#Place de la Bastille

[lascitasdelashoras]

Marcel Bovis - Place de la Bastille Paris 1947

[fidjiefidjie]

Bonjour, bonne journée ☕️ 🪧

Grande manifestation place de la Bastille🗼Paris 1986

Photo de Jean-Claude Gautrand

[merpmonde]

July 1830: the Revolution I forgot

This is Bastille square in Paris. As anyone who's had history classes in France will know, this is Bastille as in Bastille day, 14 July 1789, when Parisians raided the Bastille prison to get weapons for their revolt against the king - the flashpoint of the French Revolution.

It's also rather well known in France that the Bastille prison was demolished shortly after, as Paris rid itself of symbols of the Old Regime. So it would make sense that this monument commemorates that, right? It's super famous, after all.

Wrong. This column commemorates the events of July 1830, some forty years later, the significance of which, I'll admit, I had forgotten.

So here's how it goes. Since 1789, France had oscillated between fragile compromises of constitutional monarchy, revolutionary fanaticism and the iron fist of Napoleon. Following the defeat of 1815, Paris entered a period of calm acceptance under King Louis XVIII, but his successor, Charles X, wanted to go back to the old ways.

So, in July 1830, Paris revolted again. Disposing of the king was a surprisingly quick affair, as in just three days, Charles X was gone. He was replaced by his cousin, Louis Philippe, who seemed more willing to placate the bourgeoisie. A new constitution was drawn up, known as the Monarchie de Juillet, or July Monarchy.

In this context, a monument to the victory of 1830 was commissioned, and this is it: the Colonne de Juillet (July Column), a 47 metre-tall column adorned with the names of the fallen revolutionaries, a mausoleum at the base and the Spirit of Freedom on the top - and is that camera surveilling the street below?

Louis Philippe had ascended to the throne after a revolution, but he would also descend from the throne after the next. In February 1848, Paris revolted for a third time, swiftly ending the July Monarchy and establishing the Second Republic... which, within just 4 years, would become the second Bonaparte dictatorship.

[frenchcurious]

Bernard Buffet (1928-1999) L'Avaleur de Sabres, extrait du recueil Mon Cirque, 1968. - source Heritage Auctions.

[parisies]

Vous ne le remarquez plus,

Vous ne l’entendez pas.

Mais le gracieux génie de la Bastille,

Entre deux « Ça ira » malicieux,

Vous le répète, inlassable :

Ne jamais baisser les bras,

Et toujours viser la lune.

Car, comme disait Oscar,

On est sûr au moins

De toucher les étoiles.

[postcard-from-the-past]

Subway station on the Place de la Bastille Square in Paris

French vintage postcard

[cliozaur]

Oh, tomorrow we’ll read the elephant chapter! Many years ago, it served as my introduction to Les Misérables. When I was barely older than the elder of the two young Thénardiers (around eight or nine years old), we had to read it in school. I recall being quite traumatized by it: poor children, and poor cat eaten by rats. The only thing that immensely impressed me was the idea of the elephant in which one could live! And when I revisited the book in a more appropriate age, I was impressed once again – this time, I was moved to tears by this passage: “It seemed as though the miserable old mastodon, invaded by vermin and oblivion, covered with warts, with mould, and ulcers, tottering, worm-eaten, abandoned, condemned, a sort of mendicant colossus, asking alms in vain with a benevolent look in the midst of the crossroads, had taken pity on that other mendicant, the poor pygmy, who roamed without shoes to his feet, without a roof over his head, blowing on his fingers, clad in rags, fed on rejected scraps. That was what the elephant of the Bastille was good for.” I like every description of the elephant in this chapter, but this one is my favourite! And then, while pursuing my PhD, I read "Citizens" by Simon Schama, where the elephant served as the opening symbol in the extensive narrative about the French Revolution. I just feel that this elephant is an important part of my life!

[hedgehog-moss]

On the eve of planned nationwide demonstrations, I want to offer an overview of the ways the protests in France are being handled by the government so far (and if what you’ve heard is that this is over a 2 year increase in retirement age, please do take a minute to read this post to get a better idea of the context)

1. In Paris on March 21, a CRS (cop) threw a tear gas grenade in the air towards protesters (they’re supposed to throw them near the ground); the grenade landed and exploded on a protester’s head. (x)

2. Massive use of tear gas at every protest, on this vid from March 17 you can see the Place de la Concorde (largest public square in Paris) drowned in tear gas. (x)

3. In Paris on March 20, video of a CRS with a baton hitting protesters who are cowering against a wall (x)

4. CRS grabbing demonstrators in (illegal) chokeholds and dragging them by the neck (x)

5. In Strasbourg on March 21, police trapped about a hundred protesters in a narrow alleyway and tear gassed them from both ends of the alley so they couldn’t escape; an asthmatic person lost consciousness; people who lived there opened their doors and let the protesters enter their houses to get to safety. (x)

