Napoleon and Josephine

From this time on, the life of Joséphine is so closely associated with that of Napoleon that it is impossible to speak of her without mentioning him.

Leaving Paris on the 11 March 1796, forty-eight hours after his marriage, Bonaparte set out for Italy, accompanied only by his aides de camp, Berthier, Duroc, Junot, Marmont and Murat, and his paymaster-general Chauvet, who carried with him 48,000 francs in gold—a small sum for the succor of an army which had long been destitute of everything.

En route Napoleon stopped a night with the father of Marmont at Châtillon-sur-Seine. Here he wrote Joséphine, enclosing a power of attorney to enable her to collect some money which was due him.

On the 14 March, at six o’clock in the evening, from the relay station at Chanceaux, he despatched his first long letter. He wrote:

“Every moment carries me further away from you, my dearest love, and every instant finds me with less force to endure my separation from you. You are the constant object of my thoughts, and my imagination is exhausted in trying to conceive what you are doing. If I think that you are sad, my heart is torn, and my grief intensified; if you are gay, playful with your friends, I reproach you for having so soon forgotten the painful separation of three days.... As you see, I am not easy to satisfy; but, my dear love, it is very different if I fear that your health is altered, or that you have reasons for grief: then I regret the speed which carries me away from my heart. If I am asked if I have slept well, before replying I must have a courier to let me know that you have had a good night.... May my good angel, who has always protected me in the midst of the greatest dangers, surround and cover you, and leave me exposed.... Write me, my dearest love, and at length, and receive the thousand and one kisses of the most devoted and most faithful of lovers.”

At this time Joséphine was very far from reciprocating the love of her husband. He adored her, while she was only moderately touched by his passion. His strange, violent character, inspired her with astonishment, rather than with sympathy. She was in her element in this brilliant, but bizarre society of the Directory, which tried to imitate the former splendors of Versailles. She enjoyed the opening of the few salons, where her grace and amiability caused her to be generally admired. She gave but few thoughts to this young Republican general, to whom Destiny had united her, who seemed to her more of an eccentric than a genius.

Napoleon turned from his route to pass two days with his mother at Marseille and hand her a letter from Joséphine. His mother was not yet reconciled to his marriage, and it was only after a hard struggle, and a family council of war, that Madame Letitia was finally persuaded to write a very formal and stilted letter of congratulation to her new daughter-in-law.

A week later, the 29 March, Bonaparte arrived at Nice, and took command of the Army of Italy. During the opening days of this marvellous campaign, which was to render his name immortal, Napoleon was not so carried away with ambition as to be forgetful of his love. Before the first battle, he wrote Joséphine from Port-Maurice on the 3 April:

“I have received all your letters, but none of them has made such an impression on me as the last. What can be your idea, my adorable love, to write me in such terms? The sentiments that you express are like fire: they consume my poor heart! Do you not think that my position is already critical enough without increasing my regrets and upsetting my spirit?... My only Joséphine, away from you there is no joy; far from you, the world is a desert, where I am alone. You have taken away from me more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life. If I am weary with the burden of affairs, if I fear the outcome, if I am disgusted with men, if I am ready to curse life, I place my hand upon my heart: your portrait beats there; I regard it, and love is for me absolute happiness: all is gay except the space that I am separated from my love.”

His whole soul in a state of ecstasy over the receipt of a few tender lines traced by the adored hand, he continues: “By what art have you been able to captivate all my faculties, to concentrate in yourself my moral existence? To live for Joséphine is the whole aim of my life! I strive to be near you; I die to approach you. Fool! I did not realize that I was separating myself from you. How many lands, how many countries lie between us, how many days before you read these lines which are but feeble expressions of a troubled heart where you reign.”

Unfortunately the sunshine of love is never long without its clouds, and Bonaparte, who was then in the seventh heaven of joy and confidence, was soon to become suspicious and jealous. Although he did not as yet doubt either the love or the fidelity of his wife, at times he was overcome with melancholy. But this feeling was not of long duration. The lover soon was lost in the man of action. Victory followed victory with amazing rapidity. From the heights of Monte-Zemolo the army suddenly saw at its feet the fertile plains of Italy, the promised land, with its splendid cities, its broad rivers, its cultivated fields. A shout of joy broke from the ranks. The young general, pointing to the scene of his coming triumphs, cried: “Hannibal scaled the Alps; we have turned them!”

