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nesiacha · 2 months

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Frustration when I watched a television show about the Overseas Departments and Haiti during the period of the re-establishment of slavery and in general.

The siege of the Crête at Pierrot in 1802, by A. Raffet, engraving Hébert, 1839

Warning: There are many atrocities I will talk about when we dive into the details of the Haitian Revolution and torture in the reedit in the end . So, don’t read if you’re not up for it.

Completely by chance, I caught the second half of the show "Toussaint Louverture" (though I skipped some parts, I admit) presented by Stéphane in his show "Secrets d’Histoire," which I would qualify as mediocre. However, I was surprised to see that this show, which has always been lenient towards Bonaparte and Louis XVI, finally addresses the horrible re-establishment of slavery and recalls that the second and final abolition of slavery in 1848 was unsatisfactory because financial compensation was given to the colonists, but nothing to the former slaves. The one in 1794 seemed better. The participants of the show indeed say that it was a grave mistake to re-establish slavery, both morally and strategically regarding Haiti. I don't feel they explained how disastrous the consequences were, like how these laws removed brilliant officers from the military, such as Louis Delgrès (although mentioned in the show) or Alexandre Dumas (not to mention many former slaves who served in the military or fought like the group to which belonged Flore Blois Gaillard, who allied with the French revolutionaries against the British forces). This was a severe blow to the army, especially with the laws we could call racial against Black people (though I hesitate to use this term because I'm not sure if the word racist was defined as we understand it today). It was a great blunder—if Bonaparte hadn't had the (stupid) idea to re-establish slavery, perhaps the Overseas Departments wouldn't have fallen under British influence (as for Haiti, I think it would have become independent even without the re-establishment of slavery, and France and Haiti could have been solid allies, but it would have been much less violent with fewer French and Haitian losses). All these wars cost enormous amounts of money, and I believe he wouldn’t have sold Louisiana (frankly, he surely had good reasons, but can you imagine the French revolutionaries, especially those from 1792-1794, even in their worst moments, trying to sell a territory, at least the majority of the Convention? I can't). Moreover, there is no mention of the horrible deportations endured by Guadeloupeans and Haitians to Corsica, whether men, women, or children, under atrocious conditions. The most famous victim is the deputy Jean Louis Annecy (although very forgotten), who died on the island of Elba in 1807.

As usual, revolutionary women are forgotten. There is only a mention of Rosalie, alias Solitude, but there were many who participated in the fight, including Sanité Belair, who was executed by firing squad with her husband, Marie Claire Bonheur, the future Empress of Haiti, Victoria Montou, Dédée Bazile, Cécile Fatiman, Marthe Rose Toto from French Guiana, etc. The list is very long.

Finally, I don't like this whitewashing of Charles Leclerc (they do say that Rochambeau was terrible, at least, but since Leclerc was Bonaparte’s brother-in-law, he surely received some favorable treatment in this show). Here is an excerpt from the beginning of his horrors: "The majority of the deportees were concentrated in Corsica and the island of Elba, where they were used as labor for road construction and fortification restoration starting with the former Black soldiers" (text excerpt from "La guerre des Couleurs" of Pierre Branda and Thierry Lentz) . There was authorization to condemn Black people based on mere suspicion. Moreover, here is a letter Leclerc sent to his brother-in-law Napoleon Bonaparte: "Here is my opinion on this country. We must destroy all the Black people in the mountains, men and women, keep only the children under 12 years old, destroy half of those in the plains, and not leave a single colored man who has worn an epaulette in the colony." To think that I found the orders from the Convention in 1793-1794 frightening because they were ambiguous... Well, another reason why I find Bonaparte much more terrifying than them (already, the torture practiced by the police under Fouché in 1801 was appalling when he allowed it, the deportation without trial of many Jacobins, some of whom died, etc.), it reinforced my belief that he was much worse than the Committee of Public Safety in 1794, who nevertheless committed unforgivable acts in wartime under the infernal situation of internal-external civil war. Leclerc started the drownings in October 1802: it didn't matter whether the victims were civilians or soldiers; they were put on boats that were sunk. This strongly recalls the horrors committed by Carrier. According to Marlene L. Daut, the horrors were such that there were many desertions among French soldiers, which must not have been an easy situation for them because they could be shot for desertion and, even if they survived, forced to avoid returning home to avoid trouble with Napoleonic justice.

Leclerc (and by extension, Bonaparte) fell into the trap that some fighters, victims of an invasion or imminent invasion, have used throughout history, which seems quite old: pretending to ally with their adversaries to buy time, even if it means sacrificing their own to better fight the enemy again (and they certainly don't reach the only ones using this technique). This is what happened with Dessalines: the show doesn’t explain the armed resistance led by the Bélair couple against Leclerc, where they temporarily won victories. However, some believe this uprising might have been premature, although the insurgents weakened Leclerc with certain victories, and consequently, Dessalines allowed Charles and Sanité Bélair to be sacrificed. To be fair, the show I mentioned briefly explains that Henry Christophe and Dessalines did not betray Toussaint; they just wanted to buy time, but there is no mention of the Bélair couple. According to historians Pierre Branda and Thierry Lentz, Dessalines killed two birds with one stone by eliminating a potential rival in the person of Charles Bélair and to lull Leclerc's distrust to better attack when the time comes. In any case, by buying time, they were able to achieve better victories against Leclerc (who surely thought that by compromising Dessalines in the eyes of Black people, the insurgents would no longer dare to fight with him, but he was wrong) and later Rochambeau. Rochambeau continued by increasing atrocities, notably by releasing dogs on Black people and continuing to practice torture. There are allegations that Rochambeau locked Black people in holds and activated sulfur so they would die of asphyxiation. Thierry Lentz and Pierre Branda think it is not impossible that this happened. Bernard Gainot cites Jules Chanlatte from his work "Histoire de la catastrophe de Saint-Domingue" and published by a former sailor, Jean-Baptiste Bouvet de Cissé, in 1824: "Instead of valve boats, another type was invented, where victims of both sexes, piled on top of each other, expired suffocated by sulfur fumes." Whatever the case, the insurgents militarily defeated Rochambeau and the French troops, and their final victory was the Battle of Vertières in November 1803. Following this, Haiti's independence was proclaimed.

Where I totally disapprove is when, in order to try to limit the horrors that the Blacks people have suffered, they explain their reprisals, especially with the horrible massacre of the Whites people in 1804. I have already said in a post that massacre it is absolutely condemnable and atrocious . But imagine the horror of a little less than half of the Haitian population massacred in atrocious suffering, some betrayed by France while they had fought for them, others deported in atrocious conditions and some will never see their home again. I think that if their adversaries who oppressed them and those who applauded them had suffered a quarter of an eighth of the horrors that the Haitians suffered, the carnage would have been even more terrible. I do not want to exonerate the Haitians who took part in the massacre of 1804 from the responsibility but if Bonaparte had not approved such cruel orders (and he is the number 1 person responsible for this carnage), Whites people would not have been killed at least not in large numbers. The historian Thomas Madiou, said "Is it surprising that blacks and men of color used reprisals against whites?" And in any case nothing excuses the attitude of Bonaparte, Rochambeau or Leclerc. In my eyes they behaved like Turreau and Carrier. If we try to exonerate Bonaparte and his clique responsible for these massacres by highlighting the atrocities on the other side, it is a call to also exonerate horrible people like Carrier and Turreau by saying that the Vendéens committed massacre too.

