#Napoleon Courtyard

[emaadsidiki]

The Louvre Pyramid ∆

[illustratus]

A day of review under the Empire, 1810 by Hippolyte Bellangé and Adrien Dauzats

[doze-mag]

Contemporary Deck in Berlin An illustration of a sizable, modern courtyard outdoor kitchen deck design

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Bacchus on Napoleon and St. Charles.[by the incredible photographer Marco Rasi] :: [Meteorologist Zack Fradella]

* * * *

“In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air, I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet, like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard. I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.”

― Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Adam Jerzy Czartoryski

(admin note: even if you don't vote for him, reading about his life is a wild ride)

Propaganda:

"Decided that the way to free Poland was by having a threesome with Alexander and his wife.”

Lefebvre:

Propaganda:

“Total DILF material, and the fiery passion in his eyes was matched only by his fiery personality! This contest may be based on looks (and Lefebvre is a strong candidate on this metric alone); but it's hard not to fall in love with his spicy takes and saucy language. He told Napoleon, "Let us throw the lawyers into the river” after agreeing to help overthrow the Directory (quoted in David G. Chandler, ed., Napoleon's Marshals), and from his English Wikipedia article: When a friend expressed envy of his estate, Lefebvre said, "Come down in the courtyard, and I'll have ten shots at you with a musket at 30 paces. If I miss, the whole estate is yours." After the friend declined this offer, Lefebvre added, "I had a thousand bullets shot at me from much closer range before I got all this." In response to a clueless young man demanding his identity at a social event, he answered, ''Je viens de la lune, où je n'ai jamais vu un Jean-Foutre de ton espèce: Je m'appelle le Général Lefebvre!” [“I come from the moon, where I’ve never seen such a #*$& as you. My name is General Lefevre!”] Quoted in The Secret History of the Cabinet of Bonaparte by Lewis Goldsmith, 1810, which is also hilarious because the author clearly hates Lefebvre, but makes him sound like a cool badass. He earns additional sexy points by sticking by his ex-washerwoman wife, who had a mouth of her own. (tbh Catherine Lefebvre, “Madame Sans-Gêne,” deserves her own Napoleonic Sexyman [gender neutral] nomination).”

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Mitsuki: "Ah…"

Galileo: "Haah."

His cold fingers dug into my neck, and his hot breath tickled my skin.

His fangs sank deeply, and the pain transformed into pleasure.

(If this continues…)

My consciousness started to fade, and I could hardly resist anymore.

Galileo: "Guh. Haah…"

Mitsuki: *coughs, coughs*

Suddenly, he groaned and let go of my body.

As soon as I collapsed onto the floor, air flowed into my throat, and I took a moment to catch my breath, coughing all the while.

(What just happened?)

When I looked at him, he was also breathing heavily.

Galileo: "Why? Why can't I kill you?"

His eyes, filled with anguish, glared at me.

Galileo: "Could it be that interfering with you affects fate? Is that why I'm being stopped?"

Galileo: "Is that the law of the world?"

Galileo: "Am I forever to be denied by fate?"

Mitsuki: "Galileo."

Not understanding what he was saying, I reached out involuntarily at his pained expression, but he brushed my hand away.

Galileo: "Even if I can't kill you, my goal is right before me."

Galileo: "I will end everything, so you should just watch silently."

Galileo: "I'll say it again and again. You are powerless."

Mitsuki: ".........."

He told me this to break my spirit and left the room.

I sat there, my gaze wandering.

(He really intended to kill me.)

As my dazed mind regained its senses, tears ran down my cheeks.

(No matter how much I try to understand him, if he hates me enough to kill me and rejects me, I can never touch his heart.)

The overwhelming sadness threatened to crush my chest, and tears continued to fall.

Leaving Mitsuki behind, Galileo came to the inner courtyard. There, where red flowers bloomed, he collapsed to his knees.

Galileo: "I won't be swayed."

Galileo: "Destruction is the only thing I truly desire."

His murmur faded into the air, and the red flowers swayed sadly.

After that, I returned to the mansion without Galileo's permission to flee from his hatred.

Three days after the commotion in the slums, we held Mireia's funeral.

Napoleon: "I brought Miguel here earlier. I thought I'd let him be alone with his sister."

Jean: "But it's about time. Could you go and check on him?"

Mitsuki: "Sure."

I entered the church and saw a small coffin placed in the spot where the light from the window shone down.

Miguel, sitting beside the coffin, was gazing into it with his blue eyes.

Mitsuki: "Miguel."

When I called out to him, he turned to look at me.

Miguel: "It's time, isn't it?"

As he stood up and came closer, he looked straight at me.

Miguel: "Thank you, big sis."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Miguel: "When I said I would take revenge on the hunters, you stopped me."

Miguel gently narrowed his eyes.

Miguel: "Honestly, I still hate them. I think this feeling will never go away."

Miguel: "But after hearing what you said, I want to think about Mireia instead of filling my heart with hatred."

