https://tmitepuntendia.ga/the-throne-of-caesar-roma-sub-rosa.php This was the place bought by Balzac; the house and grounds, dear as they were, costing much less, as he found, than his furniture, bronzes, porcelains, and pottery, paintings and their frames—all minutely described in the collection of le cousin Pons. He made a museum, indeed, of this house, bringing out all his hidden treasures from their various concealments here and there about town.
There was still a pretence of poverty regarding his new home; he would say to his friends, amazed by the display: "Nothing of all this is mine. I have furnished this house for a friend, whom I expect. The pretty mystery was resolved within a few months, and its solution explained Balzac's frequent and long absences from Paris after the winter of And from there he brought his bride to Paris in the summer of , their marriage dating from March of that year, after many years of waiting in patient affection.
She had made over—with Balzac's cordial consent—nearly the whole of her great fortune to her daughter, her only child, and to that daughter's husband, retaining but a small income for herself. It was—and the envious world owned that it was—truly a love-match. They came home to be welcomed, first of all, by Balzac's aged mother; who had, during his absence, taken charge of all the preparations, with the same anxious, loving care she had given to the fitting-up of his garret thirty years before. She had carried out, in every detail, even to the arrangement of the flowers in the various rooms, the countless directions he had sent from every stage of the tedious journey from Wierzchownie.
This undaunted mariner, after his stormy voyage, gets into port and is ship-wrecked there. His premonition of early years, written to his confidant Dablin in , was proven true: "I foresee the darkest of destinies for myself; that will be to die when all that I now wish for shall be about to come to me. Years before, he had found that the inspiration for work given by coffee had lessened in length and strength. So he spurred himself on, listening to none of the warnings of worn nature nor of watchful friends.
It was to No. The house itself has quite vanished, but one can see, above that wall, the upper part of a stone pavilion with Greek columns, built by him, it is believed. No one came. I rang 85 again. The gate opened; a woman came forward, weeping. I gave my name, and was told to enter the salon , which was on the ground floor.
On a pedestal opposite the fireplace was the colossal bust by David. A wax-candle was burning on a handsome oval table in the middle of the room We passed along a corridor, and up a staircase carpeted in red, and crowded with works of art of all kinds—vases, pictures, statues, paintings, brackets bearing porcelains I heard a loud and difficult breathing. I was in M. His face was purple, almost black, inclining to the right.
The hair was gray, and cut rather short. His eyes were open and fixed. I saw his side face only, and thus seen, he was like Napoleon I raised the coverlet and took Balzac's hand. It was moist with perspiration. I pressed it; he made no answer to the pressure The bust that Hugo saw was done by David d'Angers; a reduced copy surmounts Balzac's tomb. While long suffering had wasted, it had refined, his face, and into it had come youth, strength, majesty.
It is the head of the Titan, who carried a pitiable burden through a life of brave labor. Balzac's death was known in a moment, it would seem, to his creditors, and they came clamoring to the door, and invaded the house—a ravening horde, ransacking rooms and hunting for valuables. They drove the widow away, and she found a temporary home with Madame de Surville, at 47 Rue des Martyrs. This house and number are yet unchanged. Cabinets and drawers were torn open, and about the grounds were scattered his letters and papers, sketches of new stories, drafts of contemplated work—all, that could be, collected by his friends, also hurrying to the spot.
They found manuscripts in the shops around, ready to enwrap butter and groceries. One characteristic and most valuable letter was tracked to three places, in three pieces, by an enthusiast, who rescued the first piece just as it was twisted up and ready to light a cobbler's pipe. The funeral service took place at Saint-Philippe-du-Roule. As I stood by the coffin, I remembered that there my second daughter had been baptized.
I had not been in the church since Rain was falling as we left the church, and when we reached the cemetery. It was one of those days when the heavens seemed to weep. We walked the whole distance. I was at the head of the coffin on the right, holding one of the silver tassels of the pall. Alexandre Dumas was on the other side When we reached the grave, which was on the brow of the hill, the crowd was immense The priest said a last prayer and I a few words.
While I was speaking the sun went down. All Paris lay before me, afar off, in the splendid mists of the sinking orb, the glow of which seemed to fall into the grave at my feet, as the dull sounds of the sods dropping on the coffin broke in upon my last words. It was in that Alexandre Dumas, in his twenty-first year, took coach for Paris from his boyhood-home with his widowed mother, at Villers-Cotterets. He was set down at the principal landing-place of the provincial diligences in Place des Victoires, and found a room near by in an inn at No. Thence he started on foot, at once, for No. About that house, two years later, a few days after November 28, , all Paris assembled, while all France mourned, for the burial of this honest man, whose earnest voice had been heard only in the cause of freedom and justice.
Marked by a tablet, his house still stands, and is now No. Besides this letter, young Dumas carried only a meagre outfit of luggage, and such meagre education 92 as may be picked up by a clever and yet an idle lad, in a notary's office in a provincial town. Indeed, when he was made welcome by General Foy, he was questioned, too; and, to his chagrin, he was found to be without equipment for any sort of service. Its stipend of 1, francs a year was doubtless munificent in the eyes of Orleans thrift, and was certainly sufficient for the needs then of the future owner of Monte-Cristo's millions.