In addition, the show ignored the many Haitians who protected white people from this massacre (Including Marie Claire Bonheur, wife of Dessalines, who nevertheless ordered the massacre I mentioned here: https://www.tumblr.com/nesiacha/758334606594523136/166-years-ago-empress-marie-claire-bonheur-of?source=share) and didn't said that the Polish legionnaires who were sent by Bonaparte to repress them were touched by the horrors that the Blacks suffered and many of them deserted to fight alongside the former slaves (as a form of recognition, the survivors were given Haitian nationality) were spared just like the Germans who had not participated in the slave trade ( but on the second point maybe I am wrong). For my part Rochambeau, Leclerc, Carrier and Turreau are to be put in the same bag concerning their atrocities when they were sent on a mission. Too bad Turreau and Rochambeau did not pay for their atrocities (some say that the fact that Leclerc died of yellow fever is enough karma and Carrier was guillotined and I do not pity him at all)

Finally, this isn't in the show, but I don't like when people say that Bonaparte was "a man of his time" to excuse his actions regarding slavery. No, he reinstated it, which is even worse. Sonthonax, Abbé Grégoire, Jean-Paul Marat, Pierre Gaspard Chaumette, Olympe de Gouges, and many others were also from the same era as Bonaparte and were opposed to slavery. The re-establishment of slavery shocked many French people, and a white man named Monnereau, under the orders of Delgrès, was hanged in Guadeloupe because he rose up against the re-establishment of slavery and drafted Louis Delgrès' last manifesto. While Bonaparte was reinstating slavery, a white man gave his life for the fight against it (and there must have been many examples like Monnereau). So, this argument to whitewash Napoleon doesn't hold up.

P.S.: I first found the information about asphyxiation from Claude Ribbe. However, even as a convinced, even a person like me petty, anti-Napoleon person ( and a bad faith person I admit it), I find him not very credible. Comparing Napoleon to Hitler is one of the most absurd things I ever heard. That's why I'm more cautious about this statement.

My sources for this post are: Bernard Gainot Pierre Branda, Thierry Lentz, "La guerre des couleurs"

#haiti #haitian revolution #napoleon #napoleonic era #rochambeau #charles leclerc #vendée #carrier #Turreau #guadeloupe #slavery

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octuscle · 1 year

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Back to nature

They had broken down in Allamuchy. A miserable town somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was a thunderstorm, the mobile phone reception was down. And Gareth was beside himself. He had an important appointment in Chicago tomorrow and had deliberately chosen to be driven by a limousine from his company. The passenger cabs were soundproof, he could have made a number of important and confidential phone calls in preparation for his appointment. And now here they were in the wasteland. Outside in the pouring rain, his driver stood trying to flag down a car. And sure enough, after what felt like an eternity, he came back and said that he had indeed been able to arrange a ride to Chicago. The driver wanted $500.00 for the diversions. There is no alternative, Gareth thought to himself and took his laptop bag. His driver held his umbrella and carried his suitcase to the pickup, which stood in the pouring rain with the engine running. As far as Gareth could tell, there was a John Deere logo emblazoned on the side. Well bravo, what a disaster. His driver opened the passenger door for him and loaded Gareth's Louis Vuitton suitcase into the back seat, which otherwise contained tools and dirty clothes. Never mind, you'll have to get through it now, Gareth told himself. The main thing is to be in Chicago tomorrow night.

Gareth was 50 and at the peak of his career. He was a vice president at one of the largest investment banks in the world, responsible for mergers and acquisitions in the chemicals sector. Good, he had to pay a large part of his princely salary to his ex-wife, but there was more than enough left over. Well, he hardly had time to spend the money, but he didn't care. Work gave him a real rush. And now he was sitting in a pickup truck in his tailor-made suit, which perfectly concealed a fat pad or two. It reeked of beer, sweat and cold cigar smoke. And the young lad next to him was the very model of a hillbilly. These were going to be difficult hours.

Gareth gave the young man a curt greeting, said goodbye to his driver and turned his attention to the screen of his iPhone. But there was still no reception… Gareth tried to read a few file attachments, but somehow it was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate. After they had driven a good 30 miles and had just passed Tannersville, the obviously taciturn man at the wheel spoke up. "Name's Jaxon. With an x. What's your name and what your doin'?" It was already 10:30pm and Gareth was getting tired… But the question woke him up again. With due arrogance, he asked Jaxon if he didn't read internal memos. His name was Gareth and he had been CFO at John Deere for almost half a year. "Ah, mate," Jaxon replied. 'Nah, don't read memos, fixin' harvesters. Impressive machines." Would Gareth know anything about them? No, Gareth replied and turned back to his iPhone. Thank God the thunderstorm had subsided and reception was back. He was ace at finance, but he still didn't know much about tractors and farm machinery. He wanted to go over a few things in preparation for the appointment the day after tomorrow at the corporate headquarters.

Gareth kept nodding off during the drive and suddenly woke up when Jaxon's car came to a stop. "I'm tired, let's hit the hay," he said curtly, grabbing a bag from the back seat and heading towards a shabby looking motel. They were in Zion and had covered just under 180 kilometres. This is going to be fun, Gareth thought sarcastically. But then again, when he had taken over finance at John Deere almost four years ago, he had insisted on cutting costs. Now he had to pay for it in this flophouse. At least you still got two single rooms.

Already at 06:00 Jaxon had woken him up and urged him to continue his journey. Gareth had slept in his underwear, he had left his suitcase in the car. He put on his jeans, checked shirt and corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows. It all smelled a bit like Jaxon's car, but that was okay… He would have time to shower and change before the appointment in Moline. Jaxon and Gareth drove through the morning in silence. A coffee would have been good, Gareth thought to himself. Thankfully, Jaxon soon pulled out to refuel on the right and the two treated themselves to a hearty breakfast. It was 08:00, here in Ebensburg they had just completed 250 miles, a good quarter of the total distance. Maybe he should be a little friendlier to his colleague. So they began to talk. Jaxon was not as monosyllabic as Gareth had suspected. It was just that his interests were different. Jaxon was enthusiastic about his work and the machines he worked with. In the next few days he had a training course in Moline for the maintenance of a new type of equipment, after which he would go back to his standard in New Jersey. Even though Gareth had been working at John Deere for over five years, he couldn't understand the enthusiasm. He was a numbers man. But at least they both liked football. That gave them a topic of conversation for the next few miles, when Gareth wasn't fiddling with his mobile phone again. He loves his cat-phone. It just fitted in with their company's guyish image. They drove through the morning, not stopping again until 12:00 in Zanesville. They were now about halfway through. Gareth invited them to lunch. They were both ravenously hungry. Jaxon was a real animal. A career as a quarterback, hard physical work and long evenings in the gym had shaped his body. Gareth, too, spent a lot of time pumping iron. But the work in the office was already having an effect. Jaxon simply looked fitter. Sure, Gareth had just turned 40 and was thus considerably older than Jaxon. And he missed the fresh air. Since he had moved to Moline almost ten years ago, he had become a country bumpkin. But if he wanted to make a career, he simply had to work hard.

As they drove on, Gareth and Jaxon began to gossip about the monkeys in the company management. Sure, they both had completely different jobs, but their problems were similar. Fuck, thought Gareth, how lucky we were to have met. Normally their paths would never have crossed. It was warm in the car. Gareth envied Jaxon for wearing only a T-shirt. He unbuttoned his shirt. He could do with a cigar now. He asked Jaxon if that would bother him. "Fuck, bro," the latter replied. "I didn't have the heart to ask you." They both grinned, Gareth took two cigars out of his leather jacket in the back seat, gave one to Jaxon and said "I'm Gaz by the way. Gareth is just what my supervisor and my father call me."

It was 6pm when the two stopped for a break in Indianapolis. Jaxon wanted to stop by a friend's house for a minute. It was a shame the break was short. Could have been a nice evening. Jaxon and his friend were both imposing fellas. Gaz was fascinated by their muscles and tattoos. Certainly he wasn't badly built himself. As an engineer at John Deere, he was used to hard work and he spent every spare minute in the gym. But tattoos had always been something his parents had disapproved of. And even though he was now approaching his 34th birthday, he was still under their thumb.

