...Which is to say, yesterday was Buonarotti's 248th birthday.

Joyeux anniversaire Buonarotti ! (Même s'il est un peu en retard.)

In other news, I registered for classes for next semester today, and I have to say I'm incredibly excited. I'm taking:

The Other in the Enlightenment (which is taught by the Robespierriste French professor I mentioned a while back).
Cicero in Speech and Letters
The City in Europe: 1100-1789
and, somewhat less exciting, Calculus 1b
And then my lessons, which I have no intention of stopping any time soon, even if it means I can only take 4 classes.

And now back to studying for my Indian History exam. Wish me luck!

...I feel bad: I was going to post about Le Bas's birthday yesterday, but I completely forgot. D: As of yesterday he's 247.

Joyeux anniversaire, Le Bas !

(More of That Book About Le Bas will hopefully be forthcoming.)

So, citizens, what am I to do next year? I mean, I'm definitely studying in France, the question is where and how. So I've set up a poll. The first two options are ones my French professor recommended to me. Studying in Paris via CUPA would probably be the easiest option. It would allow me to take classes at several branches of the université de Paris (including Paris-X Nanterre, where Marc Bélissa teaches, and EHESS, where there are also several historians I like) and would facilitate the whole process due to various agreements the program has with the French government and university system and so on. The only downside is that I wouldn't be able to take classes at Paris-I or VII, where most of the historians working in Paris that I admire are. On the other hand, I honestly don't know how much that even matters at the licence level. And then there's the issue of all the bureaucratic red tape I would need to navigate if I were to attempt to enroll in a French university as an individual international student outside a program. So. Any opinions, thoughts, advice, insights, or information you might have regarding my dilemma or the French university system would be greatly appreciated. :D

What should I do next year?

...Some of them are just amusing/bemusing. Try this one, for example. They really seem to have picked the wrong kind of tart, don't they? Or take the logo of the École Robespierre in Nanterre. I'm not yet sure whether that qualifies as cute or creepy looking. Either way though, it's good that he at least has this little elementary school named after him.

As for me, things are not going well. I was going to have an audition today, but I have yet another cold, once again precluding my taking voice lessons with a professor. And I feel sure I would have done well in this audition. I'm half being to think there's some kind of conspiracy going on to stop me from singing. In other news, I've dropped Roman History in favor of Calculus. I kind of regret not giving the class more of a chance, if only to see to what extent I may have been exaggerating the professor's tendencies to myself (see previous post). But, alas, Calculus meets at the same time. So much for that.

Sorry for the semi-absence. I've been a bit on the busy side. Still, I'm back at school now and have not forgotten my obligations. :D Which is to say, article-translating is still on, though it will probably take longer than it would have over the summer.

And I am still working on your (now unfortunately rather late) birthday fic, . I'm just trying to work out the political context - you and I will both be happier with it if it has some political context - which means at this point that I'm trying to work in a short discussion of the federalist revolts, since they are referenced in That Song. I'm thinking the time-frame should be sometime in August-September 1793. Do you have any thoughts on this?

Among the other things I did not forget are Saint-Just's 242nd birthday on the 25th and David's 261st on the 30th. Let it be recorded that I wish both of their memories as well as ever.

So. Classes. I'm taking Roman History, History of Ancient India, Latin 201: The Aeneid, and French Lit from the Middle Ages to the Revolution (or more precisely from la Chanson de Roland to le Mariage de Figaro, which means we don't really make it to the Revolution).

Having been to one of each (they're all on the same days), here are my notes:

I'm really not sure what to make of my Roman History prof. This was her first day teaching here and she seemed like she was on the verge of tears several times during the lecture. Which I can relate to. What I can't relate to is what seems to be her strange affinity for dictators. She spent the introductory lecture fawning over Octavianus (I refuse to call him Augustus), which, while far from laudable, is also far from uncommon among classicists of a certain stripe. It was when she started speaking of Mussolini in rather similar terms that I began to get freaked out. I really hope I'm imagining things, or this could turn out to be an, er, interesting semester.

On the other hand, I have no complaints about the Indian History prof. The class was highly recommended to me and it seems not without reason. The prof's first lecture was informative and interesting and he let us know from the first things like where the emphasis of the course is going to be (he's more a historian of culture/religion/philosophy than economics). And once I've taken this course, my non-Western history requirement will be out of the way.

My Latin class is definitely going to be my hardest this year. I know already I'm going to have problems with the meter... And well, let's just leave it at that for now. No complaints about this professor either. So far, anyway.

The French lit class was and will likely continue to be pretty basic. But I promised the professor I would take it and I haven't read all the books on the syllabus, so I might as well. One potentially good point: When the prof asked us what periods/historical figures/currents/etc. we liked most in the period 800-1800, another girl said the Revolution. I must try to find out her perspective... Oddly, the class was all girls. Which is especially bizarre when you consider our gender ratio is supposed to be perfectly even. Oh well. Another unfortunate point is that several people expressed fondness for the monarchy. What is that?