He earned his wage and no more; for his official pen—at his desk in the Palais-Royal—while doing its strict duty on official documents, was more gladly busied on his own studies and his own paper-spoiling. For the author within him had come to life with his first tramping of the Paris streets and his first taking-in of all that they meant then. The babies, begotten by French fathers and mothers during the Napoleonic wars, and during those tremendous years at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, breathed, full-lunged, an air of instant and intense vitality.
Now, come to stalwart manhood, that mighty generation, eager to speed the coming of red-blooded Romanticism and the going of cold and correct Classicism, showed itself alert in many directions, notably prolific in literature and the arts, after the sterility of so many years. Hugo, barely twenty, had thrilled men with the sounding phrases of his "Odes et Ballades. Even more popular than these two Royalist poets, as they were regarded, was Casimir Delavigne—already installed over Dumas as Librarian at the Palais-Royal—rather a classicist in form, yet hailed as the poet and playwright of the Liberal Opposition.
De Vigny had brought out his earliest poems in ; and now, "isolated in his ivory tower," he was turning the periods of his admirable "Cinq-Mars. Gautier was serving his apprenticeship to that poetic art, to whose service he gave a life-long devotion and the most perfect craftsmanship in all France.
Those others touched, with various fingers, the lyre or the lute; he turned a most melodious hand-organ, with assured and showy art, and around it the captivated crowd loved to throng, with enraptured long ears. His cheaply sentimental airs were hummed and whistled all over France, and, known to everybody everywhere, there was really no need of his putting them in type on paper, and no need of his being sent to prison for that crime by Charles X.
Yet he had his turn, soon again, and his chansons , as much as any utterance of man, upset the Bourbon throne and placed Louis-Philippe on that shaky seat. That most prosaic of monarchs was sung up to the throne, and the misguided poet soon found him out for what he was. In prose, during these years, Nodier, Librarian at the Arsenal, was plying his refined and facile pen. Guizot, out of active politics for a time, did his most notable pen-work between and His untiring antagonist, Thiers, not yet turned into the practical politician, produced, between and , his "History of the French Revolution," voluminous and untrustworthy; 95 its author energetically earning Carlyle's epithet, "a brisk little man in his way.
Sainte-Beuve left, in , his medical studies for those critical studies in which he soon showed the master's hand; notably with his early paper on Hugo's "Odes et Ballades. Balzac was working, alone and unknown, in his garret; and young Sue was handling the naval surgeon's knife, before learning how to handle the pen.
And nearly all of these, nearly all the fine young fellows who made the movement of , had got inspiration from Villemain, who had spoken, constantly and steadfastly, from his platform in the Sorbonne during the ten years from to , those sturdy and graphic words which gave cheer and courage to so many.
There were a similar vitality and fecundity in painting and music and their sister arts, and the brilliant host stirring for their sake might be cited along with the unnumbered and unnamable pen-workers of this teeming decade. Less aggressive was the theatre. Scribe had possession, flooding the stage with his comedies, vaudeville, opera-librettos, peopling its boards with his pasteboard personages.
There was call for revolt and need of life. So he told Dumas, who had come to see him only two weeks before his death, in , when the veteran thought he was recovering from illness—an illness acceptable to the great tragedian, for it gave him, he pointed out with pride, the lean frame and pendent cheeks, "beautiful for old Tiberius"—the new part he was then studying. This wish for a real human being on the boards came home to Dumas, when he saw the true Shakespeare rendered by Macready and Miss Smithson at the Salle Favart in It was Shakespeare, in the reading before and now in the acting, that helped Dumas more than any other influence.
No Frenchman has comprehended more completely than Dumas the Englishman's universality, and he used to say that, after God, Shakespeare was the great creator. He might have said, in the words of Henri IV. The Romantic drama had come at last, with its superb daring, its sounding but spurious sentiment, its engorgement of adjectives, 97 and its plentiful lack of all sense of the ludicrous.
Perhaps if it had not taken itself so seriously, and had been blessed with a few grains of the saving salt of humor, it had not gone stale so soon. In the widening they have cut away his inn, at present No. The sites of the two hotels are covered by the rear buildings of the Caisse d'Epargne, which fronts on Rue du Louvre. One ancient house, which saw the arrival of both these historic travellers, has been left at No.
In the summer of he brought his good mother to town, and took rooms on the second floor of No. He had windows on both streets, and he fitted up the rooms "with a certain elegance. Here he remained from to , making a longer stay than in any of the many camping-places of his migratory career. And here he gave his name to his most memorable endowment to the French drama, in the person of his only son, born on July 29, , at the home of the mother, Marie-Catherine Lebay, a dressmaker, living at No. On March 17, , the father formally owned the son by l'acte de reconnaissance , signed and recorded at the office of the mayor of the Second Arrondissement, May 6, So came into legal existence "Alexandre Dumas, fils.
Portions of the child's early life were passed with his father, but separations became more frequent and more prolonged, as the boy developed his own marked character—in striking contrast with that of the elder. Their mutual attitude came, before many years, to be as queer and as tragi-comic as any attitudes invented by either of them for the stage. The son used to say, in later life, that he seemed to be the elderly guardian and counsellor of the father—a happy-go-lucky, improvident, 99 chance child.
For the son of the Parisienne had inherited her hard shrewdness along with his father's dramatic range, and this happy commingling of the stronger qualities of the parents gave him his special powers. The doings of the elder Dumas during the famous three days of July, , would make an amusing chapter.