Miguel: "I want to be a kind person, just like you and Mireia."

Mitsuki: "Miguel."

Miguel: "Thank you for trying to protect the me that Mireia loved so much."

He smiled shyly but still looked lonely.

(How many emotions are swirling inside this child right now?)

Anger, hatred, and sadness.

But perhaps his love for those dear to him is dissolving these negative emotions, slowly healing his wounded heart.

Seeing Miguel like this seems to save even me.

【I'll say it again and again. You are powerless.】

(That’s right, I'm powerless. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do. However, there was someone who listened to my voice.)

Mitsuki: "No, I just wanted you to be yourself."

Mitsuki: "Miguel, it's amazing that you accepted my voice and Mireia's feelings."

Miguel: "You think so? I won't forget your words or Mireia's."

Miguel: "And I won't forget the days I spent with her."

With tears in our eyes, we smiled at each other, and I suddenly thought,

(Did Galileo have someone like this when he was in pain? Someone who could gently soothe his wounds?)

Lost in thought, Miguel turned back to the coffin.

Miguel: "Rest in peace, Mireia."

He placed a bright red flower beside the coffin.

Mitsuki: "Miguel, where did you get that flower?"

Miguel: "It was on the coffin when I came to the church this morning."

Miguel: "I thought maybe the priest or someone from the mansion had placed it there."

(That's not it. There's only one place where that red flower blooms.)

The beautiful yet sorrowful garden where the remains of the Dhampir rest.

(Could it be that this flower is from Galileo?)

(Did he secretly come here to place a flower on the coffin, even though he seemed unfazed by the deaths of others?)

(I don't understand what you're thinking, Galileo.)

(What were you feeling when you placed that flower here?)

I didn't understand, yet seeing the flower tightened my chest.

(I can't give up.)

(I want to know what you're thinking, your feelings when you placed that flower here, what led you to destruction, and what you truly desire.)

(I want to touch the real you.)

After the flowers drifted and the funeral bells echoed in the sky, I went to the Seine River with a certain resolve.

(He might be here.)

Mitsuki: "Drake!"

When I called out, Drake's eyes slightly widened before he gave a wry smile.

Drake: "Hey, runaway girl. I thought you'd never show up in front of us again."

Drake: "You ran away yourself, so what do you want?"

Mitsuki: "I need to ask you a favor."

I stared back at Drake, not letting his words get to me.

Mitsuki: "I want you to lend me the harness you're wearing."

The harnesses that Galileo and Drake wear stabilize the space beyond the door.

(With that, I can...)

Drake: "You intend to go through that door, little fawn?"

I nodded, and Drake's eyes silently asked, "Why?"

Without looking away from his gaze, I spoke up.

Mitsuki: "I've always wanted to understand Galileo."

Mitsuki: "He told me to see the truth with my own eyes; that's why I've been watching him closely since then."

(Sometimes, I end up hurting him.)

Mitsuki: "But I still haven't gotten close to him. Focusing only on the present isn't enough."

Mitsuki: "Without knowing the truth, no words of mine will ever reach him. That's why I want to know what happened in his past."

When I said this without any pretense, Drake's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Drake: "Don't you think using that door is cheating?"

Mitsuki: "I do."

(Peeking into someone's past without permission shouldn't be allowed.)

Especially for Galileo. 

His past was so painful that he wanted to erase and deny it.

(But...)

When I recalled his fragile, tormented figure,

(I can't afford to be picky about the methods.)

Mitsuki: "I know it's unfair to try to understand Galileo this way."

Mitsuki: "But I feel that only by seeing and accepting all of his past with my own eyes can I finally touch his true heart."

Drake: "............"

Drake gazed at me as if trying to discern something.

More than anything, my heart was now directed towards Galileo, driven by a sense of justice.

Drake: "I see."

Drake: "I guess I've also gotten caught up with the woman of destiny."

Mitsuki: "What do you mean by that?"

Without answering my question, he removed his cloak and threw the harness toward me.

Drake: "Alright. I'll lend this to you, Mitsuki."

Drake: "Let's see your desperate struggle, shall we?"

After that, I returned to the mansion and went to the door without anyone noticing.

I put on the harness I borrowed from Drake, took a deep breath, and looked at the door.

(I’m now heading to Galileo’s past.)

I heard that this door responds to strong feelings.

My feelings for him will be my only guide to this door that connects to any country and any era.

(Galileo's past is connected to his goal of destruction. To stop that and to protect him, I need to see the truth with my own eyes.)

I reached out and opened the heavy door.

Meanwhile, at that moment,

Galileo: "Ugh, haah, haah."

Drake: "You okay, Galileo?!"

The door opened, and Galileo appeared from beyond.

Drake, supporting his staggering body, clicked his tongue at the sight of him breathing heavily.

Drake: "You went out on the night of the lunar eclipse. If things were gonna turn out like this, I should've been there to help you right from the start."

