 004 — IV

Port-Maurice, 14 Germinal (April 3, 1796).

All your letters have reached me, but none affected me as the last one did. Do you realize what you are saying when you write to me like that, my beloved? Is my situation not cruel enough already, without adding to my longing and throwing my soul into turmoil? What writing! What feelings you describe! They are on fire, and they burn my poor heart. My one Joséphine, away from you there is no joy. Without you the world is a desert where I am alone, deprived of the comfort of pouring out my heart. You have robbed me of more than my soul: my whole life has but one thought, you. If the burden of affairs wearies me, if I dread their outcome, if mankind disgusts me and life itself is on the point of earning my curse, I lay a hand upon my heart. There your portrait beats; I gaze at it, and love is perfect happiness to me. Everything seems bright except when I find myself away from my friend.

What art have you used to capture every faculty I possess and make you the center of my inner life? To live for Joséphine: that is my life story. Everything I do is meant to bring me near you; I am dying to get close to you. Fool that I am, I do not notice that I am moving farther away. How many lands and regions lie between us! How long before you read these lines, the faint expression of a stirred soul over which you rule! My beloved wife, I do not know what fate awaits me, but if it keeps me away from you any longer I cannot bear it. My courage does not reach that far. Once I was proud of my courage. Sometimes, considering the harm people might do me and what fate might have in store, I faced the most unimaginable misfortunes without a frown or a moment's surprise. Now, though, the thought that my Joséphine may be unwell or ill, and most of all the cruel, deadly possibility that her love for me has diminished, withers my soul and stops my blood. It casts me down in such sadness that I cannot even summon the courage for fury or despair. I used often to say that men can do nothing to someone who dies without regret. But to die unloved by you now, to die uncertain of your love, would be hell’s torment, a vivid picture of absolute extinction. I feel as if I were suffocating. My sole companion, destined to make life’s painful journey with me, on the day your heart is no longer mine, nature itself will lose its warmth and all its greenery for me... I stop here, my sweet friend. Sadness weighs on my soul, fatigue on my body, heaviness on my mind; people bore me. I really ought to hate them: they keep me away from my heart.

Here I am at Port-Maurice, near Oneille; tomorrow I shall reach Albenga. The two armies are on the move, each seeking to outwit the other; the more skillful will win. I am fairly pleased with Beaulieu: he maneuvers well and is stronger than his predecessor. I hope to give him a fine beating. Have no fear. Love me as you love your eyes; no, that is too little: as you love yourself, more than yourself, your thoughts, your mind, your life, your all. Forgive me, then, my friend, I am raving. Nature is weak in anyone who feels intensely, in the man you love. Give Barras, Sucy and Madame Tallien my sincere friendship; Madame Château-Renard the usual courtesies; Eugène and Hortense my true love.

### Letter 005 — V

Albenga, 18 Germinal (April 7, 1796).

A letter arrives from you which you break off, you say, to go into the country; and then you take it upon yourself to be jealous of me, overwhelmed here by work and exhaustion. Ah, my dear friend!... It is true, I am wrong. The countryside is beautiful at the beginning of the season, and no doubt the nineteen-year-old lover was there too. How could you waste another moment writing to a man three hundred leagues away, who lives, enjoys anything and exists only for the memory of you, and reads your letters as one devours a favorite meal after six hours of hunting? I am not pleased. Your last letter is as cold as friendship. I found none of the fire that lights your eyes, that I thought I had sometimes seen in them. Yet how inconsistent I am! I thought your earlier letters weighed too heavily on my soul; the upheaval they caused disturbed my peace and enslaved my senses. I wished your letters less ardent, but their coolness is the chill of death. The fear that Joséphine does not love me, the thought of finding her inconstant, of... But I am imagining troubles. There are already so many real ones! Must I manufacture others? You cannot have awakened such limitless love in me without feeling it yourself; with a soul, a mind and a reason like yours, you could not repay surrender and devotion with a mortal blow... A thought from my only wife and a victory over fate: those are my wishes. A single, complete thought, worthy of the man who thinks of you every moment.

### Letter 006 — VI

Cherasco, 3 Floréal (April 24, 1796).

My brother will give you this letter. I am very fond of him, and I hope he will win your affection too; he deserves it. Nature endowed him with a gentle, invariably good disposition and a wealth of good qualities. I am asking Barras by letter to appoint him consul at an Italian port. He wants to retire with his little wife, away from the bustle of society and high affairs; I commend him to your care. Your letters of the 16th and 21st have arrived. You went many days without writing. What are you doing? Yes, my dear, I am not jealous, but sometimes worried. Come quickly; I warn you, if you delay you will find me ill. Exhaustion and your absence are too much together. Your letters are the pleasure of my days, and happy days are not frequent for me. Junot is taking twenty-two flags to Paris.

You are to return with him, do you hear?… Should I have the misfortune of seeing him come back alone, my adored friend, my unhappiness would have no remedy, my grief no consolation, and my sorrows no end. He will see you and breathe within your temple; perhaps you will even grant him that singular, inestimable privilege of kissing your cheek, while I remain alone, very, very far away. But you are going to return, aren't you? You will be here at my side, upon my heart, in my arms? Take wings, come, come! Yet travel gently. The road is long, bad and tiring. What if your carriage overturned, or you were hurt; what if the fatigue… Come quickly, my adored friend, but slowly.

### Letter 007 — VII

Cherasco, April 29, 1796.

Since this morning I have felt happier, though I cannot say why. I have a presentiment that you have left to join me here, and the thought fills me with joy.

Above all, do not fall ill. No, my dear, you will come here and be perfectly well. You will have a child, a little one as lovely as its mother, loving you as its father does; and when you are very, very old, a hundred years old, the child will comfort you and make you happy.

### Letter 008 — VIII

Tortona, 27 Prairial, year IV of the Republic, at noon (June 15, 1796).

My life is one long nightmare. An ominous presentiment stifles me. I have ceased to live; I have lost more than life, happiness or peace, and hardly dare hope. I am sending you a courier. He is to spend just four hours in Paris before bringing back your reply. Fill ten pages: nothing else can give me even a little comfort. You are ill, you love me, I have hurt you, you are pregnant, and I cannot see you. I am beside myself at the thought. My offenses against you are so many that I cannot imagine how to atone for them. I accused you of staying in Paris when you were ill there. Pardon me, my dear friend: the love you awakened has driven me out of my mind, and I shall never recover it. This is a sickness one cannot cure. My forebodings are so dire that I would ask only to see you, clasp you to my heart for two hours, and then die with you. Who is looking after you? I imagine you have sent for Hortense. I love that dear child a thousand times more now that I think she may give you some comfort. For my part, I can have no comfort, rest or hope until the courier I send you comes back and you explain in a long letter the nature of your illness and how serious it is likely to be. Should there be any danger, I warn you that I will leave for Paris immediately... Fortune has always favored me; fate has never opposed my wishes, and now I am struck in the only thing I care about... I have no appetite, no sleep, no interest in friendship, glory or my country. You, only you; all the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. Honor matters to me because it matters to you, and victory because it pleases you; without that, I would have abandoned everything and come to lay myself at your feet.

My dear, be sure to tell me that you believe my love for you exceeds anything one can imagine; that you are certain every moment I have is yours, and that no hour passes in which I do not think of you; that it has never occurred to me to think of another woman, that all other women seem to me devoid of charm, beauty and intelligence; that only you, all of you, as I see you and as you are, could delight me and take possession of every power of my soul; that you have reached every part of it, that my heart has no hidden corner you cannot see, no thought that is not subordinate to you; that my strength, my arms, my mind belong wholly to you; that my soul resides in your body and, should you change or cease to live, I too would die that day; that nature and the earth are lovely only because you dwell here. Unless you believe this, unless your soul is persuaded and permeated by it, you grieve me: you do not love me. A magnetic current passes between those who love. You know I could not even see a lover of yours, let alone bear your having one: to see him and tear out his heart would be one and the same to me. And then, if I could raise my hand against your sacred person... No, I would never dare; instead I would depart a life in which the most virtuous creature in existence had betrayed me. Your love gives me certainty and pride. Adversity tests us and shows each of us how strong our passion is. A child as adorable as its mother will soon be born in your arms. Wretched as I am, I would be satisfied with a single day. A thousand kisses on your eyes and lips... Beloved wife, what power you have over me! Your sickness has made me very sick. I still burn with fever! Let the courier stay no longer than six hours, then send him straight back with my sovereign's precious letter.

### Letter 009 — IX

Roverbella, July 6, 1796.

The enemy has been beaten. Kilmaine will send you a copy of the account. I am exhausted to death. Please set out for Verona at once; I need you, for I think I am going to be very ill. I send you a thousand kisses. I am in bed.

### Letter 010 — X

Verona, July 11, 1796.

No sooner had I left Roverbella than I heard that the enemy was approaching Verona. Masséna made dispositions which proved very successful. We captured six hundred men and three cannon. Seven bullets went through General Brune's clothes without one touching him; that is extraordinary good luck. I give you a thousand kisses. My health is excellent. We lost only ten men killed and a hundred wounded.

### Letter 011 — XI

Marmirolo, July 17, 1796, nine in the evening.

Your letter has arrived, my beloved, and filled my heart with joy. Thank you for taking the trouble to send me news. You must be feeling better today; indeed I am sure you are well again. I strongly urge you to ride; it cannot fail to do you good. I have been sad ever since I left you. My happiness is to be near you. I keep recalling your kisses, your tears and your charming jealousy, and the incomparable Joséphine’s charms continually set my heart and senses ablaze. When shall I be free of worries and business, able to spend every moment with you, with nothing to do but love you and think of the happiness of telling and showing you so? I will send you your horse, but hope you can soon join me.

A few days ago I thought I loved you; since seeing you, I find my love has grown a thousandfold. I have worshipped you more each day since we met: proof that La Bruyère was wrong to say love arrives suddenly. Everything in nature has its course and its stages of growth. Ah, please show me some defects! Have less beauty, grace and tenderness, and especially less goodness; never be jealous or shed tears. Your tears drive me mad and make my blood burn. Believe me, I no longer have it in my power to form a thought that is not yours, an idea that is not subject to you. Rest well and recover quickly. Come and join me, so that before we die we may at least say, “We spent so many days in happiness!”

A million kisses, even for Fortuné, despite his bad temper.

### Letter 012 — XII

Marmirolo, July 18, 1796.