After the armistice of Cherasco, on the 28 April, Bonaparte thus summed up in a few ringing words the achievements of his army:

“Soldiers! In two weeks you have gained six victories, captured twenty-one flags, fifty cannon, several strong places, and have conquered the richest part of Piedmont. You have made fifteen thousand prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thousand men. Destitute of all, you have supplied everything. You have gained battles without cannon, crossed rivers without bridges, made forced marches without shoes, often bivouacked without bread. Only Republican phalanxes are capable of deeds so extraordinary. Thanks to you, soldiers!”

On the 24 April Bonaparte sent his brother Joseph and his aide de camp Junot to Paris. Joseph was the bearer of a letter to Joséphine in which her husband strongly urged her to rejoin him in Italy. Junot carried the flags captured from the enemy, to be presented to the Directory.

In his Mémoires Joseph tells the story of their journey. They left in the same post-chaise, and reached Paris in five days after their departure from Nice. En route they were everywhere received with the greatest enthusiasm. At Paris the Directors expressed their satisfaction with the army and its commander.

Murat, who had been sent directly from Cherasco with the papers of the armistice, reached Paris before Joseph and Junot. Joséphine received from the three envoys the most circumstantial details of the success of her husband. Like Napoleon, she had passed in a few days from obscurity to glory. For the first time she began to realize that she had not made a mistake in marrying the young hero of Vendémiaire.

The Moniteur of the 10 May 1796 contains a report of the formal presentation of the flags to the Directory, by Junot, the future Duc d’Abrantès.

In her interesting Mémoires Madame d’Abrantès speaks of the impression created on this occasion by Madame Bonaparte and Madame Tallien who were present. “At that time,” she says, “Madame Bonaparte was still charming, while Madame Tallien was in the full flower of her beauty.” She continues: “One may well believe that Junot was not a little proud to escort these two charming women when they left at the end of the reception.... He offered his arm to Madame Bonaparte, who, as the wife of his general, had the right to the first place, especially on this occasion; the other arm he gave to Madame Tallien, and so descended with them the staircase of the Luxembourg.” There was an immense crowd outside the palace, and the people pushed and crowded to obtain a better view. There were cheers for General Bonaparte, and for his charming wife, who was acclaimed as “Notre-Dame-des-Victoires.”

The poet Arnault, in his Souvenirs d’un sexagénaire, recalls the profound impression made upon him so many years before by the loveliness of Joséphine on this occasion. He compares her with her two competitors for the sceptre of Venus: Madame Tallien and Madame Récamier. “Beside these two rivals,” he says, “although she was not so brilliant or so fresh as they, thanks to the regularity of her features, the elegant souplesse of her figure, the sweet expression of her countenance, she also was beautiful. I can still see them, on this perfect May day, as they entered the salon where the Directors were to receive the flags. Each of them was attired in the toilette the best fitted to show off her particular advantages; their heads were crowned with the most beautiful flowers: one would have said that the three months of springtime had been reunited to fête the victory.”

The same day that the flags were presented, the 10 May, Bonaparte gained the spectacular victory of Lodi, which made so vivid an impression on the popular imagination. Carrying a banner in his hand, at the head of his grenadiers, the young general led the charge across the long and narrow bridge upon which the fire of the enemy was concentrated. From that time forth, his soldiers believed him infallible and irresistible. Five days later he made his triumphal entry into Milan.

The day after the battle of Lodi, Salicetti, the commissioner with the army, wrote the Directory: “Citizen Directors, immortal glory to the Army of Italy! Gratitude to the wisely audacious chief who directs it! The date of yesterday will be celebrated in the annals of history and of war.... When the Republican column was formed, General Bonaparte rushed along the ranks. His presence filled the soldiers with enthusiasm. He was received with cries a thousand times repeated of: ‘Vive la République!’ He ordered the drums to beat the charge, and the troops, with the rapidity of lightning, rushed upon the bridge!”

To celebrate the new triumphs the Directory organized a fête, half patriotic, half mythological, which was celebrated on the Champ-de-Mars the 29 May. At ten o’clock in the morning a salvo of artillery announced the beginning of the ceremonies. The National Guard of Paris was present, under arms. Carnot, the president of the Directory, delivered the oration, which was in the nature of a martial rhapsody. He ended his discourse with a glowing tribute to the armies of the Republic and their valiant chiefs.

After the fête the people danced on the Champ-de-Mars until nightfall, and a grand dinner was given in the evening.