At 9:00 p.m. in Peoria, the two of them had to stop for gas. And piss. It was the first time Gaz had seen Jaxon's cock. Shit that the two of them were assigned to different locations. He'd love to work with the stallion in a camp for a week. Jaxon seemed to feel the same way about that, though. He looked over at his younger colleague and began to jerk his cock. Gaz knew what to do and got on his knees and sucked Jaxon's cock until he cummed his load into Gaz's face.

The two hours to Moline were dangerous. Jaxon was easily distracted by Gaz's cock. And Gaz had no problem with Jaxon having one hand on his cock rather than the wheel. It was 11pm when Jaxon stopped the pickup in front of the motel. This was where the two of them were staying while being trained on the latest generation of harvesters from the company. Gaz didn't like the city. Gaz was an outdoorsman. He was uncomfortable in motels. His world was the forest, were the sawmills and were the garages where he could wrench on the machines he had admired since childhood. Fortunately, he shared a room with his former foreman Jaxon. That guaranteed fun!

Realised at the request of @rapids0. Hope you like it!

#redneck tf #muscle tf #male tf #tank top #reality change #inked man #age reduction

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conversationsofyou · 1 month

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Chapter One:

The Only Living Boy In New York

"Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world."

~Marilyn Monroe

Song: Manhattan by Ella Fitzgerald & Buddy Bregman

Present day.

The perfect ringlets that form naturally at the ends of Harry's hair, which were there this morning, have metamorphosed into effortless beachy waves most people envy. The usual result from Manhattan humidity and overly fussing about with his fingers. It's a shampoo commercial moment as it falls against his back.

Harry squeezes the bridge of his nose, a temporary relief from sinus pressure. "Are we done?" he asks with his eyes closed.

He wonders if Zayn would notice if he took a kip on the chaise by the toilets.

“Never,” Zayn responds whilst his nimble fingers sort through a display of Celine totes.

He would.

To Zayn's dismay, Harry's met his limit of consumerism for the day. He typically loves to shop; specifically when it's time to restock his art studio. Although, he's accustomed to leisurely drifting in and out of thrift shops and vintage boutiques. He allows clothing and accessories to find him. This… this has been an Olympic event. Zayn warned him beforehand that his rookie status wouldn't be tolerated today.

After an extensive marathon of pampering and excess, Harry's eager to go home and decompress from their shopping extravaganza. He loves Zayn fiercely, but Harry's borderline fatigued. This is the sixth or tenth store they've been to; he's lost count. Each one, serving a different purpose. Zayn had to explain this to him, like he did at the last three stores.

"This isn't one of your nifty thrifty's, darling. There's no one-stop shop for all our needs. Well, maybe Bergdorf's."

A crash course in fashion's utility as such has been mentally and physically strenuous. If they’d concluded this field trip after facials at the spa and mimosa brunch, Harry’d be in complete nirvana.

However, the tranquil mood a much needed massage had granted him has now been replaced with extreme tension in his muscles. His sciatica keeps jolting his nerves into spasm and his toes are most definitely numb. He would've worn trainers instead of his beloved boots if he knew it was going to be this intense.

"It costs a lot to be this beautiful," Zayn throws some more fortune cookie wisdom his way as he picks up a Louis Vuitton bum bag.

"I lost my soul somewhere between Mercer and Broome," he responds dryly.

"We can't all be as cool as you."

“Matt got this shirt for me in Tokyo,” Harry tugs at the end of a vintage Queen t-shirt from the eighties.

Zayn looks up at him and smiles softly. “He had the best finds. I know it's sentimental, but I also know for a fact that Matt would've told you to buy whatever the fuck you please after selling out your first exhibition. This is a triumph for you. You're allowed.”

"I've bought some things since then."

"Interior design excluded." Zayn's mouth twitches.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry concedes. "So, what's on the menu here?"

There's no other option than to swim with the current force that is Zayn.

He looks at Harry, contemplating his wardrobe journey. "This place has phenomenal denim…" He holds his hands in the air, scanning the store, like a director setting up their next frame. "Thinking of some new washes. You'd look fabulous in a mid-blue rinse." Zayn turns back to him and tilts his head. "There are other colors besides black."

"What's wrong with black jeans?"

"Nothing. Doesn't mean you have to wear them every day. You're not Superman."

Harry arches an eyebrow. "Aren't I?"

Zayn ignores him while admiring a Givenchy satchel. He adjusts the collar on his gorgeous Alexander McQueen gunmetal leather jacket. It's not nearly cold enough yet for the biker chic inspired hide, but as he declared before they left Harry's flat, “We must suffer for fashion the same way we do for art."

Zayn glances over at him. "I do adore your vintage, starving artist tees and ripped jeans." He offers some reassurance. "Even though you could do with a little glam rock." Though he often makes fun, Zayn's admitted in the past he approves of Harry's style choices. No matter how eccentric they are. His eyes land on Harry's boots. "Starting with those."

Harry looks down at the worn out brown leather boots he found at one of the first thrift shops he visited in the city. He treasures them. They've given him so many miles. He'll never part with them.

He looks back up. "No."

“Veronica!” Zayn calls out and, like a best laid plan, a tall sales associate appears with silky raven tresses styled into a long bob haircut. Veronica approaches them wearing a stunning bordeaux Bowie inspired jumpsuit. Lipstick the same shade. It captures Harry's eye instantly.

She walks over and magically produces a large box with the Saint Laurent Paris logo printed onto it. Ignoring the box, Harry scans the details of Veronica's ensemble as he admires her whole look.

Zayn catches Harry's eye and asks, "Who makes this?" As he brushes a finger over the fabric of her sleeve.

"Custom," Veronica responds vaguely.

It's unique and Harry can understand her discretion.

"H, you'll sympathize as an artist. When anything innovative or gorgeous as this is mass produced, it usually turns to shit. There's something about a piece being one of a kind that's priceless."

Veronica nods her head once.

"I wouldn't share either." Zayn nods back and brings the focus back to Harry, who automatically shakes his head at the box he's holding.

Zayn clears his throat, ignoring his stubbornness and signals for the big reveal. Veronica lifts the lid and Harry swears a little golden light appears, leaving a glow shining from the box.

Zayn tilts the box closer to him for the full effect. "Harry, let me introduce you to your new friend, Chelsea."

He holds up the gorgeous, buttery tan suede heeled boots. "Classic and a forever staple."

"My mother, grandmothers, and aunts all passed down their retail D.N.A. to me. These," he gestures to the boots, "are an investment." Zayn imparts some more wisdom.

Harry ignores his rising heart rate and briefly hesitates. Inevitably he gives in, running his fingers along the soft leather. The sensation is divine and smells heady in the best way possible. Boots have always been his weakness. He succumbs.

"Fine," he says like it's an imposition and grabs the boots.

He sits down to try them on and takes off his old boots while placing the faded leather comrades next to a plush chair beside him. He's wearing his Hello Kitty socks today.

"Precious," Veronica comments and walks away towards another customer who's borderline distressed.

Song: Get On Your Boots by U2

Harry meticulously takes out all of the cardboard and packing paper. The boots slip on like a second skin. He stands up, beaming.

"Yeah. Thought so," he smirks. Zayn's super hero sixth sense always prevails. He knew Harry would eventually buckle for the gorgeous footwear.

Harry spins around in front of the mirror and does a little jig with his toes pointed.

Zayn shakes his head as he walks away. "I'm going to look for some jeans."

