An American urologist bought Napoleon's penis at auction for $2,900 in 1977.
The Strange Afterlife of Napoleon's Most Private Part
When Napoleon Bonaparte died in exile on Saint Helena in 1821, his physician allegedly performed a very unauthorized souvenir collection. Among the items reportedly removed during the autopsy was the emperor's penis—beginning one of history's strangest journeys for a body part.
A Relic's Royal Tour
The appendage supposedly passed through various hands over the next century and a half. It was reportedly given to a Corsican priest, then inherited by his family, then sold to a rare books dealer in London, and eventually made its way to the United States.
In 1927, it went on display at the Museum of French Art in New York. Reviews were... unkind. Time magazine described it as resembling "a maltreated strip of buckskin shoelace." Not exactly imperial.
The Final Owner
The relic bounced around until 1977, when it appeared at Christie's auction house. Enter Dr. John K. Lattimer, a distinguished Columbia University urologist who had an unusual hobby: collecting medical artifacts from famous historical figures.
Lattimer's collection already included:
- The bloodstained collar Abraham Lincoln wore the night he was shot
- Hermann Göring's cyanide capsule
- Medical instruments used on James Garfield
He paid $2,900 for Napoleon's alleged member—far less than the inflated figures sometimes reported. Lattimer kept it in a suitcase under his bed until his death in 2007.
Is It Actually Real?
Here's the thing: there's no definitive DNA proof. The chain of custody is murky at best, relying heavily on oral history and disputed documentation. Some historians are skeptical. Others point out that the practice of taking relics from powerful figures was common, and the provenance is at least plausible.
The preserved object, roughly one inch long (preservation does that), now belongs to Lattimer's daughter. She has declined offers to sell it and has not permitted scientific testing.
Why Do We Care?
Napoleon conquered most of Europe, rewrote legal codes still used today, and crowned himself Emperor. Yet here we are, obsessed with his anatomy. Perhaps it's the ultimate reminder that even the mightiest are mortal—and occasionally become the punchline of history's longest-running joke.
The story persists because it's perfectly absurd: a world conqueror reduced to a curiosity kept in a suitcase, worth less than a used car. That's the kind of cosmic irony that never gets old.