I spent the whole night under arms. A bold and lucky stroke would have given me Mantua, but the lake waters dropped rapidly and my embarked column could not arrive. Tonight I shall try again another way... A letter from Eugène has reached me; I am sending it on to you. Please write to those dear children on my behalf and send them some jewelry. Tell them, and make sure they believe it, that I love them as if they were my children. Yours and mine are so completely one in my heart that I make no distinction. I long anxiously for news of your health and your occupations. I visited Virgil’s village by the lake in the silver light of the moon, thinking of Joséphine every moment.

### Letter 013 — XIII

Marmirolo, July 19, 1796.

For two days I have had no letter from you. I have remarked on it thirty times today; you can imagine how sad that is. Yet you cannot doubt the tender concern I feel for you alone. Yesterday we attacked Mantua, heating it up with two batteries firing red-hot shot and with mortars. The wretched city burned all night. It was a terrible and impressive sight. We have taken several outworks and shall open the trenches tonight. Tomorrow headquarters and I set out for Castiglione; I intend to spend the night there. A dispatch rider came from Paris with two letters addressed to you, which I opened and read. The act seems perfectly natural to me, and you allowed it the other day; nevertheless I worry that it may displease you, and that grieves me deeply. I wished I could reseal them. For shame! What a horrible thing that would be. If I am guilty, I beg your pardon. I swear it was not jealousy; certainly not, I think far too highly of my beloved for that. I wish you would allow me unconditionally to read your correspondence; then I would have neither remorse nor fear. Achille has arrived as a courier from Milan: no letters from my beloved! Goodbye, my one treasure! When can you come and join me? I will fetch you myself from Milan. A thousand kisses, pure as you are and hot as my heart. I have called for the courier; he says he stopped at your place and you told him you had nothing to ask of him. Fie! You wicked, ugly, cruel little tyrant, you pretty little monster! My threats and foolishness make you laugh. Ah, you know, if only I could shut you up in my heart, I would keep you prisoner there. Tell me you are cheerful, healthy and very loving.

### Letter 014 — XIV

Castiglione, July 21, 1796.

I hope to find a letter from you when I arrive this evening. You know, dear Joséphine, how much pleasure your letters give me, and I am sure you enjoy writing them. Tonight I leave for Peschiera and Verona, then go on to Mantua and perhaps Milan to receive a kiss, since you assure me your kisses are not icy. By then I hope you will be quite well and can come with me to headquarters, where we shall never part again. Are you not the soul that gives me life, the feeling that fills my heart?... Goodbye, beautiful and kind, utterly peerless, utterly divine; a thousand loving kisses!

### Letter 015 — XV

Castiglione, July 22, 1796.

The army's needs require me in this area; I cannot possibly get away to Milan. It would take five or six days, and movements might occur in that time for which my presence here would be urgently needed. You assure me your health is good, so please come to Brescia. I am dispatching Murat at once to prepare quarters for you in town, as you want. I think it best that you leave Milan quite late, spend the night of 6 Thermidor on the road, and come to Brescia on the 7th, where the most tender of lovers awaits you. It grieves me that you could think my heart might open to anyone but you, my dear. You have won it by conquest, a conquest secure and everlasting. Why speak of Madame T.? I care very little for her, or for the women of Brescia. You dislike my opening your letters; this one will be the last. Your letter had not yet arrived. Goodbye, my tender friend; send me news often. Come and join me quickly, and be happy and free from worry. Everything is going well, and my heart belongs to you for the rest of my life. Please give Adjutant General Miollis back the box of medals which, he writes, he left with you. People’s tongues are so spiteful and malicious that one must be scrupulous about everything. Good health, love, and a speedy arrival in Brescia. My carriage in Milan serves both for town and for the country; take it for your journey. Carry your silverware and some necessities with you. Keep each day’s journey short and travel when it is cool, so as not to exhaust yourself. The troops need only three days to get to Brescia; by post the journey takes fourteen hours. I suggest spending the night of 6 Thermidor at Cassano. On the 7th I shall come to meet you, going as far as I can. Goodbye, my Joséphine, a thousand tender kisses.

### Letter 016 — XVI

Brescia, August 10, 1796.

I have arrived, my adored friend, and my first thought is to write to you. All along the road your health and your image never left my mind for a moment. I will not be at ease until I receive letters from you; I am waiting impatiently for them. You cannot imagine how worried I am. I left you sad, unhappy and half ill. If the deepest, tenderest love could make you happy, you should be happy. I am overwhelmed with business. Goodbye, my sweet Joséphine; love me dearly, keep well and think of me often.

### Letter 017 — XVII

Brescia, August 31, 1796.

I am leaving for Verona at once. I had hoped for a letter from you, and the lack of one makes me terribly anxious. You were a little ill when I left; please do not leave me so worried. You had promised to be more punctual; your tongue and your heart were certainly in agreement then... Nature has given you sweetness, kindness and every charm; how can you forget the man whose love for you is so ardent? Three days without a letter from you, although I have written several times. Absence is terrible: nights drag on, tiresome and dreary, and the day is monotonous. Today I am alone with my thoughts, my work, my writing, men and grand schemes, without even a line from you to hold against my heart. Headquarters has already set off; I follow in an hour. An express arrived from Paris last night; the enclosed letter was the only one for you, and it will please you. Think of me, live for me, be with your beloved often, and know that he fears only one misfortune: that Joséphine should cease to love him. A thousand sweet, tender and utterly exclusive kisses.

### Letter 018 — XVIII

Ala, September 3, 1796.

We are in the midst of the campaign, my beloved. We have driven back the enemy outposts and taken eight or ten horses along with the same number of riders. I hope for good results and expect us to enter Trent on 19 Fructidor. Not a letter from you: I am truly anxious, although people assure me you are well and have even been for an outing at Lake Como. Every day I wait impatiently for the courier who will bring me your news; you know how precious it is to me. Away from you I do not live; life's happiness is beside my sweet Joséphine. Think of me! Write often, very often. That is the only remedy for separation; it is cruel, but I hope it will be brief.

### Letter 019 — XIX

Montebello, September 10, 1796.

The enemy has lost eighteen thousand men as prisoners, my dear; the others have been killed or hurt. Wurmser, with a column of five hundred horsemen and five thousand infantry, has no choice but to throw himself into Mantua. Never have our successes been so consistent and so great. Italy, Friuli and Tyrol are secured for the Republic. The Emperor will have to raise another army: we have captured everything—guns, bridge trains and baggage.

In a few days we shall meet again; that is the sweetest reward for my fatigue and my troubles.

A thousand passionate, loving kisses.

### Letter 020 — XX

Verona, September 17, 1796.

I write to you very often, my dear, and you write little. You wicked, ugly creature—as ugly as you are flighty! It is treachery to deceive a poor husband, a devoted lover. Must he forfeit his rights because he is away, weighed down by work, exhaustion and trouble? How can he help it? Yesterday’s action was exceedingly bloody; the enemy suffered heavy losses and was utterly defeated. We captured Mantua’s suburb from him. Goodbye, beloved Joséphine. One of these nights I shall burst through the doors like a jealous man, and there I shall be in your arms. A thousand kisses, full of love.

### Letter 021 — XXI

Modena, October 17, 1796, nine in the evening.

The day before yesterday I was out in the field all day; yesterday I stayed in bed. A fever and a terrible headache prevented me from writing to my darling. But her letters arrived; I pressed them to my heart and kissed them, and the pain of separation and the hundred miles between us disappeared. In that moment I saw you beside me, not capricious and angry but gentle and tender, with that soothing goodness that belongs to my Joséphine alone. It was a dream: you can imagine whether it cured my fever. Your letters have the chill of fifty years; they suggest fifteen years of marriage. One sees in them the friendship and feelings of that winter of life. Shame, Joséphine!... That is very wicked, very bad and very treacherous of you. What more could you do to make me utterly wretched? Cease to love me? You have done that already. Hate me? I wish you would! Everything debases, except hatred—but indifference, with its marble pulse, its deceitful eye, its monotonous step!... A thousand kisses as tender as my heart.

### Letter 022 — XXII

Verona, November 9, 1796.

I reached Verona the day before yesterday, my dear friend. Tired as I am, I am well and very busy, and I love you as passionately as ever. I am getting on horseback. A thousand kisses.

### Letter 023 — XXIII

Caldiero, November 13, 1796.

I do not love you at all anymore; on the contrary, I hate you. You are a nasty creature, so awkward and stupid, such a Cinderella. You never write to me; you do not love your husband. You know how much pleasure your letters give him, yet you will not even scribble him six lines! What do you do all day, madam? What business is so important that it leaves you no time to write to your devoted lover? What attachment has smothered and displaced the tender, constant love you promised him? Who can this wonderful new lover be, who takes up every moment, rules your days, and keeps you from giving your husband a thought? Take care, Joséphine: one fine night the doors will be forced open and there I shall be. Seriously, my dear, I am worried because I hear nothing from you. Write me four pages at once, full of those lovely things that fill my heart with feeling and delight. I hope before long to hold you close and cover you with a million kisses as hot as the equator.

### Letter 024 — XXIV

Verona, November 19, 1796.

At last I am alive again, my beloved Joséphine. Death is no longer before my eyes; glory and honor still live in my heart, and the enemy has been defeated at Arcole. Tomorrow we shall put right Vaubois's blunder in abandoning Rivoli. Mantua will be ours in eight days, and before long I shall hold you in my arms and give you countless proofs of your husband’s ardent love. I will come to Milan as soon as I can. I am a little tired.

A letter has reached me from Eugène and Hortense; they are charming children.

Since my whole household is somewhat scattered, I will send them to you as soon as everything has rejoined me.

We have captured five thousand enemy soldiers and killed at least six thousand. Goodbye, my beloved Joséphine; think of me often. If you stopped loving your Achilles, or your heart grew cold toward him, you would be dreadfully cruel and unjust; but I know you will remain my lover, just as I shall remain your devoted friend

Death alone can break the bond that sympathy, love and feeling have formed.

Tell me how the little belly is. A thousand and a thousand kisses, tender and loving.

### Letter 025 — XXV

Verona, November 24, 1796.

I hope to be in your arms soon, my sweet friend. I love you madly. I am writing to Paris by this messenger. All is well. Wurmser was defeated yesterday outside Mantua. Your husband needs only Joséphine's love to be happy.

### Letter 026 — XXVI

Milan, November 1796.