Galileo: "I told you, Drake. If we both collapse, it’d be meaningless."

Galileo: "Also, because we share the same wish, we can mercilessly abandon each other if something happens."

Drake: "You're right."

Galileo: "Besides, I finally found it."

Drake: "So it’s finally time."

Galileo: "Yeah. Now, we just have to wait for the moon to rise."

Galileo, after calming his breath a bit, suddenly noticed something.

Galileo: "Where's your harness, Drake?"

Drake: "I lent it to Mitsuki."

Galileo: "What?"

Drake smiled wryly and furrowed his eyebrows.

Drake: "Don't give me that look. She seemed dead serious about struggling, like a fawn ready to fight."

Drake: "She wants to see your past and protect you."

His purple eyes trembled ever so slightly.

But the momentary hesitation vanished in a blink of an eye.

Galileo: "Protect me? What good does protecting me do?"

Drake: "........."

Galileo: "Whether she's the woman of destiny or not, it doesn't matter. I won't be swayed by her, ever."

As each held steadfast to their feelings, midnight was about to fall.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[thugnificent714]

1st Reserve Apartment

Consisting of rooms 290-301 (located in the south western corner of the inner courtyard), these rooms were occupied by Grand Duchess Maria Nicholaevna, daughter of Nicholas I and sister of Alexander II, and her husband Maximilian de Bauharnais, 3rd Duke of Leuchtenburg, grandson of Napoleon and Josehphine. The coupled lived in these rooms for only 5 years after which they moved into Maria's new palace, the Mariinsky Palace, in 1844. On December 17,1837 a fire broken out in the Field Marshal's Hall and burned for 3 days. The palace was rebuilt by 1838 and Maria and Maxililian were the first to occupy these rooms following the renovation.

Room 300

Room 301 was an anteroom through which you gained entry into room 300, Maria's Small Study.

Room 299 Maria's Dressing Room

Room 298 Bedroom

Room 297 Duke's Dressing Room

Room 296 Maria's Study

Room 295 Yellow Drawing Room

Room 294 Large Drawing Room

Room 293 Duke's Salon

Room 292 Duke's Drawing Room

Room 291 Duke's Study

Room 290 Duke's Valet Room

[napoleonbonasacc]

The Eaglet, the return of the ashes by André Castelot

The “Führer” personally sent a telegram to Marshal Pétain, informing him of his intention to return the remains of Napoleon’s son to France, so they could lie alongside his father under the same dome, in commemoration of the centenary of Napoleon’s ashes being brought back. Marshal Pétain quickly responded with his thanks, both personally and on behalf of the French people. The news was kept strictly confidential to prevent unwanted attention. It wasn’t until the evening before the event that a select group of Parisian journalists received invitations to the German embassy for 11 p.m.—most of them still unaware of the reason for the late-night summons.

Two German soldiers stand guard in front of the entrance to the carriage where the coffin of the Eaglet is located . We are at the Gare de l'Est. Photo 2: A view of the same coffin in the carriage.

The coffin is placed on an artillery carriage that will be towed by a German troop carrier.

Among these journalists, a man named André Castelot, who was to recount this day in his book "L'Aiglon", let us listen to him describe it: It was cold on the night of December 14 to 15, 1940. Placed on an artillery extension, the coffin crossed sleeping Paris - a Paris without light, followed the Seine, the Tuileries where the little king was born, and skirted this terrace by the water where he had so often walked in his little car, dragged by the sheep trained by Franconi....

It was nearly 1:00 a.m. when the procession, preceded by motorcyclists, came to a stop in front of the esplanade before the dome of Les Invalides. Snow was beginning to fall. In the vast courtyard, a double line of Republican Guards carrying torches illuminated the scene. In front of the gate, the officials exchanged a few words. But the German soldiers would not proceed further. Twenty Republican Guards seized the heavy bronze coffin, and it was on French shoulders that the remains of Napoleon's son were slowly carried across the courtyard, where the snow had formed an immaculate carpet.

The coffin being carried around the Emperor's tomb

A bugle call is heard. Then the drums beat in the fields as in the old days... The body of the Duke of Reichstadt now skirts the marble balustrade and is placed before the altar above the tomb where, for a century, the Emperor has been waiting for his son.

Napoleon II is now watched over by the Republican Guards in full dress. He will be laid to rest, after the grand official ceremony, in the chapel where Jerome Bonaparte is. He will remain there for nearly thirty years... A large tricolor flag envelops the gray coffin.

The folds cascade down, covering the purple steps dotted with golden bees; from a torch escape curls of incense. The few assistants—there were very few of us—move away, their throats tight with emotion, leaving the small white shadow surrounded by ten Republican Guards with drawn sabers, ten guards in full dress, wearing that uniform reminiscent of those once worn by the soldiers of the Grande Armée...

