#Napoleon’s Polish wife

[empirearchives]

Madame de Rémusat on Marie Walewska:

This extraordinary wooing did not, however, prevent the young Polish lady [Marie] from becoming attached to the Emperor, for their liaison was prolonged during several campaigns. Afterwards the fair Pole came to Paris, where a son was born, who became the object of the hopes of Poland, the rallying point of Polish dreams of independence.

I saw his mother when she was presented at the Imperial Court, where she at first excited the jealousy of Madame Bonaparte; but after the divorce she became the intimate friend of the repudiated Empress at Malmaison, whither she often brought her son. It is said that she was faithful to the Emperor in his misfortunes, and that she visited him more than once at the Isle of Elba. He found her again in France, when he made his last and fatal appearance there. But, after his second fall (I do not know at what time she became a widow), she married again, and she died in Paris this year (1818). I had these details from M. de Talleyrand.

Source: Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat vol. i. p. 20-21

[lokischocolatefountain]

home in three days, do not wash

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: age gap, mild choking, mentions of child death, hurt comfort, breeding kink, lactation, reader has children, taboo for the time oral sex, talk of war. Word count: 3.6k words Summary: Your General returns home ravenous for you and you cannot decline him, even if any exposure of his act would bring him great shame. A/N: Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the awesome graphics. Napoleon said 'be home in three days, do not wash' and what was I supposed to do? Not use it for our big thicc roman general returning home from war to fuck us? I did research and shit and came to know that eating pussy was a big no no back in the day. dj Khaled would love to be an ancient roman ig. also learned that rich ladies didn't breastfeed and used a wet nurse but they knew that breastfeeding could help and some women did it. Outside all that research, it's just depravity, baby. Anyway, validate my depravity with some comments pls.

Laughter echoed through the hallways of your palatial home and you stood at a balcony with the best view from atop the hill. The campaign that had taken your husband away had finally come to an end with victory for Rome. Far from the hustle and bustle of the city, you were always one of the last people to receive the latest news of importance. This time was an exception to the rule. 

Home in three days. Do not wash.

All you wanted when you received the message was to run in the direction of the roads that would bring your beloved home. Three days were too long. You wanted to curtail the long wait, run to him so you would be in one another’s arms in a day and a half. 

But you chose the more realistic path and prepared the home for his arrival. The servants polished every surface, your handmaiden ensured you had all your most preferred clothing— that which he loved to see on your body. The kitchen was busy preparing every meal that the master loved. Your two older children with your general busied themselves recollecting everything they learned from their private tutor to impress their father. 

Your youngest, your first son, was still so young he had never met his father. He was the child your dearest had longed to have for so long. For all the luck the gods had given him in the battlefield, they had given very little in the way of children to carry his legacy. In his heart, he was father to seven daughters and six sons. The gods had only allowed four daughters to live. Two of his sons passed in infancy, one passed in birth, taking his mother with him. One other was taken by disease and another killed in battle. 

He now had only one son and he hadn’t yet the joy of holding him in his arms. Everyday that Marcus was in the battlefield was torture. Babe on your breast and fear in your heart over whether his father would live to see him. Fear sometimes subsided for anger to have its way. That very anger remained in your chest, prepared to unleash on him the moment he stepped into the home. 

When the sun dimmed, night crept in and so did Marcus. You refused to greet him at the door. A warm welcome was reserved for men who told their wives where they were going before they left. You had half a mind to ask for a bath to be prepared. To wash yourself with milk and fragrant oils in front of him so he could see your defiance in action. 

But you remained in the balcony, eyes set on the moon who served as your companion when he left you. For all the fury you had for him, there was also an ache of sympathy. You wouldn’t sour his mood the moment he entered. He must see his son first. Then you would see to that he groveled at your feet for his cruelty. 

Just as you thought, you had a long time to relax on the settee. He always went to his children first. Be it after months away on the battlefield or a mere day in the city. You asked for your son’s crib to be moved to your daughters’ room so he would be able to see them all at once, saving him the battle of choosing between his great loves. You’d sent word to him on the battlefield after you gave birth, sent him the name of his son so he would know to include him in his prayers. 

You heard whispers of his voice conversing with a servant. Your heart quickened its pace, each thud against your ribs matching the thuds of his feet against the floor. Oh how you wanted to turn around. It had been so long since your eyes were blessed with him. His towering height, broad frame, the pink of his lips and the curls you so loved to comb through with your fingers. You trembled, the cold breeze reminding you how devoid you’d been of his warmth. Yet you were resolved to not give yourself up to him so soon. You stayed in place and closed your eyes.

He stopped behind you and your name spilled from his lips like honey. It had been so long since anyone spoke your name so… The servants called you mistress and your children called you mother. Your birth family only wrote your name in their many letters. He was the only one who spoke your name, leaving you without hearing your own name since his departure. But you stayed, did not turn, did not open your eyes. He spoke it again, his voice gentle but louder as he stopped at your side. 

“Open your eyes, dearest.” 

“Where have you come, General?” You asked, your voice cold enough to be the envy of the winter breeze. 

“General?” He asked, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. 

“Are you not a General?” You taunted, finally opening your eyes. He looked weary from battle and travel. You longed to take him to your chambers and strip him of his armor to count his wounds, kiss each one be it new or old. His hair was grayer than when he left, his skin duller, but his eyes were still the soft brown that gave you peace when you first saw him as his young bride. 

“Your General,” he said with a small smile as though his words were supposed to make you forgive him at once and shower him with kisses. It only strengthened your resolve. If he wouldn’t treat you as a wife, you wouldn’t give him the respect of a husband. 

“You have a son,” you said, stretching your legs out in the settee just as he made to take his seat there. His hand wrapped around your ankle and you kicked it off, daring him to make another attempt at moving your legs so he could sit. He smiled softly, conceding as he moved to stand by your head. 

“He is beautiful, mellilla,” he said, caressing your cheek. You slapped his hand away. All of Rome may fall at his feet and welcome him back with praises of his victory. He was deserving of course, not only for his achievements but for his undying loyalty to Rome. If Rome were a woman, she would be his principal wife and you— you would only be a tavern whore he fucked and left in the dead of night. 

“You block the moonlight, General Acacius.” 

“Marcus,” he said, moving to allow you sight of the moon once again. He sat in the little remaining space on the settee and looked down at you. Despite the toll war had taken on him, he was incredibly handsome. Bold nose, pink lips and graying curls that only made him look ever so slightly more distinguished. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You did not return the kiss, but you did not push him away. There was an limit even to your anger. You placed a hand on his shoulder, the act of denying yourself the joy of your lover weighing heavy in your heart.

“I’m afraid I haven’t such an honor.” You bit down on your lip, annoyed at yourself for the trembling of your voice as you spoke. Your anger for him had a foundation of pain after all. 

His face fell and he sighed. He looked down at his lap and you hoped it was from shame.

“If you have nothing to say, you may leave. If you need it, you may summon the servants for your meal. But I am sure the emperor did not send his best general hungering for food or cunt,” you spat, rising to sit up on the settee. Hand as strong as iron wrapped around your wrist, coupling with his strong torso that trapped you in place to keep you from getting up. You squirmed in his grasp, but he did not budge.

“Listen to me.” 

“Is that an order?” 

He wrapped an arm around you and held your cheek in his hand. You looked up at him, giving him biting fury to his firm yet gentle gaze. “If it is the only way I will have your obedience, then yes. It is an order.” 

“You may speak, but you cannot make me listen and you most certainly cannot make me respond.” 

“I am your husband.” 

“A husband doesn’t leave for a year long war at the dead of night with no explanation to the woman swelling with his child,” you screamed, fist slamming against his chest. It didn’t affect Marcus. Nothing affected the great General Acacius, you thought with derision. You hit him in the chest again, tears brimming in your eyes and clouding your vision.

“Forgive me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You ceased your attacks as his apology coupled with the pain in his eyes reduced you to tears. You’d kept everything in for so long, put on a brave face for your daughters and hid your heart in your letter to your father. It was only with Marcus that you didn’t need to hide. He always tore your fears down and pulled you into the safety of his arms.