I reach Milan and rush to your rooms; I have left everything to see you and hold you close—and you are not there. You go from town to town with the festivities, away from me as I arrive, and care nothing now for your dear Napoleon. A whim made you love him, and inconstancy has made him a matter of indifference to you. Used as I am to danger, I know the remedy for life's troubles and sorrows. My misery cannot be measured; I had every right to expect better. I shall be here until sometime on the 9th of Frimaire. Do not put yourself out; go on enjoying yourself. Happiness was made for you. Everyone in the world is overjoyed if they can give you pleasure; only your husband is deeply, deeply unhappy.

### Letter 027 — XXVII

Milan, November 28, 1796.

The courier Berthier sent to Genoa has arrived. I quite understand that you had no time to write to me. With all the games and pleasures around you, why should you make the smallest sacrifice on my account? Berthier was good enough to show me your letter to him. I have no wish for you to alter your arrangements or give up the entertainments offered you. I am not worth it, and the happiness or misery of a man you do not love has no claim on your attention. As for me, loving you alone, making you happy, doing nothing that might upset you: that is my life's fate and purpose. Be happy, do not reproach me, and give no thought to the happiness of a man who lives only in your life and finds enjoyment only in your pleasures and happiness. I am at fault when I ask you to love as I do. Why ask lace to be as heavy as gold? When I sacrifice every wish, every thought, every moment of my life to you, I am obeying the power your charms, your character, your whole being have acquired over my unfortunate heart. It is my fault if nature has not given me the charms to hold you captive; but I do deserve consideration and esteem from Joséphine, because I love her exclusively, madly.

Goodbye, adorable wife, goodbye, my Joséphine. May fate put every sorrow and trouble into my heart, but give my Joséphine prosperous, happy days. Who deserves them more than she? Once it is clear that she can no longer love, I will keep my deep pain to myself and be content to be of use and good for something to her. I reopen my letter to give you a kiss. Ah, Joséphine! Joséphine!

### Letter 028 — XXVIII

Ancona, February 10, 1797.

We have been at Ancona for two days. After a brief exchange of gunfire, we seized the citadel in a surprise attack. We captured twelve hundred men; the fifty officers I sent back to their homes. I am still at Ancona. I am not asking you to come because things are not yet settled, though I hope they will be within a few days. Besides, the country here is very gloomy, and fear has seized everyone. I set off for the mountains tomorrow. You have not written, though you were meant to let me hear from you daily. Please go out for a walk daily; it will do you good. A million kisses. This nasty war has bored me more than anything ever has. Goodbye, my sweet friend; think of me.

### Letter 029 — XXIX

Ancona, February 13, 1797.

I hear nothing from you and cannot doubt that your love for me is gone. I have sent you newspapers and several letters. I am leaving now to cross the mountains. Once I know how matters stand, I shall summon you to my side; nothing is closer to my heart. Thousands upon thousands of kisses.

### Letter 030 — XXX

Bologna, February 16, 1797.

You are unhappy and ill, you no longer write to me, and you want to go away to Paris. Can it be that you no longer love your friend? That thought makes me unhappy. My sweet friend, ever since I learned how sad you are, life has become intolerable to me. I am sending Mascati at once to look after you. My own health is somewhat weak; my cold persists. I beg you to look after yourself, return my love in equal measure, and send me a letter daily. No anxiety could equal mine. I have instructed Mascati to go with you to Ancona, should you wish to come. I shall send a letter there letting you know my whereabouts. I may make peace with the Pope and be near you soon; my soul desires nothing more ardently. I send you a hundred kisses. Nothing, believe me, can match my love except my anxiety. Write in your own hand each day. Goodbye, dearest friend.

### Letter 031 — XXXI

Tolentino, February 19, 1797.

A peace treaty with Rome has just been signed. The Republic receives Bologna, Ferrara and the Romagna; the Pope is to give us thirty million shortly, as well as art objects. Tomorrow morning I leave for Ancona, then on to Rimini, Ravenna and Bologna. If you are well enough, come to Rimini or Ravenna; but please take care of yourself.

Not a word in your hand! Good God, what have I done? Do I deserve such harsh treatment from my friend for thinking only of you, loving only Joséphine, living only for my wife and delighting only in my friend’s happiness? My dear, please think of me often and write daily. Either you are ill or you do not love me! Can you imagine that my heart is marble? Do you care so little about my suffering? If so, you scarcely know me! I cannot believe it.

You, whom nature gave intelligence, gentleness and beauty, you who alone could rule my heart, you who surely know only too well the absolute power you have over me: write to me, think of me and love me. Yours for life.

### Letter 032 — XXXII

La Malmaison, July 1, 1803.

Your letter of 10 Messidor has arrived. You say nothing about your health or how the baths are affecting you. I see you expect to return in eight days, which makes your friend very happy; he is tired of being alone. You will have seen General Ney, who is setting out for Plombières and will marry when he comes back. Yesterday Hortense performed Rosine in The Barber of Seville, showing her usual intelligence.

### Letter 033 — XXXIII

Calais, August 6, 1804.

My dear, I have been in Calais since midnight and expect to leave for Dunkirk this evening. I am pleased with what I see and in fairly good health. May the waters do for you what travel and the sight of the camps and the sea are doing for me. Eugène has gone to Blois. Hortense is well. Louis is at Plombières. I very much want to see you; I still need you for my happiness. My kind regards to everyone at home.

### Letter 034 — XXXIV

Ostend, August 14, 1804.

My dear, I have had no news from you for several days, although I would have been very glad to hear how the waters were helping you and how you spend your time. I have spent eight days here in Ostend; the day after tomorrow I shall attend a fairly splendid celebration at Boulogne. Let me know by courier what you plan to do and when your baths will end. I am very pleased with the army and the flotillas. Eugène is still in Blois. I hear as little about Hortense as though she were in the Congo; I am writing to tell her off. Kind regards to everyone.

### Letter 035 — XXXV

Mannheim, October 2, 1805.

I am still here and well. I leave for Stuttgart, where I shall be this evening. The major maneuvers are beginning. The armies of Württemberg and Baden are joining mine. I am in a good position, and I love you.

### Letter 036 — XXXVI

Ludwigsburg, October 4, 1805.

Here I am in Louisbourg; I set out tonight. There is nothing new yet. I have joined up with the Bavarians. I am well, and hope to have something interesting to tell you in a few days. Keep well and be assured of all my affection. The court here is splendid, the new bride very beautiful, and the people generally most agreeable; even our electress seems very kind, though she is the daughter of the King of England.

### Letter 037 — XXXVII

Ludwigsburg, October 5, 1805.

I am leaving now to continue my march. My dear, you will have no news from me for five or six days; do not worry, it is because of the operations about to take place. Everything is going as well as I could have hoped. Here I attended the wedding of the Württemberg Elector's son and the Prussian King's niece. I wish to present the young princess with a wedding gift valued at 36,000 to 40,000 francs. Have it prepared immediately, and when my chamberlains set out to join me, entrust it to one of them for the bride. Goodbye, my dear; I love you and kiss you.

### Letter 038 — XXXVIII

Augsburg, October 10, 1805.

Today I slept at the former Elector of Trier's, where the accommodation is very good. I have been on the move for eight days. The campaign has begun with some notable successes. I am very well, though it rains almost every day. Events are moving swiftly, one after another. Four thousand prisoners and eight flags have gone to France, and I have taken fourteen enemy guns. Goodbye, my dear; I kiss you.

### Letter 039 — XXXIX

October 12, 1805.

My army has gone into Munich. One part of the enemy is beyond the Inn; the other army, of 60,000 men, I have blocked on the Iller between Ulm and Memmingen. The enemy is lost and has lost its head, and everything promises me the happiest, shortest and most brilliant campaign ever fought. In an hour I set out for Burgon-sur-l’Iller. I am well, though the weather is dreadful; the rain is so heavy that I change clothes twice a day. I love you and embrace you.

### Letter 040 — XL

Elchingen, October 18, 1805.

My dear Joséphine, I have tired myself more than I should have. A whole week of being wet all day and having cold feet has done me some harm, but I stayed indoors today and have rested. I have accomplished my aim: by marches alone I have destroyed the Austrian army, taken 60,000 prisoners, 120 guns, more than 90 flags and more than 30 generals. Next I shall advance on the Russians; they are finished. My army has pleased me. My losses amount to just 1,500 men, of whom two-thirds are only slightly wounded. Farewell, my Joséphine; many kind messages to all. Prince Charles is moving to protect Vienna. By now, I think, Masséna must be there. Once I am reassured about Italy, I shall send Eugène into battle. Kind regards to Hortense.

### Letter 041 — XLI

Ulm, October 21, 1805.

I am fairly well, my dear. I am setting off for Augsburg immediately. I have compelled 33,000 men to surrender their weapons. I have 60,000 to 70,000 prisoners, over 90 flags and over 200 guns. The annals of war have never seen such a disaster! Keep well. I am somewhat exhausted. For three days we have had good weather. The first column of prisoners is heading for France today; each column consists of 6,000 men.

### Letter 042 — XLII

Augsburg, October 23, 1805.

Two nights’ sleep have restored me, and I set out for Munich tomorrow. I have sent for M. de Talleyrand and M. Maret; I shall see little of them before going to the Inn, where I will strike Austria within its hereditary dominions. I should have loved to see you, but do not count on my calling you here unless we have an armistice or take up winter quarters. Goodbye, my dear, a thousand kisses. My compliments to the ladies.

### Letter 043 — XLIII

Munich, October 27, 1805.

Lemarrois brought me your letter. It pained me to learn that you had been excessively anxious. The details I have been told showed me the depth of your tenderness for me, but you must be stronger and more confident. In any case, I had given notice that six days would pass before I wrote to you. The Elector is expected tomorrow. At midday I set off to confirm my movement towards the Inn. My health is fairly good. You must not think of crossing the Rhine for another fifteen or twenty days. Be cheerful, enjoy yourself, and hope that we shall see each other before the end of the month of Brumaire. I am moving forward to meet the Russian army; within a few days I will be across the Inn. Goodbye, my dear friend; many kind messages to Hortense, Eugène and the two Napoléons. Keep the wedding present for a while longer. I gave a concert yesterday for the ladies at court; the chapel master is a man of talent. I have been hunting at one of the Elector’s pheasant preserves, so you see I am not all that tired. M. de Talleyrand has arrived.

### Letter 044 — XLIV

Haag, November 3, 1805.

