Tag: France

Day 174: Pauline Bonaparte: Venus of Empire

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Cover for Pauline BonaparteI didn’t know anything about Pauline Bonaparte before I read Pauline Bonaparte: Venus of Empire. I picked it up because it was by Flora Fraser, a noted biographer who specializes in 19th century women. (She is also the daughter of Antonia Fraser, the famous biographer.)

Pauline Bonaparte was Napoleon Bonaparte’s youngest sister, renowned for her beauty. She lived a colorful life and is immortalized by a life-sized, nude statue by Antonio Canova that resides in the Villa Borghese in Rome.

The connection with the Borghese family is not one that they cherish. Pauline’s second husband was Prince Camillo Borghese. During their long marriage, they lived mostly apart, and Pauline entertained herself with numerous flagrant affairs.

In fact, Pauline’s reputation was dreadful. Napoleon’s enemies spread numerous rumors about her, even stooping to claim that her relations with her brother were incestuous. Not only did she not care, she encouraged that particular rumor to show how powerful she was.

Although she could be very charming, she spent most of her career manipulating infatuated men and intimidated women. Stories abound of her using generals as footstools, turning people our of their own houses, and so on. A particularly odd one was that when she was visiting an officer of the church, she made him cut a hole in the ceiling of his bathroom over the tub so that someone could stand on the floor above her and shower her with milk.

Although extremely jealous of the prerogatives granted her sisters (as they were of hers) and generally hateful to the Empress Josephine (she and her sisters held onto Josephine’s train during her coronation so that she could not move forward), Pauline’s most positive trait was her loyalty to her family. She was devoted, although not faithful, to her first husband, General Victor Emmanual Leclerc. When Napoleon fell out of power, she was persistent in trying to improve his living conditions and tried to get permission from the British to share his exile.

Fraser’s biography is interesting and well written. I found Pauline to be a fascinating subject, although not an admirable person.

Day 135: The Sun King

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Cover for The Sun KingThe Sun King is an interesting biography of Louis XIV and a history of his court, although it occasionally assumes a level of knowledge about French history that I do not have. It is also not terribly revealing of the personality of Louis XIV, who was apparently a very guarded person. For example, the book contains no revealing quotes from personal letters or anything similar.

I was interested to read that Nancy Mitford originally envisaged the book as a description and discussion of the architecture and gardens of Versailles rather than a biography, which perhaps partially explains the focus.

The book starts with the beginning of Louis’s reign, so there is no information about his early life. Chapters are organized around incidents during his reign rather than periods of history. The book describes the opulent court and details intrigues and power struggles within it. The chapter about poisoning was shocking. It is easy to see why the French court of the time had such a reputation for decadence.

The edition that I read (not the one pictured) is full of beautiful pictures of Versailles as well as sketches of the architects, artists, and gardeners responsible for creating the palace. However, there are no good pictures of Louis, presumably because none exist. He is always depicted as a tiny figure in large historical paintings of some event, so it was hard to see what he actually looked like.

Of course, the book is well written and witty. Although Mitford is best known for her humorous novels of sharp social commentary, she also wrote several well-received and thoroughly researched biographies.

Day 123: The Judgment of Paris

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Cover for The Judgment of ParisThe Judgment of Paris: The Revolutionary Decade That Gave the World Impressionism is Ross King’s account of the art and politics of the decade beginning in 1863 and ending in 1874 with the first Impressionist show. The book follows the lives and careers of several significant French artists in the years leading up to the introduction of what was eventually called “Impressionism.”

At that time in France, artists were taught that the proper subjects for art were scenes from history, mythology, or the Bible. The “best” paintings observed the minutest of details, colors were muted, and the surface of the painting was smooth so that brush marks could not be distinguished.

Although the book touches upon the careers of many artists, in particular it follows the fortunes of two–Ernest Meissonier, who was considered one of the greatest artists of his time and was certainly the highest paid, and Edouard Manet, an unofficial representative for the younger painters. Meissonier progressed from painting small, very detailed scenes from the 17th or 18th Century of “goodfellows” in ordinary domestic scenes, such as playing chess or smoking, to huge  historical paintings, several of events in Napoleon’s career. The younger painters were more interested in depicting scenes from modern life. At that time they were called Realists, not for their painting style but for their subject matter.

The book begins with the preparations for the Paris Salon of 1863. The Salon was the most important art show of its time, almost essential to getting an artist’s work viewed. King explains how changes in the rules affecting how the jury was selected resulted in most of the landscape painters and those with less traditional approaches being shut out of the show. So many artists were excluded and the outcry was so great that Emperor Louis-Napoleon authorized a second exhibition called the Salon des Refusés to show the paintings refused by the jury. Ross continues on from there to show how the new art moved slowly from the scorn and derision of the artistic community to acceptance and admiration. I was particularly surprised to find that the first place this new way of looking at the world was accepted was not France, but the United States.

