Person

Un certain jour, l'Empereur, pour être couché plus au large, eut l'idée de se faire un grand lit de ses deux petits lits de campagne en les faisant accoupler ensemble. Sa volonté fut aussitôt exécutée. Mais les couvertures, assez grandes pour les petits lits séparés, ne le furent plus assez pour garnir la longueur et la largeur des deux lits réunis. Un soir, étant un peu de mauvaise humeur, et ne sachant à qui ou à quoi s'en prendre, il trouva que ses épaules n'étaient pas assez garnies ; il prétendit que nous avions coupé les couvertures. C'était une idée comme une autre, mais à laquelle il n'y avait rien à répliquer; une justification était inutile. Ce que l'on avait de mieux à faire, quand il était mal monté, c'était de garder le silence, eût-on raison ou tort ; et le parti que nous prenions, c'était de redoubler de zèle pour son service et de ne rien négliger de ce qui pouvait lui être utile ou agréable. Si parfois il lui arrivait de chagriner ceux qui étaient constamment autour de lui, il savait toujours revenir à eux et leur prodiguer ses caresses. Les deux lits restèrent accouplés pendant une quinzaine environ, et ensuite ils furent séparés et remis à leurs places primitives.

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One day, the Emperor, in order to lie more spaciously, had the idea of ​​making a large bed from his two small campaign beds by having them brought together. His wish was immediately carried out. But the blankets, large enough for the separate small beds, were no longer large enough to cover the length and width of the two beds joined together. One evening, being a little bad-tempered, and not knowing who or what to blame, he found that his shoulders were not sufficiently covered; he claimed that we had cut the blankets. It was an idea like any other, to which there was no reply; an excuse was useless. The best thing to do, when he was bad tempered, was to keep silent, whether one was right or wrong; and the course we took was to redouble our zeal for his service and to neglect nothing that could be useful or agreeable to him. If sometimes he happened to upset those who were constantly around him, he always knew how to return to them and lavish them with his caresses. The two beds remained coupled for about fifteen days, and then they were separated and put back in their original places.

She is sitting in an armchair in an anteroom waiting for an audience with the Emperor.

(Translated)

The Emperor's attendant, whom I did not know, sat down next to my armchair, against the fireplace. After considering me for a moment, he finally said, "Madame, the Emperor knows you better than you think." To which I replied, "God grant it, sir!" Finally, the Grand Master of Ceremonies, the Count de Ségur, advanced, looking important, cane in hand, toward Madame de Luçay and told her that she would be shown in alone with the Duchess of Courland to the Emperor. As he said this, Monsieur de Ségur looked at me out of the corner of his eye in such a meaningful way that I felt faint for a moment. The audience was short, and when the ladies reappeared in the antechamber, the chamberlain, who was standing at the door of the imperial study, called me in. I entered. The door closed. Before me, the Emperor, standing, looked at me with such charming kindness and gentleness that, for a sensitive and troubled heart like mine, it was as if heaven had opened. "So you are finally here!" he said. "You know what is happening. Your compatriots and friends cannot deny the facts. What do you think of this affair? What would you like from me?" "Sire," he replied, "I would like a word of consolation from your lips, and only from yours. I would like Your Majesty to release M. von Kielmannsegge, because he is the father of my children, although I have no reason to be pleased with him. Your Majesty should be deeply moved by the loyalty and gratitude I will always feel for this favor." The Emperor then elaborated on this subject. He spoke to me with warm emotion about myself and my children. He informed me of many things and granted me Kielmannsegge's release on the condition that I remain in Paris with my children and that, as far as possible, I do not support my husband's projects financially. He himself wrote to the King of Saxony about this shortly afterward. Then he dismissed me with these words: "I am and will remain your best friend. Count on me. You will see that I will be a father to your children. You have suffered enough. I want happiness to come to you now from me." I could only reply: "Sire, I will always be happy with you."

Mémoires de la comtesse de Kielmannsegge sur Napoléon Ier, d'aprés la manuscrit original des archives du comte Guerrino zu Lynar / Translated from the German by Joseph Delage v.1-2, p.31, 1863.

Hello napowarsblr. Here is my review for "Monsieur N" from 2003, in case anyone else had this in their watchlist. do I recommend? No. So little happens I can't even get super annoyed by historical inaccuracy it seems like they just wanted a bunch of their OCs to meet Napoleon...