I am marching a great distance. It is bitterly cold, with a foot of snow on the ground. Conditions are rather harsh. Luckily, there is plenty of wood; here we are continually among forests. My health is reasonably good. Things are going well enough for me; my enemies must have more anxieties than I have. I hope to hear from you and to learn that you are free from worry. Farewell, my friend; I am going to bed.

### Letter 045 — XLV

Linz, November 5, 1805.

I am in Linz. The weather is fine. Vienna is twenty-eight leagues away. The Russians cannot hold their ground and are retreating rapidly. The House of Austria is in great difficulty; all the court's baggage is being taken out of Vienna. In five or six days there will probably be news. I very much want to see you again. I am in good health. A kiss to you.

### Letter 046 — XLVI

Vienna, November 15, 1805.

My dear friend, I have spent two days in Vienna and am somewhat tired. I have been around the city at night, though I have yet to see it by day. Tomorrow I receive its leading citizens. Nearly all my troops have crossed the Danube in pursuit of the Russians. Goodbye, my Joséphine. I shall have you come as soon as it can be done. A thousand kind thoughts to you.

### Letter 047 — XLVII

Vienna, November 16, 1805.

I am writing to M. d’Harville so that you can leave for Baden, then go on to Stuttgart and Munich. At Stuttgart, give the gift basket to Princess Paul. A value of fifteen to twenty thousand francs will suffice; the remainder can be used for gifts to the Bavarian Elector's daughters in Munich. Everything you learned from Madame de Sérent has now been settled. Take enough to make gifts to the ladies and officers attending you. Be courteous, but accept all the honors offered: everyone owes you everything, and you owe nothing beyond courtesy. The Electress of Württemberg is the King of England's daughter. She is a good woman; treat her well, but without making a show of it. I will be very happy to see you whenever my affairs allow it. I am setting out to join my advance guard. The weather is appalling, with much snow; otherwise all my affairs are going well. Goodbye, my dear friend.

### Letter 048 — XLVIII

Austerlitz, December 3, 1805.

From the battlefield I dispatched Lebrun to you. I have beaten the Austrian and Russian armies under the command of their two emperors. I am somewhat tired, having bivouacked in the open for eight days, with rather chilly nights. This evening I shall stay at Prince Kaunitz's château and sleep there for two or three hours. The Russian army has not just been defeated; it has been destroyed. I embrace you.

### Letter 049 — XLIX

Austerlitz, December 4, 1805.

I have arranged a truce, and the Russians are leaving. Of all the battles I have fought, Austerlitz was the finest: 45 flags, over 150 guns, the Russian Guard's standards, 20 generals, and more than 20,000 killed; what a horrible spectacle! The Emperor Alexander is in despair and is going back to Russia. The Emperor of Germany visited me at my bivouac yesterday; we spoke for two hours and agreed to conclude peace quickly. The weather is not very bad yet. At last peace has been restored to the continent; let us hope it will soon be restored to the world, for the English cannot confront us. I shall welcome the moment that brings me closer to you. A minor eye ailment is going around; it lasts two days, and I have not caught it yet. Goodbye, my dear friend. I am in fairly good health and greatly wish to embrace you.

### Letter 050 — L

Austerlitz, December 7, 1805.

I have made an armistice, and peace will be concluded within eight days. I hope to hear that you have reached Munich in good health. The Russians are leaving after immense losses: over 20,000 dead and 30,000 taken prisoner, with their army reduced by three quarters. Their commander-in-chief, Buxhowden, has been killed. I have 3,000 wounded and between 700 and 800 dead. My eyes are a little sore; the complaint is widespread and quite insignificant. Goodbye, my friend; I very much want to see you again. Tonight I shall sleep in Vienna.

### Letter 051 — LI

Brunn, December 10, 1805.

I have had no news of you for such a long time. Have the fine celebrations in Baden, Stuttgart and Munich made you forget the poor soldiers, living in mud and rain and covered in blood? I shall leave for Vienna shortly. Work is under way to conclude peace. The Russians have gone, fleeing far from here; they are returning to Russia thoroughly beaten and humiliated. How I long to be with you again. Goodbye, my friend; my eye trouble has cleared up.

### Letter 052 — LII

Brunn, December 19, 1805.

Great Empress, since your departure from Strasbourg you have not sent one letter. You went through Baden, Stuttgart and Munich without a word to us. That is hardly kind or tender! I remain at Brunn. The Russians have left, and I have a truce. A few days from now I shall see what becomes of me. From your exalted heights, condescend to spare a little thought for your slaves.

### Letter 053 — LIII

Schönbrunn, 29 Frimaire, Year XIV (December 20, 1805).

Your letter of the 25th (Frimaire) has reached me. I am distressed to learn that you are ill; you are hardly fit to undertake a hundred leagues in this season. What shall I do? I cannot tell: events govern me, I have no will of my own and await their outcome for everything. Remain in Munich and divert yourself; with so many pleasant people and such a beautiful country, that should not be hard. As for me, I am rather busy. I shall have decided in a few days. Farewell, my friend, a thousand kind and tender things.

### Letter 054 — LIV

October 5, 1806.

The Princess of Baden may go to Mainz; there is no objection. Why you are crying I cannot tell, but you are wrong to hurt yourself. Hortense is somewhat pedantic and fond of giving advice. She has written to me and I am replying. She must be happy and cheerful. Courage and cheerfulness are the prescription.

### Letter 055 — LV

Bamberg, October 7, 1806.

Tonight, my friend, I set out for Kronach. My entire army is moving. All goes well; my health is perfect. So far only one of your letters has reached me. I have had letters from Hortense and Eugène. Stéphanie must be with you. Her husband wishes to make war and is here with me. Farewell, a thousand kisses, and good health to you.

### Letter 056 — LVI

Gera, October 13, 1806, two in the morning.

Today I am at Gera, my dear friend; my affairs are going extremely well, just as I could have hoped. God helping, I believe that in a few days they will have taken a very terrible turn for the poor King of Prussia, whom I personally pity because he is good. The queen is at Erfurt with the king. Should she wish to witness a battle, she will have that cruel pleasure. My health is excellent; I have even grown fatter since I left, though I personally cover twenty or twenty-five leagues a day, on horseback, in a carriage, by every means. I go to bed at eight and rise at midnight; I sometimes think you have not yet gone to bed. All yours.

### Letter 057 — LVII

Jena, October 15, 1806, three in the morning.

My friend, I have executed fine maneuvers against the Prussians and yesterday won a great victory. They numbered 150,000 men; I have taken 20,000 prisoners, 100 cannon and flags. I was in the presence of the King of Prussia, close to him, and nearly captured him and the queen. For two days I have bivouacked. I am in splendid health. Farewell, my friend; keep well and love me. If Hortense is at Mainz, kiss her, Napoléon and the little one for me.

### Letter 058 — LVIII

Weimar, October 16, 1806.

Mr. Talleyrand will have shown you the bulletin, my dear friend, and you will have seen my successes in it. Everything went as I had planned, and no army has ever been more thoroughly defeated and destroyed. All that remains is to tell you that I am well and that fatigue, bivouacking and sleepless nights have made me gain weight. Goodbye, my dear friend; many affectionate messages to Hortense and the great Mr. Napoléon.

### Letter 059 — LIX

Wittenberg, October 23, 1806.

I have had several letters from you. Just a line: things are going well for me. Tomorrow I shall be in Potsdam, and in Berlin on the 25th. My health is excellent; hard work suits me. I am very pleased to know that you are with Hortense and Stéphanie in a large gathering. The weather has been fine so far. Much love to Stéphanie and everyone else, not forgetting M. Napoléon. Goodbye, my friend. Yours entirely.

### Letter 060 — LX

Potsdam, October 24, 1806.

My dear friend, I have been in Potsdam since yesterday and will stay here today. I remain satisfied with how things are going. My health is good and the weather very fine. I find Sans-Souci very pleasant. Goodbye, my friend. My regards to Hortense and Mr. Napoléon.

### Letter 061 — LXI

Berlin, November 1, 1806.

Talleyrand has just arrived, my friend, and tells me you spend all your time weeping. What is it you want? With your daughter, your grandchildren and good news, you have plenty to make you happy and content. The weather here is wonderful. Not one drop of rain has fallen during the whole campaign so far. I am keeping very well, and everything could not be better. Goodbye, my friend. I have received a letter from M. Napoléon; I think it is from Hortense rather than him. Many good wishes to everyone.

### Letter 062 — LXII

Berlin, November 6, 1806, nine in the evening.

I have received your letter, and you seem upset by the bad things I say about women. It is true that I detest scheming women more than anything. I am accustomed to women who are good, gentle and conciliatory; those are the women I love. If they have spoiled me, it is your fault, not mine. You will see, however, that I have been very kind to a woman who showed herself sensitive and good, Madame d’Hatzfeld. I showed her the letter from her husband, and she sobbed, saying with profound feeling and innocent candor, “Oh! That is indeed his handwriting!” Her voice as she read went straight to the heart, and I felt sorry for her. I said, “Well, madame, throw this letter into the fire; then I shall not have enough power to have your husband punished.” She put the letter in the flames and seemed delighted. Her husband has been quite untroubled ever since; had it been two hours later, he would have been lost. So you see that I love good, candid, gentle women, because only they resemble you. Goodbye, my friend; I am well.

### Letter 063 — LXIII

Berlin, November 16, 1806.

I am glad to see that my feelings please you. You are wrong to think that my expressions of feeling might be flattering; I described you as I see you. It troubles me to think you are bored in Mainz. You could come here if the journey were shorter: the enemy has gone, or is across the Vistula, over 120 leagues from here. I will await your thoughts on this. It would also give me great pleasure to see M. Napoléon. Goodbye, my dear friend. Yours entirely.

### Letter 064 — LXIV

Berlin, November 22, 1806.

Find contentment and happiness in my affection and all the feelings you inspire in me. Within a few days I shall decide whether to summon you here or send you back to Paris. Farewell, my friend; you may now visit Darmstadt and Frankfurt if you like, as a diversion. A thousand good wishes to Hortense.

### Letter 065 — LXV

Küstrin, November 26, 1806.

I am at Küstrin making some reconnaissance visits. In two days I shall see whether you should come; you can be ready. I would be very pleased if the Queen of Holland made the journey too. The Grand Duchess of Baden should write about it to her husband. It is two in the morning; I have just risen, as one does in wartime. Many kind wishes to you and everyone.

### Letter 066 — LXVI

Meseritz, November 27, 1806.

