Love Letters of Great Men.

Napoleon Bonaparte
1769-1821

(Amazing jacket detailing ps.)

Napoleon the humble soldier from Corsica who became a great general and Emperor of France married Josephine de Beauharnais in March 1796.She was an impoverished Creole aristocrat from the French colony of Martinique with two children from an earlier marriage.

The first three letters here were written shortly after their wedding, when Napoleon had become commander of the french forces in Italy; the fourth dates from the Austrian war of 1805. in these letters,Napoleon casts himself as the supplicant, at the mercy of his beautiful and hard-hearted wife, who sometimes even insists on using the formal vous instead of the effectionate tu; there is something touching and almost comical about his anxious pursuit of Josephine all over Italy while conducting the military campaign that would make his name It became clear to both later on in their marriage that neither had remained faithful, and Josephine’s extravagance was a constant source of friction between them, but it seems from these early letters that Napoleon was very much in love with his wife.

Napoleon divorced Josephine in 1810 to marry Archduchess Marie-Louise of Austria, in order to gain an heir and secure the succession.Josephine continued to live near Paris, and remain on good terms with her former husband until she died in 1814.

After his defeat by the British, Napoleon was exiled to the island of St Helena in 1815, where he died six years later.

To Josephine at Milan,
Sent from Verona, 13 November 1796

I do not love thee anymore; on the contrary, I detest thee. thou art horrid, very awkward, very stupid, a very cinderella.Thou dost not write me at all, thou dost not love thy husband; thou knowest the pleasure that thy letters afford him, and thou dost not write him six lines of even haphazard scribble. What do you do then all day, Madame? What matter of such importance isit that takes up your time from writing to your verry good lover? What effection stifles and pushes on one side the love, the tender and constant love, which you which you have promised him? Who can be this marvellous, this new lover who absorbs all your instants, tyrannises your entire days, and prevents you from being solicitous about your husband? Josephine, beware one fine night the doors will open and i will be there. In truth, I am anxious, my good amie, at not receiving your news; write me quickly four pages, and say those amible things which fill my heart with sentiment and pleasure. i hope before long to press you in my arms and shall shower on you a million burning kisses as under the Equator. Bonapart