6. In Paris on March 20, a CRS shot a protester with an LBD riot gun (rubber bullets) and shouted at him “Pick up your balls now, fucker” (x) (an allusion to the several instances in recent years of protesters having testicle injuries from LBD guns - and non-protesters too, in 2015 a Muslim teenage boy lost a testicle after being shot by a cop with rubber bullets when he was shooting firecrackers in a park on July 14th / Bastille day). A few seconds later in the video another CRS tells the one who said that “careful there’s a camera”

7. In Paris on March 21, a group of 4 or 5 CRS who were dispersing demonstrators, threw a homeless man to the ground who had been shouting at them (hard to hear what he said, the first sentence is “How can you do this job?”), kicking him in the head while he was down and mocking him when he couldn’t get up, calling him a ‘fatso’ and ‘sack of shit’ (the woman you can hear at the end of the video is yelling at the CRS to help the guy get up and telling them “do you lack humanity to this point?”) (x)

8. That same day Macron gave a speech on TV in which he said “the crowd [= the protesters] has no legitimacy against the people, who express themselves through their elected representatives” even though he passed his reform without a vote from the elected representatives—and considering polls show the vast majority (>70%) of the country is against the reform, the “people” and the “crowd” are one and the same. Today (March 22) he gave another TV speech in which he compared what’s happening in France right now to the January 6 US capitol attack.

9. During today’s speech Macron also said “minimum-wage workers have never seen such an increase in purchasing power” which is a mad thing to say in the middle of a cost of living crisis, and he used the term ‘smicard’ in this sentence— the minimum wage in France is called the SMIC and smicard is a derogatory word for minimum-wage workers. He decried the “extreme, unregulated violence” of protesters but had nothing to say about the unregulated violence of his police forces, and instead stoked the fire with contemptuous language that angers people the day before a planned mass protest.

10. Hundreds of protesters (and even people who weren’t protesting but just nearby) have been arrested and taken into custody in “preventative arrests”; the vast majority were then released due to “absence of an offence.” Here’s a thread by a woman who was arrested in Paris along with 11 other women (one was a 17 year-old girl) for taking part in a peaceful protest. They spent 20 hours all in one cell, were only allowed to go to the toilet if they left the door open, were frisked and had their fingerprints and DNA samples taken. Also, in Nantes on March 14, four young women age 18-20 reported having been sexually assaulted by police during body searches while participating in a student protest.

And a thread by a 19-year-old Black student who spent 48 hours in custody last week along with 4 other people who were arrested in Paris as they were walking down the street. Lots of racist shit in this thread. He had already spent 14 hours in custody after a protest a couple of days before, and ended up being charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken.

This article in Le Monde from yesterday (it’s in French and unfortunately paywalled) talks about people who took part in last week’s protests having been handcuffed and searched in their underwear then released free of charges the next day; a lawyer comments how this is clearly meant to discourage people from demonstrating. The article also mentions two 15 year old Austrian boys who were on a class trip to Paris and were rounded up with a group of demonstrators, so the Austrian embassy had to intervene. (Journalist mentions sarcastically “We don’t know if these high schoolers’ DNA samples were taken.”)

11. There are videos from various protests of journalists wearing the press armband being threatened, hit, or shoved to the ground by police. In Montpellier yesterday, a journalist took this photo as a CRS was pointing his rubber bullet gun at his head and another was running at him with his baton telling him “I don’t give a fuck about your press card” —the photographer managed to run away. (x)

This is all from the past ten days (and mostly from the past two days) and far from an exhaustive list, there's so much outrageous stuff happening (like the Minister of the Interior lying and saying participating in an undeclared demonstration is illegal, when it’s not) but it gives a good idea of what French democracy looks like under Macron. The above photo says it all really. And thank you to all the people who continue taking part in the protests and strikes.

[rod1832]

A la Bastille!!【2/6】

I put Camille Desmoulins in the centre because I seriously love this guy

The others are: Lafayette ( I know he doesn’t actually belong but he deserves a place), Danton, Marat, Robespierre, Olympe de Gouges, Francis, Brissot and Saint Just

[marimayscarlett]

'Rosenrot' turns 19 years old today 🎶💿

On the 28th of October, 2005, the fifth studio album 'Rosenrot' was released, about a year after 'Reise Reise'. The band worked with their usual producer Jacob Hellner in the El Cortijo Studio in Spain as well as in the Teldex Studio in Germany on this album, yet it has to be mentioned that the recording process for 'Rosenrot' was significantly shorter than usual and according to Till, the band felt kind of rushed. Seven songs were already recorded during the sessions for 'Reise Reise' and were left in their original form: Rosenrot, Wo bist du, Mann gegen Mann, Zerstören, Ein Lied, Feuer und Wasser and Hilf mir. New songs for this album developed out of already existing demos, and thus Benzin, Spring, Stirb nicht vor mir and Te quiero puta! were born and added to the list.