King’s explication of the prejudices and politics surrounding the evolution of new approaches to painting is extremely interesting, as is his corollary discussion of the reign of Napoleon III, the disastrous Franco-Prussian War, and the subsequent shifts in the government of France, and how all this had its effect on the acceptance of the new art.

Day 88: The Iron King

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Cover for The Iron KingBest Book of the Week!

The Iron King is the first of seven books in the “Accursed Kings” series by the French novelist Maurice Druon. Unlike many historical novels, this series does not follow a fictional hero or heroine but is an interpretation of actual events in French history with all historical figures. This series was popular in its time (it was written in the 1950’s), but may be difficult to find now. If you are lucky, your local library may have it.

It is 1307 in France. The kingdom is broke, and King Philippe IV, known as the Iron King, is looking for sources of money. The Knights Templar, one of the wealthiest organizations in the world, seems like a good place to get it, but they refuse France a loan. Some charges of heresy, obscene rituals, and other abominations have been laid against them by a defrocked knight. Everyone knows they are false, but with the collusion of Pope Clement, who fears the knights’ power, Philippe orders the members to be arrested all on the same night, and seizes their assets.

In the meantime, Robert of Artois has been cheated out of his inheritance by his aunt, Mahaut.  He decides to get his revenge by bringing down her daughters, who are married to the King’s sons.

Druon’s writing is elegant and ironic, his novels thoroughly researched. He doesn’t over-explain; instead, the novel is compelled forward solely by the events in the plot. Few of the characters are sympathetic; nevertheless, it is a fascinating series. I have often read opinions that Druon is one of the best historical novelists ever.

Day 42: The Invention of Hugo Cabret

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Cover for The Invention of Hugo CabretI got interested in reading the Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick after I saw the marvelous movie Hugo, which is based upon it. The book has been called a masterpiece, and it really is. A combination of graphic novel and children’s book, about two thirds of it is told in beautiful charcoal drawings that drive the narrative forward.

Hugo is a mechanically gifted boy living secretly in the Paris train station. He keeps the clocks in the train station running in the hopes that no one will discover the absence of his uncle, who is supposed to do the work. He supports himself by stealing food from the cafés in the train station. He doesn’t go to school.

In his spare time he works on an automaton that his father brought home from the museum where he worked shortly before he died. The automaton can write a message, and Hugo believes that if he makes it work, he will receive a message from his father. To get parts for the automaton, he steals toy parts from a stern old toy maker. But one day he is caught.

I did not actually try to use the drawings as a series of flip books but understand that you can, to create black and white movies. And that is a suggestive way of hinting at one beauty of this novel. In the beginning you think you are reading a more or less traditional children’s story but then it shifts to tell a story about the history of the movies. The book is inventive–a graphic novel, a children’s story, a flip book, almost a movie, and a real delight.

Day Four: The Rhetoric of Death

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Cover for The Rhetoric of DeathOne of the many surprising things I learned from the historical mystery The Rhetoric of Death by Judith Rock is that an important part of the curriculum of 17th century rhetoric, as instructed by the Jesuits, was ballet. I don’t quite get the connection, but there it is. This novel, written by a historian whose dissertation is about the Louis le Grand in Paris, is full of interesting details about life in 17th century France.

Charles du Luc, a Jesuit maître of rhetoric, has had a position arranged by his cousin, the Bishop of Marseilles, at the famous Louis le Grand school. Du Luc isn’t really qualified to be employed by such an esteemed school, but the bishop wants to get him out of Provence because Charles has just finished helping smuggle his Huguenot cousin from there to Switzerland.

The school is two weeks away from its annual performance, an enormous, lengthy (some were as long as 12 hours) ballet and rhetoric production of The Labors of Hercules that will be attended by the king himself, and du Luc is assigned to assist with the dance rehearsals. On his first day, the distracted student who is to play Hercules runs off from the rehearsal and disappears. On the same day, his little brother is almost run down by a horse. Charles thinks these two events may be connected and is even more sure when the first boy is found strangled in a latrine.

At the same time Charles finds himself under suspicion from the authorities because he was the last person to see the first boy alive and was on the scene right after the second boy was almost run down. He is also facing hostility from a fellow member of the Jesuit school who takes an instant dislike to him, a member of the powerful De Guise family.

This novel does a good job of making the period come alive. Unfortunately, the mystery is not nearly as effective as the history. I figured out the motive and the person behind the murders on about page 50. Shortly thereafter I figured out who the actual murderer was. However, the test for me on a mystery, since I often figure out the solution, is whether I am still interested in reading it. In this case, I found the characters, story, and historical background interesting enough to finish.