Letter 003 — III
Original French
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.
Musean translation
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.
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.
Plain English translation
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.
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.
About this section
Letter 003 — III is part of Letters to Josephine by Napoléon Bonaparte. This page sets the French original beside 2 direct-source translations, so any line can be checked against the source. It is part 3 of 172 in the work, which is kept in the European tradition.
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