“I wouldn’t have been able to leave had I said goodbye.” 

“I was so afraid,” you confessed, leaning into his chest. Every pretense of strength and composure left your body as you let him hold you to his chest. The gold earrings you wore to please his eyes pressed cold against your skin under his hand. He moved next to your hair and then you neck, the hand that held swords and spilled blood only to return home to love you. 

“Carissima…You were all I could think of after I left. Forgive me,” he begged, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to each finger. 

“Later. I have missed you. Marcus,” you whispered, craning your neck to kiss him. He returned your kiss in an instant, arms cradling you as you devoured each other. He smelled of war— blood, soil, sweat, and leather. It was far more pleasing to your senses than any fragrant oils and flowers. Your Marcus and his distinctly masculine scent was above all but the fragrance of your newborn. 

You whined as he retreated. He laughed and returned to scatter kisses along your jawline like Rome scattered rose petals along the steps of the Colosseum for his feet. He reached under your layers of silk and linen, making you tremble and press yourself closer to his chest. 

“So soft…” 

“I need you, please.” It was all he needed to hear before he walked up to the doors of the balcony and slammed them shut. What he did with you, for you, wasn’t for anyone else’s eyes but your own. 

He unlatched the gold clips that held your palla to your shoulders and set them aside. Your stola and tunic followed, piling up on the marble floor. Cold air caressed your bare breasts, bigger and fuller now as you nursed your son yourself. You traced your hand up his arm, feeling his vambrace before finding his muscular arms. You whimpered from just how big he was in your hands. You squeezed, feeling the hard muscle and rough skin. 

Your General knelt before you and you sat up straight, confused by his action. He couldn’t be… You sought his apologies and regret, but by no means would you ask him to humiliate himself for you. Such a man, superior to you in every way. 

“Dominus!” You shrieked, reminding him who he was even when he came home. 

“Shh…” 

“Are you going to—?”

“Lick you cunt? Yes. Sit back, now,” he said as he guided you to lean back on the settee. You shook your head from side to side, appalled by the circumstances and confused as to how you were supposed to stop him. He spread your legs wide, planting your feet upon the seat. He licked his plush lips and looked up at you, his eyes those of a ravenous beast. 

“You cannot. I only want you to understand the torture you put me through, not debase yourself in front of me. It’s not right.”  

A corner of his lips curled up slightly. He spat on his hand and rubbed it into your cunt. You arched into his palm, your cunt chasing any contact you could have with your beloved. “Tell me, who do you belong to?” 

“You.”

“Speak fully and speak my name.” 

“I belong to you, Marcus.” 

“Correct. Why do you think then, that you can tell me what I can and cannot do with you?” 

He parted your cunt lips and slid a finger inside you. “You belong to me. All of you. This cunt belongs to me. Does it not?” You nodded as he pumped his thick finger in and out of you. It had been so long since you’d been touched that even his finger felt a little much for you to take. You shuddered as you thought of his cock, promising the virility that came with such a size. 

“Speak,” he commanded, every bit the fearsome General who led men into battle. When even warriors couldn’t defy him, how could you? 

“It belongs to you, Marcus.” 

“Mmm,” he rumbled, curling his finger inside you, making you whimper. “If I want to lick this cunt then, do you have any right to stop me?” 

“N-no,” you cried, grabbing his wrist and imploring him to slow down for you couldn’t take such intoxicating pleasure. “If peo— Marcus! If someone knew—”

Then he dove into your core and licked the nub above your cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. He looked up at you from between your legs, tongue still licking you as he smirked. It was sinful, the sight and the act of a man serving a woman. You shook your head, your senses already addled from being so close to him after a long year. It was wrong. Wrong. But oh gods, he made all the wrongs feel right and who were you to deny him? 

Tears rolled down your cheeks, no longer from the agony of separation from your dearest but from the building pressure in your core. 

“Marcus…” you said, unable to say anything else. You reached your hand towards him, needing to be anchored to the Earth as he flew you to the heavens. He enveloped your hand in his and gave a small squeeze. His other hand and his lips were unrelenting, giving him new ways to torment you. 

How did anyone deem it submissive for a man to kneel and lick cunt? Your Marcus still looked as majestic as ever. The picture of victory that Rome worshiped. The Marcus Acacius who slew and killed was home and ruthless in his conquest of you. Even as he licked your core, he was the one with all the power in hand. This was but a new way for him to take you. 

You gasped inaudibly as he inserted another finger in your cunt, stretching you in preparation for his cock. You felt your unraveling come closer. He pulled you deeper into whatever spell he had you under whenever he touched your cunt. You squeezed his hand tighter, saying everything your lips couldn’t. Hold me, keep me safe, never let me go.

The waves crashed against the rocks on the shores of the beach as you came crashing down from the heavens. Marcus kept his wordless promise. You tightened your legs around his head yet he held you in place and kept you safe. 

When you came to, you found your fingers tangled in between his dark curls. You loosened your grip on him but did not let go, needing to feel him even if it was just his hair. 

“I should not have liked that.” 

He laughed and gave your cunt another lick, smirking as he watched you shudder. 

“But you did,” he said, getting up at last. “I knew you tasted divine, but having you directly from your cunt is something else, melilla.” 

“I have not washed in days because of you. I am sure I taste horrendous.” 

“Good girl, following orders well. But you are wrong. You taste and smell like a woman. Not a perfumed woman. This,” he said in a low voice as the tip of his nose traced up your neck. He inhaled your scent and moaned. “This is nothing you can find in a vial. This is your true scent,” he said, stopping at your ear and placing a kiss. 

“I would recognize it anywhere.” He reached under his pteruges and toga and retrieved his cock. Your cunt clenched at the mere sight of him. 

He was far too covered. As much as you loved to see your General in his armor, you loved more to see him bare. You needed to run your fingers over his bare chest and dig your fingernails into his shoulders as he wrung his pleasure out of you.  You found the ties that held his armor in place and began to undo them. 

“Impatient girl,” he chided as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

“Help me out then,” you snapped back as you struggled with the knots. He ignored your request and continued on his path of destroying you, plunging his length inside you much too quickly. You cried from the pain and pleasure of being stretched out by him once again. 

“Marcus!” 

He bent forward and whispered your name against your lips before claiming them. You moaned into the kiss as you rubbed yourself against him for friction. You were loath to pull away from his cock even the slightest as you ached for him too much to part from him. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your heels down on his back, pulling him deeper inside you. 

He wrapped a hand around your throat, tightening and loosening every now and then. “Day and night, I longed for you,” he whispered, his breath mixing with yours. “Dreamt of the day I would be inside you again.” 

You echoed the sentiment, but he quickly silenced you with a hard thrust that you felt in the deepest part of your core. He wasn’t the gentle Marcus who treated you like you did your fine silks but the General who conquered every land he set foot on. He rammed in and out of you, reclaiming you as his. Your cunt opened up to take its master, molded itself around him like it did each time since your wedding night. He had taken you, his young bride, and shown you a world only he could. He’d taken and taken, made you a woman by showing you what your body could do for you. 

He licked up your neck, growling like he was tasting the finest delicacies from the emperors’ table after being starved for months. “You smell sweet, Carisimma.” 

“You lived in tents with men for a year. I’m sure a pig would smell sweet to you now,” you said, making him laugh even as he wrecked you. He reached down to your breasts and grabbed one in his hand. He pinched your nipple between his fingers and tugged, making you cry out in pain. 

“Marcus!” Drops of milk trickled from your breasts and he swiped it with him thumb before licking it. 

“I only regret that I could not see you grow bigger with my seed.” 

“You ha- you have seen it before.” 

“Yet I am not satisfied. I need more, I need to fill you up with my seed, keep you full with my children in perpetuity.” 

“Marcus! Please…” 

“What do you beg for, girl?” 

“Give me sons, Marcus. Let me give you heirs,” you cried, overcome by the need to become his in that primal way. It was more than just your duty as his wife. It was an innate desire. As frightening as pregnancy was, you wanted it again and again at the hands of your husband. To give him sons carry his name and daughters who would control the great General with their laughter. 