I am about to make a tour through Poland; this is the first town. This evening I shall reach Posen, and afterwards I shall send for you to Berlin, so that we arrive there on the same day. I am in good health, though the weather is a little bad: it has been raining for three days. My affairs prosper. The Russians are running away.

### Letter 067 — LXVII

Posen, November 28, 1806.

Here I am at Posen, capital of Greater Poland. Cold weather is beginning, and I am well. I am going to travel around Poland. My troops have reached the gates of Warsaw. Farewell, my friend, a thousand kind wishes. I embrace you from my heart.

### Letter 068 — LXVIII

Posen, December 2, 1806.

This is the anniversary of Austerlitz. I attended a ball in the town. Rain is falling. I am well. I love you and long for you. My troops are at Warsaw. As yet there has been no cold weather. These Polish women are all French, but for me there is only one woman. Can you guess who she is? I could describe her to you, but I should have to flatter the portrait too much for you to recognize yourself. Yet in truth my heart could speak of her only with praise. The nights are long at present, all alone. Yours entirely.

### Letter 069 — LXIX

Posen, December 3, 1806, noon.

I have your letter of November 26, and two things strike me. You say I do not read your letters; that is a poor notion, and I resent your having such a bad opinion of me. You say it may be because of some dream in the night, and add that you are not jealous. I have long observed that angry people always maintain they are not angry, and that those who are frightened often claim to have no fear. You are therefore proved jealous, and that delights me! All the same, you are wrong: nothing is further from my mind, and in the deserts of beautiful Poland one seldom thinks of beauties. Yesterday the provincial nobility gave a ball for me. The women were reasonably pretty and rich, and rather poorly dressed, though in the Paris fashion.

### Letter 070 — LXX

Posen, December 3, 1806, six in the evening.

Your letter of November 27 has reached me, and I see that your little head has worked itself up. I remembered the verse:

“A woman's desire is a consuming fire.”

You must nevertheless compose yourself. I wrote that I was in Poland and that you could come once winter quarters were established; you must therefore stay where you are a few days. The greater a person is, the less will of their own they ought to have: events and circumstances govern one. You may go to Frankfurt and Darmstadt. I hope to summon you in a few days, but events must permit it. The heat of your letter shows me that pretty women like you recognize no barriers: what you want must be. For my part, I declare myself the most enslaved of men; my master is without compassion, and that master is the nature of things.

### Letter 071 — LXXI

Posen, December 10, 1806.

An officer has brought me a carpet from you. It is a little short and narrow, but I thank you just the same. I am fairly well, and the weather changes a great deal. My affairs are going reasonably well. I love you and long for you very much. Goodbye, my friend. When I write to tell you to come, I shall take at least as much pleasure in it as you will in coming.

### Letter 072 — LXXII

Posen, December 12, 1806.

My health is good and the weather very mild. The bad season has not yet begun, but the roads are poor in a country without paved roads. So Hortense is coming with Napoléon; I am delighted. I can hardly wait for circumstances to allow me to send for you. I have made peace with Saxony. The Elector is now a king and belongs to the Confederation. Goodbye, my beloved Joséphine. Yours entirely. A kiss for Hortense, Napoléon and Stéphanie. Paër, the famous musician, is here, along with his wife, the virtuoso you saw in Milan twelve years ago, and Brizzi. They give me a little music every evening.

### Letter 073 — LXXIII

Posen, December 16, 1806.

My friend, I am leaving for Warsaw. I will be back in about two weeks. I hope I can call you here then. However, if it takes a long time, I would be glad to see you return to Paris, where people want you. You know very well that I depend on events.

### Letter 074 — LXXIV

Golimin, December 29, 1806, five in the morning.

Just a word, my friend: I am in a poor barn. I have defeated the Russians, taking thirty cannon and their baggage and capturing six thousand prisoners. But the weather is dreadful; it is raining and we are knee-deep in mud.

### Letter 075 — LXXV

Pultusk, December 31, 1806.

Your last letters made me laugh a great deal. Your idea of the beauties of Greater Poland is more flattering than they deserve. I had the pleasure for two or three days of listening to Paër and two women singers, who performed some excellent music for me. Your letter reached me in a wretched barn, where mud, wind and straw were all I had for a bed.

### Letter 076 — LXXVI

Warsaw, January 3, 1807.

Your letter has reached me, my friend. Your sorrow moves me, but we have to accept what happens. Too much country lies between Mainz and Warsaw, so circumstances must first permit me to go to Berlin before I can write asking you to join me there. The enemy has meanwhile been beaten and is retreating, but I have much to settle here. I am inclined to advise a return to Paris, where your presence is necessary. Dismiss those ladies who have business of their own; you will gain by being rid of people who must have greatly tired you. I am well; the weather is foul. My love for you comes from the heart.

### Letter 077 — LXXVII

Warsaw, January 7, 1807.

My friend, everything you tell me touches me, but the season is cold and the roads are very bad and unsafe. I cannot agree to expose you to so much hardship. Return to Paris for the winter. Go to the Tuileries, receive visitors and follow your usual routine, just as you do when I am there. That is what I want. Perhaps I shall join you there before long, but you must abandon any thought of a three-hundred-league journey in this season, through enemy territory and behind the army. Believe me, putting off the happiness of seeing you for a few weeks costs me more than it costs you, but events and the good of affairs require it. Goodbye, my friend. Be cheerful and show some character.

### Letter 078 — LXXVIII

Warsaw, January 8, 1807.

My dear friend, I have received your letter of the 27th and the letters from M. Napoléon and Hortense that came with it. I had asked you to return to Paris. The season is too bad, the roads dreadful and unsafe, and the distances too great for me to let you travel here, where my affairs keep me. The journey would take you a month at least. You would arrive ill and might then have to set off again; it would be sheer folly. Your stay in Mainz is too dreary, and Paris needs you. Go there; that is what I want. I am more upset than you; I should have loved to share this season's long nights with you, but circumstances must be obeyed.

### Letter 079 — LXXIX

Warsaw, January 16, 1807.

My health is excellent, although the long nights sometimes bore me a little. Up to now I have seen rather few people here.

### Letter 080 — LXXX

Warsaw, January 16, 1807.

My dear friend, your letter of January 5 has arrived; all you tell me of your sorrow pains me. Why weep and grieve? Have you lost your courage? We shall soon see one another. Never doubt my feelings; and if you wish to be dearer to me still, show character and strength of spirit. I am humiliated to think my wife could distrust my destiny. Farewell, my friend; I love you, long to see you, and want to know you are content and happy.

### Letter 081 — LXXXI

Warsaw, January 18, 1807.

I fear that our separation, which must last a few more weeks, and your return to Paris are causing you great sorrow. I expect you to be stronger. I am told you are always crying: shame! How unattractive that is! Your letter of January 7 distressed me. Be worthy of me and show more character. Make the proper public appearances in Paris and, above all, be content. I am in very good health and love you very much, but if you keep crying I shall think you have neither courage nor character. I do not like cowards; an empress must have courage.

### Letter 082 — LXXXII

Warsaw, January 1807.

I have received your letter of January 15. I cannot possibly allow women to undertake such a journey: the roads are bad, unsafe and muddy. Return to Paris and be cheerful and content there; perhaps I too shall be there soon. I laughed when you told me you married a husband in order to be with him. In my ignorance I thought a wife was made for her husband, and a husband for his country, his family and glory. Forgive my ignorance. We are always learning from our beautiful ladies. Farewell, my friend; believe me, it pains me not to summon you here. Tell yourself, “That shows how precious I am to him.”

### Letter 083 — LXXXIII

Undated (January 1807).

My friend, your letter of January 20 saddened me; it is much too gloomy. That is what comes of not being a little devout! You say your happiness is your glory. That is not generous: you should say, “The happiness of others is my glory.” It is not the sentiment of a wife: you should say, “My husband's happiness is my glory.” Nor is it a mother's sentiment: you should say, “My children's happiness is my glory.” Now, the peoples, your husband and your children cannot be happy without some measure of glory, so you must not make so light of it. Joséphine, your heart is excellent, but your judgment is weak. You feel beautifully, but your reasoning is not as good. Enough quarreling. I want you to be cheerful and content with your lot, and to obey not with complaints and tears, but gladly and with some happiness. Goodbye, my friend. I leave tonight to go round my outposts.

### Letter 084 — LXXXIV

Eylau, three in the morning, February 9, 1807.

My friend, there was a great battle yesterday. Victory was mine, but I lost many men; the enemy's still heavier loss is no consolation to me. At any rate, though very tired, I am writing these two lines myself to tell you that I am well and love you. Entirely yours.

### Letter 085 — LXXXV

Eylau, February 9, 1807, six in the evening.

A quick note, my friend, so that you will not worry. The enemy has lost the battle, 40 cannon and 10 flags, and 12,000 of his men have been taken prisoner; his losses have been terrible. I too have lost men: 1,600 killed and 3,000 to 4,000 wounded. Your cousin Tascher is well. I have called him to my side as an orderly officer. Corbineau was killed by a shell. I had become particularly attached to this very capable officer, and his death pains me. My mounted guard has won great glory. D’Allemagne is dangerously wounded. Goodbye, my friend.

### Letter 086 — LXXXVI

Eylau, February 11, 1807, three in the morning.

Just a line, my friend; you must have been very worried. I defeated the enemy on a memorable day, though it cost me many brave soldiers. The bad weather is prompting me to take up quarters. Please do not despair. It will all end soon, and the joy of seeing you will soon make me forget my exertions. Otherwise, I have never been in better health. Young Tascher of the 4th Line behaved well; he has been through a hard test. I have summoned him to serve at my side as an orderly officer, and so his hardships are at an end. I take an interest in this young man. Goodbye, my friend; a thousand kisses.

### Letter 087 — LXXXVII

Landsberg, February 18, 1807.

I'm writing you a few words. I'm well. I'm on the move to put my army in winter quarters. It's raining and thawing as it does in April. We haven't had a cold day yet. Goodbye, my dear, all yours.

### Letter 088 — LXXXVIII

Liebstadt, February 20, 1807.

I'm writing you a few words, my dear, so you won't worry. My health is very good and my affairs are going well. I've put my army back in quarters. The season is strange: it freezes and thaws; it's damp and changeable. Goodbye, my dear.

### Letter 089 — LXXXIX

Liebstadt, February 21, 1807.