Eager to play the part of his own boisterous heroes, he flung himself, with hot-headed and bombastic ardor, into throne-upsetting and throne-setting-up. Of course he allied himself with the opponents of Louis-Philippe—possibly in keen memory of his monthly hundred francs worth of drudgery—and of course the success of the Orleanists left him with no further chance for place or patronage. So his pen was his only ally, and it soon proved itself to be no broken reed, but a strong staff for support. Strong as it was and unresting, no one pen could do even the manual labor required by the endless volumes he poured forth.
In , having finished "Monte-Cristo," he followed it by "The Three Musketeers," and then he put out no less than forty volumes in that same year; each volume bearing his name as sole author. But this sturdy and undaunted toiler was no laborious recluse, like Balzac, and he was surrounded by clerks for research, secretaries for writing, young and unknown authors for collaborating; reserving, for his own hand, those final telling touches that give warmth and color to the canvas signed by him. His "victims," as they are described in the "Fabrique de Romans, Maison Alexandre Dumas et Compagnie," a malicious exposure, are hardly subjects for sympathy; they earned money not otherwise within their power to earn, and not one of them produced, before or after, any work of individual distinction.
In his historical romances, their work is evident in the study and research that give an accuracy not commonly credited to Dumas and about which he never bothered. The belle insouciance of his touch is to be seen in the dash of the narrative, and above all in the dialogues, not only in their dramatic force and fire, but in their growing long-windedness. For he was paid by the line at a royal rate, and he learned the trick of making his lines too short and his dialogues too long, his paymasters complained.
And, as he went on, it must be owned that he used his name in unworthy ways, not only for books of no value and for journalistic paltriness, but for shameless signature to shopkeepers' puffs, composed for coin. As the volumes poured out, money poured in, and poured out again as freely. He made many foolish ventures, too, such as building his own theatre and running it; and he squandered fabulous sums in his desire to make real, at Saint-Gratien, his dream of a palace fit for Monte-Cristo himself.
The very dogs abused his big-hearted hospitality, quartering themselves on him there, until his favorite servant, under pretence of fear of the unlucky number thirteen, to which they had come, begged to be allowed to send some of them away. He gave up his attempt toward reformatory thrift when Dumas ordered him to find a fourteenth dog!
He would have drained dry a king's treasury, and have bankrupted Monte-Cristo's island of buried millions. Yet with all his ostentatious swagger and his preposterous tomfoolery, he had a childlike rapture in spending, and a manly joy in giving, that disarm stingy censure.
The lover of the romancer must mourn for the man, growing poorer as he grew older, and must regret the degrading shifts at which he snatched for money, by which he sank to be a mountebank in his declining years. Toward the last his purse held fewer sous than it held when he came to Paris to hunt for them. For nearly two years he lived in a great mansion, No.
His next home, from to , at 30 Rue Bleue, has been cut away by Rue Lafayette. From to he had an apartment, occasionally shared by his son, at No. Twenty-five years after the death of the father, when the son, as he says, was older and grayer than his father had ever grown to be, a letter to him was written by that son. It is an exquisite piece of literature. He brings back their life in this apartment, when, twenty-two years apart in their birth, they were really of the same age.
He tells how he, a young man going early to his studies, left the elder at his desk, already at work at seven in the morning, clad only in trousers and shirt, the latter with open neck and rolled-up sleeves. At seven in the evening his son would find him planted there still at work, his mid-day breakfast often cold at his side, forgotten and untouched!
Then these two would dine, and dine well, for the father loved to play the cook, and he was a master of that craft. All the while he was preparing the plats he would prattle of his heroes, what they'd done that day, and what he imagined they might do on the next day. And then the letter calls back to the father that evening, a little later, when he was found by his son sunk in an armchair, red-eyed and wretched, and mournfully explained: "Porthos is dead! I've just killed him, and I couldn't help crying over him! In , while his address was at No.
They, along with other cronies, male and female, more or less worthy, found Dumas at Saint-Germain from to Then, suddenly, he disappeared into Belgium, "for reasons not wholly unconnected with financial reverses," as he and his only peer in fiction, Micawber, would have put it. He was in town again in , at No. Between and his residence was at Boulevard Malesherbes. On the coming of the Prussians, he was carried, ailing and feeble, to his country-place at Puys, near Dieppe, where he died December 5, His public burial was delayed until the close of the war, and then, in , was solemnized in the presence of all that was notable in French art and literature, at his birthplace and his boyhood-home, Villers-Cotterets.
When Dumas was asked how a monument might be erected in memory of a dead pen-worker, who in life had been misunderstood and maligned, he replied: "Use the stones thrown at him while he lived, and you'll have a tremendous monument. And yet, curiously weak in its general impression, its details are effective. The group in front is well imagined: a girl is reading to a young student, and to an old, barefooted workman; on the other side is our hero d'Artagnan.
The seated statue of Dumas, on too tall a pedestal, is an admirable portrait, with his own vigorous poise of head and gallant regard. In the American Minister to France, Mr. John Bigelow, breakfasted with Dumas at Saint-Gratien, near Paris, where the romancer was temporarily sojourning.
It was toward the close of our Civil War, and he had a notion of going to the United States as war-correspondent for French papers, and to make another book, of course. Bigelow gives an accurate and admirable description of the host, as he greeted him at the entrance of his villa; over six feet in height, corpulent, but well proportioned; a brown skin, a head low and narrow in front, enlarging as it receded, covered with crisp, bushy hair growing gray, thick lips, a large mouth, and enormous neck. Partly African and wholly stalwart, from his negress grandmother, he would have been a handsome creature but for his rapidly retreating forehead.