Harry gives him a salute and walks around the store, enjoying the boots that have already changed his life a little bit. They even have a slight heel. The soles produce a satisfying clacking sound against the stone floor as he strolls back to his old boots. They look so sad, slouching against the chair, out of shape and worn with holes. Harry frowns and picks them up. He knows it's corny but, "Still love you the best. Thank you for taking me where I needed to be," he says quietly.

Someone within his ear shot snorts, and he gently drops the boots. Harry looks up slightly embarrassed.

☆ This was definitely more than a snippet. A snip deluxe. I'd love to one day finish this fic I started seven years ago. All the inspo to my fellow writers and creators who have started something and life has gotten in the way or time is not of the essence. I empathize and relate on all levels.

Shout out to my Beta, Lau @nyxdaughterofkhaos , nothing but love and respect!!! Looking forward to continuing this journey with you ❤️

As always, if anyone has any art to share.

@kingsofeverything @crinkle-eyed-boo @twopoppies @beelou @fallinglikethis @femstyles @harryshandbag @andyouknowitis @lookslikefairytale @rhea-the-eradicator @toomanydreamers

#sunday snippet #fastlove #fastlove inspo #my fic #high art

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koalem · 2 months

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Loustat / he Happy Accidents of the Swing Jean-Honoré Fragonard/AU

Louis is in a marriage of convenience with an older man named Daniel. For several years they have maintained a pleasant relationship, despite the fact that Louis does not love his husband.

One day a stranger sneaks into the garden, a young man named Lestat who, curious about the rumors of the beautiful husband hiding in the Molloy family mansion, decides to enter the garden to check the rumors, where he finds Louis on a swing being pushed by her husband where he ends up falling in love as soon as their eyes meet, with the same one that begs Louis to keep the secret of her presence thus beginning a romance that could cost the two young lovers everything.

#interview with the vampire #loustat #entrevista con el vampiro #au #lestat lioncourt #lestat/louis #louis pointe du lac #swing #jean honoré fragonard

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bandedbulbussnarfblat · 3 months

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Hi!

9 from that pick a number prompt ☺️

finally, I have it finished here on ao3 or under the cut

Louis wanting to meet in Maceió isn’t much of a surprise. It’s been a few months since the book has been released, and it’s doing better than anticipated. His agent is talking about a movie deal; he wants Regé-Jean Page to play Louis and Marsai Martin for Claudia. Daniel told him to lower his ambitions.

They are walking along the coast of the moonlit beach, Louis’ private beach. It leads back to the large cottage up the hill, where Louis currently lived. Brazil suits Louis, he seems happy here.

He’s just telling him so, albeit with a lot more snark, when his phone rings. He picks it up with a sigh. “I’m telling you, Alfred Enoch isn’t gonna bite. You gotta cast an unknown. Find someone who can bring the character to life.”

Louis looks amused by the whole thing.

“Look, I gotta go, I'm with a friend. No, not a lady friend, you nosy prick.”

Louis arches an eyebrow. “Is there a lady friend?”

Daniel hates that, it overlaps in his head and he can’t make sense of it. “Not now,” he says to Louis, “...yeah, I’ll call you back.”

Daniel considers throwing his phone into the ocean.

“You didn’t answer the question, Daniel.”

Daniel huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

His pace slows and he eventually comes to a stop. He sits down and lets the water lap over his feet. Louis sits down next to him, toes buried in the sand. “It’s Armand. He’s been…following me. At first I thought he was gonna kill me, but honestly I think he’s just lonely since you dumped him.”

Louis looks at him carefully. “Armand is following you?”

“I mean, mostly,” Daniel says.

He might have gotten Armand’s cell number from Louis once upon a time, as a safety precaution. But he called him before this visit and said “We both know you’re gonna follow behind me in your fancy private jet; so why not cut the cost and ride together?”

Armand had been stunned into silence for a brief moment, then, miraculously he laughed. He’d told Daniel the time and place to meet. Naturally, he had already booked them both hotel rooms. Adjacent to each other, but no connection between them. Of course, Armand booked him a luxury room with a view and a balcony overlooking the sea. It is heavenly.

What was Daniel supposed to do, walk away from paradise? There’s probably a metaphor somewhere in there about forbidden fruit and temptation, but Daniel doesn’t want to think about it.

Louis catches all that, from the look on his face. “ Ah , that’s how it is.”

“What?” Daniel says, confused.

“You and Armand.”

Daniel is literally stunned speechless. “Me and Armand?”

Louis smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t even see it. Thought you were supposed to be some big shot reporter, and you can’t see what’s staring you in the face.”

“What, that he has some weird fixation on me? That’s all because of you, buddy.”

Louis laughs, and it crinkles his nose. “What does Armand do when he finds you?”

“Bitch and moan, mostly,” Daniel says easily.

“He says, without a trace of fear,” Louis says. Daniel lets the gravity of the words sink in.

He’s not afraid of Armand. Not anymore. He isn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way his fear had become anger, anger had become irritation. Irritation had become annoyance, had become something close to endearment.

“Ok, so what?”

“Oh my god,” Louis cups his face, “Daniel, you’re in love with him.”

Daniel pushes Louis’ hands off. “It’s not like that; I’m just used to him, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

Daniel leans back on his hands and sets a sharp gaze on Louis. “You seem surprisingly chill for a guy who thinks his only friend wants to rawdog his ex.”

“Is that how you think it would go?” Louis says. “He’d eat you alive. Maybe literally.”

“Psh,” Daniel fishes his cigarettes out of his pocket and lights up. “That guy is wound so tight; he needs somebody to shatter him. Might help him loosen up a bit.”

“Good luck at the job,” Louis says, and gives a little salute. It occurs to Daniel that Louis has been sipping nothing but tourists on cocktails and is probably a little drunk.

“I never applied for the job,” Daniel says. “Armand isn’t my problem.”

“Oh, he is one hundred percent your problem,” Louis says. “Or did you not pick up that when he falls, he falls hard? To an extreme.”

Louis’ jaw clenches a little at the end, but he shakes it off. “Don’t worry, Daniel; Armand is terrified of rejection. You’ll have to make the first move.”

“Easy enough; I won’t do anything,” Daniel says. He rises to his feet. Armand is probably in his hotel room by now. If he gets bored he starts snooping.

Louis rises beside him. They walk in silence back to the cottage. Daniel sees Louis to his door, and for a moment, there’s a beat between them. It fades as quickly as it was born. In another time, another place they coulda’ woulda’ been. Still, Louis catches his hand before Daniel can walk away. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“You have my blessing. For Armand. He’s…you’ll be good for him.”

“Yeah? He’ll be terrible for me,” Daniel says, but he’s already becoming a little resigned to the idea. Not of a romance per-see, but of having Armand around for the indefinite future.

The funny thing is; he doesn’t entirely hate the idea. Louis' face turns smug next to him. "Shut up, Louis. It'll never happen."

"Famous last words."

#asks answered

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aurevoirmonty · 5 months

Text

"On ne se rend pas compte de ce qu'un être humain peut faire, poussé à bout."

Jean-Louis Costes

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thewhynotpod · 2 months

Text

Welcome to Why Not?!, Episode 7: “Borealis; or The Twins”! Spotify

Apple

As you may have guessed by the title, this is the one we’ve been talking about, where we “chat” about Aurora and Northstar and…a lot of what’s been going on there.

So! We called in some backup and are joined by Sara Netzley! Sara is a professor of communication by day and a romance author and freelance entertainment writer by night. Her first exposure to comic books were the X-Men posters on her brother Chris' (this is how we were able to get her) walls in the '90s, but since then she's read a bunch and watched a whole lot more. Sara teaches classes on journalism, fake news, conspiracy theories, and representation in the media, and she definitely has an opinion about your favorite TV show. You can find her on all the socials under Sara Netzley (Instagram and Threads), and she publishes her rom-coms as Sara Whitney (Instagram and website).