Your February 4 letter has reached me, and I'm pleased that you are well. Paris will finish restoring your cheerfulness and peace of mind; getting back to your usual life will restore your health. I'm in excellent health. The weather and the country are both bad. Things are going fairly well for me; it freezes and thaws within a single day. One could hardly imagine a stranger winter. Goodbye, my dear. I love you and think of you, and I want to know that you are content, cheerful, and happy. Entirely yours.

### Letter 090 — XC

Liebstadt, February 22, 1807.

My dear, I've received your letter of the 8th. I'm pleased to hear you went to the opera and plan to entertain every week. Go to performances from time to time, and always take a grand box. I'm also glad people are giving parties for you. I'm very well. The weather remains unpredictable, freezing and thawing by turns. I've put my army back into quarters to give it a rest. Never be sad; love me, and trust in all my feelings for you.

### Letter 091 — XCI

Headquarters, Osterode, March 1807.

I'm in a miserable village, and I'll be here quite a while longer; it is no match for the big city. As I keep telling you, I've never been so well; you'll find I've put on a great deal of weight. I've given orders for what you want at Malmaison. Be cheerful and happy; that is what I want. I am waiting for the warm season, which should soon be here. I love you and want to know you are happy and cheerful. People will say a lot of nonsense about the battle of Eylau. The bulletin tells the whole story; if anything, it overstates the losses rather than understating them.

### Letter 092 — XCII

Osterode, March 23, 1807.

I hear, my dear, that the nasty talk people indulged in at your salon in Mainz has started again; put a stop to it. I would be very displeased with you if you didn't do something about it. You let yourself be upset by the talk of people who should be comforting you. I advise you to show some character and know how to put everyone in their place. My dear, you must not go to minor theaters in a small box; it doesn't suit your rank; you should go only to the four major theaters and always in a grand box. To please me, you absolutely must live in every respect as you did when I was in Paris. Then you didn't go out to minor theaters or other places. You must always go in a grand box. As for your life at home, receive people there and hold your regular gatherings; that's the only way to earn my approval, my dear. High rank has its drawbacks; an empress can't go where an ordinary private citizen goes.

### Letter 093 — XCIII

Osterode, March 27, 1807.

My dear, your letter makes me unhappy. You must not die; you are healthy and have no reasonable cause for grief. I think you should go to Saint-Cloud in May, but you must stay in Paris all through April… You must not think of traveling this summer. None of that is possible; you must not go from inn to inn and camp to camp. I want to see you and live quietly just as much as you do. I know how to do things besides wage war, but duty comes before everything. All my life I have sacrificed everything—peace, self-interest, happiness—to my destiny.

### Letter 094 — XCIV

Finkestein, April 2, 1807.

My dear, just a note. I have moved my headquarters to a very fine castle, rather like Bessières's, with plenty of fireplaces. That suits me well, as I often get up at night and like to see a fire. My health is perfect. The weather is fine, though still cold. The thermometer reads four to five degrees. Goodbye, my dear. Entirely yours.

### Letter 095 — XCV

Finkestein, May 14, 1807.

I understand all the grief that poor Napoléon's death must cause you. You can understand the pain I feel. I wish I were near you, so that you could be moderate and sensible in your grief. You've had the good fortune never to lose children; but this is one of the conditions and sorrows that come with our human misery. Let me hear that you've been sensible and are well! Would you want to add to my pain? Goodbye, my dear.

### Letter 096 — XCVI

Finkestein, May 24, 1807.

Hortense is not being sensible. Since she loved nobody but her children, she does not deserve to be loved herself. Try to soothe her, and do not cause me distress. For every misfortune that cannot be put right, we must find some comfort.

### Letter 097 — XCVII

Finkestein, May 26, 1807.

I have just received your letter of the 16th and was pleased to learn that Hortense had reached Laeken. What you tell me of the stupor she is still in upsets me. She needs more courage; she must make an effort to master herself. Why anyone wants her to take the waters I cannot imagine: Paris would distract her much more. Master yourself too, be cheerful and keep well. My own health is excellent. Farewell, my friend. All your sorrows hurt me deeply, and it troubles me not to be beside you.

### Letter 098 — XCVIII

Dantzick, June 2, 1807.

My friend, I hear that you have reached Malmaison, but no letter from you has come. I am cross with Hortense for not writing me so much as a word. Everything you tell me about her distresses me. Could you not distract her a little? You are crying! I hope you will control yourself, so that when I see you I shall not find you sad. I arrived in Dantzick two days ago; the weather is lovely and my health good. My thoughts turn to you more often than yours turn to someone absent. Farewell, my friend; a thousand affectionate messages. Send this letter on to Hortense.

For Queen Hortense:

June 2.—My daughter, in your great and justified sorrow you have not written me a word. You have forgotten everything, as if you had nothing left that you could lose. They say you love nothing any longer and are indifferent to everything; your silence makes me see it too. That is wrong, Hortense. It is not what you had given us reason to expect. Your son meant everything to you. Does that mean your mother and I are nothing? If I had been at Malmaison, I would have shared your grief; but I would also have wanted you to yield to the wishes of your dearest friends. Farewell, my daughter; be cheerful. We must resign ourselves to what has happened. Keep well, so that you may carry out all your duties. Your condition has made my wife very sad; spare her any more sorrow. Your loving father.

### Letter 099 — XCIX

June 14, 1807.

My friend, I am only writing a word, as I am very tired; I have spent many days bivouacking. My children have marked the anniversary of the battle of Marengo in worthy fashion. Friedland will be no less renowned, nor any less glorious for my people. The entire Russian army has been put to flight; 80 guns, 30,000 men killed or taken prisoner, 25 Russian generals dead, wounded or captive, and the Russian Guard shattered: it is a worthy sister to Marengo, Austerlitz and Jena. You will find the rest in the bulletin. My losses are slight; my maneuvers against the enemy succeeded. Don't worry, and be happy. Goodbye, my friend; I am mounting my horse.

### Letter 100 — C

June 15, 1807.

Yesterday, my friend, I dispatched Moustache to bring you news of Friedland's battle. I have kept up the pursuit of the enemy since then. Königsberg, a city with 80,000 inhabitants, is now mine. There I found guns, many stores, and over 60,000 muskets from England. Farewell, my friend. My health is perfect, though the rain and cold of the bivouac have given me a cold. Be content and cheerful. All yours.

### Letter 101 — CI

Tilsit, June 19, 1807.

I sent Tascher to you to set every one of your fears at rest. Here everything is going as well as can be. Friedland's battle has settled the whole matter. The enemy is bewildered, cast down and greatly weakened. My health is good and my army superb. Farewell, my friend; be cheerful and content.

### Letter 102 — CII

Tilsit, June 20, 1807.

My dear, I have just seen Emperor Alexander and was very pleased with him. He is a very handsome, good, young emperor, and more intelligent than people generally think. Tomorrow he is coming to stay in the town of Tilsit. Goodbye, my dear. I very much hope you are well and content. My own health is very good.

### Letter 103 — CIII

Tilsit, July 3, 1807.

My dear, Mr. de Turenne will give you all the details of what's happening here; everything is going very well. I think I told you that the emperor of Russia drinks your health very graciously. He and the king of Prussia dine with me every day. I want you to be content. Goodbye, my dear, a thousand affectionate thoughts.

### Letter 104 — CIV

Tilsit, July 6, 1807.

I have received your June 25 letter. I was sorry to see how selfish you are, and that victories won by my forces would hold no attraction for you. Today the beautiful Prussian queen is coming to dine with me. I am well and long to see you again, when fate decides the time has come. That may not be far off, though.

### Letter 105 — CV

Tilsit, July 7, 1807.

My friend, yesterday I dined with the Queen of Prussia. She tried to oblige me to make further concessions to her husband, and I had to defend myself against her efforts; but I behaved gallantly while remaining firm in my policy. She is most delightful. I will come and tell you the details; it would take me far too long to put them in a letter. When this letter reaches you, peace with Prussia and Russia will be concluded, and Jérôme will be recognized as king of Westphalia, with three million inhabitants. Keep this news to yourself. Goodbye, my friend. I love you and want to hear that you are happy and cheerful.

### Letter 106 — CVI

Dresden, July 18, 1807.

My dear, I arrived in Dresden yesterday at five in the evening, in very good health, although I spent a hundred hours in a carriage without getting out. I'm here with the king of Saxony, with whom I'm very pleased. So I'm more than halfway closer to you. One of these fine nights I may drop in at Saint-Cloud like a jealous husband; I'm warning you. Goodbye, my dear; I'll be very happy to see you. All yours.

### Letter 107 — CVII

Milan, November 25, 1807.

My friend, I arrived here two days ago. I am glad not to have taken you along: the crossing of Mont-Cenis would have made you suffer terribly, and a storm kept me there for twenty-four hours. Eugène was well when I found him; I am very pleased with him. The princess is ill. I visited her at Monza; she has had a miscarriage, but is better now. Farewell, my friend.

### Letter 108 — CVIII

Venice, November 30, 1807.

Your letter of November 22 has reached me. I arrived in Venice two days ago. The weather is very bad, but that has not stopped me from going around the lagoons to see the various forts. I am pleased to see that you are enjoying Paris. The Bavarian king is here with his family, and so is Princess Élisa. Once I have spent December 2 here, I shall start back, delighted at the prospect of seeing you. Goodbye, my friend.

### Letter 109 — CIX

Udine, December 11, 1807.

My dear, I received your December 3 letter and see that you greatly enjoyed the Jardin des Plantes. I have now reached the farthest point of my journey. I may soon be in Paris, where I will be very glad to see you again. It hasn't been cold here yet, but it has rained a great deal. I took advantage of the last part of the season, since I expect winter will finally make itself felt by Christmas. Goodbye, my dear. Entirely yours.

### Letter 110 — CX

Erfurt, September 29, 1808.

I have a slight cold. I've received your letter from Malmaison. I'm very pleased here with the emperor and everyone else. It's one in the morning, and I'm tired. Goodbye, my dear, stay well.

### Letter 111 — CXI

Erfurt, October 9, 1808.

My friend, I have received your letter and am happy to see that your health is good. I have just hunted on Jena's battlefield. We had breakfast at the place where I had bivouacked for the night. I went to the ball at Weimar. Emperor Alexander dances; I do not: forty years are forty years. In spite of a few little complaints, I am fundamentally well. Farewell, my friend. All yours. I hope to see you soon.

### Letter 112 — CXII

Erfurt, October 1808.

My friend, I am writing only a little because I am very busy. Talking all day does nothing for my cold. Still, everything is going well. I am pleased with Alexander; he must feel the same about me. Were he a woman, I think I would make him my lover. I will be with you soon; stay well, and let me find you looking fresh and plump.