In the gloom of the side chapels, Foch, Vauban, and Turenne also watched over the colonel in the white uniform. The King of Rome, in his long bronze coffin placed near the red porphyry sarcophagus, would now rest under the glittering gold dome "on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of this French people," whom he would have so much wanted to know and love. The Eaglet had returned to the Eagle.

[napoleonxfalon]

@blademasterdior location: Dior's Ludi notes: night of the party (Napoleon's assuming this is his birthday party, clearly it was a surprise for him!)

Night swelled like a shadow as it enveloped Napoleon's keen eyes. His reflection told him to turn in, but with a look, the young Sinarian reminded the pestering voice of his protector that this was his night—just as it had been his day. Remembrance from the glory that surrounded the sands still thrummed at the forefront of his mind, in truth, Napoleon hadn't been able to push it from his mind. The warriors' dance, the crowd's roar, and how easily the blood of Solis Invicti had spilled in the end.

Wine, sweat, and spice pulled in a heady mix at the senses. Even from the gates of the ludi Napoleon could hear the thrum of the music as the bards came out in full force. Debauchery littered the courtyard and as one such drunken patron stumbled into him, the telltale sound of a blade unsheathing resounded behind him from Napoleon's guard. With a gentle wave, he instructed the men to wait at the door - perhaps all night. Torchlight scattered the interior but regardless of the revelry, there was only one that held the mortal's interest. The founder of this place, and the victor who'd managed to look so dashing despite spending most of the match on his knees. Even then, Dior managed to perform with charisma.

Dancers moved in sinuous waves, their bodies entwined like vines, bare feet kicking up dust as laughter and wild cheers broke the night’s stillness. Skin gleaming with oil, and the air shaking with passion - it served to thrill, and Napoleon felt the hair on the back of his neck bristle as he stepped deeper into the ludi. The host was easily found at the center of it all, a supernova eclipsing all the light that surrounded it. Napoleon enjoyed a contest, so he moved with not a step, but a leap from the ground to the table as he stood very suddenly at eye level with Dior and took the moment to seize the crowd's attention.

"He fought like fire, burning through the fray," Light flickered across Napoleon's frame as the crowd dulled, only for a moment as he playfully encapsulated the day, shrining the gladiator for the evening. "each movement art, each strike a lover's sway." A delicate motion played idly with the fabric of his chiton, holding the crowd's attention as he looked past Dior long enough to search their crowded, cherry-red faces. They cheered for their hero, their patron, and the night afforded them- but when they roused from their beds in the morning the taste of Napoleon's tribute would still sing across their tongue. "The earth trembled beneath his every blow, and we, enthralled, could only watch him glow."

His attention was now more affixed toward the champion, Napoleon's mind recanted the day as he'd met Dior's eye time after time. It was easy to see why he was so favored - Falon told Napoleon that few gladiators had longevity, so Napoleon argued that Dior must be the exception. "The crowd erupted, and my gaze was yours, a body forged from battle, a strength that roars." Napoleon smiled as he turned in a smooth fashion to the tempo of the music that still thrummed loudly about them.

"Your triumph soared, unmatched by any man, and as you stood, the victor in command," Napoleon had no talent for singing, but he had been reading the greats since his most delicate age, and pilfered their works now and then too. He let the crowd lean in as Napoleon's words uttered above a whisper - they and Dior would have to listen if they wished to hear. "I marveled at the power you revealed, my longing, not easily concealed."

[holycatsandrabbits]

Hey, y’all, it’s Weird Wednesday! Where on some Wednesdays, I blog about weird stuff and give writing prompts.

Today: Benjamin Bathurst: How to Become an Enduring Mystery in Just 10 Seconds

Welcome to Weird Wednesday! Today we’re going to follow a guy around a corner and see him vanish forever. Sound fun? Let’s get started.

In 1809, Europe was in the midst of the Napoleonic Wars. 25-year-old Benjamin Bathurst was a British diplomat sent to Austria to do diplomat things against the French that did not end well, and thus he needed to hurry home. It was thought the safest route from Vienna to London would pass through Prussia. Unfortunately for Bathurst, the route turned out to be terminally unsafe.

So why is the death of a random diplomat in dangerous territory still so famous? Because Bathurst didn’t simply die. He vanished. And according to legend (popularized by writer Charles Fort), he did it in a rather spectacular way.

Let’s join in on the night of Nov 25, 1809: Bathurst and his personal secretary, whose name is Krause, are traveling in Prussia under assumed names. Pretty wise in wartime. They stop at a post house in the town of Perleberg to get fresh horses for their carriage. They dine at the nearby White Swan Inn, and afterward Bathurst goes into a private room and writes a bunch of letters. 

The new horses are ready at 9 p.m. Bathurst comes out of the inn to get into the carriage, and then Krause comes out of the inn to get into the carriage, only Bathurst is not in the carriage. Bathurst is, in fact, nowhere.