Having competent folks on this early in our existence is…gratifying? Neat? Sure? But, seriously folks, we have A LOT of fun.

In this episode, Chris:

almost pulls a Jean Reno (listen to the outtake)

makes fantastic points re: how we understand characters and stories and how reading the things we love at different points in your life can really peel back some layers

has a great time interacting with his older sister (like, folks!, it’s really quite sweet)

Sara:

wonders why she agreed to come on here

gives a crash course in media theory, specifically re: queer representation

brings up the appropriate amount of information vis-a-vis slash fiction (Tom here: I never thought I’d write such a phrase but here we are)

Tom:

does his favorite thing: a lot of accent work

engages in some unfortunate internet research

also wonders why Sara came on here

really wants a livestream of Thanksgiving at the Baker household this year

Issues covered:

Alpha Flight #7 - The Importance of Being Deadly - cover date February 1984

Written and drawn by John Byrne

Colored by Andy Yanchus

Lettered by Michael Higgins

Edited by Denny O’Neil and Jim Shooter

Alpha Flight #8 - Cold Hands, Cold Heart - cover date March 1984

same creative team as #7

Alpha Flight #9 - A Stranger In My Mirror (specifically the backup story) - cover date April 1984

same creative team as #8

Alpha Flight Issue #10 - Family Ties (specifically the backup story) - cover date May 1984

same creative team as #9

We jump around a fair bit in this one as we pull from 4 different issues to build this tapestry of Aurora and Northstar. We get into queer coding, possibly some incest coding, and address the use of Aurora/Jean-Marie’s split personality. So there’s a lot we address but damn if we don’t keep it as light as possible!

As indicated in the bullet points above, we’ve started to include some outtakes! So please listen to the end for a peak behind the curtain.

We’ve had a lot of fun making this and we really do hope you enjoy it, too. And even if you don’t, a great rating and review costs you nothing. Literally nothing. Not even five seconds, right? Less time than it takes Guardian to cross Canada. (Still can’t believe they did the math that…wrong.)

Check us out at The Why Not Pod to see the full art clips for this episode and leave us a comment; we love to (try to) answer your questions about Alpha Flight!

Special thanks to the Excelsior Embroidery Co. for helping make this project a reality. Here's this episode's Featured Design: the Sasquatch face patch! You can see this and more at the GeekCraft Expo in St. Louis on July 27 and 28. Mention the podcast and Chris will have something nice for you.

Instagram

TikTok

#alpha flight #canada #comics #aurora #northstar #podcast #SaraNetzley

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thediaryofcrowmartin · 4 months

Text

My meager contribution

My meager contribution this year will be

A. My expository essay on the June Rebellion

B. My new Eponine drawing when I find it (I lost it lmao)

Essay under the cut (ignore any typos, I was exhausted when I finished this a few months ago

The June Rebellion of 1832.

Many people believe that Victor Hugo’s famous book and stage musical, “Les Misérables” took place during the famous and successful French Revolution. When in reality, it took place during the June Rebellion of 1832. The June Rebellion of 1832 originated in an attempt to combat the corrupt establishment of the July Monarchy of King Louis Philippe and alleviate the poor living conditions of the people of Paris. Although it may have failed, the June Rebellion of 1832 may have set the stage for more successful revolutions.

The June Rebellion of 1832 was an attempt to reverse the establishment of the monarchy of Louis Philippe. The June Rebellion was caused when Louis Phillipe rose to power, and living conditions worsened for the poorer people of France. According to The Collector, Louis Philippe ascended to the throne after the July Revolution in 1830 after Charles X fled France for London, England. Louise Philippe proceeded to raise the cost of living, even though most of the population was already living in poverty. The living conditions only got worse when an outbreak of cholera occurred claiming the lives of nearly 19,000 people (The Collector). One of the most important lives lost was that of General Jean Maximilien Lamarque on June 1st, 1832. These factors and statistics helped to set the stage for the upcoming rebellion of the people of France.

On June 5th, 1832, General Lamarque’s funeral was held, many Parisians were present since funerals were held in a huge political regard then. Over 100,000 Parisians began a mass protest; they felt that Louis Philippe had favored the rich and worsened the living conditions of those in poverty. Many of those involved in the protest were refugees from Poland, Portugal, Germany, and Italy. Lamarque had been opposed to France’s foreign policies at the time. The protest only went sideways when a red flag labeled “Liberty or Death” was raised and shots were fired at Government soldiers. The rioters took control of the parade and directed the procession through Place De La Bastille, where the French Revolution occurred. Around Rue Saint Martin and Rue Saint-Denis, barricades were erected. The Cloitre Saint-Merri was the scene of the decisive battle, it lasted into the early hours of June 6th and claimed a total of 800 lives. 93 insurgents were killed, and 291 were wounded, 73 soldiers were killed 344 were wounded. (The Collector) While this rebellion was ultimately unsuccessful, it continued the tradition of uprisings in France that would go on to change the entire structure of the country.

At this point, King Louis Philippe decided to appear publicly and demonstrate he was still in power, the rioters were put on trial and punished. Ultimately the June Rebellion did not achieve its aims and failed to threaten the monarchy. However, it did serve as a catalyst and prerequisite for the French Society to resist and eventually overthrow King Louis Phillipe in 1848. Victor Hugo was inspired by the story of the June Rebellion, and his novel, Les Misérables, has been a source of artistic expression for nearly two centuries. Louis Philippe’s rise to power and the several tragedies that followed it are the main events causing this rebellion. With the far-reaching impacts of this fateful day, can we call it an unsuccessful revolution?

#les miserables #June rebellion #Barricade day

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ozkar-krapo · 1 year

Text

V/A

"Sonic Protest 2008"

(2CD. Sonic Protest. 2008)

#compilation #2008 #paris #brainbombs #noel akshote #catalogue #reines d'angleterre #alvaro #france #joelle leandre #jean louis costes #ich bin #cd

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 years

Note

Could you tell us about Camille’s relationship with his father?

Given the fact that we actually have quite a bit of letters between Camille and his father Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins — 27 written by the former, 12 by the latter — we actually know a fair bit about their relationship. The majority of these letters have been published within Correspondance inédit de Camille Desmoulins (1836), however, there are a few unpublished ones as well (five for Jean, three for Camille), so if I don’t include a link to one, just assume this is the case and that I’m taking it from Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de République (2018) instead.

Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins was born October 17 1725. After having considered becoming a priest and then taught at the college of Guise, he studied law at Reims and became a lawyer in 1751, and then a judge in 1757. He would go on to become one of the biggest pillars of his community, being mayor of Guise 1760-1763 and then obtaining the office of lieutenant general five years later (for more info about Jean in general, see Le père de Camille Desmoulins (1936).)

On January 9 1759 Jean got married to Marie Madelaine Godart (1730). The two quickly started a family and over the following 13 years they had nine children together, of which five reached adulthood.

Camille, the oldest of the children, was in October 1771 sent to Paris to study at the prestigious college of Louis-le-Grand. He was enrolled not as a scholar but as a paying boarder, the place of which cost his family 400 livres per year, a clear indicator Jean was willing to go great lenghts in order for his son to get a good education. In 1774, when the cost started to weigh on him, he was still determined that Camille continue his studies. On December 9 that year, he therefore sat down and authored the following text, hoping it would persuade the authorities of the school to do something for him:

J’ai du moins une descendance

Enfants chéris, de fils nombreux,

Qui, si j’accepte l’opulance,

Ont presque déjà tout pour eux,

De ce qui para l’existence

Du premier des nobles aïeux:

Santé, vigeur, intelligence,

Goût du vrai, cœur bon, cœur joieux,

Grand appêtit de la science,

Et dont le travail fait les jeux.