But in his features and his expression nothing showed that was sordid or selfish, and his smile was very sweet. Dumas lives and will never die as long as men love strength and daring, loyalty and generosity, good love-making and good fighting. He has put his own tenderness and frankness and vivacity into the real personages, whom he has reanimated and refined; and into the ideal personages, whom he has made as real as the actual historic men and women who throng his thrilling pages.
His own virility and lust of life are there, too, without one prurient page in all his thousands. And he tells his delightful stories not only with charm and wit, but in clean-cut, straightforward words, with no making of phrases. Of the old, the outer walls and the great central tower are outlined by light stones in the darker pavement of the southwest corner of the present court. Of the new structure, as we see it, the cold and cheerless Salle des Caryatides lights up unwillingly to us with the brilliancy of the marriage festival of Marguerite de France and Henri de Navarre, as it is pictured by Dumas.
This festivity followed the religious ceremony, that had taken place under the grand portal of Notre-Dame, for Henry's heresy forbade his marriage within. He and his suite strolled about the cloisters while she went in to mass. In this hall of the Caryatides his body, in customary effigy, lay in state after the assassination.
There is no change in these walls since that day, except that a vaulted ceiling took the place, in , of the original oaken beams, which had served for rare hangings, not of tapestries, but of men. The long corridors and square rooms above, peopled peaceably by pictures now, echoed to the rushing of frightened feet on the night of Saint Bartholomew, when Margot saved the life of her husband that was and of her lover that was to be. As one gropes down the worn steps, around the sharp turns deep below the surface, visions appear of Valois conspiracy and of the intrigues of the Florentine Queen-Mother.
Here the wily creature had triumphed at last after waiting through weary years of humiliated wifehood; passed, such of them as Henri II. We shall visit, in another chapter, that residence of the early kings of France, when they had become kings of France in more than name. After the accidental killing of Henry at the hand of Montmorency in the lists of this palace, his widow urged its immediate destruction, and this was accomplished within a few years.
One portion of the site became a favorite duelling-ground, and it was here—exactly in the southeastern corner of Place des Vosges, where now nursemaids play with their charges and romping schoolboys raise the dust—that was fought, on Sunday, April 27, , the duel, as famous in history as in the pages of Dumas, between the three followers of the Duc de Guise and the three mignons of Henri III. Those of the six who were not left dead on the ground were borne away desperately wounded.
By his bedside Henri spent many hours every day, offering, with sobs, , francs to the surgeon who should save him. Not far from this house of death, in Rue Saint-Antoine too, was a little house, very much alive, for it belonged to Marguerite—Navarre only in name—to which none may follow her save the favored one to whom her latest caprice has given a nocturnal meeting. She is carried there, under cover of her closed litter, whenever her mother, never her husband, shows undue solicitude concerning her erratic career.
This time the count was at home, with a gang of his armed men; and on this corner, on the night of August 19, , the gallant was duly and thoroughly done to death, not quite so dramatically as Dumas narrates it in one of his magnificent fights. This Rue Saint-Antoine was, in those days, hardly less of a bustling thoroughfare than in our days, albeit it was then a country road, unpaved, unlighted, bordered by great gardens with great mansions within them, or small dwellings between them.
Outside Porte Saint-Antoine—that gate in the town wall alongside the Bastille where now is the end of Rue de la Bastille—on the road to Vincennes, was La Roquette, a maison-de-plaisance of the Valois kings. Hence the title of the modern prisons, on the same site. It was a favorite resort of the wretched third Henry, that shameless compound of sensuality and superstition; and it was on his way there, at the end of Rue de la Roquette, that the vicious little lame Duchesse de Montpensier had plotted to waylay him, and to cut his hair down to a tonsure with the gold scissors she carried so long at her girdle for that very use.
He had had two crowns, she said—of Poland and of France—and she meant to give him a third, and make a monk of him, for the sake of her scheming brother, the Duc de Guise. Gorenflot's priory—a vast Jacobin priory—was on the same road, just beyond the Bastille. To visit him out here came Chicot, almost as vivid a creation in our affections as d'Artagnan. Either of the two shabby, aged hotels, still left at one corner of the old street may serve for Chicot's pet eating-place.
Where that street meets the quay of the same name, is a restaurant dear to legal and medical and lay gourmets , where those two noble diners would be enchanted to dine to-day. You may find, in that same street, the lineal descendant of that inn, dirty and disreputable and modernized as to name, but still haunted for us by those forty-five gallant Gascon gentlemen. The striking change of atmosphere, from the Valois court to the regency of Marie de' Medici and the reign of the two great cardinals, is shown clearly in the pages of Dumas, with his perhaps unconscious subtlety of intuition.
Fragments of its fine Gothic carvings are set in the wall of the court of No. On the front of this house is an admirable iron balcony of later date. And just above, at No. That duel ought to be good enough for us, but we have a hankering for the most dramatic and delightful of all duels in fiction.
To get to its ground, we may follow either of the four friends, each coming his own way, each through streets changed but slightly even yet, all four coming out together at the corner of Rues de Vaugirard and Cassette; where stands an ancient wall, its moss-covered coping overshadowed by straggling trees, through whose branches shows the roof of a chapel.