Anyway, off to eat tarts with the rest of the Maison francophone. I'm sure Maxime would approve.

(And a happy belated birthday to maelicia, too, of course!) That is not, however, the principal point of this post. Rather it is to point out that several older issues of the AHRF are available on persee.fr, including this one from 1986, which points out a couple of things, for those of you who can't read the original:

1. Apparently the plaque dedicated to Robespierre in the Conciergerie was vandalized that year. D: It's since been replaced, obviously, but still. D: (One can't help imagining whoever did as someone who read some article by a revisionist and decided it was so scandalous that there should be a plaque dedicated to an Evil Bloodthirsty Tyrant (tm) that he had to take matters into his own hands...)

2. More helpfully, it solves the mystery regarding the Duplays' graves in Père Lachaise. I knew the other Duplays were supposed to be buried in Père Lachaise, and in the same division as Éléonore, but I wasn't sure where. Now I know that they were (logically enough) all buried in the same grave, despite what the marker says.

The notice also explains the weird modern tombstone--apparently it was put into place in 1985. Also, the article mentions three details about Éléonore herself, one of which confirms something I had read earlier, the other two of which confuse me somewhat. It does indeed seem that her full name was Marie-Éléonore (I'd say it's pretty obvious why that isn't mentioned more often), but the date of her death is here listed one day off from what I've read elsewhere, and so too her age when she died is a year more than it should be (25 July 1832 vs. 26 July 1832 and 65 vs. 64). I don't know quite what to make of it. Do they have other (better?) information than I do? Or is it just a typo...?

At any rate, the inscription the tombstone now bears is clearly not the one it was originally supposed to, if this notice is to be believed. It clearly reads, "Eléonore Duplay, 1768-1832" with possibly something else which is now illegible beneath, rather than "Duplay Marie-Eléonore, décédée le 25 juillet 1832, à l'âge de 65 ans" ("Duplay Marie-Eléonore, deceased 25 July 1832, at the age of 65").

Also, I am very annoyed that I can't go to the Archives nationales, especially since I found a book with a lot of specific information about when various people (the Duplays, Charlotte Robespierre, Couthon's family) were imprisoned post Thermidor (and where, and for how long, etc.) and which I would not ordinarily find trustworthy (see for yourself), but which, like few of its kind, actually cites archival sources. Still, I don't feel I can really trust the information coming from a source like that. I have to see for myself. And I can't. >.>;;

I should mention, too, that I'm going to be in Santa Fe for a few days, so all commenting and posting (and fic-writing) may have to cease during that time. But I'll be back Sunday, never fear.

...But better late than never. (On the other hand, perhaps they're not; another 70 Robespierristes were executed 215 years ago today... Requiescant in pace.)

Today marks the 215th anniversary of the deaths of Maximilien and Augustin Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, Dumas, Fleuriot-Lescot, Hanriot, Lavalette, Payan, Jean-Claude Bernard, Charles-Jacques-Mathieu Bougon, Christophe Cochefer, Jean-Barnabé Dhazard, Jean-Étienne Forestier, Antoine Gency, Adrien-Nicolas Gobeau, Nicolas Guérin, Denis-Étienne Laurent, Jean-Marie Quenet, Antoine Simon, Nicolas-Joseph Vivier, and Jacques-Louis-Frédéric Wouarmé on the scaffold, and of Le Bas, by his own hand. Requiescant in pace.

With them died the Republic of the Rights of Man and Citizen, of justice and democracy, but not the dream behind it, as the song I am posting today in their honor, dating to the Directoire, attests:
 

Le Dix Thermidor

10 Thermidor

Ah ! pauvre peuple, adieu le siècle d’or,

N’attends plus que peine et misère :

Il est passé dès le dix thermidor,

Jour qu’on immola Robespierre.

Ah! Poor people, farewell golden age!

No longer expect anything but pain and poverty:

It has happened since 10 Thermidor,

The day they immolated Robespierre.

Quand il vivait, il allégeait nos maux,

Il avait toute notre estime :

Les décemvirs, pour perdre ce héros,

L’accusent de leur propre crime.

Ah ! pauvre peuple, adieu le siècle d’or…

While he lived, he lessened our ills,

He had all our esteem:

To destroy this hero, the decemvirs

Accuse him of their own crime.

Ah! Poor people, farewell golden age!

Commune, aussi, tu fus de leur complot,

Avec eux tu brisas le trône ;

Pour t’en punir, tu meurs sur l’échafaud,

Et c’est le Sénat qui l’ordonne.

Il nous ravit cet heureux siècle d’or

Et nous plonge dans la misère,

En égorgeant, aux jours de thermidor,

Nos magistrats et Robespierre.

Commune, you too were part of their plot,

With them you smashed the throne;

To punish you for it, you died on the scaffold,

And on the Senate’s orders!