“Give me sons,” he repeated, the hand around your neck squeezing tight. This time, he did not relax, holding your air hostage as he used your cunt for his carnal desires. You gasped for breath. Your cunt squeezed around him, keeping him in so he would give you his seed and refusing to let go even for a moment. 

Every thrust after sent delicious ripples of pain. You knew that you would wake the next morning unable to walk as usual. You would hear your servant girls giggle when they thought you couldn’t hear. He would wreck you day and night, make you scream for all the house to hear. He would take you to high places in the city, an arrogant smile on his lips as he showed you off, rounded again with his child. 

As though he could read your thoughts, he spilled inside you with a cry of your name. You held him close, afraid he would part from your body and rob you of his warmth. 

He showered you with kisses, beginning as a downpour and ending with a drizzle. You melted into his arms, the tension in your muscles leaving now that you had your Marcus home. You were no longer alone, he was here and he would take care of everything. 

“Am I forgiven now?” 

You smiled, burrowing into his chest as draped your discarded silk over you and picked you up in his arms. “I will consider it if you make sure I don’t bleed this cycle.” 

You felt his chest rumble as he laughed. A kiss on the top of your head.

“As you say, melilla.”

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[lizzy-tudor]

La Peregrina, A Queen Among Jewels Pear-shaped and weighing in at a magnificent 223.8 grains of 55.95 carats, Phillip II of Spain's wedding gift surpassed every fantasy his bride, the newly crowned Mary I of England, could have imagined. Baptized La Peregrina (an expression from the groom's native language meaning "female wanderer"), the brilliant pearl was delivered directly to the queen, its priceless value reflecting the inestimable importance that a marriage treaty between England and Spain represented at the time. Found on the coast of Panama in 1513 by an African slave, the pearl went down in history as a fine adornment much appreciated by royalty. In her well-known official portrait of 1554, Mary is depicted adorned with her wedding present, dangling from a bejeweled brooch on her chest. Queen Margaret, wife of Phillip III of Spain, wore it during celebrations of a peace treaty with the English in 1605. Two of the wives of Phillip IV of Portugal and Spain also had the privilege of wearing it — but the jewel would still pilgrimage through Europe and the world, and would end up not just under the possession of princesses and queens, but of other distinguished personalities. After the end of the 16th and 17th centuries, La Peregrina would be mentioned in the annals of history again only in 1813, when Joseph, brother of Napoleon Bonaparte, filched it along with a significant part of the Spanish Crown Jewels, in his flight from Spain back to France. After the fall of Napoleon in 1815, the pearl's new owner moved to the United States, where he would eventually die and leave it to his nephew, Charles Louis, the future Napoleon III. During his own exile, this time in England, the descendant of the Emperor of the French sold it to the second Duke of Abercorn, and it was actually during this period that the family heirloom received its infamous name. The pearl would remain in the Abercorn family for a century, being briefly lost by falling from its setting twice — first, disappearing between the cushions of a sofa in Windsor Castle; then, during a ball at Buckingham Palace. Fortunately, La Peregrina was found and returned to her owners in both occasions. In 1913 the jewel was cleaned and polished, and as a result, lost approximately 203 grams. Yet it still remains today the largest symmetrical pearl of its shape, and in 1969, after being auctioned at Sotheby's, it once again became a husband's gift to his wife. Richard Burton bought it for $37,000 for his wife, the iconic actress Elizabeth Taylor. Interestingly enough, Taylor decided to adorn her gift with a completely new design, one inspired by none other than the regal portrait of Mary I. Other smaller pearls, emeralds and rubies completed the piece, centering around the glorious Peregrina, now displayed as a Tudor styled choker.

[handeaux]

Cincinnati’s Domestic Servants Endured Long Hours And Harassment For A Pittance

With the dawn of the new century in 1901, Cincinnati housemaids attempted to organize a union. That collective bargaining initiative didn’t last the year but offered some insight into the lives of domestic servants at that time.

According to Jesse Partlon, pioneering woman reporter for the Cincinnati Post [26 March 1901], the president of the nascent union was Maria “Maggie” Schuler, who was employed by the family of confectioner Samuel E. Elliott at their home on Gilbert Avenue. Nora Murphy, who boarded on Hackberry Street, was vice president. Mollie Dougherty, the treasurer, “did for” Matilda Besuden, wife of tobacconist Henry J. Besuden out on Duck Creek Road.

The union organizers were hardly inflammatory radicals. Their demands involved being treated with respect, reasonable sleeping accommodations, a fair wage ($2.50 weekly!) and permission to meet suitors indoors:

“Rule 6. Members must have an agreement with their employers about receiving company. Every girl is entitled to a beau, else she will never get married, and she owes it to her self-respect not to meet him at the corner.”

According to reporter Partlon, there were about 30 members of the Housemaids Union, a minuscule sample of the women employed locally as domestic servants in 1901. The United States Census recorded more than 8,000 domestic servants in Cincinnati in 1900, about evenly split between housemaids and cooks and almost exclusively female. A weekly salary of $2.50 was typical, with room and board included. The hours were grueling, from 5:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. at night. Partlon went undercover and got herself hired at a middle-class home. On reporting for duty, the household cook outlined her duties:

“The first thing you do in the morning is fill up the furnace and take out the ashes; then you take the snow shovel and clean the walks around the house and the front pavement; then you blacken the shoes, there are two men in this house, and then brush their coats and the Missus’ skirts – you’ll find them outside their doors. After that you dust the halls. About that time I have breakfast ready and you must wait on the tables.”

You heard right – all of that was before breakfast! After breakfast was a round of sweeping, making the beds, dusting and polishing, laundry, mending, picking up after the children and pampering the pets. Despite this backbreaking agenda, the “Missus” rarely trusted the help. According to Partlon:

“My employer insisted on following me all over the house the first day I was there, and never let me out of her sight for a moment. She locked every drawer and closet in the house right before my eyes, putting the keys in her pocket. ‘You see, I don’t know a thing about you,’ she said, in answer to my look of astonishment. ‘One can’t be too careful.’”

It is no wonder that so many young women departed domestic service at the soonest opportunity. Partlon interviewed a couple of housemaids who confessed that they would prefer to work in a factory or a store, primarily because they would have evenings off. They were reluctant to leave domestic service, however, because factory pay wasn’t much better and room and board wasn’t covered.

Partlon’s exposé touched some nerves in Cincinnati. One “Missus,” writing pseudonymously as “Nanette Napoleon,” chastised the Post for printing a series of articles supporting the grievances of housemaids who were unlikely to return the favor by buying a subscription.

“In hundreds of homes incompetent girls are taken in at HIGH wages, have to be taught how to work, are trained by careful housewives whose patience never ceases, who think all the while that for their labor they will finally have a good servant, only to find that they are met with impertinence and that they have trained them for someone else, for as soon as the girl thinks she knows it all, off she goes without a moment’s warning.”

In contrast, a housemaid congratulated the Post on the articles and complained about the tricks used by employers to undercut attempts by their servants to locate better positions.

“When one woman telephones to another about a girl who has applied for employment, this is the reference that is often heard: ‘She is all right, except for something I cannot tell just at present.’ That is worse than slander, and sends many a loyal woman to ruin or an early grave.”

In general, the housemaids told the Post, women employed by Cincinnati’s wealthier families were treated fairly well. It was the parvenus who earned the ire of servants.

“Girls in middle-class families who do general housework are subjected to treatment that makes them long for other employment. Often they have to sleep in cold rooms in the bitterest weather. Often – far more often than you would believe – they are stinted in their food.”

By 1909, changes in household management and improvements in factory conditions encouraged so many young women to find work other than domestic service that Cincinnati society women complained “no one wants to work anymore.” Carrie B. Haworth, who ran an employment agency on Ninth Street, told the Post [9 July 1909]:

“The average American girl doesn’t want positions as house servant. She has too many beaus, and, besides, she doesn’t like the work.”

Still, there were enough servants employed in Cincinnati in 1909 that new apartment houses were designed with servants’ quarters on the top floor. That arrangement led to its own unique complaints, according to the Post [29 December 1909]:

“This system was considered most ideal when started, but it is now considered the most diabolical agency for gossip ever invented, say the flat-dwellers who own servants. The result is that every family in the house knows what’s going on in every other family, via the servants, who get the news from each other when they go to their own apartments in the evening.”