Check out the blog post for the whole story and some writing prompts, such as: 

History’s mystery. What if the problem is not that you don’t see a missing man, but that you see him too much? A residual haunting is like a recording that plays over and over on the site of an emotional event. So say you’re a traveler stopping for fresh horses at a small inn, and while hanging out in the courtyard, you see a man in an expensive coat that’s a decade out of style. He walks around your carriage and then vanishes. When you run shrieking to the inn, the staff says, Oh, yeah, that’s Bathurst. His ghost shows up once in a while to disappear and we still don’t know what the hell happened to him. How maddening would it be to watch the vanishing over and over, and still not have a clue about where he went?

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers 

[hismajestysaerialcorps-temeraire]

Book Quote - Victory of Eagles (Page 236)

William Laurence meets King George III who was mad as a hatter.

Laurence crossed the courtyard to go to his side: the old man did not seem steady on the wet icy stones, and he was talking to himself, a stream of low unintelligible speech, which remained incomprehensible even as Laurence came close enough to make out the words.

“Horses,” the old man said, “horses and mules, and three weeks’ grain, and Copenhagen; the fleet in Copenhagen. Thirty-three pounds.” He did not seem to notice Laurence’s approach at all; until Laurence said, “Sir, should you not go back inside?”

“I will not,” the old man said, querulous. “Is that you, Murat? Is that you?” He peered at Laurence’s face, touched his coat, and, evidently satisfied, nodded. “You are not Napoleon; you are Murat. Are you here to kill me? Give me your arm,” he said, abruptly peremptory, and, taking a grip on Laurence’s arm, leaned on him heavily. He had fixed his gaze on the chapel, and started determinedly to limp on towards it. “They all mean to kill me,” he told Laurence, confidentially. “They are in there talking of it now. My son is with them.” He sounded neither indignant nor afraid, more as though he were sharing a piece of interesting gossip.

Laurence looked back at the tower, and then at the old man again, at his profile; and recognition came. “Sire,” Laurence said, low and wretchedly, “may I not help you inside? You ought not be out in this weather.” He dragged at the ties of his own cloak, and shrugging it off managed to put it over the King’s shoulders.

“I will go to Windsor,” the King said. “Napoleon is not there. Why may I not go to Windsor?” He continued his unsteady progress towards the chapel, and Laurence had either to pace him or let him go alone. “He is in London, he is in London. He is not in Windsor. I need not go to Halifax. It would be cowardly to go. Do you want me to go to Halifax?” he demanded. “My son wants me to go. He wishes me to die on the ocean.”

“I would wish to see you safe, Sire,” Laurence said, “as I am sure would he.”

“I will not go,” the King said. “I ought not go. I will die in England.” The door flung open again: frightened servants hurrying with cloak and umbrella to hold over him, and coax him back within; they gave Laurence no more than a glance, and he stepped back to let them work. The King’s voice rose in protest over their guiding hands, and then died away again into muttering confusion. He let himself be drawn gradually back inside.

“Poor old fellow,” the sergeant of Marines said, coming close to peer after them, for a glimpse inside the tower. “Gone out of his head, I suppose. Who was he?”

Laurence stood in the courtyard behind the closing door, rain running down his sleeves and his face like blood; stood and said aloud, “O God, I wish I had not done it.”

[emaadsidiki]

The Pavillon Sully, Louvre, Paris. ꒷︶🏛️︶꒷

[divorcedwife]

i found another great anecdote in the memoirs of Marcellin Marbot... Marbot recounts a story where he presented Napoleon with some captured flags from a victory over the Austrians, and then a few days later helped Napoleon put on a little play to scare the ambassador of Prussia

"Marshal of the Palace Duroc, after telling us what we were to do, had all the Austrian flags which we had brought from Bregenz secretly replaced in the lodgings which Massy and I occupied; then, some hours later, when the Emperor was in conversation with Count Haugwitz in his study, we re-enacted the ceremony of the handover of the flags in exactly the same way as it had been done on the first occasion. The Emperor hearing the band playing in the courtyard, feigned astonishment, and went to the windows followed by the ambassador. Seeing the flags carried by the N.C.O.s. he called for the duty aide-de-camp and asked him what was going on. The aide-de-camp having told him that we were two of Marshal Augereau's aides who had come to hand over to him the flags of Jellachich's Austrian corps captured at Bregenz, we were led inside; there Napoleon, without blinking an eyelid, and as if he had never seen us before, took the letter from Augereau, which had been re-sealed, and read it, although he had been aware of its contents for four days. Then he questioned us, making us go into the smallest details. Duroc had warned us to speak out loudly, as the ambassador was a little hard of hearing, this advice was of no use to Major Massy, who was the leader of the mission, since he was suffering from a cold and had almost completely lost his voice, so it was I who replied to the Emperor, and taking a lead from him, I painted in the most vivid colours the defeat of the Austrians, their despondency, and the enthusiasm of the French. Then, presenting the trophies one after the other, I named the Austrian regiments to which they had once belonged. I laid particular stress on two of them, because I knew that their capture would have a powerful effect on the ambassador, "Here," I said "is the flag of the infantry regiment of his Majesty the Emperor of Austria, and there is the standard of the Uhlans, commanded by the Archduke Charles, his brother." Napoleon's eyes twinkled, and he seemed to say, "Well done young man!" At last he dismissed us, and as we left we heard him say to the ambassador, "You see, monsieur le Comte, my armies are everywhere triumphant…. The Austrian army is no more, and soon the same fate will befall the Russians." Count Haugwitz seemed deeply impressed, and Duroc said to us, after we had left the room, "The count will write tonight to Berlin, to tell his government of the destruction of Jellachich's force, which will put a damper on the war party, and give the king new reasons for holding off. Which is what the Emperor very much wants."

