Beethoven.
July 6, in the morning
" My angel, my all, my very self - Only a few words today and at that with pencil (with yours) - Not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon - what a useless waste of time - Why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks - can our love endure except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything from one another; can you change the fact that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine - Oh God, look out into the beauties of nature and comfort your heart with that which must be - Love demands everything and that very justly - thus it is to me with you, and to your with me. But you forget so easily that I must live for me and for you; if we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I - My journey was a fearful one; I did not reach here until 4 o'clock yesterday morning. Lacking horses the post-coach chose another route, but what an awful one; at the stage before the last I was warned not to travel at night; I was made fearful of a forest, but that only made me the more eager - and I was wrong. The coach must needs break down on the wretched road, a bottomless mud road. Without such postilions as I had with me I should have remained stuck in the road. Esterhazy, traveling the usual road here, had the same fate with eight horses that I had with four - Yet I got some pleasure out of it, as I always do when I successfully overcome difficulties - Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot share with you the thoughts I have had during these last few days touching my own life - If our hearts were always close together, I would have none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you - ah - there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all - Cheer up - remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The gods must send us the rest, what for us must and shall be - "
Beethoven.
Evening, Monday, July 6
"You are suffering, my dearest creature - only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning on Mondays to Thursdays - the only days on which the mail-coach goes from here to K. - You are suffering - Ah, wherever I am, there you are also - I will arrange it with you and me that I can live with you. What a life!!! thus!!! without you - pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither - which I as little want to deserve as I deserve it - Humility of man towards man - it pains me - and when I consider myself in relation to the universe, what am I and what is He - whom we call the greatest - and yet - herein lies the divine in man - I weep when I reflect that you will probably not receive the first report from me until Saturday - Much as you love me - I love you more - But do not ever conceal yourself from me - good night - As I am taking the baths I must go to bed - Oh God - so near! so far! Is not our love truly a heavenly structure, and also as firm as the vault of heaven? "
Beethoven
Good morning, on July 7
"Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours "
These letters were found in Beethoven's desk after he died. They were not addressed to anybody, so it is impossible to know who he was writing to. Historians feel they were written to a married woman who he loved dearly, and who was leaving the city at the time of these letters.
Voltaire.
The Hague 1713
"I am a prisoner here in the name of the King;
they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you.
Yes, my adorable mistress, to-night I shall see you, if I had to put my head on the block to do it.
For heaven's sake, do not speak to me in such disastrous terms as you write; you must live and be cautious; beware of Madame your mother as of your worst enemy.
What do I say?
Beware of everybody; trust no one; keep yourself in readiness, as soon as the moon is visible; I shall leave the hotel incognito, take a carriage or a chaise, we shall drive like the wind to Sheveningen; I shall take paper and ink with me; we shall write our letters.
If you love me, reassure yourself; and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid; do not let your mother notice anything, try to have your pictures, and be assured that the menace of the greatest tortures will not prevent me to serve you.
No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives.
Adieu, there is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that.
Adieu, my dear heart!
Arout
(Voltaire) "
Voltaire was a brilliant French writer and thinker of the 1700s. He was imprisoned several times for speaking out against the government. For fifteen years he was the passionate lover of the Marquise Gabrielle - a brilliant woman in her own right. Together they studied thousands of books and discussed all topics under the sun.
Vincent Van Gogh
September 7, 1881
"Life has become very dear to me, and I am very glad that I love. My life and my love are one. "But you are faced with a 'no, never never'" is your reply. My answer to that is, "Old boy, for the present I look upon that 'no, never never' as a block of ice which I press to my heart to thaw." "
Vincent Van Gogh is perhaps most famous for his yellow sunflower painting. He lived in Holland in the 1800s. He was desperately in love with his cousin, but his cousin refused to marry him. This letter was written by Vincent to his brother, Theo, talking about his love for his cousin.
Dylan Thomas
March 16, 1950
"Cat: my cat: If only you would write to me: My love, oh Cat.
This is not, as it seems from the address above, a dive, a joint, saloon, etc. but the honourable & dignified headquarters of the dons of the University of Chicago.
I love you. That is all I know. But all I know, too, is that I am writing into space: the kind of dreadful, unknown space I am just going to enter. I am going to Iowa, Illinois, Idaho, Indindiana, but these, though mis-spelt, *are* on the map. You are not.