Among the apartment buildings cited as the worst gossip mills was the Navarre Flats, still located today on Gilbert Avenue in Walnut Hills.

According to the U.S. Census, Cincinnati’s servant population declined from 8,000 in 1900 to 3,000 in 1920 and to just over 1,000 in 1950.

[best-hohenzollern-ruler]

Albrecht Friedrich (r. 1568-1618)

Duke of Prussia

Thanks to his pedigree and fluency in Polish, he was a serious contender for the Polish throne for a time.

Married Marie Elenore of Cleves, whose marriage alliances secured Brandenburg's claim to Jülich...on paper.

Four years into his reign, he began to display signs of an unspecified mental disorder. That didn't inhibit his ability to produce many, many heirs.

Friedrich Wilhelm III (r. 1797-1840)

An inconsistent ruler. His instinctual need to find balance impeded him from choosing a decisive action. I believe in modern parlance this is called a 'centrist.' (Note: Political humor may be divisive to readers -T)

Suffered a string of humiliating defeats against Napoleon that reached their pinnacle with Jena and forced alliance with France. This was the event that forced him to finally listen to his wife, Louise, as well as the pro-reform ministers Gneisenau and Sharnhorst (among others).

In spite of his many flaws as a statesman, he was a better family man than the Hohenzollerns typically produce. By all accounts his marriage with Louise was one of mutual love and respect. One of my sources revealed to me that he was shocked to learn his children referred to him as 'the king' instead of 'papa.'

[adini-nikolaevna]

Do you know anything about anna feodorovna? There's even less info about her than her sister in law Elizabeth. But she seems to be an interesting woman.

Hi! Helen Rappaport is currently at work on a biography of Anna Feodorovna. She seems to be a controversial historian around the Romanov “fandom,” but I am personally very excited to read the new book—as you said, there isn’t much information available about Anna Feodorovna. In the meantime, I will give you what I can: Anna was born Princess Juliane of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, so she was sister to King Leopold I of the Belgians and aunt to both Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, who even had a portrait of her at (I think)Kensington Palace. Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld was small, and by royal standards, poor, but when Catherine the Great’s adjutant went on the hunt for a bride for Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich, he fell ill there and was tended to by Coburg court doctor Baron Stockmar; Stockmar pointed the Russian general in the direction of the Coburg princesses, whose parents were very enthusiastic about the possibility of such an advantageous match. So, Juliane traveled to St. Petersburg with her mother and sisters, and Konstantin ultimately (albeit unwillingly—he did not want to get married in the first place) chose her as his bride. He referred to her as “the little monkey” and remarked that “it dances prettily.” The marriage took place, although the new Grand Duchess Anna was only 14, but it was a VERY unhappy union. Konstantin was jealous of his wife’s popularity, and he was was physically and emotionally abusive. He even forbade her to leave her room! Anna was close to her sister-in-law, Elizaveta Alexeievna, and the two girls supported each other through their difficult marriages. After her father-in-law became emperor, Anna pleaded illness and returned to Coburg for treatment, but she had no intention of returning to Russia… and she did not. She wanted a divorce, but the Russian court refused, and she began having romantic not-so-secret affairs; she was still legally married, but she wanted to be a mother, and she had two illegitimate children. During the Napoleonic wars, Alexander I tried to bring about a reconciliation between Konstantin and Anna, but the grand duchess adamantly refused to go back to the man who had made her life so miserable, and the marriage was finally annulled after almost 20 years of separation. Konstantin remarried, morganatically, to a Polish countess, but Anna never married again. She lived the rest of her life in Germany, where she was devoted to charity work and musical societies. That’s about all the info I have, but I think it’s safe to say that she was a strong, brave woman who was far ahead of her time.

[microcosme11]

Englishman tells the English not to take French expressions literally

There is certainly a wide difference between the manners of a polished Frenchman and a polished Englishman, and what the one considers as expressive only of common courtesy, the other looks upon as obsequiousness and insincerity. No allowances are made for the superior vivacity of the French character, or for difference of language. The French language is particularly copious in complimental phrases, and a French man is lavish enough in the use of them; but if the Englishman were well acquainted with the spirit and idiom of the French language, he would know that all this volubility of compliment means nothing more between Frenchmen than is understood between Englishmen in the usual subscription to a letter of “Your obedient humble servant,” which is addressed to a person with whom the writer is a perfect stranger. An Englishman is so accustomed to attach some reliance to very strong expressions of attachment and regard, that he really does not know how to receive such expressions as mere words of form; and the Frenchman uses them without the slightest intention of deceiving, for he imagines that all the world understands them as well as his own countrymen. Thus it is that disgust is so frequently caused to English visitors abroad. They fancy that they have met with some delightful people; and a little English vanity helps, perhaps, to lead them into the error of supposing that these people have fallen desperately in love with them at first sight, a mistaken notion which generally in the end causes disappointment and disgust. On the other hand, that cautious manner and habitual reserve of Englishmen towards each other, as well as towards strangers, is construed into dullness of feeling and moroseness of temper.

A tour through parts of the Netherlands, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Savoy, and France, in the year 1821-2. Also containing, in an appendix, facsimile copies of eight letters in the handwriting of Napoleon Bonaparte to his wife Josephine, v. 2. by Charles Tennant, 1824.

hathitrust

[steliosagapitos]

                      The Napoleonic Cut-Steel Tiara.

    ~ “This tiara, made of carved, polished steel and set in a secondary structure forged in gold, which among other things is part of a demi-parure comprising a pair of earrings and a necklace, was made for Queen Hortense of Holland, daughter of the Empress of France, second wife of Emperor Napoleon I of France, and of Viscount Alexander of Beauharnais. Hortense had no daughters when she died, and therefore she bequeathed the tiara to her granddaughter, Princess Joséphine of Leuchtenberg, Queen Consort of Sweden and Norway as the wife of King Oscar I of Sweden and Norway. The tiara has since remained in Sweden, passing from sovereign to sovereign, first from Queen Sofia of Sweden and Norway in 1876, then to Queen Victoria of Sweden in 1913 and later to Queen Louise of Sweden in 1930, and finally to Princess Sibyl of Sweden in 1965, but never worn. In 1976, however, the new sovereign, Queen Silvia of Sweden, found the tiara and decided to have it restored, debuting on a state visit in 1979, and since then it has become a highlight of the Bernardotte collection, being also worn by Princess Desirée of Sweden, Baroness Silfverschiöld, by Princess Christina of Sweden, by Princess Lilian of Sweden, Duchess of Halland and finally by Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden, who uses it very often, and made her debut in 2013 on the occasion of the wedding of sister, Princess Madeleine of Sweden, with Christopher O'Neil.” ~

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 10.14 (after 1950)