This comedy having been played out, The Emperor, to be rid of a dangerous onlooker who could give an account of the disposition of his forces, suggested to Count Haugwitz that it was not very safe for him to remain between two armies which were about to come to blows, and persuaded him to go to Vienna to M. Tallyrand, his minister for foreign affairs, which he did that same evening.

The following day the Emperor said nothing to us about the scene which had been enacted the previous evening, but wishing, no doubt, to give some sign of his satisfaction with the manner in which we had played our parts, he asked Major Massy, kindly, about the progress of his cold, and he pinched my ear, which with him was a sort of caress."

[tikkunolamresistance]

Title: Marc Chagall’s Ceiling for the Paris Opéra

Artist: Marc Chagall

In 1960, the Minister of Cultural Affairs André Malraux made what in those days was the bold as well as spectacular gesture of commissioning Marc Chagall to paint a new ceiling for the Opéra. True, there was a recent precedent, the rather unsuccessful ceiling painted for the Louvre’s Salle Henri II by George Braque in 1952. And in fact, Malraux would follow up the year after and commission André Masson to do a ceiling for the Théâtre de l’Odéon. Was this an attempt to smash open the orderly but closed world created by Charles Garnier? A media coup at a time when the media were taking over the world.

An act of sacrilege? Chagall’s painting now covered the work of another artist, who, like all the pompier (as the nineteenth century academic painters were known), was out of favour. (That said, he would not remain there for long: less than two decades later, Lenepveu’s design was given the honours of the new Musée d’Orsay.) The action was sacrilegious, above all, with regard to Garnier’s principle of harmony, a principle observed by all the artists working under him, and even, to a certain degree, by Carpeaux. But then of course Garnier was no longer there to safeguard the unity of his palace of dreams.

Chagall’s ceiling did, without a doubt, make the Palais Garnier fashionable again. Just as, twenty years later, Buren’s columns put the spotlight on the Palais-Royal, which Parisians had totally forgotten, and were a great improvement on the car park that had dishonoured its courtyard for decades without anyone seeming to care. And just as, thirty years later, Pei’s pyramid made the Louvre an international talking point: not that the museum was lacking in claims to fame, but this relatively marginal architectural intrusion ensured that the “Grand Louvre” programme got plenty of global media coverage. Whatever one may think of their artistic merits, there is no denying that these three “gestures” were highly successful in terms of communication. And that, it would seem, was Malraux’s main concern at the Opéra.

Likewise, all three interventions brought an element of continuity as well as rupture. Pei’s pyramid certainly broke with the Renaissance and Napoleon III facades of the Louvre, but it echoes the obelisk on Place de la Concorde. Buren’s columns clearly continue the colonnade of the Galerie d’Orléans, even if they are truncated and striped; and Chagall’s ceiling, while it incontestably breaks with the harmony of the auditorium, is, in many respects, in profound continuity with Garnier’s work (Chagall was an attentive reader of “Le Nouvel Opéra”).

First of all, with his sharp, fresh hues – his “admirable prismatic colours” (André Breton) – Chagall continues and completes the reintroduction of colour, which was so important to Garnier. Chagall’s own gift for colour is something he had discovered when he came to Paris: “In Russia everything is dark, brown, grey. When I came to France, I was struck by the shimmering colours, the play of light, and I found what I had been blindly groping for, this refinement of matter and uninhibited colour.” In Paris, “things, nature, people were lit up by this ‘light-freedom’ and seemed to bathe in a coloured bath.” Moreover, this ceiling completes the Palais Garnier’s “pantheon” of illustrious composers throughout the ages.

It thus adds some of the architect’s contemporaries, such as Wagner [1]and Berlioz[2] who were “over-looked” in his iconographic programme (Verdi was the only living composer to be represented by a statue at the inauguration in 1875). It also introduces some major composers from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, including three from the relatively recent Russian school (unknown in France until Diaghilev’s time). What’s more, Chagall evokes these composers through an “Olympus” of characters from their operas. As readers will recall, “Olympus” was Garnier’s generic term for theatre ceilings.

