#napoleon junot

[miffy-junot]

miniature of Napoleon Andoche Junot, 1812, by Fernando Quaglia

[zgyckbttl]

forgot to post these here

[dinakisss]

Big fat napoleonic art dump

[apurpledust]

old art i finished months ago but here's napjuno loosely based on a scene from the 1927 Napoléon film 🥰 👇

[boberzapivaet]

i miss my lannap so much ☹️☹️☹️

[safrev]

i realise i haven’t drawn or posted napoleonic stuff in a million years so here’s some doodles of junot

[jeffsharkz]

[deadb3at08]

doodles more doodles MORE DOODLES

junot things (dukie is so me cus damn

the second one is for my most powerful enemy.... sweet holopenyo...(plus small collab haha)

napolington things which was earlier this week til today cus hehhahhah

[vamp1re-chem1cal]

LANNAPJUNO BECAUSE IDGAF 🤯🤯

also doodles when i was in study break yehehe

[cedyat]

No Marmonts were harmed in the making of this!

reference: x

[meneeddeadmenyaoi]

Back from the uni entrance exam w/ some ddls😋

Yapped a lot so I'm putting alt on each of them😲

[miffy-junot]

Napoleon Junot's romantic escapades

In 1844-46, to much critical acclaim, Napoleon-Andoche Junot, the eldest son of General Jean-Andoche Junot and famous memoirist Laure Junot, published a book in six volumes entitled 'Les Boudoirs de Paris'.

In the late 18th and early 19th centuries the concept of a ladies boudoir, or dressing room, emerged, which Napoleon Junot traces the history of in his magnum opus, exploring the true purpose of a boudoir as he sees it: the place where a married woman goes to sulk (bouder) at her husband, i.e. have affairs with other men. And so, with utmost academic sincerity, he describes a popular history of romantic affairs in Paris, including some relating to his father and some about himself.

In the introduction of Les Boudoirs de Paris, this is how Napoleon Junot says he came to write the book:

It is perhaps rather useless to say here how I came to write this book: however, as it seems to me that in doing so I am paying a very legitimate tribute to a person who has something to do with this publication, I venture to do so.

It was at the carnival of 1843. I was at the ball at the Opera: tired of the eternal promenades in the foyer, I had retired to a box with two or three of my friends, and we were talking about all sorts of things. The conversation fell on boudoirs. One of these gentlemen said that there were no more: I took the side of the resurrected boudoirs. One of us took it into his head to throw this question at us: "What is a boudoir?" I am quite talkative by nature; these gentlemen were indulgent. I picked up the glove, and for their edification, I told them almost all that has just been read in this introduction. We parted with that, each of us going where we called his late-night plans. As he was about to leave me, the Marquis de B., a good friend of mine, said to me: "You ought to write the history of the boudoirs of Paris." "Bah! I said. I've thought about it before: I've gathered pretty much everything I need for it. But who would be interested?"

After this modest confession, I remained for a moment orienting myself, searching in my head for what time I should approach the inevitable foyer. I was about to make my way to a group of acquaintances, when the box next to the one I was leaving opened, and out came a man of about forty years of age, decorated with several foreign orders, and evidently belonging to the very good company. "I have the honor to speak to the Duc d'Abrantès," said he, accosting me. I bowed in affirmation. "Monsieur le Duc," said he, "Madame la Comtesse de W. would like to speak to you, if you are willing to do so.

I accepted this invitation and entered his box with him. As soon as he had introduced me to a woman in a domino who was there, she greeted me graciously, and showed me, by taking off her mask, a delightful face. The Countess is about thirty years old; but she would hardly seem twenty-five. "Monsieur le Duc," she said to me, in that sweet accent of the women of the North, "would it be very indiscreet to ask something of you?" "If it were not so cliché, Madame la Comtesse," I said, "I would tell you: if it is possible, it is done, if it is impossible, it will be done." "Oh! "Yes," she said, "the word of M. de Calonne." "With your permission, Madame la Comtesse," said I, "the word is from Bourette, farmer-general, who was impotent, and who thus caused a page who understood nothing to transmit his answer to Queen Marie-Antoinette, who asked him for a million for the same evening." "I thank you," said the Countess de W. with a charming smile. "Besides, your rectification is the beginning of the execution of what I want to ask of you." I bowed in silence. Madame de W. resumed: "Do you want to write the history of the boudoirs of Paris?"