1066 – The Norman conquest of England begins with the Battle of Hastings. 1322 – Robert the Bruce of Scotland defeats King Edward II of England at the Battle of Old Byland, forcing Edward to accept Scotland's independence. 1586 – Mary, Queen of Scots, goes on trial for conspiracy against Queen Elizabeth I of England. 1656 – The General Court of the Massachusetts Bay Colony enacts the first punitive legislation against the Religious Society of Friends. 1758 – Seven Years' War: Frederick the Great suffers a rare defeat at the Battle of Hochkirch. 1773 – The first recorded ministry of education, the Commission of National Education, is formed in the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. 1774 – American Revolution: The First Continental Congress denounces the British Parliament's Intolerable Acts and demands British concessions. 1791 – The revolutionary group the United Irishmen is formed in Belfast, Ireland leading to the Irish Rebellion of 1798. 1805 – War of the Third Coalition: A French corps defeats an Austrian attempt to escape encirclement at Ulm. 1806 – War of the Fourth Coalition: Napoleon decisively defeats Prussia at the Battle of Jena–Auerstedt. 1808 – The Republic of Ragusa is annexed by France. 1843 – Irish nationalist Daniel O'Connell is arrested by the British on charges of criminal conspiracy. 1863 – American Civil War: Confederate troops under the command of A. P. Hill fail to drive the Union Army completely out of Virginia. 1884 – George Eastman receives a U.S. Government patent on his new paper-strip photographic film. 1888 – Louis Le Prince films the first motion picture, Roundhay Garden Scene. 1898 – The steam ship SS Mohegan sinks near the Lizard peninsula, Cornwall, killing 106. 1908 – The Chicago Cubs defeat the Detroit Tigers, 2–0, clinching the 1908 World Series; this would be their last until winning the 2016 World Series. 1910 – English aviator Claude Grahame-White lands his aircraft on Executive Avenue near the White House in Washington, D.C. 1912 – Former president Theodore Roosevelt is shot and mildly wounded by John Flammang Schrank. With the fresh wound in his chest, and the bullet still within it, Roosevelt delivers his scheduled speech. 1913 – Senghenydd colliery disaster, the United Kingdom's worst coal mining accident, claims the lives of 439 miners. 1915 – World War I: Bulgaria joins the Central Powers. 1920 – Finland and Soviet Russia sign the Treaty of Tartu, exchanging some territories. 1923 – After the Irish Civil War the 1923 Irish hunger strikes were undertaken by thousands of Irish republican prisoners protesting the continuation of their internment without trial. 1930 – The former and first President of Finland, K. J. Ståhlberg, and his wife, Ester Ståhlberg, are kidnapped from their home by members of the far-right Lapua Movement. 1933 – Germany withdraws from the League of Nations and World Disarmament Conference. 1939 – World War II: The German submarine U-47 sinks the British battleship HMS Royal Oak within her harbour at Scapa Flow, Scotland. 1940 – World War II: The Balham underground station disaster kills sixty-six people during the London Blitz. 1943 – World War II: Prisoners at Sobibor extermination camp covertly assassinate most of the on-duty SS officers and then stage a mass breakout. 1943 – World War II: The United States Eighth Air Force loses 60 of 291 B-17 Flying Fortresses during the Second Raid on Schweinfurt. 1943 – World War II: The Second Philippine Republic, a puppet state of Japan, is inaugurated with José P. Laurel as its president. 1947 – Chuck Yeager becomes the first person to exceed the speed of sound. 1949 – The Smith Act trials of Communist Party leaders in the United States convicts eleven defendants of conspiring to advocate the violent overthrow of the federal government.

[empirearchives]

Napoleon almost becomes a victim of friendly fire

From the memoir of Roustam Raza:

My wife was seven months pregnant when I left for the Prussian and Polish campaign, which lasted eleven months. The first major battle was fought at Jena, and the entire Prussian army was destroyed in a matter of days, but before the battle, at night, the Emperor himself wanted to visit the outposts, accompanied by two marshals, Prince Borghese, Marshal Duroc, and me who never left his side.

The Emperor visited the left wing of the army, and he wanted to go past the sentries to visit the right. One moment, we’d reached the end of the line, and they were firing at the Emperor. They thought we were the enemy. We all surrounded the Emperor on all sides, so that the bullets wouldn’t hit him, and we shouted: “Cease fire, we are French!” Finally, the firing ceased, and we returned to our ranks, in no danger whatsoever.

Source: Souvenirs de Roustam, mamelouck de Napoléon Ier

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Jumping on the pro-Castlereagh propaganda bandwagon from earlier (apologies for the long post but gotta help my boy out): 

There are far too many contemporaries talking about how good-looking he was. Even his detractors agree he was pretty but here are some of my fave quotes: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “He was above six feet high and had a remarkably fine commanding figure, very fine dark eyes, rather a high nose and a mouth whose smile was sweeter than it is possible to describe. It was impossible to look at him & see the benevolent and amiable expression of his countenance without a disposition to like him, and over his whole person was spread an air or dignity & nobleness such as I have never seen in any other person… He was excessively agreeable, a great favourite amongst women & used occasionally to excite Ly Londonderry’s jealousy; but he was the kindest and most affectionate of husbands”

Lady Bughersh: “You never saw such a beauty as Lord Castlereagh has become. He is as brown as a berry, with a fine bronzed colour, and wears a fur cap with gold, and is really quite charming. There never was anybody so looked up to as he is here.”

John Wilson Croker: “Londonderry goes on as usual, and to continue my similes, like Mont Blanc continues to gather all the sunshine upon his icy head…. It is a splendid summit of bright and polished frost which, like the travellers in Switzerland, we all admire.”

During a state visit to Ireland, the unpopular Castlereagh joked the crowds cheered for him solely due to his personal beauty

I kid you not but he was the hottest person at George IV’s coronation! How attractive must you be to accidentally outshine the monarch at their own goddamn coronation with many other sexymen present - if you don’t believe me: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “his dress was beautiful, his hat bound round with the most splendid diamonds & he looked handsomer than I ever saw him; the people echoed his name from one to the other the whole length of the platform & received him with repeated cheers. It was unanimously voted that he was the handsomest man in the procession” 

Walter Scott: “If you ask me to distinguish who bore him best, and appeared most to sustain the character we annex to the assistants in such a solemnity, I have no hesitation to name Lord Londonderry, who, in the magnificent robes of the Garter… and by his fine face and majestic person formed an adequate representative of the order of Edward III, the costume of which was worn by his Lordship deserving the baton, which was never grasped by so worthy a hand.”

Apparently multiple folks commented he looked so regal in his Garter robes that one might mistake him for the sovereign

Also as reference - this is what he looked like on the day of the coronation (can you believe this man was 52??)

Was also hella competent - he was known for his work ethic and attention to detail but he literally helped establish the idea of the European balance of power (aka the thing that prevented conflict on the scale of the Napoleonic Wars from occurring for the next 100 years) 

Just some fun anecdotes: 

According to the Austrian police reports, while in Vienna he and his wife went to every shop, asked to be shown every item in the shop… and bought absolutely nothing

He fought a duel in 1809 because George Canning tried to kick him out of Cabinet and half of their colleagues (incl. Castlereagh’s own uncle) kept Canning’s insistent demands/threats a secret from Castlereagh for ~6 months. His opponent never had shot a pistol prior to this (his second had to help load the gun as he didn’t trust the guy to do it correctly) while Castlereagh was known as a good shot. Add in the fact that 3 Wellesleys were tangentially involved - this entire event was bonkers

After an author read aloud some of her novel to him, he was so impressed that he arranged a meeting with the publisher in his own study. The author recalls how Castlereagh was standing there while she signed the new agreement with the publisher 

He had a strange hobby - Castlereagh said he has "not thought of anything of late but of sheep farming” and his wife joked that he “shall soon bleat and be covered with wool.’’ He even won an award for his wool!

Despite being in a non-dangerous occupation, he was quite badass: 

At age 17, Castlereagh saved a classmate from drowning by keeping him afloat in a cold lake for more than an hour after their boat capsized

During a stormy voyage to Dublin, he jumped on the chains that supported the mast to rescue a man who fell overboard - especially daring when out of the 5 ships sailing out of the departing port, 3 sank (all onboard died) bc of the storm

3 men tried to rob him - I say tried bc he just shot one of them in the neck with a pistol, was able to subdue the second with the help of a bystander, and the last guy simply fled

He was just a nice person? Castlereagh contributed to various charities and there’s a story that the day following his death, one of his servants was asked if they observed any change in him. The response? “One day he spoke sharply to me!”

Even one of his greatest political rivals admitted if you “put all their other men together in one scale, and poor Castlereagh in the other—single, he plainly weighed them down... Also, he was a gentleman, and the only one amongst them.” 

Ngl, surprised that you didn’t use this lovely portrait of him: 

But also this bust and coin tho: 

Bonus: Good looks seem to run in the family (go check out the portrait of his brother Charles by Thomas Lawerence)

.