L’ainé, près de l’adolescence,

Dans son college est un preux:

Il feuillette avec connaissance

Auteurs grécs et latins poudreux;

Mais malgré toute sa constance,

J’en suis pas moins soucieux

Qu’on ne le force avant vacance,

Par un congé disgracieux,

De faire aux maîtres d’éloquence

Ses involontaires audieux,

Parce que du sort l’inconstance

A rendu son père trop gueux

Pour subvenir à la finance

D’un pensionnait dispendieux.

Jean succeded, and Camille obtained a scholarship the following month.

Camille was the only one of the siblings who got sent to Paris to receive a higher education there. This could simply be seen as a sign Jean couldn’t afford to make them all paying boarders. However, a letter from him to Camille dated January 23 1791 also suggests he actually placed his oldest son on a higher level than the rest:

Your brother Dubocquoi has always had a rather limited peak, he has just acknowledged it to you; but it is not his fault. In the portion of nature and in the lot of the spirit, why have you exercised your birthright so copiously and taken such a great precipitate, to leave your siblings’ afferent share so small?

Camille kept up contacts with his father during his college years, as proven through a letter dated May 10 1782 he wrote to his cousin Ribeauvillé: ”If you’re interested to learn more about what happened at this ridiculous examination, you can go consult the gazette I sent to my father.” In the same letter, Camille also complains a bit over his father’s need for monitoring — ”There is one thing, my friend, that I really thank my aunt Viefville for, it’s for taking my sister to spend some days with her in Maizy. I do not doubt that this stay is a little diversion from the boredom she must have at Guise, for, although I sometimes lament seeing my dear father holding the purse strings so tightly for me, I cannot prevent myself from feeling infinitely happy by comparing my situation to that of my siblings.”

The same year this letter was written, Jean came to visit his son in Paris as revealed through another letter Camille wrote to Lucile’s father in March the following year:

At this moment my father has probably written to you and part of my joy was to think about he who does not care about the dowry (that of my mother, who is still whole despite our misfortunes because it has always been sacred in his eyes, was more important) but who loves me with tenderness and is no doubt delighted that I have finally obtained this demoiselle Duplessis of whom I have been speaking to him incessantly for five years and whom he wanted me to show him when he spent a few days in Paris two years ago.

But the relation was still far from problem free - in a letter dated June 4 1784 Camille accused his father of spending his time locked in his office ”compiling, compiling, compiling I don’t know what compilation” instead of caring about work and the future of his children.

One year later, in March 1785, Camille obtained his law decree and took office as a lawyer. He chose to stay in Paris, but we know of two confirmed visits back to Guise — one in 1787 and one in 1789. In the latter case, the goal was to stand for election for the Estates General. As we know, Camille failed to obtain the opportunity of becoming a deputy, as did his father. The former still went back to Paris to witness the proceedings, and in a letter dated May 8 1789 he wrote to Jean about the event, he had this to say:

I believe that if I had only come from Guise to Paris to see this procession of the three orders, and the opening of our Estates General, I should not have regretted this pilgrimage. I had only one sorrow, it was not to see you among our deputies. […] I was very angry with you and your gravel. Why did you show so little haste to obtain such a great honor? It was the first of my sorrows.

Over the following two months, Camille wrote five more letters to his father (they have all been published), telling him about the situation developing in the capital. I could however not find any details regarding their relationship in any of them. Jean responded with a letter (that has gone missing) where he must have expressed his doubt over Camille’s revolutionary career, because the first lines of the next letter sent from his son (dated September 20 1789) are as follows:

The best response to your reproachful letter is to send you the three books. I have therefore prepared a very large package in which you will find four copies of La France libre, La Lanterne, and a number of copies of a small sheet, which has just done me infinite honor, and from which I receive compliments everywhere.

But his father was still someone Camille respected, in the next letter, dated 22 September 1789, he writes: ”M. de Mirabeau has offered me to work on his newspaper. I hesitate, and I await your advice.” A week later Camille wrote yet another letter, telling his father to ”take care of yourself, and don’t say so many bad things about your son.” In the next letter, dated October 8, Camille asks Jean for money and goes on a long rant about how he feels abandoned by his hometown and family:

In truth, you are in my view of an extreme injustice; you see that in spite of my enemies and my slanderers, I knew how to put myself in my place among writers, patriots and men of character. Thank Heaven, I'm happy with my little reputation, I don't want more. […] So here I am almost without creditors, but also without money. I beg of you, since this is the time to collect your rents, since the price of corn is holding up, send me six louis. The King and the National Assembly are residing here, I want to stay in Paris, I am abandoning my ungrateful and unjust country. I want to take advantage of this moment of reputation to install myself, to register myself in a district; will you have the cruelty to refuse me a bed, a pair of sheets? Am I without necessities, without a family? Is it true that I have neither father nor mother? But, you will say, it was necessary to employ these 30 or 40 louis to have furniture. I will answer you: one had to live; I had to pay the debts that you have forced me to contract for 6 years; because for 6 years I have not had the necessary. Tell me the truth, have you ever bought me furniture? Have you ever put me in a position where I don’t have to pay the exorbitant rent for furnished rooms? Oh the bad policy of yours to send me two louis to two louis, with which I could never afford to have furniture and a home. And when I think that my fortune is held in my domicile; that with a domicile I would have been president, commandant of a district, representative of the commune of Paris; whereas I am only a distinguished writer: living testimony that with virtues, talents, love of work, character and great services rendered, one can achieve nothing. But, surprisingly, I have been complaining in these terms for ten years, and it has been easier for me to make a revolution, to upset France, than to obtain from my father, once and for all, fifty louis, and for him to give his hands to begin an establishment for me. What a man you are! with all your wit and all your virtues, you did not even know how to know me. You have eternally calumniated me; you called me eternally a prodigal, a spendthrift, and I was nothing less than all that. All my life, I have sighed only after a home, after an establishment, and after having left Guise and the paternal house, you did not want me to have another lodging in Paris than a hotel , and now I am thirty years old. You always told me that I had other brothers! yes, but there is this difference that nature had given me wings and that my brothers could not feel like me the chain of needs which held me to the ground. […] So help me in these circumstances and send me a bed, if you can't buy me one here. Can you refuse me a bed? I told you that I didn't want to hear any more about Guise. Your nullity in this country and a fortiori mine have detached me from it. So do something for me, for your eldest son. […] The hour of the post office had passed, I reopened my letter to insist again on my needs. All that I learn from Guise through cousin Deviefville's letters confirms my intention of renouncing that place, the antipode of philosophy, patriotism and equality. I have a reputation in Paris, I am consulted on important matters; I am invited to dinner; there is no pamphleteer whose sheets sell better: all I want is a home; I beg you, help me, send me 6 louis or else a bed.

Then follows two letters, one dated 4 December 1789 where Camille informs his father about his new career as a journalist and wishes him a happy birthday, and one dated 31 December 1789, where he wishes his family happy new year and tells them about the success of his journal.

On January 7, in the seventh number of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Camille published the following letter from his father:

[…] What confuses me, and greatly alleviates the evil of my position, is the hope that my son, with more modern principles, and which nevertheless still seem to me to be very bold, will make one of the first workers of the ark which must save his brothers and himself from the shipwreck of their common father. I see you among the small number of the chosen ones, who, with the printers and the booksellers, remain upright in the midst of the revolution, which puts everything on the ground and overthrows your family. I find the task you have taken upon yourself to be immense, and I do not know how you will be able to cope with it. People talk to me about your successes, and I am not insensitive to them; but the dangers you run affect me even more.