Have you forgotten me? I am the man you used to say you loved. I used to sleep in your arms - do you remember? But you never write. You are perhaps mindless of me. I am not of you. I love you.
There isn't a moment of any hideous day when I do not say to myself. 'It will be alright. I shall go home. Caitlin loves me. I love Caitlin.' But perhaps you have forgotten. If you have forgotten, or lost your affection for me, please, my Cat, let me know. I Love You.
Dylan "
Dylan wrote his poetry in the early 1900s. His personal readings were famous - Americans loved his lilting accent. He is most famous for his work "Do not go gentle into that good night". He wrote this letter to his beloved wife Caitlin. He was away from her, doing a book tour.
Mozart
October 17, 1790
...
PS
"While I was writing the last page, tear after tear fell on the paper. But I must cheer up - catch! - An astonishing number of kisses are flying about - The deuce! - I see a whole crowd of them! Ha! Ha!...I have just caught three - They are delicious! - You can still answer this letter, but you must address your reply to Linz, Poste Restante - That is the safest course. As I do not yet know for certain whether I shall go to Regensburg, I can't tell you anything definite. Just write on the cover that the letter is to be kept until called for.
Adieu - Dearest, most beloved little wife - Take care of your health - and don't think of walking into town. Do write and tell me how you like our new quarters - Adieu. I kiss you millions of times. "
Mozart was a child prodigy of the 1700s who wowed the courts of Austria. He was an amazing pianist who wrote numerous famous works. He wrote this letter to his wife, Constanze.
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Viscountess Josephine de Beauharnais
December 1795
"I awake full of you. Your image and the intoxication of last night give my senses no rest.
Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart. Are you angry? Do I see you sad? Are you worried? My soul breaks with grief, and there is no rest for your lover; but how much the more when I yield to this passion that rules me and drink a burning flame from your lips and your heart? Oh! This night has shown me that your portrait is not you!
You leave at midday; in three hours I shall see you.
Meanwhile, my sweet love, a thousand kisses; but do not give me any, for they set my blood on fire. "
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
April 3, 1796
"I have received all your letters, but none has made me such an impression as the last. How, my beloved, can you write to me like that? Don't you think my position is cruel enought, with out adding my sorrows and crushing my spirit? What a style! What feelings you show! They are fire, and they burn my poor heart. My one and only Josephine, apart from you there is no joy; away from you, the world is a desert where I am alone and cannot open my heart. You have taken more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life. When I am tired of the worry of work, when I feel the outcome, when men annoy me, when I am ready to curse being alive, I put my hand on my heart; your portrait hangs there, I look at it, and love brings me perfect happiness, and all is miling except the time I must spend away from my mistress.
By what art have you captivated all my facilities and concentrated my whole being in you? It is a sweet friend, that will die only when I do. To live for Josephine, that is the history of my life I long. I try to come near you. Fool! I don't notice that I am going further away. How many countries separate us! How long before you will read these words, this feeble expression of a captive soul where you are queen? Oh, my adorable wife! I don't know what fate has in store for me, but if it keeps me apart from you any longer, it will be unbearable! My courage is not enough for that. Once upon a time I was proud of my courage, and sometimes I would think of the ills destiny might bring me and consider the most terrible horrors without blinking or feeling shaken. But, today the thought that my Josephine might be in trouble, that she may be ill, above the cruel, the awful thought that she may love me less blights my soul, stills my blood and makes me sad and depressed, without even the courage of rage and despair. I used often to say men cannot harm one who dies without regret; but, now, to die not loved by you, to die without knowing, would be the torment of Hell, the living image of utter desolation. I feel I am suffocating. My one companion, you whom fate has destined to travel the sorry road of life beside me, the day I lose your heart will be the day Nature loses warmth and life for me. I stop, sweet friend; my soul is sad, my body tired, my spirit oppressed. men bore me. I ought to hate them: they take me away from my heart.
I am at Port Maurice, near Ognelia; tomorrow I reach Albenga. The two armies are moving, trying to outwit each other. Victory to the cleverer. I am pleased with Beauliu; he maneuvers well and is stronger than his predecessor. I will beat him soundly, I hope. Don't be frightened. Love me like your eyes; but that is not enough: like yourself, more than yourself, than your thoughts, your life, all of you. Forgive me, dear loe, I am raving; Nature is frail when one feels deeply, when one is loved by you.
