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Early in life, he wrote to his sister: "My two only and immense desires—to be famous and to be loved—will they ever be satisfied? Their strange experiences 75 have been told by their pens, but to us, Balzac's night of drugged dreams is not so strange as his days of unforced dreams. Built in the middle years of the seventeenth century, it stands quite unchanged at No. Its first owner followed his friend Fouquet to the Bastille and to Pignerol; its next tenant came to it from a prison-cell, and went from it to the very steps of the throne.

He was the superb adventurer, Antonin Nompar de Caumont, Duc de Lauzun, and his family name clings still to the place, and is cut in gold letters on the black marble tablet above the door. When her family had gone, came the Marquis de Richelieu, great-nephew of the great Richelieu, with the bride he had stolen from her convent at Chaillot—the daughter of Hortense Mancini, niece of Mazarin, and of her husband, it is alleged.

The mansion is well worth a visit for itself and for its memories. Balzac's Paris—the Paris for which his pen did what Callot and Meryon did for it with their needles—has been almost entirely pickaxed out of sight and remembrance. The Revolution, wild-eyed in its mad "Carmagnole," gave itself time to raze a few houses only, after clearing the ground of the Bastille, although it had meant much more destruction; the Empire cut some new streets, and planned some new quarters; the Bourbons came back and went away again, leaving things much as they had found them.

It remained for Louis-Philippe to begin "works of public utility," an academic phrase, which being interpreted signified the tearing down of the old and the building up of the new, to gratify the grocers and tallow-chandlers whose chosen King he was, and to fill his own pocket. Yet much of Balzac's stage-setting remained until it was swept away by Haussmann and his master of the Second Empire. History and fiction meet on the steps of Saint-Roch.

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Undiminished, however, are their traditions and their prejudices, albeit " Le Faubourg " exists no longer, except as an attitude 78 of mind. Balzac knew it well, doubtless was swindled there, and to-day you will find it as crowded with curiosities, as begrimed with dust, as suggestive of marvels hid in its dusky corners, as when he haunted it.

Leibnitz, in , had found it a village inn in a narrow lane, hardly yet a street. The old inn and all its memories and the very street are vanished; and the new buildings of the Sorbonne cover their site. In this case there is nothing superfluous; there is a profound correspondence between the background and the action. It stands, 79 absolutely unchanged as to externals, at No.

The house stands narrow on the street, its gable window giving scanty light to poor old Goriot's wretched garret; framed in it, one may fancy the patient face of the old man, looking out in mute bewilderment on his selfish, worldly daughters. Its gate-way stands always open, and you may enter without let or hindrance into the court, and so through to the tiny garden behind, once the pride of Madame Vauquer, no longer so carefully kept up.

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That colossal conception 80 of the great romancer had found his ideal hiding-place here, as had the forlorn father his hiding-place, in his self-inflicted poverty. All told, there is no more convincing pile of brick and mortar in fiction; sought out and selected by Balzac with as much care and as many journeys as Dickens gave to his hunt for exactly the right house for Sampson and Sally Brass. While Balzac was still at Passy, after long searching 81 for a new home, he made purchase, as early as , in the new quarter near the present Parc Monceaux.

The whole suburb was known as the Quartier Beaujon, from a great banker of the eighteenth century, whose grand mansion, within its own grounds, had been partly demolished by the cutting of new streets, leaving only out-buildings and a pavilion in a small garden. 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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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. Occupations past and present-- 2. Consuming the tastes and pleasures of France-- 3. Touring and writing about occupied land-- 4. Capturing experiences: photography and photo books-- 5. Rising tensions-- 6. Perceptions of 'softness' among soldiers in France-- 7. Twilight of the gods-- Bibliography-- Index. While the combat experiences of German soldiers are relatively well-documented, as are the everyday lives of the occupied French population, we know much less about occupiers' daily activities beyond combat, especially when it comes to men who were not top-level administrators.

Using letters, photographs, and tour guides, alongside official sources, Julia S. Torrie reveals how ground-level occupiers understood their role, and how their needs and desires shaped policy and practices. At the same time as soldiers were told to dominate and control France, they were also encouraged to sight-see, to photograph and to 'consume' the country, leading to a familiarity that limited violence rather than inciting it. The lives of these ordinary soldiers offer new insights into the occupation of France, the history of Nazism and the Second World War.