In the same number, Camille included a response to his father:

So you will no longer make fun of my dreams, of my republic and of my old predictions, of everything that you have finally seen, what is called seen, with your own eyes seen. You have spent your life writing, struggling […] What consoles me for you is that you still have the memory of a life always militant against the oppressions of all kinds which desolate our province. The moment has come to reap the fruit of the gratitude of your fellow citizens, witnesses of so many sacrifices that the rigidity of your principles and your heroic and inflexible stiffness have cost you.

Two months later, 13 March 1790, Camille once again writes to his father about how he feels abandoned:

I feel more and more that my business is beyond my strength. When I have sacrificed for six months all my money to pay debts, to give myself a home, furniture and effects for more than a hundred louis, please tell me at least that you are not my enemy, and join those who encourage me. […] I am not asking you for news of Guise; but tell me about yourself. There are many times when, in spite of the compliments of a crowd of people who tell me that I have the arrows of Hercules, I find myself as unhappy, as abandoned as Philoctetes on the island of Lemnos. My bookseller assures me that he sends you and my brother my numbers. I embrace you a thousand times.

Once Jean got the letter, he sat down to reassure his son:

No, my son, I am not and can never be of your enemies; you could only have had this suspicion in the delirium of imagination or despair. I am and always will be your friend and your best friend. It has been a fortnight since your mother and my conscience begged me to write to you, without finding the moment because of my troubles and the numerous embarrassments which follow my painful administration. I like to see you more touched by Dubucquoi's correspondence and cordiality than by so many honorable testimonials, which are nevertheless well calculated to encourage you in the pursuit of your great work. If all that is missing to your satisfaction is my bravo, then receive it; I whispered it to you long ago, as befits a father. As long as you still have a father, a mother, brothers and sisters, your comparison with this Philoc, whom I have reason to fear of becoming more than you do, if only my pains and my misfortunes are left to me, will be wrongful. My island is beginning to become quite deserted for me; or what is worse, it seems to me no longer crowded with anything but monkeys, tigers, serpents and voracious birds, which infest our marshes of the Oise.

We have to wait until December 6 1790 to find a new letter from Camille, where he wraps up by writing: ”I embrace you and all my family. There are many times that I in vain have asked you for laundry, a tablecloth, towels and a pair of sheets.” Five days later he can inform Jean about happier news:

This charming Lucile, of whom I have spoken so much to you, whom I have loved for eight years, finally her parents give her to me and she does not refuse me. […] Send me your consent as well as that of my mother. We can get married in eight days. It’s how long my dear Lucile and I can handle being seperated. Do not attract the hatred of our envious people by this news, and like me contain your joy in your heart, or pour it out in the bosom of my dear mother, of my brothers and sisters. I am now in a position to come to your aid, and this is a great part of my joy: my lover, my wife, your daughter and all her family embrace you.

Soon, Camille finds himself annoyed at his father yet again, as he’s lingering with giving his consent to the marriage. On December 18 and 21 he wrote three letters to Jean complaining about it, the last of which has been published:

This is the third letter I’ve written you to ask for consent to my marriage with a completely celestial woman, and you let the post go three times without sending me your acceptance; I did not expect that the obstacles to this marriage would come from you. You should have taken the post and brought it to me yourself. You know the vivacity of my character and the violent situation you would have thrown me into if you had used an absolute veto and even a suspended veto. M. Duplessis wants to attest to you himself that he grants his daughter to your son.

We have two unpublished letters (dated December 15 and 23) from Jean to Camille regarding the marriage, where, it would appear, he’s hesitating to give his support for it. However, after receiving a letter from Lucile’s father giving his approval, Jean was quick to respond positively:

The letter you do me the honor to write to me, confirming the approval you give to my son's happiness, fills me with all the joy that a father can feel at the news that his son will be happy. Please accept all my gratitude and expression of sensibility. We can only well guess the fate of our dear children with the auspices under which they contract. Let us unite on both sides our blessings on them and on their union. I would have been delighted if my health and the season had allowed me to attend this feast so sweet to my heart.

Camille and Lucile got married on December 29 1790. A week later, Camille wrote to his father to inform him about it:

[…] My wife embraces you, my dear mother and all my family. She asks me to tell you that she has not yet had time to write to you, that she does not dare to do it out of fear of not supporting the opinion that I give you of her, and that she postpones his letter for a few days. She was delighted with your letter about my marriage, and she keeps it very preciously; she reread it many times with tenderness.

Jean responded enthusiastically four days later, while also explaining why he lingered with giving his consent:

Your happiness, my son, resounds fully in the depths of my heart, since you yourself announced to me your solemn marriage. From the pleasure I had of learning about it indirectly from various people around me with more or less satisfactory circumstances, I felt that something was missing. These different voices were not yours: it was not you; that was not the outpouring of your joy and your sensibility. Your silence, so long kept since the receipt of a consent for which you had shown such sparkling impatience, left me somewhat uneasy: for the tenderness of fathers is as anxious as that of lovers. You are on the way to one day being able to experience and profess the truth of this provision or maxim. By kissing our dear daughter-in-law for us, tell her that we love her as much as you do. Reassure her about the embarrassment of her epistle; she will always have the eloquence of her heart next to mine when she tells me that she loves my son and that she is happy. Tell her that she has acquired a new family eager to emulate hers in everything that can contribute to her happiness and forestall her wishes. […]

After this follows a long silence, with one unpublished letter from Jean to Camille dated January 23 being the only (conserved) letter between the two until December 6 the same year. ”Our cousin Deviefville must have told you that I had reproached myself more than once for not writing to you,” Camille says on that date, ”my sentiments have not changed for you. I've always thought I'd right my wrongs by doing you some great service, but I don't know how to intrigue, or even ask.” Five months later, on April 3 1792, he writes Jean a letter about the current political situation, while also revealing that he and Lucile are going to have a baby. When said baby is born in July the same year, Camille writes to let his father know, who once again responds positively:

We share, my dear son, all the joy that the birth of a son, the first fruit of your love and of a dear wife, can give you. We learn with equal pleasure that the mother and child are doing well. I hope that the revolution, if it is consummated, will be happier for him than for you, and I do not really know whether I should wish him to be the successor to your popularity, which has made you, and in turn me, many enemies and few or no friends. For this revolution has been, I believe, to no one more fatal than to me in all respects, while I at the same time had to expect from it more than anyone the happiest effects. […] Embrace our dear daughter-in-law for us; renew to her all our eagerness to get to know her. When she has fully recovered from the birth, could you not steal a few days from your work in Paris to bring her to us and receive here the simple and frank caresses of your family and your relatives?

From the above cited part, we can however also see that Jean viewed the revolution more cynically and less as something completely good throughout than his son (which may very well have to do with the fact that he had lost his job as attorney-syndic and in turn most of his income because of it. We can see from the letter dated April 3 that Camille fruitlessly - and after having refused for a long time - tried to help his father out). Thoughts that only grew as the revolution further radicalised over the following months. On August 13, Camille told Jean about the insurrection of August 10 and his appointment as secratery-general — ”They have not cooled the filial love in me, and your son, who has become secretary-general of the department of justice and what was called secretary of the seals, hopes not to be long in giving you signs of it. Your people from Guise, so full of envy, hatred and small passions, are going to swell with gall against me.” Jean responded four days later by celebrating Camille’s new position while at the same time expressing his fears over the new direction the revolution had just taken:

I don't see it over yet and I still dread the consequences. According to the cries all around me, the events of August 10 have indisposed the provinces and the army against the Parisians and against the party of which you are believed to be one of the most ardent members. In the turmoil of all things around us, I would perhaps rather see you a peaceful possessor of my places and the first of our fellow-citizens in our native city than at the head of the ministry of a great empire already well mined, well torn, well degraded, and which, far from being regenerated, will perhaps be from one moment to another either dismembered or destroyed. Be that as it may, since you are second at the helm handed over to your friend M. Danton, for the part of justice, distinguish yourself there by the great qualities which are proper to this administration; add to your known popularity that spirit of integrity and moderation which you will often have occasion to develop there; strip yourselves of that party which perhaps raised you there, but which may not keep you there. With the uprightness that I know of you and the moderation that I preach to you, one goes a long way, even in the most scandalous position. Bring back your enemies by being fair with them and easily forgetting their wrongs; make as many friends as you can among the people of good people and always consult merit and talent in your choices.