Bonaparte
Sincere friendship to Barras, Sucy, Madame Tallien; respects to Madame Chateau-Renard; true love to Eugene, to Hortense.
Goodbye, goodbye! I shall go to bed without you, sleep without you. Let me sleep, I beg you. For several nights I have felt you in my arms; a happy dream, but it is not you. "
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
April 24, 1796
"My brother will bring you this letter. I have the greatest love for him and I hope he will gain yours; he deserves it. Nature has given him a sweet and utterly good character; he is full of good qualities. I am writing to Barras to get him appointed consul in some Italian port. He wants to live with his little wife far away from the hurly-burly and political affairs; I commend him to you.
I have your letters of the 16th and the 21st. There are many days when you don't write. What do you do, then? No, my darling, I am not jealous, but sometimes worried. Come soon; I warn you, if you delay, you will find me ill. Fatigue and your absence are too much.
Your letters are the joy of my days, and my days are happiness are not many. Junot is bringing twenty-two flags to Paris.
You must come back with him, do you understand? Hopeless sorrow, inconsolable misery, sadness without end, if I am so unhappy as to see him return alone. Adorable friend, he will see you, he will breathe in your temple; perhaps you will frant him the unique and perfect flavor of kissing your cheek, and I shall be alone and far, far away. But you are coming, aren't you? You are going to be here beside me, in my arms, on my breast, on my mouth. Take wing and come, come! But travel gently. The road is long, bad, tiring. Suppose you had an accident, or fell ill; suppose fatigue- come gently, my adorable love, but I think of you often.
I have received a letter from Hortense. I will write to her. She is altogether charming. I love her and will soon send her the perfumes she wants.
Read Ossian's poem "Carthon" carefully, and sleep well and happily far from your good friend, but thinking of him.
A kiss on the heart, and one lower down, much lower!
B.
I don't know if you need money; you have never talked about your affairs. If so, you can ask my brother, who has 200 louis of mine."
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
May 13, 1796
So, it is true that you are pregnant. Murat has written to me; but he tells me that it is making you ill and he thinks it unwise for you to undertake so long a journey. So I must still be deprived of the joy of holding you in my arms! I must still spend several months far from all that I love! Is it possible that I shan't have the pleasure of seeing you with your little belly? That should make you interesting! You write that you have changed. Your letter is short and sad and shakily written. What is it, my adorable? What can be upsetting you? Oh! Don't stay in the country; go to town; try to amuse yourself, and remember that there is no truer torment for my sould than to know you unwell and unhappy. I thought I was jealous, but I swear to you I am not. I think I would rather myself give you a lover than to know you are miserable, so be gay and cheerful, and remember that my happiness depends on yours. If Josephine is unhappy, if she lets herself be sad and discouraged, then she doesn't love me. Soon you are going to bring into the world another being who will love you as much as I-no, that is impossible, but your children and I will always be around you to convince you of our love and care. You won't be horrid, will you? No tantrums!! Except as a joke. And then just two or three pouts; nothing is prettier, and a liittle kiss puts everything right.
The courier has brought me your letter of the 18th. How sad it makes me! Can't you be happy, darling Josephine? Is there something you want? I am waiting patiently for Muray to know the details of what you are doing, what you are saying, whom you are seeing, what you are wearing. Everything to do with my adorable is dear to my heart, which only longs to know.
Things are going well here; but my heart is indescribably heavy. You are ill and far away from me. Be gay and take great care of yourself, you are worth more than all the universe to me. The thought that oyu are ill makes me very unhappy.
Please, my sweet, tell Freron that my family does not wish him to marry my sister, and that I am determined to takes steps to prevent it. Please tell my brother
B.
Abigail Adams to John Adams
23 December 1782
"My Dearest Friend,
…should I draw you the picture of my Heart, it would be what I hope you still would Love; tho it contained nothing new; the early possession you obtained there; and the absolute power you have ever maintained over it; leaves not the smallest space unoccupied. I look back to the early days of our acquaintance; and Friendship, as to the days of Love and Innocence; and with an indescribable pleasure I have seen near a score of years roll over our Heads, with an affection heightened and improved by time -- nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest degree effaced from my mind the Image of the dear untitled man to whom I gave my Heart..."