### Letter 113 — CXIII

Tolosa, November 5, 1808.

I am at Tolosa, setting off for Vittoria, which I shall reach in a few hours. My health is fairly good, and I hope this will all end soon.

### Letter 114 — CXIV

Burgos, November 14, 1808.

Things are moving very actively here. The weather is very fine. We're having successes. My health is very good.

### Letter 115 — CXV

November 26, 1808.

Your letter has arrived. I hope you are as healthy as I am. All is proceeding well here. I think you should go back to the Tuileries on December 21 and give a concert every eight days from that date onward.

### Letter 116 — CXVI

Madrid, December 7, 1808.

Your letter of the 28th has arrived, and I am pleased to see that your health is good. You have learned that young Tascher is behaving well; I was pleased by that. I am well. Our weather here resembles that of the last fortnight of May in Paris. We are hot and have no fire except at night, which is quite cool. Madrid is calm. All my affairs are going well. Farewell, my friend. All yours.

### Letter 117 — CXVII

Madrid, December 10, 1808.

My dear, I have received your letter. You say the weather is bad in Paris; here it is absolutely beautiful. Please tell me what Hortense's cutbacks mean. People say she is dismissing her servants. Could she be denied what she needs? Send me a word about it; these cutbacks are not appropriate. Goodbye, my dear. Everything is going very well, and please take care of your health.

### Letter 118 — CXVIII

Madrid, December 21, 1808.

You should have taken up residence at the Tuileries on the 12th. I hope you found your apartments satisfactory. I have authorized Kourakin's presentation to you and the family; welcome him kindly and have him play with you. Farewell, my friend. I am well; it is rainy and a little cold.

### Letter 119 — CXIX

Madrid, December 22, 1808.

I'm leaving at once to maneuver against the English, who seem to have received their reinforcements and want to act bold. The weather is fine, my health perfect; don't worry.

### Letter 120 — CXX

December 31, 1808.

My friend, I have been chasing the English for several days, but they are fleeing in terror. Rather than hold up their retreat for half a day, they have cowardly abandoned the remnants of La Romana's army. More than a hundred baggage wagons have already been captured. The weather is very bad. Lefèvre has been taken prisoner. He got into a skirmish with 300 chasseurs: those daredevils swam across a river and charged into the middle of the English cavalry, killing many. But on the way back Lefèvre's horse was wounded, and he was drowning; the current swept him ashore on the English side, where he was taken prisoner. Comfort his wife. Goodbye, my friend. Bessières is moving on Astorga with ten thousand horsemen. Happy New Year to everyone.

### Letter 121 — CXXI

January 3, 1809.

My friend, I have received your letters of the 18th and 21st. I am pursuing the English with my sword at their backs. The weather is bitterly cold, but all is well. Goodbye, my friend, I am yours entirely! A happy, very happy New Year to my Joséphine.

### Letter 122 — CXXII

Bénavente, January 5, 1809.

My dear, I'm writing you a note. The English are in complete rout. I've ordered the duke of Dalmatia to pursue them with a sword at their backs. I'm well. The weather is bad. Goodbye, my dear;

### Letter 123 — CXXIII

Mansilla, January 8, 1809.

I've received your letters of the 23rd and 26th. I'm sorry to see you're suffering from toothache. I've been here for two days. The weather is what you'd expect for the season. The English are boarding their ships. I'm well. Goodbye, my dear. I'm writing to Hortense. Eugène has a daughter. All yours.

### Letter 124 — CXXIV

January 9, 1809.

Moustache has brought me your letter of December 31. I see, my friend, that you are sunk in gloomy anxiety. Austria will not wage war against me; if she does, I can answer her with 150,000 men in Germany, another 150,000 on the Rhine, and 400,000 Germans. Russia will not break with me. Paris has gone mad; everything is proceeding well. I will be in Paris as soon as I think it useful. You had better beware of ghosts: one fine day, at two in the morning… But goodbye, my friend. I am in good health and wholly yours.

### Letter 125 — CXXV

May 8, 1809.

My friend, I have received your letter. The bullet that hit me did not injure me; it scarcely grazed my Achilles heel. My health is excellent. You are wrong to be anxious. Things are going very well for me here. All yours.

### Letter 126 — CXXVI

Saint-Pœlten, May 9, 1809.

My dear, I am writing to you from Saint-Pœlten. Tomorrow I will be outside Vienna. That will be exactly one month to the day since the Austrians crossed the Inn and broke the peace. I am in very good health, the weather is splendid, and the soldiers are very cheerful; there is wine here. Take care of yourself. Entirely yours.

### Letter 127 — CXXVII

Schönbrunn, May 12, 1809.

I am sending the Duchess of Montebello's brother to tell you that Vienna is in my hands and everything here is going perfectly. I am in very good health.

### Letter 128 — CXXVIII

Schönbrunn, May 31, 1809.

The Duke of Montebello died this morning, and his loss has caused me great sorrow. So ends everything!… Farewell, my friend; do what you can to comfort the poor marshal’s wife. All yours.

### Letter 129 — CXXIX

Schönbrunn, June 16, 1809.

I am dispatching a page to tell you that on the 14th, Marengo's anniversary, Eugène defeated Archduke John and the Archduke Palatine in a battle at Raab in Hungary. He took three thousand of their men, several guns and four flags, and pursued them a long way on the road to Buda.

### Letter 130 — CXXX

Ebersdorf, July 7, 1809, five in the morning.

I am sending a page to bring you the good news: I won at Ebersdorf on the 5th and at Wagram on the 6th. The enemy army is running away in disorder, and everything is going as I hoped. Eugène is well. Prince Aldobrandini has been wounded, but not seriously. A cannonball struck the fleshy part of Bessières's thigh; his wound is very slight. Lasalle was killed. My losses are fairly heavy, but the victory is complete and decisive. We have taken more than a hundred guns, twelve flags, and many prisoners. The sun has burned me. Goodbye, my dear, I embrace you. Give Hortense my best.

### Letter 131 — CXXXI

July 9, 1809, at two in the morning.

Everything here is going as I wish. My enemies have been defeated, beaten, and utterly routed. They were very numerous, but I crushed them. Today my health is good. Yesterday I was a little ill with an overflow of bile brought on by so much exertion, but it has done me a great deal of good. Goodbye, my dear; I am very well.

### Letter 132 — CXXXII

Camp before Znaïm, July 13, 1809.

I send you the terms of the ceasefire arranged yesterday with the Austrian general. Eugène is near Hungary and in good health. Please forward a copy to Cambacérès, unless he has already received it. I embrace you and am very well.

### Letter 133 — CXXXIII

July 24, 1809.

Your letter of July 18 has arrived. I am glad the waters are helping you. I see no reason why you should not go to Malmaison when you have finished your course of treatment. It is quite hot here. My health is excellent. Goodbye, my dear. Eugène is in Vienna and is very well. Yours entirely.

### Letter 134 — CXXXIV

Schönbrunn, August 7, 1809.

From your letter I see that you are at Plombières and mean to stay. You are right: the waters and the lovely climate must do you good. I am remaining here. Both my health and my affairs are just as I wish. Please convey many kind messages from me to Hortense and the Napoléons. Entirely yours.

### Letter 135 — CXXXV

Schönbrunn, August 21, 1809.

I received your letter of August 14 from Plombières. I see from it that you will have arrived in Paris or at Malmaison on the 18th. You must have been sick from the heat, which is very intense here. Malmaison must be very dry and scorched in this weather. My health is good. Even so, I have a slight cold from the heat. Goodbye, my friend.

### Letter 136 — CXXXVI

Schönbrunn, August 26, 1809.

I have received your letter from Malmaison. I hear that you are plump, fresh-looking, and healthy. I can assure you that Vienna is not an entertaining city. I wish I were back in Paris already. Goodbye, my dear. Twice a week I listen to the Bouffons; they are rather mediocre, but they pass the evenings. There are fifty or sixty Viennese women there, though they sit in the pit, since they have not been presented.

### Letter 137 — CXXXVII

Schönbrunn, August 31, 1809.

I have had no letters from you for several days. The pleasures of Malmaison, its fine greenhouses and gardens, make you forget those who are away; that, they say, is the rule among people like you. Everyone talks about your good health, but I have serious doubts about all that. Tomorrow Eugène and I are going to Hungary for two days. Goodbye, my dear. All yours.

### Letter 138 — CXXXVIII

Kems, September 9, 1809.

My dear, I have been here since two yesterday morning, having come to see my troops. I have never enjoyed better health. I know that you are well. I shall reach Paris at the very moment when nobody is expecting me anymore. Everything here is going extremely well, to my satisfaction. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 139 — CXXXIX

September 23, 1809.

Your letter of the 16th has reached me; I see you are in good health. The spinster's house is worth no more than 120,000 francs, and they will never find anyone to pay more. Nevertheless, since it entertains you, I leave you to do as you like; only, once you have bought it, do not demolish anything to make some rocks. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 140 — CXL

September 25, 1809.

Your letter has reached me. Do not feel too secure; I advise you to keep careful watch at night, for on one of the next few nights you will hear a great noise. I am in excellent health. I do not know what stories are being spread; I have not felt this well for many years. Corvisart was not needed by me. Farewell, my dear; everything here is going splendidly. Entirely yours.

### Letter 141 — CXLI

Nymphenbourg, near Munich, October 21, 1809.

I have been here since yesterday and am well. I will not leave tomorrow either. I will stop for one day at Stuttgard. You will be told twenty-four hours before I arrive at Fontainebleau. I am looking forward to seeing you again, and I can hardly wait for that moment. I kiss you. All yours.

### Letter 142 — CXLII

October 1809.

My dear, two hours ago Champagny and Prince Metternich signed peace, and I write to let you know. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 143 — CXLIII

Munich, October 1809.

My dear, I leave in an hour. I will reach Fontainebleau between the 26th and 27th; you can go there with a few ladies.

### Letter 144 — CXLIV

Trianon, December 18, 1809, eight in the evening.

My dear, when I saw you today you were less strong than you should be. You have shown courage; you must find enough of it to sustain yourself. Do not surrender to a fatal melancholy; try to be happy and, above all, take care of your health, which means so much to me. If your attachment and love for me are real, you must be strong and put yourself in a position to be happy. You cannot question my enduring, tender affection, and you would have little understanding of all I feel for you if you imagined I could be happy when you are not, and above all when you are not at peace. Farewell, my dear; sleep well, and remember that I insist on it.