Also this might be one of the worst Napoleon actors of all time he looks nothing like him. usually I try not to get too bogged down with the "he doesn't look like him!" But this is so bad I genuinely couldn't pick him out from the rest of the cast when they were wearing casual clothing. Maybe I also have face blindness

Friday, January 1st [1813]. The Empress and her retinue of forty ladies of the palace attended mass at the Tuileries. Beside the two Majesties was Queen Hortense. Although the Emperor has put on weight, he looks unwell and aged. He wore his tunic embroidered with scarlet velvet, a toque with feathers, and all the diamond decorations. One can guess his character from the way he fiddles with his toque, nervously folding and crumpling it between his fingers without any consideration; But the object, yielding to pressure, gives way and resumes its original shape without any apparent damage. After Mass, there was the Emperor's circle. The Sovereign passed without stopping before several ladies of a higher rank than mine and advanced amicably towards me. I curtsied to him, and he returned my bow with a slightly mischievous air, giving me an equally deep one, accompanied by that pleasant smile he wears in his good moments.

“Good morning, Madame de Kielmannsegge,” he began.

“Yes, Sire,” I replied, “a fine and good day, which has brought us Your Majesty.”

But scarcely had I uttered these words when his face darkened, and he continued: “As for you, yes, I know, you have pitied me. We have suffered greatly.”

“We too, Sire, for you were far away, and we wished you were here.”

“This evening you will go to the Empress. You will tell me about your affairs, and I will tell you about mine.”

Memoirs of the Countess of Kielmannsegge

The Cantinière taking care of the meal of young drummers of the army of Bonaparte.

By Bernard Coclers

15th December 1809:

Napoleon Bonaparte and Joséphine announce the end of their marriage.

[This Englishman's journal was found in an attic with a bunch of other old stuff.]

We were in a lane about five yards wide; as the Emperor advanced, we drew back and formed a line on his right, standing uncovered. The Emperor Napoleon stopped his horse short and touched his hat. The first impression on my mind was—can this be the great Napoleon? Is that graceless figure, so clumsy and awkward, the figure that has awed emperors and kings, has gained victory on victory, and the sight of whom has been equivalent to ten thousand men on the field of battle. Surely, it is impossible? That countenance—it is totally devoid of expression, it appears even to indicate stupidity. Such were the thoughts that rushed through my mind, and though I soon found reason to change my opinion as far as his countenance was concerned, I still think the figure of Napoleon unmartial, clumsy and awkward. His height appears to be about five feet seven inches, he looks about forty-five years of age, has a very large corporation [stomach], and his thighs are large—out of all proportion. Campbell maintains that, though very fat, he is a well-made man. My companions are all of my opinion. He wore a cocked hat low over his eyes, which in some measure contributed to give him the appearance of stupidity at first sight. His hat is very high behind; low before; its brownness seems to indicate that it has seen many a campaign; it bore a cockade of white and red. His military coat was green, faced with red; the skirt of it began to slope off from as high as the waist, above that it was close-buttoned; and as his neck is very short, one could scarcely see his black stock. He had two shabby silver epaulettes, a shabby star on his breast, as Commander of the Legion of Honour, and the three small buttons of the orders of the Legion of Honour, Réunion, and Iron Cross. Under his coat appeared a red sash—the grand cordon of the Legion. His waistcoat, breeches and gloves were white. His boots were old and shabby, his silver spurs were fastened with black buckles. He rode a small brown Corsican horse, with holsters in his saddle, and a dirty bridle and bit. Although his clothes were old, his person looked clean and neat altogether, for his gloves, waistcoat and breeches were white as snow. He leans very forward when riding. While talking with us, his horse suddenly lifted its hind foot. Napoleon turned quickly round as if he was nervous. He took snuff once only during the interview, from a small black box on which were three white cameos. His hand was particularly white, his fingers small and tapering. His hair is black and hangs down very long in candle ends (to use an expression more expressive than elegant) over his coat collar. His eyes are blue and small, eyebrows black and rather large, his nose and mouth handsome and of moderate size. His chin is not very pointed, his complexion is pale with a yellowish tinge, his forehead square and prominent.

An Englishman at home and abroad, 1792-1828, with some recollections of Napoleon: being extracts from the diaries of J. B. Scott of Bungay, Suffolk, 1930.

(Rant in the tags on this post, for context.)

Anon, I can’t complain about people not giving any citations for their claims and then not provide sources myself. 😉

That said, the short answer is no, I don’t think so. I think they were extraordinarily close—I wrote a while back about how intimately entwined their lives were—but their relationship simply doesn’t strike me as romantic in the way that, say, Junot’s feelings towards Napoleon do. (Or, to be strictly accurate, the way Laure Junot portrays her husband’s feelings towards Napoleon in her memoirs does.)