July 6, in the morning
" My angel, my all, my very self - Only a few words today and at that with pencil (with yours) - Not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon - what a useless waste of time - Why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks - can our love endure except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything from one another; can you change the fact that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine - Oh God, look out into the beauties of nature and comfort your heart with that which must be - Love demands everything and that very justly - thus it is to me with you, and to your with me. But you forget so easily that I must live for me and for you; if we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I - My journey was a fearful one; I did not reach here until 4 o'clock yesterday morning. Lacking horses the post-coach chose another route, but what an awful one; at the stage before the last I was warned not to travel at night; I was made fearful of a forest, but that only made me the more eager - and I was wrong. The coach must needs break down on the wretched road, a bottomless mud road. Without such postilions as I had with me I should have remained stuck in the road. Esterhazy, traveling the usual road here, had the same fate with eight horses that I had with four - Yet I got some pleasure out of it, as I always do when I successfully overcome difficulties - Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot share with you the thoughts I have had during these last few days touching my own life - If our hearts were always close together, I would have none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you - ah - there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all - Cheer up - remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The gods must send us the rest, what for us must and shall be - "
Beethoven.
Evening, Monday, July 6
"You are suffering, my dearest creature - only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning on Mondays to Thursdays - the only days on which the mail-coach goes from here to K. - You are suffering - Ah, wherever I am, there you are also - I will arrange it with you and me that I can live with you. What a life!!! thus!!! without you - pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither - which I as little want to deserve as I deserve it - Humility of man towards man - it pains me - and when I consider myself in relation to the universe, what am I and what is He - whom we call the greatest - and yet - herein lies the divine in man - I weep when I reflect that you will probably not receive the first report from me until Saturday - Much as you love me - I love you more - But do not ever conceal yourself from me - good night - As I am taking the baths I must go to bed - Oh God - so near! so far! Is not our love truly a heavenly structure, and also as firm as the vault of heaven? "
Beethoven
Good morning, on July 7
"Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours "
These letters were found in Beethoven's desk after he died. They were not addressed to anybody, so it is impossible to know who he was writing to. Historians feel they were written to a married woman who he loved dearly, and who was leaving the city at the time of these letters.
Voltaire.
The Hague 1713
"I am a prisoner here in the name of the King;
they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you.
Yes, my adorable mistress, to-night I shall see you, if I had to put my head on the block to do it.
For heaven's sake, do not speak to me in such disastrous terms as you write; you must live and be cautious; beware of Madame your mother as of your worst enemy.
What do I say?
Beware of everybody; trust no one; keep yourself in readiness, as soon as the moon is visible; I shall leave the hotel incognito, take a carriage or a chaise, we shall drive like the wind to Sheveningen; I shall take paper and ink with me; we shall write our letters.
If you love me, reassure yourself; and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid; do not let your mother notice anything, try to have your pictures, and be assured that the menace of the greatest tortures will not prevent me to serve you.
No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives.
Adieu, there is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that.
Adieu, my dear heart!
Arout
(Voltaire) "
Voltaire was a brilliant French writer and thinker of the 1700s. He was imprisoned several times for speaking out against the government. For fifteen years he was the passionate lover of the Marquise Gabrielle - a brilliant woman in her own right. Together they studied thousands of books and discussed all topics under the sun.
Vincent Van Gogh
September 7, 1881
"Life has become very dear to me, and I am very glad that I love. My life and my love are one. "But you are faced with a 'no, never never'" is your reply. My answer to that is, "Old boy, for the present I look upon that 'no, never never' as a block of ice which I press to my heart to thaw." "
Vincent Van Gogh is perhaps most famous for his yellow sunflower painting. He lived in Holland in the 1800s. He was desperately in love with his cousin, but his cousin refused to marry him. This letter was written by Vincent to his brother, Theo, talking about his love for his cousin.
Dylan Thomas
March 16, 1950
"Cat: my cat: If only you would write to me: My love, oh Cat.
This is not, as it seems from the address above, a dive, a joint, saloon, etc. but the honourable & dignified headquarters of the dons of the University of Chicago.
I love you. That is all I know. But all I know, too, is that I am writing into space: the kind of dreadful, unknown space I am just going to enter. I am going to Iowa, Illinois, Idaho, Indindiana, but these, though mis-spelt, *are* on the map. You are not.