"Is it an order, Madame la Comtesse?" "It is a prayer." "It is the same with me: only I am afraid." "Come," she said, "no false modesty, I do not believe in that in men of letters, and I know that you write." I was too flattered by the confidence which so pretty a woman showed me to defend me for long from a thing which, moreover, had always entered into my plans. I promised to obey. "At your ease," said the Countess. "I'll give you one year."

We talked about something else, and I forgot the time at which I was to go under the clock. The next day I presented myself at the Comtesse de W's. She had left in the morning with her husband for Russia, and I found this note at home on my return:

"Monsieur le Duc, I don't give you back your word. In a year I'll come and pick up my book. I am giving it a place in my boudoir. Countess de W."

I obeyed. The book is done. If the Countess's boudoir is in Paris and not in St. Petersburg, I must go in, if only to see if my poor book has been put in an honourable place, or relegated with what is no longer read.

He continues the story much later, in the afterword of the final volume of the book:

When she came to see if I had accomplished my task, it turned out that only a part of it had been done. "That is very well," she deigned to say to me, with that indulgence which characterises people of wit, "but I am waiting for you at the present time." Alas! What will she say when she sees that her orders have been disregarded, or at least imperfectly executed?* For I, who feel how just her anger would be, although I am not guilty, am determined to throw myself at her feet to implore her pardon; and as I hope that she will be just enough not to condemn me without hearing me, I will only ask her for favour to justify myself to tell her, in her boudoir, all the unpublished boudoir stories of which I had made provision for her obedience, and which I have not been able to place here. If she grants me my request, I have such a multitude of them to tell her, that not one of my boudoir heroes could boast of having occupied the attention of a beautiful person so long.

*Napoleon Junot's publisher forced him to censor large parts of his work. The young Duke was indignant at the publisher's proclamation that publishing 'immoral tales' was immoral in itself, and maintains that being the author of romance novels and a history of adultery did not prevent him from also being a devout Catholic.

[kririawhahha]

Instead of rewriting my notes for math I sat on twinote making random images of the sillies 😓

for some stupid reason nowadays tumblr wont load and all I see are blurred images and loading screens this is absolutely outrageous 😡😡

[dinakisss]

Typisch Junot

[itz-skyline]

Undying Loyalty

Napoleon & junot

I finally finished this piece it took me a while but I'm proud I might have rushed a few parts but in my opinion, it's good now I've hidden some things in my drawing so I'll explain it down here:

(Read till the end for some end notes)

First up we have Napoleon with his uninterested face to kind of symbolize him distancing himself from Junot and their friendship

Then we have the windflower also known as the anemone flower I chose this specific flower for its meaning which is: death or forsaken love (it's technically the red one that symbolizes that but I found out a bit late) I just thought this flower fitted Junot a lot with his future death and his forsaken love for Napoleon

I drew blood on napoleons hands and Junot's hair and clothes to kind of refer to that one time Napoleon pulled too hard on Junot's hair as a joke but it apparently reopened his head wound he had so I thought that also should be clarified

As Last I will mention the sort of angelic glow that Is coming behind Napoleon I did this to mention how Junot saw Napoleon in a kind of way he was very devoted to him in a lot of ways

End notes:

So I hope this kind of explains it if you want you can also try to interpret this drawing with your own opinion and meanings or talk about the relationship that they both had also I apologize if theirs any spelling mistakes or if my explanations are kind of ass 😞

[boberzapivaet]

lalalala