The much longer and more rambling answer, with sources:

« In these excursions through the city, [Napoleon] was always dressed in a dark blue frock, as in recent times, fully buttoned up the chest; he wore a round hat with a wide brim.  His companion also wore nothing that could reveal his rank.  These walks were good for Napoleon, as far as they broke up the monotony of almost continuous work.  Whether it was high morning or the night’s end, when Duroc saw Napoleon out of his apartment interiors and dressed, he knew in advance what he had to do, and without further instruction, he would disguise himself in a bourgeois coat.  Sometimes also instead of leaving the palace by one of the garden pavilions, especially if it was in summer and the Tuileries were still open to pedestrians, he crossed the courtyard of the chateau and escaped by the window which faces the Rue de l’Echelle.  Duroc gave him his arm.  They came together into the shops on Rue Saint-Honoré to bargain or even buy a few objects of little value.  It sometimes happened that they would risk entering the galleries of the Royal Palace; but a small world was found there. Ordinarily the evening excursions could not go any further.

When entering a shop, Duroc cast his eyes on objects that he appeared to want to buy, and during this time, Napoleon began his role as questioner.  There was nothing more comic than to try to see the manners, the language and the tone taken by a man of fashion, he usually was so positive, so simple and so natural.  That awkwardness that came from no sign of appreciation ended when raising the edges of his black tie, standing up on tiptoe and lowering himself all of a sudden on his calves, he said in a patronizing tone:

—Well! Madam, what do you say now that the First Consul has made peace? … Are we content? … Your successful business? … Your shop seems pretty well supplied, it must be the home to many buyers?

At these words of shop fairly well supplied, which sounded odd in the ear of the merchant, he looked across to this singular questioner; his figure became darker, and he didn’t respond except in single words, or did not respond at all, not knowing to whom he was dealing at all.  Sometimes even, suspecting that this could at least be a revolutionary, to cut short the indiscreet questions of a trawling net whose drift were not those of a man in need, she called her husband, or a clerk to get rid of this unwelcomed one. One day even occurred (it was shortly after the coronation) that the Emperor had requested in a mocking tone to a jeweler of the Rue de la Loi (Rue Richelieu) what was thought of this joker Napoleon, the latter, who was one of his most dedicated admirers believed he had been transacting with a former Jacobin or a poorly disguised spy of the police, assaulted him with a broom which was he found at the door and threatened the man daring enough to speak before him, with so much irreverence, for His Majesty the Emperor and King.  The grand marshal hastened to intervene, apologizing, for good as for evil, his friend, who had taken the time to get out avoiding anything other than threats.  According to Napoleon, the moment when, having spoken ill of himself in this shop, he avoided being hunted to death with a broom, was one of the most gay and happiest of his life.

(From a translation of Émile Marco de Saint-Hilaire’s Histoire populaire et anecdotique de Napoléon, 1857)

(Paris, March 29, 1785)

Ma chère mère

It is today, that time has somewhat calmed the first transports of my grief, that I hasten to show you the gratitude inspired in me by the kindness you have always had for us. Let us contain it my dear mother, circumstances demand it; we will redouble our care and our gratitude , and happy if we can by our obedience compensate you a little for the inestimable loss of this beloved husband. I conclude, my dear Mother, my grief commands me to do so, by asking you to calm your grief.

My health is perfect and I pray every day that heaven will grant you a similar one. Present my respects to Zia Gertruda, Minana Saveria and Minana Fesch & etc.—————-PS The Queen of France gave birth to a prince named the Duke of Normandy, on March 27 at 7 o'clock)—(he talking about the birth of future Louis XVII)—in the evening.~Your very humble and affectionate son, & Napoléon Bonaparte

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Royal Military School, Paris, 23 March, 1785

My dear Uncle (U me caru zìu)

It would be useless to tell you how affected I have been by the tragedy that has befallen us. We have lost in him a father, and God knows what a father he was, what is tenderness and love for us! Alas! In everything he was the protector of our youth. You have lost in him an obedient and grateful nephew.

You know better than I how much he loved you. I will even dare to say that through his death our country has lost an enlightened and disinterested citizen. That dignity with which he has several times been honoured shows the confidence his compatriots had in him, and yet heaven lets him die, and where?

A hundred leagues from home, in a strange country, far from all he held most dear. One son, it is true, was present at that terrible moment; that must have been a great consolation to him, but certainly not to be compared with the triple joy he would have felt if he had ended his career in his own house, beside his wife and all his family. But the supreme Being has not allowed it to be so. His will is immutable. He alone can console us. Alas! Though he has taken from us what we held most dear, he has at least left those who alone can replace him.