[shanecompany]

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[crackspinewornpages]

War and Peace 110/198 -Leo Tolstoy

PART NINTH  

101 

1812, growing bolder the Tsar Alexander rejected the Continental System as trading with England was forbidden but still fearful of Napoleon, tried to avoid war but by spring of 1812 it was too late, Napoleon advanced an army into the Duchy of Warsaw, (City At War~) seeing signs of weakness in the Russian government, Napoleon invades in June. (every time I read these history notes I hear the narrator from Sabaton’s War To End All Wars album) 

Near the end of 1811, forces begin to mobilize in Western Europe, by 1812 millions of men moved across Russia, the war began. “In other words, an event took place opposed to human reason and human nature.”p.365 Men committed crimes against each other and didn't regard them as crimes, what caused this event. Historians naively say the Duke of Oldenburg, a disregard of the Continental System, Napoleon’s ambition, Alexander’s firmness diplomats ect. 

In the case to stop the war Metternich, Rumyantsof or Telleyrand could have made a state paper between soirees on Napoleon return, Oldenburg to the Duke. For us, separated by a wider perspective, the reasons seems insufficient, incomprehensible bases of Napoleon, Alexander, the Duke of Oldenburg and England. “Fatalism in history is unavoidable, if we would explain its preposterous phenomena (that is to say, those events for which the reason is beyond our comprehension). The more we strive by our reason to explain these phenomena in history, the more illogical and incomprehensible they become to us.”p.365 The higher a man is on the social ladder, the more power he has over others and the unavoidable necessity of his every action. “The king is the slave of history. In the events of history, so-called great men one merely tags that supply a name to the event, and have quite as little connection with the event itself as the tag.”p.365  

102 

On June tenth Napoleon started from Dresden giving favor to royalty that deserved it and snubbing the others. While diplomats were working for a peaceful end, Napoleon sent Alexander a letter that he had no desire for war and would always respect him, but he still had an army to lead across the Niemen. A bunch of Polish Uhlans drown themselves in a river attempting to swim it to get to Napoleon. (insert Polish joke here) In the afternoon plans to disperse the counterfeit Russian money and one Polish colonel was enrolled in the Legion of Honor which Napoleon was the head of. 

103 

The Russian Emperor had been in Vilna for a month superintending reviews, nothing was ready for the war that was coming and the longer he stayed in Vilna the less ready they were. Growing weary for expecting it those that were around the Sovereign seemed directed toward making him forget about it. After a series of balls by the Poles and Emperor, a Polish general proposed one in the Emperor's honor, Count Benigsen allowed the use of his house for it. On the day Napoleon crossed Niemen Alexander was at Count Benigsen’s ball. Boris left his wife in Moscow to attend as a bachelor, he was invited as he gave a lot of money towards expenses and now he stood on equal footing of his peers. (they are not your friends Boris also look he got his cake and gets to eat it too) 

He met Helene and saw the Sovereign wasn't dancing but speaking to guests. Boris noticed Adjutant General Balashof approach the Sovreign, after a few words the Emperor took him by the arm and crossed the ballroom. As Boris danced, he thought of how to get the words Balashof spoke before the others. He excused himself and went outside and followed Balashof and the Sovereign overhearing him say he will never consent to peace as long as armed forces are in his land and took delight in saying them but annoyed at Boris hearing it told him to be quiet about it. Boris was the first to know of the French army crossing the Niemen as many other things that were known only to him. (and what does he do with this secret information) Alexander sent Napoleon a letter that it was a misunderstanding, if he retreats now he will consider the trespass nonexistent and come to an understanding, otherwise he will have to repulse the attacks. 

104 

Balashof delivers the order with orders to verbally state the last part, it was a shock to him not three hours from being treated with respect and speaking to the Sovereign to on soil to be met with brutal insolence. Murat, the king of Naples, rode up to meet him, Balushof tells him the Sovereign has no desire for war and Murat told him Napoleon was offended by the demands to remove his forces from Prussia especially since it was public an insult to France. Does he not see Alexander as the instigator of war, Balashof explained why Napoleon was the aggressor. (you’re really going to argue this to an enemy in enemy territory) Murat does want their leaders to come to an understanding and the war to end and wishes Balashof success in his mission. 

Balashof hurried to Napoleon but again was detained by sentinels and was conducted towards Marshal Davoust, Napoleon’s Arakcheyef, except in cowardice showed his devotion in cruelty. “In the mechanism of state, such men are necessary, just as wolves are necessary in the plan of nature; and they always exist and manifest themselves and maintain themselves, however incompatible their presence and proximity to the chief of power may seem.”p.373After hearing Balashof’s mission he became more rude, Balashof has his orders but he’s in French territory now, Balashof gives him the letter. After waiting the next morning Davoust comes back to tell him to stay and only speak to his aide Castrier, after four days of feeling insignificant without his environment of power, (proving power is an illusion) Napoleon received him in the house of Vilna. 

105 

Napoleon’s court surprised him and he saw many Polish magnates that were at the sojourn of the Russian Emperor’s court. He was taken same study the Russian Emperor gave his directions and Napoleon came to meet him before he went riding. He received Alexander’s letter and is glad to see him, he does not desire war but is driven to it, but is ready to accept any explanation and began stating is dissatisfaction with the Russian government. Balashof gave his speech, Alexander desired peace and the words he was ordered to say but couldn't repeat them despite wanting to. Napoleon says he also desires peace and wished to preserve it, for eighteen months he waited for an explanation but before negotiations is demanded to withdraw troops beyond the Nimen, two months ago it was to retire beyond the Order and the Vistula. Propositions to abandon the Order may be given to Prince of Badon but not him, Alexander went to his army first, he proposed negations when he made an alliance with England, and he’s already spent millions, what has England offered them.  

He knows they have peace with the Turks without securing Maldavia and Valakhia but he would have given Alexander provinces as he gave him Finland. Now he won't have those provinces, have Russia spread to Danube, his friendship could have gotten him this, a glorious reign he could have had but instead he surrendered himself with his enemies. They are compromising him making him responsible, a Sovereign has no right to be in his army unless he’s a general, knowing Alexander desired to be a military commander. He knows their military, he has three times their troops and he warns the Turks won’t help them, the Swedish king is crazy, so they replaced him with another that lost his mind. (is this Napoleon’s you’re fucked speech)  

Napoleon never gave Balashof a chance to speak but he also allies, the Poles fight like lions, there will be two hundred thousand. If they incite Prussia against him, he will wipe it off the map, (well it’s off the map now) it's what they’ll lose for alienating him. Balashof agreed recent affairs didn't paint Russia in a bad light to Russians, they still hoped on the war. Napoleon leaves to go riding, he will send Balashof a letter to the Emperor.  

At dinner he asked of the Russian capitol, how many houses in Moscow, inhabitants, how many churches, two hundred, the Russians are very religious, (they have their own church denomination) Napoleon says it's a sign they are backwards. Napoleon was comfortable seemingly surrounded by men who adored him and after eating with Balashof believed he was now one of them, Balashof listened to him because he has to. (ha) Why has Alexander assumed command of his forces, why take up such responsibilities. Napoleon pulled on his ear asking if he has nothing to say and gives him his own horse to deliver letter to Alexander, his last letter to him. “All the particulars of the interview were communicated to the Russian emperor, and the war began.”p.381 

106 

After the interview with Pierre Andrei went to Petersburg to find Anatol and fight him but he wasn't there, already warned and fled to the Maldavian army. Kutuzof proposed him to go with him to the Maldavian army, Andrei felt having no new pretext for a duel would only compromise Natasha so decided to talk to him and think of a reason but by the time he got there Anatol fled back to Russia. His new conditions in life made it easier to conceal his grief over Natasha, now the freedom he prized in the past pained him and went towards new interest disconnected to the past military service was the simplest. 

In the news of the war coming, Andrei asked to be transferred to the western army. There were many changes in his life in the last three years but he found Lisiya Gori the same, he had only gotten a little older along with his son Nikolusha. In his absence the men and women kept to their own camps only awkwardly dinning together for Andrei. Andrei tried to tell his father of Kamiensky’s campaign when he broke into a tirade about Maria her superstition and dislike of Mille, who he believes is the only person devoted to him. (really a young maid just happens to be attracted to an old grody rich guy in bad health) The old Prince blames his bad health on her, she continuously annoys, him she’s coddling Nikolusha. He knows he constantly tormented her but is convinced she deserved it.  