It takes that happy golden age from us

And plunges us into poverty,

By cutting the throats of our magistrates

And Robespierre in the days of Thermidor.

Républicains qui, dans ces jours d’horreur,

Sûtes échapper au carnage,

Rallions-nous et, d’une même ardeur,

Jurons de venger tant d’outrages.

Reconquérons notre heureux siècle d’or,

Exécrons celui de misère ;

Vengeons la France, et du dix thermidor,

Et de la mort de Robespierre.

Republicans who, in those days of horror,

Were able to escape the carnage,

Let us rally, and with equal ardor,

Let us swear to avenge so many outrages.

Let us win back our happy golden age,

Let us execrate that of poverty;

Let us avenge France, and 10 Thermidor,

And the death of Robespierre.

Hamel, sometimes you're a bit crazy (Robespierre =/= Jesus, really!), but I love you anyway. Here's why (from page 482 of the third tome of his Histoire de Robespierre):

"Tout en reprochant à son collègue [Carnot] de persécuter les généraux fidèles, Maximilien, paraît-il, faisait grand cas de ses talents. Carnot, nous dit-on, ne lui rendait pas la pareille. Cela dénote tout simplement chez lui une intelligence médiocre, quoi qu'en ait dit ses apologistes. Il fut, je le crois, extrêmement jaloux de la supériorité d'influence et de talent d'un collègue plus jeune que lui [ou Saint-Just, qu'Hamel vient de discuter, ou Robespierre] ; et, sous l'empire de ce sentiment, il se laissa facilement entraîner dans la conjuration thermidorienne. Au 9 thermidor, comme en 1815, le pauvre Carnot fut le jouet et la dupe de Fouché."

Joyeux 14 juillet à tout le monde ! Those assholes at the BBC tried to spoil it, but they have not succeeded, because they cannot. Any more than they can stop the inevitable revolutionary power of the Truth.

...That is all.

Er, I realize I'm a bit late for the actual anniversary, but since I mean the song, perhaps it can be excused. >.> At any rate, I can't stop listening to it, so I thought I'd share...

 

Sauf des mouchards et des gendarmes,
On ne voit plus par les chemins,
Que des vieillards tristes en larmes,
Des veuves et des orphelins.
Paris suinte la misère,
Les heureux mêmes sont tremblants.
La mode est aux conseils de guerre,
Et les pavés sont tous sanglants.

Except for spies and gendarmes,
One no longer sees anyone on the streets
But sad old men in tears,
Widows and orphans.
Paris oozes poverty,
Even those who are happy are trembling.
The fashion is for war-counsels,
And the paving-stones are all bloody.

Refrain :
Oui mais !
Ça branle dans le manche,
Les mauvais jours finiront.
Et gare ! à la revanche
Quand tous les pauvres s’y mettront.

Chorus:
Yes, but!
That will soon be at an end,
The bad days will end.
And look out for our revenge
When all the poor go to it.

On traque, on enchaîne, on fusille
Tous ceux qu’on ramasse au hasard.
La mère à côté de sa fille,
L’enfant dans les bras du vieillard.
Les châtiments du drapeau rouge
Sont remplacés par la terreur
De tous les chenapans de bouges,
Valets de rois et d’empereurs.

They hound, they chain, they shoot
All those they pick up at random.
The mother next to her daughter,
The child in the arms of the old man.
The chastisements of the red flag
Have been replaced by the terror
Of all the hell-hole rascals,
Valets of kings and emperors.

Nous voilà rendus aux jésuites
Aux Mac-Mahon, aux Dupanloup.
Il va pleuvoir des eaux bénites,
Les troncs vont faire un argent fou.
Dès demain, en réjouissance
Et Saint-Eustache et l’Opéra
Vont se refaire concurrence,
Et le bagne se peuplera.

Here we are given over to the Jesuits,
To the Mac-Mahons, to the Dupanloups.
It's going to rain holy water,
The collection boxes are going to make crazy money.
From tomorrow, in celebration,
Saint-Eustache and the Opera
Are going to compete again,
And the prison will fill up.

Demain les gens de la police
Refleuriront sur le trottoir,
Fiers de leurs états de service,
Et le pistolet en sautoir.
Sans pain, sans travail et sans armes,
Nous allons être gouvernés
Par des mouchards et des gendarmes,
Des sabre-peuple et des curés.

Tomorrow the policemen
Will flower again on the sidewalk,
Proud of their service record,
And bearing pistols.
WIthout bread, without work, and without arms,
We will be governed
By spies and gendarmes,
People-stabbers and priests.

Le peuple au collier de misère
Sera-t-il donc toujours rivé ?
Jusques à quand les gens de guerre
Tiendront-ils le haut du pavé ?
Jusques à quand la Sainte Clique
Nous croira-t-elle un vil bétail ?
À quand enfin la République
De la Justice et du Travail ?