Have you forgotten me? I am the man you used to say you loved. I used to sleep in your arms - do you remember? But you never write. You are perhaps mindless of me. I am not of you. I love you.
There isn't a moment of any hideous day when I do not say to myself. 'It will be alright. I shall go home. Caitlin loves me. I love Caitlin.' But perhaps you have forgotten. If you have forgotten, or lost your affection for me, please, my Cat, let me know. I Love You.
Dylan "
Dylan wrote his poetry in the early 1900s. His personal readings were famous - Americans loved his lilting accent. He is most famous for his work "Do not go gentle into that good night". He wrote this letter to his beloved wife Caitlin. He was away from her, doing a book tour.
Mozart
October 17, 1790
...
PS
"While I was writing the last page, tear after tear fell on the paper. But I must cheer up - catch! - An astonishing number of kisses are flying about - The deuce! - I see a whole crowd of them! Ha! Ha!...I have just caught three - They are delicious! - You can still answer this letter, but you must address your reply to Linz, Poste Restante - That is the safest course. As I do not yet know for certain whether I shall go to Regensburg, I can't tell you anything definite. Just write on the cover that the letter is to be kept until called for.
Adieu - Dearest, most beloved little wife - Take care of your health - and don't think of walking into town. Do write and tell me how you like our new quarters - Adieu. I kiss you millions of times. "
Mozart was a child prodigy of the 1700s who wowed the courts of Austria. He was an amazing pianist who wrote numerous famous works. He wrote this letter to his wife, Constanze.
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Viscountess Josephine de Beauharnais
December 1795
"I awake full of you. Your image and the intoxication of last night give my senses no rest.
Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart. Are you angry? Do I see you sad? Are you worried? My soul breaks with grief, and there is no rest for your lover; but how much the more when I yield to this passion that rules me and drink a burning flame from your lips and your heart? Oh! This night has shown me that your portrait is not you!
You leave at midday; in three hours I shall see you.
Meanwhile, my sweet love, a thousand kisses; but do not give me any, for they set my blood on fire. "
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
April 3, 1796
"I have received all your letters, but none has made me such an impression as the last. How, my beloved, can you write to me like that? Don't you think my position is cruel enought, with out adding my sorrows and crushing my spirit? What a style! What feelings you show! They are fire, and they burn my poor heart. My one and only Josephine, apart from you there is no joy; away from you, the world is a desert where I am alone and cannot open my heart. You have taken more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life. When I am tired of the worry of work, when I feel the outcome, when men annoy me, when I am ready to curse being alive, I put my hand on my heart; your portrait hangs there, I look at it, and love brings me perfect happiness, and all is miling except the time I must spend away from my mistress.
By what art have you captivated all my facilities and concentrated my whole being in you? It is a sweet friend, that will die only when I do. To live for Josephine, that is the history of my life I long. I try to come near you. Fool! I don't notice that I am going further away. How many countries separate us! How long before you will read these words, this feeble expression of a captive soul where you are queen? Oh, my adorable wife! I don't know what fate has in store for me, but if it keeps me apart from you any longer, it will be unbearable! My courage is not enough for that. Once upon a time I was proud of my courage, and sometimes I would think of the ills destiny might bring me and consider the most terrible horrors without blinking or feeling shaken. But, today the thought that my Josephine might be in trouble, that she may be ill, above the cruel, the awful thought that she may love me less blights my soul, stills my blood and makes me sad and depressed, without even the courage of rage and despair. I used often to say men cannot harm one who dies without regret; but, now, to die not loved by you, to die without knowing, would be the torment of Hell, the living image of utter desolation. I feel I am suffocating. My one companion, you whom fate has destined to travel the sorry road of life beside me, the day I lose your heart will be the day Nature loses warmth and life for me. I stop, sweet friend; my soul is sad, my body tired, my spirit oppressed. men bore me. I ought to hate them: they take me away from my heart.
I am at Port Maurice, near Ognelia; tomorrow I reach Albenga. The two armies are moving, trying to outwit each other. Victory to the cleverer. I am pleased with Beauliu; he maneuvers well and is stronger than his predecessor. I will beat him soundly, I hope. Don't be frightened. Love me like your eyes; but that is not enough: like yourself, more than yourself, than your thoughts, your life, all of you. Forgive me, dear loe, I am raving; Nature is frail when one feels deeply, when one is loved by you.