Andrei must listen to him about it, Andrei tells him his opinion, he doesn't blame Maria for the discord, any misunderstandings is the cause of Mlle, she’s unworthy to be Maria’s companion. Prince Bolkonsky cries that he condemns him so leave and don't come back. Andrei intended to but Maria begged him to stay another day, the next day Bolkonsky only saw Mlle and Tikhon. Andrei visited his son and told him stories of Bluebeard while reflecting on himself, he had no remorse for exasperating his father or regret to leave him, more serious, he didn't have any affection for his son. (do you care about anything) 

He couldn't find happiness in his old life he’s only sorry Maria cannot also leave, Maria understands him, don't think his misery is caused by men and they’re His (god) instruments, sorrow is sent by Him, men aren't responsible (the hell they aren’t) so forgive them. Happiness can't come from forgiving, that’s women's virtue, a man has no right to it and he thought of Anatol and dreams of his revenge. Maria begged him to stay and reconcile and said he’d write to his father. He left sorry she will be devoured by their father who is aware of it but can't change his nature. His son will grow up enjoying life to become a deceiver or be deceived, he himself is going to the army for an unknown purpose, anxious to meet a man he hates to kill or exult over him. “In days gone by the same conditions of life had existed, but in some way everything was knit together, now everything was falling apart.”p.385 

107 

Andrei reached headquarters, by July all were dissatisfied with the conduct of military affairs but no one had dreamed Russia would be invaded or the war would go beyond Poland. (2024 irony) Anatol was no longer there, gone to Petersburg, but Andrei was pleased to focus at being at the center of the war with no distractions. The troops were divided into three armies Barclay de Tolly, Bagration sand Tormas of the Sovereign was at the first command but with no role and no military staff, the staff he did have still had a powerful position and influence but different conflicting parties. (this was several pages) Andrei listened to the debates and was amazed there’s truth to there being no military science or genius. “How can there be any theory and science in a matter where the conditions and circumstances are unknown and cannot be determined-in which the force employed by those who made the war is still less capable of measurement?”p.390 The number of conditions where no one can tell. 

108 

Rostof received a letter from home, Natasha’s illness, the broken engagement with Andrei by her and they urged him to come home, he had no desire to but wrote that he would try to retire from the army. He separately wrote to Sonya, only his honor kept him from home as a campaign opened, he will be disgraced by his eyes and his comrades but if he is alive after and she still loves him he will give up everything for her, domesticity was calling to him. He was promoted to Captain of the calvary and in charge of his old squadron. The troops evacuated Vilna for various reasons, the order to retire and destroy all that couldn't be taken, (ah they’re following the Roman example at Carthage) Swienciony was notorious for being a drunk camp. July 24, before the engagement there was a hailstorm, a new officer, only sixteen, Ilyn had become to Rostof what Rostof was to Denisof. Rostof during the campaign felt no timidy compared to how he used to feel dismay on approaching an engagement. Not that he was used to fire but learned to control his heart in danger and breat,hing but in time can cure Ilyn’s fear. The sounds of battle Rostof hadn't heard in years was pleasing and stimulating. 

109 

Rostof noticed the French dragoons pressing back the Uhlans, they might crush them so he dashed to the front and his squadron followed. Rostof dashed to the disconnected French dragoons, almost all of them were in retreat, Rostof raised his saber and struck a Frenchman and instantly his excitement vanished. The Frenchman fell and looked up in horror he was not made for the battlefield and before Rostof made up his mind the man shouted he surrenders. The hussars were coming back with prisoners, the French infantry were in retreat. Rostof joined back in the firing, his heart feeling oppressed with disagreeability he couldn't explain when he thought of the French officer. 

Count Ostermann-Tolstoy thanked Rostof saying he should report to the Sovereign of his exploit and recommend him for the Cross of St George. Rostof did the charge without orders and thought he was being punished but after the flattering words still felt disagreeable. He rode up to the prisoners, the officer smiled at him and saluted him, something still weighed on Rostof’s conscience. The next days his friends noticed he was off, he found the accolades and attention incomprehensible. The French are more afraid of them, is this heroism, did he do it for his country, he doesn't understand it and couldn't find any answers. (and now it’s Rostof’s turn for a crisis) He was promoted to command of a battalion of hussars and any need for a daring officer he was called in. (why does it seem like the Russian military just hands out promotions like participation trophies) 

110 

Natasha’;s illness was apathy and the doctors said it was impossible to stop medical treatment so that summer the Rostof’s stayed in the city. Under all the medications Natasha’s illness disappeared under the impressions of everyday life while her heart was distant, she physically improved. She barely left the house and only spoke to Pierre, he was the only one that showed more descretion and tenderness to her condition. She noticed he was awkward in her presence, anxious to do her a favor she put it all on his innate kindness she believed he gave everyone. Pierre never spoke of his feelings for her and his previous words she saw only as consolation to a child, (well now you at least acknowledge you are a child) there were moral obstacles between them that weren't there with Anatol. 

During July there were rumors on the war’s progress in Moscow, the Sovereign was coming because the army was in a critical position Smolensk surrendered, Napoleon had a million men, only a miracle could save Russia. Pierre brought the Rostof’s the manifesto from Count Rostopchin, he left the house gazing at a comet, the former question why merged into another problem, Natasha. He didn't ask why men hesitated when life was so short, he recalled how she looked and all doubts vanished because her image lifted him to a realm where there could be no question of right and wrong. Let the government and the Tsar be plundered, let them load him with honors, she smiled at him and asked him to come again, he loves her and no one shall know it. 

NEXT

[sasa-chans-random-history]

January 09

[1624] Empress Meishō, born in Kyoto, Kyoto, Japan.

[1848] Princess Frederica of Hanover, born in the Kingdom of Hanover.

[1920] Stefan Żywotko, Polish football coach, born in Lwów, Poland (Lviv, Ukraine).

[1929] Dorothea Puente, American convicted serial killer, born in Redlands, California.

[1956] Imelda Staunton, British actress and singer, born in Archway, London.

[1965] Carin Jennings-Gabarra, American soccer forward, born in East Orange, New Jersey.

[1967] Claudio Caniggia, Argentine football forward or winger, born in Henderson, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

[1967] Dave Matthews, American singer-songwriter and musician, born in Johannesburg, Transvaal, South Africa.

[1973] Ronald Hamming, Dutch football striker, born in Zeegse, Netherlands.

[1978] A.J. McLean, American pop singer, born in West Palm Beach, Florida.

[1978] Gennaro Gattuso, Italian football defensive midfielder and manager (Valencia), born in Corigliano Calabro, Italy.

[1981] Euzebiusz "Ebi" Smolarek, Polish football striker or winger and youth manager (Feyenoord), born in Łódź, Poland.

[1982] Catherine "Kate" Middleton, Princess of Wales, Duchess of Cambridge, Duchess of Cornwall, English wife of Crown Prince William, born in Reading, Berkshire, England.

[1987] Lucas Pezzini Leiva, Brazilian football defensive midfielder, born in Dourados, state of Mato Grosso do Sul, Brazil.

[1989] Nina Dobrev, Bulgarian actress, model and singer, born in Sofia, Bulgaria.

[1995] Dominik Livaković, Croatian football goalkeeper, born in Zadar, Croatia.

[2001] Rodrygo Silva de Goes, Brazilian football forward, born in Osasco, Brazil.

[1150] Emperor Xizong of Jin was murdered by Prince Hailing of Jin in a Coup d'État.

[1514] Anne, Duchess of Brittany (1488-1514) and Queen of France (1491-98 and 1499-1514).

[1873] Napoleon III, Emperor of France (1852-70), dies at 60.

[1878] Victor Emmanuel II, King of Sardinia (1849-61) and Italy (1861-78), dies at 57.

[1907] Marie of Saxe-Altenburg, Queen of Hanover, dies at 88.

[2022] Bob Saget, American comedian, actor, TV host, and filmmaker, dies of head trauma at 65.

[empirearchives]

I feel like there is a 99% chance that Marie Walewska is not going to be in it. Which sucks, but seeing how flawed this film already looks, it may be a good thing to not have to see this part of the story being butchered.