A pair of these gentry, sent by Pope Paul V. The order grew rapidly in numbers and in wealth, acquiring a vast extent of ground; roughly outlined now by Rues de Vaugirard, du Regard, du Cherche-Midi and Cassette. The corner-stone of the new chapel, that which we see, was laid by the Regent Marie de' Medici on July 26, Beyond its entrance, along the street, rise modern buildings; but behind the entrance in the western end of the wall, near Rue d'Assas, stands one of the original structures of the Barefooted Carmelites.
This was used for a prison during the Revolution, and no spot in all Paris shows so graphic a scene of the September Massacres. Nothing of the prison has been taken away or altered. Here are the iron bars put then in the windows of the ground floor on the garden side. At the top of that stone staircase the butchers crowded about that door; out through it came their victims, to be hurled down these same steps, clinging to this same railing; along these garden walks some of them ran, and were beaten down at the foot of yonder dark wall.
This garden has not been changed since then, except that a large portion was shorn away by the cutting of Rues d'Assas and de Rennes and the Boulevard Raspail. The narrow and untravelled lane, now become Rue Cassette, and the unfrequented thoroughfare, now Rue de Vaugirard, between the monastery and the Luxembourg Gardens—which then reached thus far—met at just such a secluded spot as was sought by duellists; and this wall, intact in its antique ruggedness, saw—so far as anybody or anything saw—the brilliant fight between five of Richelieu's henchmen, led by the keen swordsman Jussac, and Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, aided by the volunteered sword of d'Artagnan; the sword he had meant to match against each one of the three, at whose side he found himself fighting in the end.
And so, cemented by much young blood, was framed that goodly fellowship, of such constancy and vitality as to control kings and outwit cardinals and confound all France, as the lover of Dumas must needs believe! Athos had his rooms, "within two steps of the Luxembourg," in Rue Ferou, still having that name, still much as he saw it. The vainglorious Porthos would have given ten years of his life for that sword, but it was never sold nor pledged by Athos. Porthos, himself, lived in Rue du Vieux-Colombier, he used to say ; and he gave grandiloquent descriptions of the superb furniture and rich decorations of his apartment.
Whenever he passed with a friend through this street, he would raise his head and point out the house—before which his valet, Mousqueton, was always seen strutting in full fig—and proudly announce, " That is my abode. So that one is led to suspect that his grand apartment is akin to his gorgeous corselet, having only a showy front and nothing behind!
We know that his "fine lady," his "duchess," his "princess"—she was promoted with his swelling mood—was simply a Madame Coquenard, wife of a mean lawyer, living in Rue aux Ours. The wily Aramis let his real duchess pass, with his friends, for the niece of his doctor, or for a waiting-maid. She was, indeed, a grande dame , beautiful and bold, devoted to political and personal intrigue, the finest flower of the court of that day. Marie de Rohan, Duchesse de Chevreuse, known as " la Frondeuse Duchesse ," was the trusted friend of Anne of Austria, and the active adversary of Richelieu and of Mazarin, and exiled from Paris by each in turn.
The daughter of Hercule de Rohan, Duc de Montbazon, and the wife of Charles d'Albert, Duc de Luynes, and, after his death, of Claude de Lorraine, Duc de Chevreuse, this zealous recruit of the Fronde naturally had her "fling" in private as well as in public life. The cutting of Boulevard Saint-Germain, leaving it No.
The main body, which remains, is impressive in the simple, stately dignity stamped on it by Mansart, who gave to it his own roof. Its first-floor salons and chambers, lofty and spacious, glow with the ornate mouldings and decorations of that period, mellowed by the sombre splendors of its tapestries. Much of the garden—once a rural park within city limits—has been cut away by Boulevard Raspail, but from that street one sees, over the new boundary wall, wide-spreading trees that strike a welcome note of green amid surrounding stone.
The latest Bottin , with no room for romance within its covers, gives the Comtesse de Chevreuse as tenant of the house, along with other tenants, to whom she lets her upper floors. His comrades in the troop had infrequent privilege of admission. His apartment, on the ground floor, easy of entrance, was in Rue de Vaugirard, just east of Rue Cassette, and his windows looked out on the Luxembourg Gardens opposite. There were three small rooms, communicating, and the bedroom behind gave on a tiny garden, all his own, green and shady and well shut in from prying eyes.
The whole place forms a most fitting entourage for the youthful priest who, after this episode of arms and of intrigue, was to rise so high in the Church, and who has always been, to all readers, the least congenial of the four musketeers. To the most sympathetic of them, d'Artagnan, dearer to us than all the others, we are eager to turn.
They are commonplace and coarse, broad as well as long, and leave us with no distinct portrait of the man. Our d'Artagnan, bodied forth from that ineffective sketch by the large brush that never niggled, might serve as an under-study for Henri IV. This street was then known as Rue des Fossoyeurs, and, still as narrow though not quite so dirty as in d'Artagnan's day, has been mostly rebuilt.
His apartment—"a sort of garret," made up of one bedroom and a tiny room in which Planchet slept—was at the top of a house, given as No. For her sake, d'Artagnan remains in these poor rooms, and there his three friends say good-by to Paris and to him, now lieutenant of the famous troop. Once a path on the outer side of the ditch, north of the town-wall, named for Rogier Tiquetonne, or Quinquetonne, a rich baker of the fourteenth century, that narrow curved street is, still, as to most of its length, a village highway in the centre of Paris. Its tall-fronted houses rise on either hand almost as he saw them.