Camille didn’t let his father rather sceptical tone affect him, and on August 26 he sent him his latest writings and expresses his hopes of being nominated to the new National Convention. Following this, we have two unpublished letters from Jean to Camille, one undated from somewhere in September, and one dated October 29.

When the trial of the king rolled around, Jean once again became uneasy, and he wrote to his son on 10 December 1792 and 10 January 1793 to advice him to not vote for death. Like with the Insurrection of August 10, it would not appear he did this because he was particulary fond of the monarchy, but rather because he saw Louis’ death as pointless and was worried about the gravity of the situation and of what Camille might be getting himself into:

I would be inconsolable, my son, to find your name on the list of those who will vote for the death of Louis XVI. I do not foresee in this judgment any good for the country, and on the contrary I foresee disastrous consequences both for it and for those who will have wanted the death of the prince. If the revolution is accomplished as I presume it to be, the blood of Louis XVI is useless for its consumption; spilling it is to appear to fear that it will not be done, or to beat an enemy on the ground and disarm him, and to renounce the generosity and dignity which must characterize the true republican, the free Frenchman. You have a just and true means, my son, of sparing yourself this stain which would be a perplexity for me: it is to challenge yourself, because you are effectively challengeable, not only in the eyes of Louis XVI, but in the eyes of anyone who has the first principles of justice. You said your opinion as a journalist before the judgment. Driven either by your own opinion or by a foreign prejudice, you have denounced Louis XVI in a great number of your writings, which have perhaps had only too much influence, and you have treated him as an enemy. For this double reason, either of having been his denunciator, or of having proclaimed your opinion in advance, relative to Louis XVI, you cannot remain one of his judges without injuring impartiality, which must neutralize whoever is called upon to judge. […] The death of Louis XVI can add nothing to your triumph and can even stigmatize it in the fickle opinion of the multitude.

My son, you can still immortalize yourself, but you only have a moment left: this is the opinion of a father who loves you. This is more or less what I would say if I were you: "I am a republican by heart and by action, I have proven myself, I was one of the first and most ardent denunciators or accusers of Louis XVI, for that very reason I challenge myself. I owe it to the austerity of my principles; I owe it to the dignity of the Convention; I owe it to the glory of the nation; I owe it to the justice of my contemporaries and of posterity; in a word, I owe it to the republic, to Louis XVI, to myself.” I only say this for your benefit and for your peace of mind and mine, because I am your best friend.

Perhaps their dissensions severed the friendship once again, because no letters seems to exist between January 10 and July 9 1793. On the latter date, Camille writes to inform Jean about his Histoire des Brissotins. He also talks about his brother Sémery who he believes to have died in the war. Jean must however have replied that it’s possible for Sémery to still be alive, because in Camille’s next letter, dated August 1 (incorrectly August 10 in the published version) he writes: ”I eagerly grasp your doubts about his death to attach my hopes to them. […] I felt still more just now, on seeing my son, how much this blow must have affected your heart. My wife and I have been deeply touched by the interest you show for this child who is so lovable and whom we love so much that I have a horrible fear of losing him […] If we have peace and quieter weather, expect me and my wife to come embrace you.” This appears to be the last conserved letter we have from Camille to his father.

Despite Jean’s interest to get to know his grandson and daughter-in-law, Hervé Leuwers writes this wish was never fulfilled. However, I actually found the following part in Robespierre’s notes against the dantonists, which would suggest he did come to visit somewhere in December 1793:

At the time where the numbers of the Vieux Cordelier appeared, the father of Desmoulins who had strongly disapproved of the… rather tainted by aristocracy testified to him his satisfaction and embraced him with tenderness. Fabre, who was present at this scene, wept, and Desmoulins, surprised, no longer doubted that Fabre had an excellent heart and was consequently a patriot.

In the last letter we have between them, Jean informs Camille about the death of his mother:

My dear son, I’ve lost half of myself, your mother is no more. I always had hope to save her: this was what prevented me from informing you of her illness. She passed away today at noon. She is worthy of all our regrets; she loved you tenderly. I embrace very affectionately and very sadly your wife, my dear daughter-in-law, and little Horace. I can write to you more at length tomorrow. I'm forever your best friend.

We know Camille got the letter, since he mentions it in his second prison letter to Lucile (April 1 1794).

Farewell Lucile, farewell Horace, farewell Daronne, farewell my old father. Write him a letter of consolation.

He mentions his father in his very last letter as well:

Farewell, my Lucile, my dear Lolotte, my good wolf, say goodbye to my father. […] Farewell, Lucile, my Lucile! my dear Lucile! farewell, Horace, Annette, Adèle! Farewell, my father!

Jean did try to intervene in the trial against his son. On April 4 he wrote to public prosecutor Fouquier-Tinville (who, sidenote, was a distant relative of the two and actually had Camille to thank for his job) the following letter. It’s written way too late to have arrived on time, and even if it had, it doubtless wouldn’t have changed anything.

Citoyen compatriote, Camille Desmoulins (that’s my son), I'm speaking to you from my intimate conviction, is a pure republican, a republican by heart, by principle, and, so to speak, by instinct: He was a republican in soul and by taste before the fourteenth of July 1789, he has so been in reality and deed ever since. His perfect disinterestedness and his love for the truth, his two characteristic virtues, which I have instilled into him from his cradle , and which he has invariably put in practice, have kept him on a level with the loftiest aspirations of the Revolution. Is it likely, is it not even absurd to suppose that he has changed his opinion, that he has renounced his character, his love for liberty, for the sovereignty of the people, his favourite and beloved design, at the moment when it has succeeded so brilliantly, at the moment when he had opposed and defeated the cabal of the Brissotins; at the moment when he had unmasked Hébert and his adherents, the authors of a deep conspiracy; at the moment when he believed the Revolution accomplished, or about to be so, and his Republic established by our victories and triumphs over our enemies without and within? Are not these improbabilities sufficient to remove from my son even the shadow of suspicion? And yet he lies under the weight of an accusation as grave as I believe it to be calumnious. Confined to my study by my infirmities, I was the last, owing to the care that was taken to hide it from me, to hear of this event, which is calculated to alarm every true Republican. Citizen, I ask of you but one thing, in the name of justice and of our country - for the true Republican thinks of nought besides to investigate and to cause the examining jury to investigate the conduct of my son, and that of his denouncer, whomsoever he may be; it will be soon known which is the true Republican. The confidence I have in my son's innocence makes me believe that this accusation will prove a fresh triumph, as well for the Republic as for him. Health and fraternity from your compatriot and fellow-citizen Desmoulins, who until now has held himself honoured in being the father of the foremost and most unflinching of Republicans.

We don’t know how Jean reacted to the death of his son and daughter-in-law. However, he was not to survive them for much longer, as he passed away on 14 October 1795, just three days before his seventieth birthday.

As a final note, it can be observed that Camille and Jean always adress each other with vouvoiement rather than tutoiement… Although as far as I’m aware, that business is much more complicated than ”if you’re close with someone you use tutoiement, if not you use vouvoiement,” so perhaps this doesn’t have to mean much…

#I got two asks about dads independent from one another that’s interesting #desmoulins #camille desmoulins #ask #favoritism aside jean seemed like a pretty good dad #at least way better than dadspierre #long post #well it’s me what else did you expect #frev friendships

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