### Letter 145 — CXLV

Tuesday at six. (Trianon, December 19, 1809.)

I saw the Queen of Naples while hunting in the Bois de Boulogne, where I ran down a stag. She told me she had left you well at one o'clock yesterday afternoon. Please let me know what you have been doing today. As for me, I am very well. I was ill yesterday when I saw you. I expect you have been for a walk. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 146 — CXLVI

Wednesday, seven in the evening. (Trianon, December 20, 1809.)

I have your letter, my dear. Savary tells me you are still crying. I hope you managed to go for a walk today. I sent you some of my game. I will come and see you when you tell me you are being sensible and your courage is gaining the upper hand. Tomorrow the ministers will be with me all day. Goodbye, my dear; I too am sad today. I need to know that you are content and hear that you are regaining your composure. Sleep well.

### Letter 147 — CXLVII

Thursday at noon. (Trianon, December 21, 1809.)

I wanted to visit you today, my dear, but I am extremely busy and slightly indisposed. Even so, I am going to the council. Please let me know how you are feeling. The weather is terribly damp and quite unhealthy.

### Letter 148 — CXLVIII

Trianon, Tuesday, December 26, 1809.

I went to bed yesterday after you left, my dear. I am going to Paris. I want to know that you are cheerful. I will come and see you during the week. I have received your letters and will read them in the carriage.

### Letter 149 — CXLIX

Wednesday, noon. (Paris, December 27, 1809.)

Eugène told me you were very sad yesterday. That is not good, my dear; it goes against what you promised me. I was very unhappy to see the Tuileries again. That enormous palace seemed empty, and I felt alone there. Goodbye, my dear; keep well.

### Letter 150 — CL

Paris, Friday, December 29, 1809.

My dear, your letter has arrived, and I am sorry to learn you have been ill; I fear the bad weather may be to blame. Madame de la T… is among the silliest women in the faubourg. I endured her prattle for a long time, but grew weary of it and ordered her not to come back to Paris. I also mean to send five or six other old women away from Paris; their foolishness spoils the young. As you wish, I shall make Madame de Mackau a baroness and carry out your other commissions. My health is fairly good. B…'s conduct strikes me as very ridiculous. I hope to hear that you are in good health. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 151 — CLI

Paris, December 31, 1809. (Sunday, ten in the morning.)

My dear, I have a grand parade today, when I shall see my entire Old Guard and over sixty artillery trains. The King of Westphalia is returning home, so a house in Paris may become vacant. It saddens me not to see you. Should the parade finish before three, I shall come; if not, tomorrow. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 152 — CLII

Paris, Thursday evening, January 4, 1810.

My dear, I saw Hortense this afternoon and she gave me news of you. The day was fine, so I hope you went to see your plants. I went out only briefly, at three o'clock, to shoot a few hares. Goodbye, my dear; sleep well.

### Letter 153 — CLIII

Friday at eight. (Paris, January 5, 1810.)

I meant to visit you today, but cannot; I hope it will be tomorrow instead. You have not sent me news of yourself for a very long time. I was pleased to learn that you had been walking in your garden despite the cold. Farewell, my dear; stay well and never question my feelings.

### Letter 154 — CLIV

January 7, 1810. (Sunday, eight in the evening.)

I was very pleased to see you yesterday; I realize how delightful your company is to me. Today I worked with Estève. I have granted 100,000 francs for Malmaison's extraordinary expenses in 1810. You can therefore have whatever you wish planted, and use the money as you choose. Estève is to hand over 200,000 francs once the contract for the Julien house is complete. I have directed that your set of rubies be paid for; the household administration will value it, since I will not be robbed by jewelers. So that makes 400,000 francs it is costing me. The million the civil list owes you for 1810 is to be made available to your man of business, on my orders, so that he can pay your debts. There should be five or six hundred thousand francs in the Malmaison cupboard; you may take it to have your silver and linen made. I have ordered a very fine porcelain service for you; they will consult you so that it will be exceptionally fine.

### Letter 155 — CLV

Tuesday, January 9, 1810. Noon.

I should have visited you today, had I not been obliged to go and see the King of Bavaria, who has just reached Paris. I shall be at his house at eight tonight and return at ten. Tomorrow I hope to see you and find you cheerful and steady. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 156 — CLVI

Wednesday, January 10, 1810.

My dear, I have no objection if you choose to receive the King of Württemberg whenever you please. The King and Queen of Bavaria are due to call on you the day after tomorrow. I long to come to Malmaison, but you must be strong and at peace; the page said this morning that he had seen you weeping. Farewell, my dear. You must never question my feelings for you; to do so would be unfair and unkind.

### Letter 157 — CLVII

Paris, January 13, 1810. (Saturday, one in the afternoon.)

My dear, yesterday I saw Eugène, who told me you would be receiving the kings. I stayed at the concert until eight and only then dined, by myself. I very much want to see you; should I fail to come today, I will come after Mass. Farewell, my dear; I hope to find you sensible and in good health. This weather must weigh heavily on you.

### Letter 158 — CLVIII

January 17, 1810.

My dear, d'Audenarde, whom I sent to you this morning, says you have lost your courage since going to Malmaison. And yet the place is full of the feelings we share, feelings that can and must remain unchanged, on my side at least. I want very much to see you, but first I must know you are strong, not weak; I have some weakness myself, and it hurts me terribly. Goodbye, Joséphine; sleep well. It would be very ungrateful of you to doubt me.

### Letter 159 — CLIX

January 20, 1810.

My dear, I am sending you the box I promised you the day before yesterday, with a picture of Lobau Island on it. I was a little tired yesterday. I am working a great deal and do not go out. Goodbye, my dear.

### Letter 160 — CLX

January 30, 1810.

My dear, your letter has arrived. I hope that the outing you took today to show your greenhouse has done you good. It will please me to know you are at the Élysée, and I shall be delighted to see you more frequently, since you know how much I love you.

### Letter 161 — CLXI

Tuesday, noon, January 30, 1810.

I hear you are distressing yourself; that is wrong. You have no trust in me, and all the rumors people spread trouble you. You do not know me, Joséphine. I am cross with you, and unless I hear that you are cheerful and happy, I shall come and give you a thorough scolding. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 162 — CLXII

February 3, 1810.

I told Eugène that you prefer to listen to the gossips of a great city rather than to what I say, and that people must not distress you with idle tales. I have had your belongings taken to the Élysée. You will come to Paris very soon, but be calm and content and trust me completely.

### Letter 163 — CLXIII

February 19, 1810.

My dear, your letter has reached me. I wish to see you, but perhaps your observations are sound. Our being in the same house during the first year may have its drawbacks. But Bessières's country place is too distant for me to make the return journey; besides, I have a slight cold and may not go at all. Farewell, my dear.

### Letter 164 — CLXIV

March 12, 1810.

My dear, I hope you were pleased with what I did for Navarre. You will have seen it as another sign of my wish to please you. Have possession taken of Navarre; you can go there on March 25 and spend April there. Goodbye, my dear.

### Letter 165 — CLXV bis

Compiègne, April 21, 1810.

My dear, I have your letter of April 19; its style is poor. I am just as I have always been; men of my kind never change. What Eugène may have told you, I cannot imagine. I have not written because you did not, and because I wished for everything that might give you pleasure. It pleases me to see you going to Malmaison and being happy; I shall also be pleased to receive your news and give you mine. I will say nothing further until you compare this letter with yours; after that, you may judge which of us is kinder and the truer friend to the other. Farewell, my dear; keep well and be fair both to yourself and to me.

### Letter 166 — CLXVI

Compiègne, April 26, 1810.

My dear, two letters have arrived from you. I am writing to Eugène. I have given orders for Tascher's marriage to the Princess of La Layen to take place. Tomorrow I am going to Antwerp to see my fleet and give orders for work there. I will be back on May 15. Eugène says you want to go to the waters; do not let anything constrain you. Pay no attention to Parisian gossip: it is idle talk and very far from knowing how matters really stand. My feelings towards you are unchanged, and I greatly want to hear that you are happy and content.

### Letter 167 — CLXVII

Rambouillet, July 8, 1810.

My friend, your letter of July 3 has reached me. You will have seen Eugène by now, and having him with you will have done you good. I was glad to learn that the waters are helping you. The King of Holland has just given up his crown, entrusting the regency to the Queen as the Constitution provides. He has departed Amsterdam, leaving the Grand Duke of Berg there. I have joined Holland to France; but there is a happy side to that decision: it frees the Queen. Your unfortunate daughter is coming to Paris, accompanied by her son, the Grand Duke of Berg; she will be completely happy as a result. I am in good health. I came here to spend a few days hunting. It will be a pleasure to see you this autumn. Never doubt my affection; I am always the same. Keep well, be cheerful, and trust in the sincerity of my feelings.

### Letter 168 — CLXVIII

July 1810.

I was distressed to see the danger you had been in. For a woman from the islands of the Ocean, dying in a lake would have been a strange fate.

### Letter 169 — CLXIX

Fontainebleau, October 1, 1810.

I have received your letter. I saw Hortense, and she will have conveyed my thoughts: go to your son this winter, return to the waters at Aix next year, or spend the spring at Navarre. I would recommend going to Navarre immediately, were I not afraid you would find it dull. In my view, Milan or Navarre are the only places where you can suitably spend the winter; even so, I approve whatever you decide, for I do not want to put any constraint on you. Farewell, my dear. The Empress is four months pregnant; I am naming Madame de Montesquiou governess to the children of France. Be content, never let your imagination run away with you, and do not question my feelings.

### Letter 170 — CLXX

Paris, January 8, 1811.

I have received your New Year's letter and am pleased to see you are content. People say that at Navarre the women outnumber the men. I am in excellent health, although I have not gone out for a fortnight. Eugène seems to have no anxiety about his wife; he is giving you a little grandson. Farewell, my dear, keep well.

### Letter 171 — CLXXI

Paris, March 22, 1811.

My dear, thank you for the letter I have received from you. My son is big and in excellent health. I hope he will develop well. His chest, mouth and eyes are like mine. I hope he lives up to his destiny. I remain very happy with Eugène; he has never given me any cause for sorrow.

### Letter 172 — CLXXII

Gubin, June 20, 1812.

I see no objection to your visiting the vicereine in Milan. It would be wise to go incognito. You will find it very hot. I am in excellent health. Eugène is well and conducting himself well. You must never question my concern and affection.