Chagall was a lyric painter, and the correspondence, the sympathy linking his ceiling to Garnier’s building runs deeper that one might think. Chagall’s painting is, to borrow the word used by Guillaume Apollinaire when he first visited the artist’s studio at La Ruche in 1912, “super-natural” (this world would later be replaced by surrealist”), and so is Garnier’s enchanted palace. Chagall’s was a religious, even mystical spirit for whom love was the force that bound together and moved everything in the universe, whose creatures and objects were part of a total motion without top or bottom, gravity or resistance – perfect for painting an opera ceiling!

Even more profoundly, Chagall was drawn to an ideal of total theatre. Already, in his home town of Vitebsk, during his brief spell as director of the Academy of Fine Arts, he scandalised local Communist leaders by getting all the local house painters to help him decorate the place with green cows and flying horses in the celebration of the first anniversary of the October Revolution. And when he worked on the renovated Jewish State Theatre in Moscow, between 1919 and 1921, his vision embraced the whole of the auditorium, so that spectators were surrounded by panels whose designs echoes the sets and costumes on stage. Total theatre, just like Garnier. Like him, Marc Chagall dreamed of a theatre in which setting and action were one.

Chagall refused to be paid for his ceiling. The State covered only the material costs of the work, which was executed between January and August 1964. The painter worked at the Musée des Gobelins, then at the workshop built by Gustav Eiffel at Meudon (it later became an aviation museum) and finally at Vence. Chagall ceiling was inaugurated on 23 September 1964.

The ceiling consists of twelve canvas panels plus a round central panel totalling about two hundred and forty square metres and mounted on a plastic structure. The work is signed “Chagall Marc 1964” on the central and main panels.

CENTRAL PANEL

Going clockwise from stage right, the central panel evokes the following four composers and works:

Bizet, “Carmen”. Dominant colour: red. Carmen with the bullring, plus a bull and a guitar.

Verdi, work not specified, possibly “La Traviata”. Dominant colour: yellow. Behind a young couple, a bearded man (Germont’s father?) holds a half-unrolled scroll.

Beethoven, “Fidelio”. Dominant colours: blue and green. Leonora’s movement towards the blue cavalier, who brandishes his sword.

Gluck, “Orpheus and Eurydice”. Dominant colour: green. Eurydice plays the lyre (Orpheus’s instrument) and an angel proffers flowers.

MAIN PANEL

Moussorgski, “Boris Godounov”. Dominant colour: blue. In the middle, at the centre, the Tsar sits on his throne wearing the insignia of power; above him we see a winged, monster-headed fame and, in green, the city of Moscow; on the right, on the other side of Walter and Bourgeois’ “Hebe”, at the centre of the scene, the people (Chagall: “I consider the people the most sensitive element of society”).

Mozart, “The Magic Flute”. Dominant colour: light blue. As in “The Apparition” (1917, Gordeiev Collection, Moscow), a giant angel fills the blue sky while a bird (according to some sources, a cock), plays the flute. Chagall, who in 1965-1966 designed the sets and costumes for the 1967 Metropolitan Opera production of The Magic Flute, here takes an amiable liberty with the opera, in which the magic instrument is given to Tamino and not to the bird-man Papageno.

Wagner, “Tristan and Isolde”. Dominant colour: green. Leaning languorously towards Walter and Bourgeois “Daphne”, the couple nestles below the Arc de Triomphe, lit up with the red of passion, and Place de la Concorde, two of Chagall’s favourite subjects, along with other Parisian monuments (“My art needs Paris as a tree needs water,” he wrote).

Berlioz, “Roméo et Juliette”. Dominant colour: green. The embracing lovers are seen with a horse’s head and a « character sign » redolent of Chagall’s 1911 painting “The Holy Coachman” (“Le Saint voiturier au-dessus de Vitebsk”, private collection, Krefeld): it ends in a nimbus or glory (?) which frames their faces.

Rameau, work not specified. Dominant colour: white. On the illuminated façade of the Palais Garnier, which is also red with passion, Carpeaux’s “The Dance”, covered in gold, takes monumental proportions.

Debussy, “Pelléas et Mélisande”. Dominant colour: blue. Lying alongside the head of “Clytia” sculpted by Walter and Bourgeois, Pelléas watches Mélisande from the window in a playful reversal of roles (according to Jacques Lasseigne, Chagall endowed his Pelléas with the physiognomy of André Malraux). Above them, a crowed head (King Arkel?).

Ravel, “Daphnis et Chloé”. Dominant colour: red. Along with the (blue) sheep and temple of the first act, the extraordinary figure of the Siamese couple (“There was a time when I had two heads / There was a time when these two faces / were coated in amorous dew / And melted like the fragrance of a rose…” – poem by Chagall), which Chagall had already included in the curtain that he painted for the Opéra in 1858, and which can be seen as completing the amorous osmosis begun in “The Walk”, a painting from 1929 showing a couple standing/walking head-to-foot in the street. It is naturally accompanied by a Eiffel Tower, a recurrent motif in Chagall’s paintings. In 1958 Chagall designed the sets and costumes for Georges Skibine’s revisiting of the choreography of “Daphnis et Chloé” [3] In 1961 he illustrated the publisher Tériade’s edition of the original tale, attributed to Longus.