T67 Unknown. Combien sont-ils? Qui sont-ils? Quels sont leurs chefs? De quelles violences sont-ils capables? F8 C Unknown. Gun control in Nazi-occupied France : tyranny and resistance []. Halbrook, Stephen P. Oakland, California : Independent Institute, [] Description Book — xix, pages, 8 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations ; 24 cm Summary Introduction Crisis in the Third Republic Pierre Laval decrees firearm registration Blitzkrieg, defeat, and twenty-four hours to turn in your gun or be shot Occupation and collaboration Weapons possession : the core of criminal activities of the French Amnesty or execution Arms for the resistance?

Liberation Concluding thoughts. Nazi Germany invaded France in In every occupied town, Nazi soldiers put up posters that demanded that civilians surrender their firearms within twenty-four hours or else be shot. Despite the consequences, many French citizens refused to comply with the order.

Halbrook tells this story of Nazi repression and the brave French men and women who refused to surrender to it. Drawing on records of the German occupation and testimonies from members of the French resistance, Gun Control in Nazi-Occupied France is the first book to focus on the Nazis' efforts to disarm the French. H35 Unknown. Fontaine : Presses universitaires de Grenoble, [] Description Book — pages, 16 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations some color , color map, chart, facsimiles ; 21 cm.

F82 G Unknown. Hitler's British Isles : the real story of the occupied Channel Islands []. Barrett, Duncan, author. Description Book — pages, 8 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations, maps ; 24 cm Summary True-life recollections from the Channel Islanders who were the only British subjects to live under Nazi rule in WWII. As a Guernsey girl I grew up with these stories and recognise family and friends in these pages. Duncan Barrett has done a brilliant job of reflecting the peculiar challenges that existed for those living under occupation. It is an under-told story of an extraordinary time in recent British history.

One by one, the nations of Europe had fallen to the unstoppable German Blitzkrieg, and Hitler's sights were set on the English coast. And yet, following the success of the Battle of Britain, the promised invasion never came. The prospect of German jackboots landing on British soil retreated into the realm of collective nightmares.

But the spectre of what might have been is one that has haunted us down the decades, finding expression in counterfactual history and outlandish fictions. What would a British occupation have looked like? The answer lies closer to home than we think, in the experiences of the Channel Islanders - the only British people to bear the full brunt of German Occupation. For five years, our nightmares became their everyday reality. The people of Guernsey, Jersey and Sark got to know the enemy as those on the mainland never could, watching in horror as their towns and villages were suddenly draped in Swastika flags, their cinemas began showing Nazi propaganda films, and Wehrmacht soldiers goose-stepped down their highstreets.

Those who resisted the regime, such as the brave men and women who set up underground newspapers or sheltered slave labourers, encountered the full force of Nazi brutality. As a result, the stories of the islanders are not all misery and terror. Many, in fact are rather funny - tales of plucky individuals trying to get by in almost impossible circumstances, and keeping their spirits up however they could.

Unlike their compatriots on the mainland, the islanders had no Blitz to contend with, but they met the thousand other challenges the war brought with a similar indomitable spirit. The story of the Channel Islands during the war is the history that could so nearly have come to pass for the rest of us. Based on interviews with over a hundred islanders who lived through it, this book tells that story from beginning to end, opening the lid on life in Hitler's British Isles. C5 B37 Unknown. Perlier, Guy, author. L P47 Available. Paris : L'Archipel, [] Description Book — pages, 1 unnumbered page : illustrations some color ; 23 cm Summary Prologue.

O G84 Unknown. Never anyone but you []. Thomson, Rupert author. London : Corsair, Description Book — pages : illustrations ; 25 cm Summary 'A taut, magnificently controlled novel' the Guardian 'A beautiful and extraordinary book. It's a long time since I read a love story quite so convincing and truthful' Philip Pullman A small city in western France. The early twentieth century. Suzanne Malherbe, a shy year-old with a rare talent for drawing, is entranced by the brilliant but troubled Lucie Schwob, the daughter of a Jewish newspaper magnate, and the two young women embark on a clandestine love affair.

Stifled by provincial convention and a society that is overtly patriarchal, they reinvent themselves as Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore and move to Paris, where they are swept up in the most glamorous social circles, meeting everyone from Hemingway and Dali to Andre Breton, and produce photographic work of great originality and strangeness. As World War Two looms, they leave for Jersey, and it is here that they confront their destiny, dreaming up a campaign of propaganda against Hitler's occupying forces.

From one of our most celebrated writers, Never Anyone But You explores the gripping true story of two extraordinary women who challenged gender boundaries, and ultimately risked their lives in the fight against oppression. Theirs is a story that has been hidden in the margins of history - until now H N48 Unknown. News of our loved ones : a novel []. De Witt, Abigail, author. What if your family's fate could be traced back to one indelible summer? Over four long years, the Delasalle family has struggled to live in their Nazi occupied village in Normandy.