But it’s also being marketed heavily on the love story and the drama… so it’s odd to not include Napoleon’s “Polish wife”

I have only one expectation of the 2023 Napoleon movie. Please, include Polish characters

[shookspearewrites]

Shookspeare Royal Romance: Napoleon

Good evening chickadees, it is day 6 of my mini series and it’s Napoleon’s turn today! I know it’s a lil bit disjointed but, just go with it - I’ve been dealing with a lot and I really just wanna deliver this mini series as quickly as possible ^^’ I hope you enjoy it!

- JJ x

~~~~~~~~~~

Midnight Memories, Napoleon Bonaparte

MC giggled excitedly under her breath as her bare feet padded gently across the marbled floors of the palace, the candle she carried her own source of light in the dark, winter night. It was only her second week living with her new husband, Prince Napoleon after their arranged wedding and the young lady found herself still discovering new rooms of her vast new residence. The princess pushed open the tall, heavy wooden doors to the fencing hall, grinning wickedly when she heard only silence after she’d closed the doors behind her. She carefully placed her candle down upon the polished floor and rushed over towards the metal cylinder which held an array of fencing foils and rapiers, giddy when she took one effortlessly on her delicate hand.

“Why do I find my wife sneaking around in the middle of the night?” A measured, bass toned voice rang out, echoing off the walls and almost knocking MC off her feet - Her husband Napoleon’s voice to be exact. The prince strode towards MC, his eyes wide with curiosity when he noticed the rapier in her small hands, “Mon amour wishes to fence?” Napoleon’s expression morphed into a smile and he took another rapier into his own hands and locked eyes with MC, “Has she fought before?”

“On occasion, your highness.” The princess never broke eye contact, staring passionately into the prince’s glinting jade eyes, determination filling her own pair, “Certainly never against an opponent with such rapour as you though, sir.”  MC yelped helplessly when, with one swift thrust of his rapier, Napoleon flung the princess’ weapon from her hands and the tip of his sword prodded at the silken fabric of her fine nightgown, “No fair-!”

The prince took a few steps towards his wife, smirking as he leant down to whisper in her ear, his sword threatening to rip her clothing, “What did I tell you about formalities, mon amour?” Napoleon lifted his head and the fencing foil simultaneously, the sharp steel tip now gently holding up his wife’s chin so they could make eye contact once again, “I’d like it if my wife would call me my name when we are alone. That’s an order, MC.” His voice was almost a purr but his eyes were steely as he waited for a response, his grip on his sword never once faltering.

“Okay, Napoleon, I’m sorry.” The princess nodded obediently which only made the prince in front of her frown deeply,

“Hey I’m sorry,” Napoleon sighed softly, placing his sword on the ground as he smiled guilty and lifted MC’s chin with his gentle hand, “I can’t have my wife looking so blue.” The young man thought for a moment before his sad smile morphed into a grin on his handsome face, “What can I do to make you happy, mon amour? You can have anything you want.” 

MC’s face lit up in an instant, her pretty eyes twinkling with delight and a little smile growing on her lips, “I want to go riding with you.” The princess’ voice was confident, her request clear and the conviction in her eyes only burning brighter by the second, her eyes bright in the dark room.

Her prince chuckled warmly, nodding his head, “If my lady so wishes then we shall. I’ll have some riding clothes prepared for you first thing in the morning-”

“No, I want to go riding with you now, Napoleon.” MC saw the confusion - perhaps it was closer to scepticism - in Napoleon’s eyes but the beautiful woman stood her ground, “Won’t it be so romantic? Just the two of us, mon amour. We don’t have to go very far!”

“D’accord, d’accord, you’ve convinced me.” He grinned in response, taking MC’s hand in his own and kissing it before leading her towards the stables, “Anything for my wife.”

Soon after, all that MC could hear were the hoofbeats of Napoleon’s horse on the ground and the beating of her own heart in her ears. The prince had insisted that their little riding trip would be more romantic if the two of them shared a horse; resulting in princess MC snuggled up against her husband’s warm, toned chest as he held her waist tightly with his left hand and clutched the reins with his right. They took in beautiful scenery as they rode through the night: Hills covered with roses and fields of wheat that seemed to sparkle gold under the soft moonlight. Little cottages here and there where only the candlelight from inside illuminated them in the night and Napoleon sighed contently, bringing his beautiful white steed to a halt by a lake which glistened underneath the moon, just shy of a small village, “Will you take a rest here with me, MC?” 

MC nodded silently, too awe struck by the breathtaking scene around her to speak: Luscious evergreen trees towered around the water, the forest secluding the lake from the village that the couple has passed through and the gentle silver moonlight making the softly rippling water almost glitter and gleam - It was the kind of water, MC thought, that one could float in forever and it’d never stop being so blissful. The princess was drawn out of her quiet reverie by Napoleon’s deep voice in her ear and his large hands on her waist, resting his chin atop her head from where he stood behind her, “When I become king, I’m going to rename this lake, you know?”  Napoleon’s wife didn’t turn to face him though, he could sense the questioning look on her face as she continued to gaze out over the lake. He continued, “I’m going to call it ‘Lac de la Reine MC’.”

“Napoleon …” MC sighed his name softly, her eyes bright and adoring when she glanced over her shoulder to meet the prince’s affectionate gaze, “You want to name it after me?”

“Why wouldn’t I name the most beautiful place in my kingdom after the most beautiful woman?” Napoleon turned MC around his arms so they could properly face each other and he took both of her hands in his, kissing her knuckles sweetly, “Mon amour is the most enchanting woman I have ever seen. My wife,” the prince paused, his heart thumping against his chest with a mixture of nerves and ardent affection, “My wife.” His laughter that followed was lighthearted and sweet, his deep voice reaching MC’s heart and warming it thoroughly, “I feel like I’m proposing to you.” The blush and smile across his face was charming, bashful even and matched the pinkish hue that dusted MC’s own cheeks at that moment, her heart fluttering like it were made of butterflies.

“Mhm,” the princess hummed softly in response, her gentle smile changing into a grin when an idea popped into her head, “Napoleon?”

“Yes MC?”

The young lady rose up onto her tiptoes and whispered to her husband mischievously, “Would you come for a swim with me?”

Napoleon’s brow quirked in confusion, “We’ve no bathing clothes, mon amour. What do you suppose we wear to swim in?” MC took a step back and began to unbutton her dress, making the prince blush a deep shade of cherry pink as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away from the soft skin she began to reveal to him.

“Nothing.” Her answer was simple and short, her tone sultry when she winked at her prince who still stood there in shock, his jade eyes following her irresistible figure as the princess submerged her nakedness in the clear, gleaming waters of the lake. Princess MC turned to face Prince Napoleon once she’d submerged herself up to the lower parts of shoulders, her grin so bright it put the stars to shame, he thought, “Come on, Napoleon!”

The handsome prince smirked softly, his hands ridding himself of his clothes that had begun to feel far too hot and far too tight as he’d witnessed his wife’s naked beauty, “Siren ...” he sighed, adoringly. Napoleon entered the lake and was pleasantly surprised when he found the water to be almost warm against his pale skin rather than cold as he’d expected it to be. The young man waded through the water until her reached his beloved, grinning when he took her in his arms and let his hands glide over her wet skin underneath the water, “You temptress, you-”

MC cut him off by placing a confident kiss to his thin lips, giggling when he stilled in shock - It was their first kiss since their wedding day. Eventually, Napoleon found himself able to respond through the surprise, returning the princess’ kiss ardently, his eyes having fluttered shut in bliss. He caressed her skin gently, letting his calloused fingertips wander across the curves and dips of her waist and hips whilst MC’s hands clung to his broad shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist, the water’s buoyancy holding her up without issue. The couple’s mouths parted from each other though, they remained close, their noses mere centimetres apart as the pair caught their breath. Napoleon’s voice broke the silence, “The sun will be up soon, mon amour. We should ride back to the palace.”

MC frowned slightly, tugging lightly at her lover’s navy-black hair, “Do we have to?”

The prince slipped his hands underneath the princess’ thighs and nodded reluctantly, kissing her lips gently before he began to walk the pair of them back to shore, “Don’t worry, ma cherie. I have a feeling we’ll be visiting this special place a lot, MC.”