This is what I had in mind when I wrote my last post. How I ended up on the very unromantic abiku poem is beyond me.
If you have never read Napoleon’s letters to Josephine, you will thoroughly enjoy reading this. If you have read them, the pleasure is about to become your’s all over again. Napoleon wrote letters everyday and is said to have written the better part of 75,000 letters to Josephine. I have picked some of my favorites, enjoy.
Dec. 29, 1795
I awake all filled with you. Your image and the intoxicating pleasures of last night, allow my senses no rest.
Sweet and matchless Josephine, how strangely you work upon my heart.
Are you angry with me? Are you unhappy? Are you upset?
My soul is broken with grief and my love for you forbids repose. But how can I rest any more, when I yield to the feeling that masters my inmost self, when I quaff from your lips and from your heart a scorching flame?
Yes! One night has taught me how far your portrait falls short of yourself!
You start at midday: in three hours I shall see you again.
Till then, a thousand kisses, mio dolce amor! but give me none back for they set my blood on fire.
Dec 14, 17..
Grand Empress, not a letter from you since you left Strasbourg. You have passed through Bade, Stuttgart and Munich without writing us a word. It is not very friendly, nor very caring! I am always in Brunn. The Russians have left; I have a truce. In a few days, I will see what I can manage.
May you allow yourself, from the peak of your class, to occupy yourself a little with your underlings.
March 10 17…
I cannot go a day without loving you; I cannot go a night without holding you in my arms. I cannot have a cup of tea without cursing the glory and the ambition which keep me away from the love of my live.
And my personal favorite… not that I’ll be smiling if hubby refers to me as a wretch, perverse or stupid!
To Josephine, I love you no longer; on the contrary, I detest you. you are a wretch, truly perverse, truly stupid, a real Cinderella. You never write to me at all, you do not love your husband; you know the pleasure that your letters give him yet you cannot even manage to write him half a dozen lines, dashed off in a moment!
What then do you do all day, Madame? What business is so vital that it robs you of the time to write to your faithful lover? What attachment can be stifling and pushing aside the love, the tender and constant love which you promised him? Who can this wonderful new lover be who takes up your every moment, rules your days and prevents you from devoting your attention to your husband? Beware, Josephine; one fine night the doors will be broken down and there I shall be.
In truth, I am worried, my love, to have no news from you; write me a four page letter instantly made up from those delightful words which fill my heart with emotion and joy.
I hope to hold you in my arms before long, when I shall lavish upon you a million kisses, burning as the equatorial sun.
Thank you for stopping by!