Or, it may please our fancy to believe that this inn bore then the sign of The Kid, and that the kindly hostess changed its name, later, in memory of Planchet, grown prosperous and rich. D'Artagnan, mounting still higher in rank and income while here, went down lower in the inn; and one fine morning said to his landlady: "Madeleine, give me your apartment on the first floor.
Now that I am captain of the Royal Musketeers, I must make an appearance; nevertheless, still keep my room on the fifth story for me, one never knows what may happen! Good Master Planchet, sometime valet, and lifelong friend of the great d'Artagnan, turned grocer, and lived over his shop at the sign of " Le Pilon d'Or ," in Rue des Lombards. This had been a street of bankers and money-dealers in the outset, and it was named, to alter De Quincey's ornate reference to another Lombard Street, after the Lombards or Milanese, who affiliated an infant commerce to the matron splendors of the Adriatic and the Mediterranean.
When the financial centre went westward, this street was invaded by the grocers and spice-dealers, who hold it to this day. Its narrow length is still fragrant with the descendants of the spices in which Planchet traded, and of the raisins into which d'Artagnan plunged his hands so greedily.
To those of us who go through the short and stupid Rue de la Harpe of our Paris, it is puzzling to read of its re-echoing with the ceaseless clatter of troopers riding through. But in those old days, and up to a comparatively recent date, it was one of the important arteries of circulation between the southern side of the town and the Island; the most frequented road between the Louvre and the Luxembourg, when they were both royal residences.
Il y en a, mais il faut les regarder autrement. Concernant Corinne Merle, ne vous faites pas d'illusions. Je vais faire des recherches et vous transmettrai des noms, si vous le souhaitez. Je ne m'en explique pas les raisons. C'est significatif. Il est vrai que dans ces domaines, ce sont actuellement surtout des hommes qui nous proposent des choses nouvelles et originales.
Roland Courteau. Il faut soutenir les librairies dans les petites villes et les villages car elles sont au coeur de l'animation culturelle. Cet engagement s'inscrit dans le fil conducteur de mon parcours. Dans quelles structures? On ne fera avancer les choses que si les hommes collaborent. Car, vous le savez, les mots ont leur importance. Pourtant, elles sont toujours aussi peu nombreuses aux postes de direction : beaucoup plafonnent aux postes d'adjointes.
Je pense qu'il faudrait que les femmes se prennent en main. Comme Reine Prat, je pense qu'en ce domaine, il faut opter pour des solutions radicales. C'est la raison pour laquelle j'envisage ce lieu comme un lieu provisoire, non permanent. Il fait la promotion d'un certain mode de vie, d'une certaine vision du monde, de la politique, et du rapport entre hommes et femmes. Son impact est donc important. Il peut aussi assumer le travail du cadreur. Le financement est un point important. Dans les grands groupes qui dominent le secteur en France, la place des femmes dans les postes de direction est faible.
Quels sont les principaux groupes? Sans ce financement, rien n'est possible. Trouvent-elles un emploi? Vous me laissez sur ma faim! Pouvez-vous nous en dire plus? Sans doute y en a-t-il moins encore dans la suite du parcours. Certains hommes sont beaucoup plus paritaires que certaines femmes. Notre association est toute jeune. Delevoye le 18 juillet Au Paris Mozart Orchestra, nous partageons plus que de la musique.
Dans notre formation, nous nous battons pour les combattre toutes. La France n'est certainement pas le pays le moins misogyne. Parce que c'est le seul qui se met dans la bouche et se tient entre les jambes. Les mesures que vous avez mises en place au sein de votre orchestre font de celui-ci une exception.
En direction d'orchestre, il n'y avait que deux places pour cinquante candidats. J'en suis sortie avec le premier prix, en juillet Comment peut-on tenter de contrecarrer cette tendance? Je produis depuis Il y a eu une abstention record. Le discours universel est mixte! Notre regard est mixte.
Mais nous n'avons pas de moyens Vincent Peillon. Vous nous donnez des arguments! Ne s'agit-il que d'un hasard? Pouvez-vous nous donner votre sentiment sur ce point? At the Library 2, Online Resource type. Media type. Call number. Geheime Staatspolizei 20 France. Organization as author. Centre de recherche d'histoire quantitative 4 Belgium. View results as: View Normal Gallery Brief. Sort by relevance relevance new to the Libraries year new to old year old to new author title. Les miliciens de la rue Alphonse de Neuvilte Qui sont les assassins?
F8 D75 Unavailable In transit. The fall of France in the Second World War : history and memory . Carswell, Richard, author. It argues that explanations of the fall have usually revolved around the four main themes of decadence, failure, constraint and contingency. It shows that the dominant explanation claimed for many years that the fall was the inevitable consequence of a society grown rotten in the inter-war period.
This view has been largely replaced among academic historians by a consensus which distinguishes between the military defeat and the political demise of the Third Republic. It emphasizes the contingent factors that led to the military defeat. At the same time it seeks to understand the constraints within which France's policy-makers were required to act and the reasons for their policy-making failures in economics, defence and diplomacy. C Unknown. Est-il possible d'objectiver cette sentence?