Maman, Oncle Henri, Yvonne, and Francoise silently watched as their Jewish neighbors were arrested or wordlessly disappeared. Now in June , when the sirens wail each day, warning of approaching bombers, the family wonders if rumors of the coming Allied invasion are true-and if they will survive to see their country liberated. For sixteen-year-old Yvonne, thoughts of the war recede when she sees the red-haired boy bicycle past her window each afternoon. Murmuring to herself I love you, I love you, I love you, she wills herself to hear the whisper of his bicycle tires over the screech of Allied bombs falling from the sky.

Yvonne's sister, Genevieve, is in Paris to audition for the National Conservatory. Pausing to consider the shadow of a passing cloud as she raises her bow, she does not know that her family's home in Normandy lies in the path of British and American bombers. While Genevieve plays, her brother Simon and Tante Chouchotte, anxiously await news from their loved ones in Normandy. Decades later, Genevieve, the wife of an American musician, lives in the United States. Each summer she returns to her homeland with her children, so that they may know their French family.

Genevieve's youngest daughter, Polly, becomes obsessed with the stories she hears about the war, believing they are the key to understanding her mother and the conflicting cultures shaping her life. Moving back and forth in time, told from varying points of view, News of Our Loved Ones explores the way family histories are shared and illuminates the power of storytelling to understand the past and who we are. E N49 Unknown. Jedinak, Rachel, author. Ses voisins, ses cousines ou ses camarades de classes, eux, n'ont pas eu sa chance.

Et enfin, les traques, les rafles, les petits qui hurlent de chaud dans la Bellevilloise puis la fuite. Rachel Jedinak nous dit finalement la guerre de la plus universelle des langues : celle des enfants. F9 J43 Unknown. Le petit peintre de Belleville []. F9 S97 Unknown. Polices des temps noirs : France [].

Accords Bousquet-Oberg Convention d'armistice : cf. Directeur de la Police nationale : cf. B Unknown. En voici la publication tant attendue. Les images font revivre les pratiques et les spectacles sportifs sous l'Occupation dans toute leur ambivalence. P65 Unknown. Charon, Bernard, author.

Au secours! Leur tort? F9 S Unavailable On order Request. F82 L Available. Renegotiating French identity : musical culture and creativity in France during Vichy and the German occupation []. Fulcher, Jane F. Nazi Germany famously stressed music as a marker of national identity and cultural achievement, but so too did Vichy. From the opera to the symphony, music did not only serve the interests of Vichy and German propaganda: it also helped to reveal the motives behind them, and to awaken resistance among those growing disillusioned by the regime.

Using unexplored Resistance documents, from both the clandestine press and the French National Archives, Fulcher looks at the responses of specific artists and their means of resistance, addressing in turn Pierre Schaeffer, Arthur Honegger, Francis Poulenc, and Olivier Messiaen, among others. This book investigates the role that music played in fostering a profound awareness of the cultural and political differences between conflicting French ideological positions, as criticism of Vichy and its policies mounted.

Summary Cover; Half title; Renegotiating French Identity; Copyright; Dedication; Contents; Acknowledgments; Introduction: The new historiography of Vichy; Initial new directions in larger studies of Vichy culture; New issues: Dual surveillance, the complex bureaucratic matrix, and the cultural field; Vichy's musical culture and the still looming questions: What did result, when, and where?

Reformulating older questions and posing new ones; 1. The reprieve []. English Gibrat, Jean-Pierre, author. Julien has escaped from a prisoner-of-war train headed for Germany, but fate intervenes when the train is bombed and among the victims a body is identified as his. Dead to the world, he takes advantage of the situation and hides in the small village of Cambeyrac, using his secret observation post overlooking the village square to watch the permanent theater that people offer in the course of the day.

Loves, hatreds, jealousies, cowardice, acts of heroism Until the moment comes when, spectator no more, he must become an actor himself and meet his destiny. This hidden life he had hoped to live was just a reprieve. The book also includes a portfolio of pin-ups and sketches featuring its heroine. G49 S Unknown. Mathieu, Yves, author. S9 M37 Available. Saving Mona Lisa : the battle to protect the Louvre and its treasures from the Nazis []. Chanel, Gerri, author. London : Icon Books Ltd, Description Book — xix, pages : illustrations, map ; 24 cm Summary In August , curators at the Louvre nestled the world's most famous painting into a special red velvet-lined case and spirited her away to the Loire Valley.

So began the biggest evacuation of art and antiquities in history. As the Germans neared Paris in , the French raced to move the masterpieces still further south, then again and again during the war, crisscrossing the southwest of France.