Bonaparte
Sincere friendship to Barras, Sucy, Madame Tallien; respects to Madame Chateau-Renard; true love to Eugene, to Hortense.
Goodbye, goodbye! I shall go to bed without you, sleep without you. Let me sleep, I beg you. For several nights I have felt you in my arms; a happy dream, but it is not you. "
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
April 24, 1796
"My brother will bring you this letter. I have the greatest love for him and I hope he will gain yours; he deserves it. Nature has given him a sweet and utterly good character; he is full of good qualities. I am writing to Barras to get him appointed consul in some Italian port. He wants to live with his little wife far away from the hurly-burly and political affairs; I commend him to you.
I have your letters of the 16th and the 21st. There are many days when you don't write. What do you do, then? No, my darling, I am not jealous, but sometimes worried. Come soon; I warn you, if you delay, you will find me ill. Fatigue and your absence are too much.
Your letters are the joy of my days, and my days are happiness are not many. Junot is bringing twenty-two flags to Paris.
You must come back with him, do you understand? Hopeless sorrow, inconsolable misery, sadness without end, if I am so unhappy as to see him return alone. Adorable friend, he will see you, he will breathe in your temple; perhaps you will frant him the unique and perfect flavor of kissing your cheek, and I shall be alone and far, far away. But you are coming, aren't you? You are going to be here beside me, in my arms, on my breast, on my mouth. Take wing and come, come! But travel gently. The road is long, bad, tiring. Suppose you had an accident, or fell ill; suppose fatigue- come gently, my adorable love, but I think of you often.
I have received a letter from Hortense. I will write to her. She is altogether charming. I love her and will soon send her the perfumes she wants.
Read Ossian's poem "Carthon" carefully, and sleep well and happily far from your good friend, but thinking of him.
A kiss on the heart, and one lower down, much lower!
B.
I don't know if you need money; you have never talked about your affairs. If so, you can ask my brother, who has 200 louis of mine."
Napoleon Bonaparte
To Citizeness Josephine Bonaparte
May 13, 1796
So, it is true that you are pregnant. Murat has written to me; but he tells me that it is making you ill and he thinks it unwise for you to undertake so long a journey. So I must still be deprived of the joy of holding you in my arms! I must still spend several months far from all that I love! Is it possible that I shan't have the pleasure of seeing you with your little belly? That should make you interesting! You write that you have changed. Your letter is short and sad and shakily written. What is it, my adorable? What can be upsetting you? Oh! Don't stay in the country; go to town; try to amuse yourself, and remember that there is no truer torment for my sould than to know you unwell and unhappy. I thought I was jealous, but I swear to you I am not. I think I would rather myself give you a lover than to know you are miserable, so be gay and cheerful, and remember that my happiness depends on yours. If Josephine is unhappy, if she lets herself be sad and discouraged, then she doesn't love me. Soon you are going to bring into the world another being who will love you as much as I-no, that is impossible, but your children and I will always be around you to convince you of our love and care. You won't be horrid, will you? No tantrums!! Except as a joke. And then just two or three pouts; nothing is prettier, and a liittle kiss puts everything right.
The courier has brought me your letter of the 18th. How sad it makes me! Can't you be happy, darling Josephine? Is there something you want? I am waiting patiently for Muray to know the details of what you are doing, what you are saying, whom you are seeing, what you are wearing. Everything to do with my adorable is dear to my heart, which only longs to know.
Things are going well here; but my heart is indescribably heavy. You are ill and far away from me. Be gay and take great care of yourself, you are worth more than all the universe to me. The thought that oyu are ill makes me very unhappy.
Please, my sweet, tell Freron that my family does not wish him to marry my sister, and that I am determined to takes steps to prevent it. Please tell my brother
B.
Abigail Adams to John Adams
23 December 1782
"My Dearest Friend,
…should I draw you the picture of my Heart, it would be what I hope you still would Love; tho it contained nothing new; the early possession you obtained there; and the absolute power you have ever maintained over it; leaves not the smallest space unoccupied. I look back to the early days of our acquaintance; and Friendship, as to the days of Love and Innocence; and with an indescribable pleasure I have seen near a score of years roll over our Heads, with an affection heightened and improved by time -- nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest degree effaced from my mind the Image of the dear untitled man to whom I gave my Heart..."