F82 F Unavailable In process. Comment l'expliquer? L'affaire est complexe, et chacun se fera son opinion. F8 D Unavailable At bindery Request. Island song . Bunting, Madeleine, author. London : Granta, Description Book — pages ; 23 cm Summary In , Helene, young, naive, and recently married, waves goodbye to her husband, who has enlisted in the British army. Hr home, Guernsey, is soon invaded by the Germans, leaving her exposed to the hardships of occupation.
Forty years later, her daughter, Roz, begins a search for the truth about her father, and stumbles into the secret history of her mother's life. Written with emotional acuity and passionate intensity, Island Song speaks of the moral complexities of war-time allegiances, the psychological toll of living with the enemy and the messy reality of human relationships in a tightly knot community.
As Roz discovers, truth is hard to pin down, and so are the rights and wrongs of those struggling to survive in the most difficult of circumstances. U58 I85 Unknown. Lebrun, Marguerite, author. Fontaine : PUG,  Description Book — pages, xvi plates : illustrations chiefly color , color map, facsimiles ; 24 cm. L Unavailable On order Request. Frerejean, Alain, author. F84 Unavailable On order Request.
Lire sous l'Occupation : livres, lecteurs, lectures, . Cantier, Jacques, author. F7 C36 Unknown. F8 A Unavailable At bindery Request. Polack, Emmanuelle, author. Les marchandises affluent, certaines issues des spoliations des familles juives. Les ventes des objets d'art atteignent des prix records. A7 P65 Unknown. Matricule : le destin tragique d'un Juif d'Alsace . F9 W44 Unavailable On order Request. Mistress of the Ritz : a novel . Benjamin, Melanie, author.
First edition. In March , the Nazis sweep Paris and immediately take up residence in one of the city's most iconic sites: The Hotel Ritz. But two residents of the Ritz refuse to be defeated: its director, Claude Auzello, and his beautiful American actress wife, Blanche.
They not only oversee the smooth workings of the hotel, but both Blanche and Claude throw themselves fearlessly into the dangerous and clandestine workings of the French Resistance. This is a true-to-life novel of a courageous woman and her husband who put their marriage--and ultimately their lives--in jeopardy to fight for freedom. Intimate, fearless, and moving, it spins a brilliantly and unforgettably vivid human portrait at a time of unimaginable crisis and sacrifice. June In order to survive-- and to strike a blow against their Nazi 'guests' the hotel's director, Claude Auzello, and his beautiful American actress wife, Blanche throw themselves into spinning a web of deceit, working for the French Resistance.
But one secret threatens to imperil both their lives-- and to bring down the legendary Ritz itself. A M57 Unavailable In transit. Lazare, Lucien, author.
Lormont : Le Bord de l'eau,  Description Book — pages ; 20 cm. F83 L Unavailable On order Request. Nouvelle histoire de l'Occupation .
Alary, Eric, author. A Unknown. Laborie, Pierre, author. L33 Unavailable On order Request. The politics of apoliticism : political trials in Vichy France, . Herbst, James, author. H47 Unknown. La question juive . Touboul, Lionel, author. Non, certes non! Il nous appartient de toujours tirer la quintessence de ce qui nous arrive. Ne plus revivre cela, "plus jamais". Qu'avons-nous fait pour que nous puissions vivre, oui, vivre enfin libres? F83 T68 Unavailable In transit.
Corbin, Christophe, author. W4 C67 Unknown. Grenard, Fabrice, author. F8 G Unknown. Mallet, Audrey, author.
Paris : Belin,  Description Book — pages ; 22 cm. Septembre V67 M Unknown. Victims of Nazi persecution in the Channel Islands : a legitimate heritage? Carr, Gillian, author. London : Bloomsbury Academic, Description Book — xii, pages : illustrations ; 25 cm Summary 1. Introduction 2. The Decades of Silence?
Acts of Repair 9. A Legitimate Heritage? Notes Bibliography Index. The struggle to have resistance recognised by the local governments of the islands as a legitimate course of action during the occupation is something that still continues today. Drawing on compensation testimonies written in the s and newly discovered archival material, Gilly Carr sheds light on the experiences of British civilians from the Channel Islands in Nazi prisons and concentration camps.
She analyses the Foreign Office's treatment of claims from Islanders and explores why the islands' local governments declined to help former political prisoners fight for compensation. The testimonies explored within this volume help to place the Channel Islands back within European discourse on the Holocaust and the Second World War; as such, it will be of great importance to scholars interested in Nazi occupation, persecution and post-war memory both in Britain and Europe more widely.
C46 C37 Unknown. War and love : a family's testament of anguish, endurance and devotion in occupied Amsterdam . Martin, Melanie, author. Kibworth Beauchamp, Leicestershire : Matador,  Description Book — xii, pages : illustrations some color ; 24 cm Summary An extraordinary story of one family's torment, betrayal and perseverance in war time Amsterdam. War and Love is a fascinating and detailed memoir of a family's everyday life at a time of war. The simple storytelling reflects a period of history with which everyone is familiar, but is told here with a raw honesty which emphasises the horrors of the events which took place.
In May the family tried and failed to flee from Holland. Some went into hiding, others worked with the Resistance producing false papers, and others were transported to Westerbork transit camp. Sisters Kitty and Liesje, both in the prime of their lives, were compromised by the Nazi laws on intermarriage. War and Love is testimony of their will to survive against the odds. Many of their relatives who arrived at Westerbork were deported to Auschwitz or to Sobibor, where they were murdered.