  • Darkest at Dawn (Dark Omnibus)!
  • Viollet-le-Duc's Judith at Vezelay.
  • Translation of «vivisecter» into 25 languages;
  • Outer Reflections.
  • Throughout the German occupation, the museum staff fought to keep the priceless treasures out of the hands of Hitler and his henchmen, often risking their lives to protect the country's artistic heritage. Thus a story that features as a vignette in the George Clooney film The Monuments Men is given the full-length treatment it demands.

    The recipient of several independent publishing awards in the United States, and illustrated throughout with nearly photographs, Saving Mona Lisa is a compelling true story of art and beauty, intrigue and ingenuity, and remarkable moral courage in the darkest of times. F8 C43 Unknown. Bonnotte, Claire, author. V57 B68 Available. Vauthier, Raymond, author. Description Book — pages : illustrations, color map, facsimiles ; 23 cm. V Available. The survival of the Jews in France, [].

    Shortened, revised and updated English edition. Description Book — xxiv, pages : illustrations, maps ; 23 cm. Summary Between the French defeat in and liberation in , the Nazis killed almost 80, of France's Jews, both French and foreign. Since that time, this tragedy has been well-documented. But there are other stories hidden within it--ones neglected by historians. The Nazis were determined to destroy the Jews across Europe, and the Vichy regime collaborated in their deportation from France. So what is the meaning of this French exception? Jacques Semelin sheds light on this 'French enigma', painting a radically unfamiliar view of occupied France.

    His is a rich, even-handed portrait of a complex and changing society, one where helping and informing on one's neighbours went hand in hand; and where small gestures of solidarity sat comfortably with anti-Semitism. Without shying away from the horror of the Holocaust's crimes, this seminal work adds a fresh perspective to our history of the Second World War. F83 S Available. Le temps du nazisme : []. Wolff, Gilbert, author. F9 W65 Available. Theatre in Europe under German occupation []. Heinrich, Anselm, author.

    It was not only about specific geographical gains or economic goals, but also about the brutal and lasting reshaping of Europe. Theatre in Europe under German Occupation explores the ultimately unsuccessful part that theatre played in Nazi propaganda. Using a case-study approach, it illustrates the crucial and heavily subsidised role of theatre as a cultural extension of the military machine, key to Nazi Germany's total war effort. Covering theatres in Oslo, Riga, Lille, Lodz, Krakow, Warsaw, Prague, Belgrade, The Hague, and Kiev, Anselm Heinrich looks at the history and context of their operation, the wider political, cultural and propagandistic implications in view of their function in wartime, and their legacies.

    Theatre in Europe under German Occupation focuses for the first time on Nazi Germany's attempts to control and shape the cultural sector in occupied territories, shedding new light on the importance of theatre for the regime's military and political goals. H45 Unknown. Vichy France and everyday life : confronting the challenges of wartime, [].

    London ; New York : Bloomsbury Academic, It explores systems of coping, means of helping one another, confrontations with people or events and the challenges posed to and by Vichy's National Revolution during this difficult period in French and European history. The book focuses on human interactions at the micro level, highlighting lived experience within the complex social networks of this era, as French civilians negotiated the violence of war, the restrictions of Occupation, the shortages of daily necessities and the fear of persecution in their everyday lives.

    Using approaches drawn mostly from history, but also including oral history, film, gender studies and sociology, the text peers into the lives of ordinary men, women and children and opens new perspectives on questions of resistance, collaboration, war and memory; it tells some of the stories of the anonymous millions who suffered, coped, laughed, played and worked, either together at home or far apart in towns and villages across Occupied and Vichy France.

    Vichy France and Everyday Life is a crucial study for anyone interested in the social history of the Second World War or the history of France during the twentieth century. V52 Unknown. Deun, Emmanuel, author. D48 Available. Cullen, Stephen Michael, author. London, UK : Osprey Publishing, Description Book — 48 pages : illustrations some color ; 25 cm. Officially known as the French State, it is better known as Vichy France.

    This collaborationist Vichy regime's armed forces were more active and usually more numerous than German troops in the task of hunting down and crushing the maquis - the French Resistance guerrilla forces This book will cover the organization and operations of Vichy French Security Forces, including: the new Vichy Police Nationale, particularly their Groupes Mobiles de Reserve, the Service d'Ordre Legionnaire , and the Milice Francaise, a ruthless anti-Resistance militia armed partly with British weapons captured from SOE airdrops. Fully illustrated throughout with contemporary photographs and commissioned artwork, it tells the story of Occupied France from the perspective of those who sought to keep it in German hands.

    C85 Available.