Stravinsky, “The Firebird”. Dominant colours: red, green and blue. In the top left area, the painter (Chagall) with his palette and the bird which, curiously, is green; on the right, an angel musician whose cello is also its body, stands near the magic tree containing the bird. Below are the domes and roofs, no doubt of the magic castle, and a bird, red this time, flying down towards a crowned couple beneath a canopy. To one side, a young married couple, a peasant carrying a big basket of fruit on his head and an orchestra. Should the proximity of the Eiffel Tower (in the Ravel section of the ceiling) be taken as an allusion to “Les Mariés de la Tour Eiffel” (1928)? To the right, above the head of Walter and Bourgeois’ “Pomona”, a violinist bends lovingly over his instrument. Chagall designed the sets and costumes for the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “The Firebird” in 1945 (choreography by Massine).

Tchaikovsky, “Swan Lake”. Dominant colour: golden yellow. At the bottom, a swan-woman on a blue lake, leaning backwards and holding a bunch of flowers; at the top, a surprising angel-musician, whose head and body are one and the same as its instrument.

Adam, “Giselle”. Dominant colour: golden yellow. The peasants’ dance under the village trees at the end of the first act.

[1] The State commissioned a bust of Wagner from Bozzi (1903). Although originally intended for the corridors around the auditorium, this marble object was used to decorate the upper landing on the west staircase leading to the Library-Museum.

[2] Since 1885, however, a bust of him by Carlier has stood in the auditorium.

[3] Cf. André Boll, “Les décors de Marc Chagall pour Daphnis et Chloé,” “Spectacles”, Paris, no. 3.

Gérard Fontaine, with the kind permission of Éditions du Patrimoine – Paris.

[bridgeportbritt]

The Emporer of Francesim, Napoléon V, arrives at Willington Palace and is greeted by Her Majesty

When two countries unite! Napoléon V of Francesim made it across the pond to Willington Palace today for a two day state visit hosted by Queen Diana.

This is the first time Napoléon V has been to Francesim, but the countries have been allied for some time. TRH Grand Duke and Duchess of Umbrage attended St. Napoléon's Day and was given the Legion of Honor by the late Emperor Napoleon IV.

The details of the visit have not been released to the public, but many expect to see the two rulers out and about in SimDonia the next two days. SimDonia Times has been granted exclusive coverage of the event and will be providing live updates.

In the Willington Palace Courtyard, Diana and Napoléon V greet with a warm handshake and pleasantries. Napoléon V wears a fitted black suit as he is currently still in mourning over the loss of his father.

Queen Diana wears a short sleeve black and white tweed turtleneck belted dress which shows her growing baby bump. She also wears diamond earring and a pearl necklace with a black bow which we believe is a symbol of respect for the Emporer's mourning period.

The two sovereigns snap a quick casual photo before retreating into Willington Palace where the Emporer will be residing for the duration of his visit. We're excited for more to come of this trip!

@empiredesimparte

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Dorothea von Biron:

a. „A great beauty and gracious hostess, possibly the most beautiful of four extraordinarily attractive and scandalous sisters, said to posses an extraordinary charm. But what makes her The Sexyman is the feat of managing to captivate the old wily devil Talleyrand and becoming the greatest and last love of his life… while, technically, being his niece by marriage.”

François Joseph Lefebvre:

“Total DILF material, and the fiery passion in his eyes was matched only by his fiery personality! This contest may be based on looks (and Lefebvre is a strong candidate on this metric alone); but it's hard not to fall in love with his spicy takes and saucy language. He told Napoleon, "Let us throw the lawyers into the river” after agreeing to help overthrow the Directory (quoted in David G. Chandler, ed., Napoleon's Marshals), and from his English Wikipedia article: When a friend expressed envy of his estate, Lefebvre said, "Come down in the courtyard, and I'll have ten shots at you with a musket at 30 paces. If I miss, the whole estate is yours." After the friend declined this offer, Lefebvre added, "I had a thousand bullets shot at me from much closer range before I got all this." In response to a clueless young man demanding his identity at a social event, he answered, ''Je viens de la lune, où je n'ai jamais vu un Jean-Foutre de ton espèce: Je m'appelle le Général Lefebvre!” [“I come from the moon, where I’ve never seen such a #*$& as you. My name is General Lefevre!”] Quoted in The Secret History of the Cabinet of Bonaparte by Lewis Goldsmith, 1810, which is also hilarious because the author clearly hates Lefebvre, but makes him sound like a cool badass. He earns additional sexy points by sticking by his ex-washerwoman wife, who had a mouth of her own. (tbh Catherine Lefebvre, “Madame Sans-Gêne,” deserves her own Napoleonic Sexyman [gender neutral] nomination).”