They wanted the question of who should count as a Jew to be clear-cut, and often this was not the case as the twists and turns of this story demonstrate. M39 Unavailable In transit. The war guilt problem and the Ligue des droits de l'homme, . Ingram, Norman, author. I54 Unknown. The war guilt problem and the Ligue des roits de l'homme, . Description Book — 1 online resource. Talking to the Germans 6: Turning the Page? The Ligue des droits de l'homme and the Slide into War When all is said and done: en guise de conclusion. Ingram posits that the Ligue's inability to resolve the question of war guilt from the Great War was what led to its decline by , well before the Nazi invasion of May As well as developing our understanding of how the issue of war origins and war guilt transfixed the LDH from down to the Second World War, this volume also explores the aetiology of French pacifism, expanding on the differences between French and Anglo-American pacifism.
It argues that from onwards, one can see a principled dissent from the Union sacree war effort that occurred within mainstream French Republicanism and not on the syndicalist or anarchist fringes. Based on substantial research in a large number of French archives, primarily in the papers of the LDH which were repatriated to France from the former Soviet Union in late , but also on considerable new research in the German archives, the book proposes a new explanatory model to help us understand some of the choices made in Vichy France, moving beyond the usual triptych of collaboration, resistance or accommodation.
Charpy, Yves, author. Description Book — pages : maps ; 23 cm. C Available. Lormier, Dominique, author. Souvent par opportunisme, mais aussi par conviction. L Unknown. The art of organisational resilience : revisiting the fall of France in . Kutsch, Elmar, author.
The case study of the Fall of France in is a contest between two archetypes of organisational resilience, with one prevailing over the other. The resulting insights shaped military science; concepts such as Auftragstaktik have found its way into doctrinal thinking of modern armies as well as framed contemporary management literature. This book provides a compelling analysis of the monumental events in May , and provides rudimentary answers from a military and management perspective, true to the premise of history.
The Art of Organisational Resilience is a highly distinctive and readable book that explores the strategy, operations and tactics of modern business and the role of resilience in sustaining business in increasingly complex, often fast-changing and adverse conditions. K Available. Schmidt, Carina, author. Wiesbaden : Harrassowitz Verlag, Description Book — xii, pages, 24 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations chiefly color ; 25 cm. Stols : Bibliophiler Verleger, Typograf : und Kollaborateur? Stols als Buchgestalter Der Verlag A. Stols in der Besatzungszeit Legal oder klandestin?
Stols Bibliografie der Untergrunddrucke von A.
N4 S36 Unknown. De Gaulle : un combat contre tous . Patat, Jean-Pierre, author. Maintenant, la bataille d'Angleterre ne se livrera plus que dans les airs F8 P Available. Defying Vichy : blood, fear and French resistance . Pike, Robert, author. Stroud, Gloucestershire : The History Press, Description Book — pages, 16 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations, maps, portraits ; 25 cm Summary Vichy France under Marshal Petain was an authoritarian regime that sought to perpetuate a powerful place for France in the world alongside Germany.
It echoed the right-wing ideals of other fascist states and was a perfect instrument for Hitler, who drew more and more power and resources from a beaten France whose people suffered. Resistance was an unknown until a small number sought to make a stand in whatever way they could. Each would play their part in destabilising the Vichy state, all the while rejecting the Nazi occupation of their eternal France.
The Dordogne was one of many hotbeds of early refusal and its dramatic stories are here told against the backdrop of the rise and fall of Vichy France. These stories, like so many others of often ordinary people - men and women, young and old - tell of a period of betrayal, refusal and heroism. F8 P Unknown. Giacchetti, Claudine Anne, author. Paris : L'Harmattan,  Description Book — pages ; 24 cm. F89 G53 Unknown. Deposition, : a secret diary of life in Vichy France . New York, NY : Oxford University Press,  Description Book — xxxix, pages : illustrations ; 25 cm Summary Historians agree: the diary of Leon Werth is one of the most precious-and readable-pieces of testimony ever written about life in France under Nazi occupation and the Vichy regime.
Werth was a free-spirited, unclassifiable writer, the author of eleven novels, art and dance criticism, acerbic political reporting, and memorable personal essays. He was Jewish, and left Paris in June to hide out in his wife's country house in Saint-Amour, a small village in the Jura Mountains: his short memoir, 33 Days recounts his struggle to get there. Deposition tells of daily life in the village, on nearby farms and towns, and finally back in Paris, where he draws the portrait of a Resistance network in his apartment and writes an eyewitness report of the insurrection that freed the city in August, From Saint-Amour, we see both the Resistance in the countryside, derailing troop trains, punishing notorious collaborators-and growing repression: arrests, torture, deportation, and executions.
Above all, we see how Vichy and the Occupation affect the lives of farmers and villagers and how their often contradictory attitudes evolve from Werth's ear for dialogue and novelist's gift for creating characters animate the diary: in the markets and in town, we meet real French peasants and shopkeepers, railroad men and the patronne of the cafe at the station, schoolteachers and gendarmes. They come off the page alive, and the countryside and villages come alive with them.
With biting irony, Werth records, almost daily, what Vichy-German propaganda was saying on the radio and in the press. And we follow the progress of the war as people did then, day by day. These entries make interesting, often amusing reading, a stark contrast with his gripping entries on the persecution and deportation of the Jews.
Deposition is a varied, complex, piece of living history, and a pleasure to read. W Unknown.