To the press, this album was announced under the title 'Reise Reise II'/'Reise Reise (Vol. 2)' in a posting on the official Rammstein website on the 24th of June 2005: Good news: Rammstein are already working on a musical successor, which is expected to be called "Reise, Reise ( Vol.2)". The management explained as follows: "After the production phase of the last album, there were many songs that had not found a place on 'Reise, Reise' at the time for dramaturgical reasons, but could now be finalised. It's nothing unusual . Just as 'Ohne Dich' came from the production time for the album 'Mutter', numerous songs have been waiting for more than a year to be perfected and are now to see the light of day. It's up to the band alone to decide which ones to release."

On the 17th of August 2005, the band decided on naming the album 'Rosenrot' instead and a day later, on the 18th of August, this was officially announced. The first song which was presented to the public was 'Benzin', which was performed by the band at a concert at the Wulheide, Berlin, on the 23rd of June, 2005.

To present the full album to world of music journalism, the band held an event in Paris to showcase the album through a sightseeing tour. Journalists were given a discman with the album and headphones during a bus tour through the city, covering the route from Place de la Bastille to the Seine riverside, where they could board a ship and interview the band members about the album.

Here's an interview with Olli and Paul in Paris. Olli talks for example about how 'Rosenrot' is a calmer record than 'Reise Reise' and Paul mentions how much sex and sexuality plays a major role in their music and in music in general:

Eight days before the official release of the album, listening samples (about one minute each) of six songs from the album were released online as part of the promotion for the album. These listening samples were also released as a CD.

The album debuted at number 1 on the German album charts in its first week and stayed in the Top 100 for a total of 41 weeks. Over 200,000 copies were shipped, reaching platinum status in the first week. It also achieved platinum status in Switzerland and gold in Austria, the Czech Republic, Denmark, and Finland. 'Rosenrot' reached number 23 in the "Top 50 Albums" chart of 2005.

As a cover, the band reused the Japanese cover of the 'Reise Reise' album. It depicts the US wind-class icebreaker (USS Atka) during an expedition under the leadership of commander Buster E. Toon; the picture was taken on 13 March 1960 at McMurdo Station, Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica, after it arrived there in a howling blizzard one day earlier. The print on the CD as well as on the DVD (with live perfomances of 'Reise Reise', 'Mein Teil' and 'Sonne') is designed to look like a hatchway of a ship.

The promotional pictures were taken by Mat Hennek. Flake had fallen ill with Mumps, which already prevented him from attending the Paris promotion, and as a result, he was also unable to participate in the photo shoot. He was replaced by his brother, which is why "Flake" (his brother) is always turning his face away from the camera or why it's hidden behind sunglasses or in the shadows.

Some more little facts about the album and quotes from promotional interviews:

Paul on the song 'Zerstören': We are basically holding up a mirror. The lyrics we written during the war in Iraq. We were interested in the parallels between a marauding pack of kids after a game of soccer who roam the street and destroy everything, and states which invade other states and destroy everything there. Our main thought was that there is no difference. We perceived it as boldness, that the Americans simply bomb a country and get away with it. At the moment George W. Bush is nothing else but another disgusting hooligan.

Olli on 'Mann gegen Mann': We don’t want to discriminate against gays. The song is more for gays. We simply wanted to take the weight off the topic and make it more natural.

as well as on the album name and cover: Actually, the album should be called 'Reise, Reise Vol. 2’. We quickly forgot about that title. Since we see the new album as an independent one, we needed a new title. That was a bit unfortunate, since the cover was already finished. So the ship on the cover picture is now called 'Rosenrot’ and everyone can think about what it stands for. Opposites? The cold world? Where has the love gone? No idea. But the ship does not symbolize the now and us as a band.

Till on the idea behind 'Benzin': One day, I actually watched a movie called Love Liza. It’s the story of a guy who loses his wife and his job and gradually becomes addicted to gasoline. He goes to gas stations and smells the pump. It’s a sort of tragicomedy. Many films have been made about addicts, but never about gasoline sniffers. I think that was the starting point for this song.

Olli on recording the album in Berlin: It’s the first time we’ve recorded in Berlin, at home, and I’m not sure, looking back, that it was a good idea. Our families living nearby, we might tend to look at our watches whenever we had a break : What am I doing ? Do I take the opportunity to drop by home ? As a result, we were necessarily less focused and it was almost impossible for us to be there 100%.

Schneider on 'Rosenrot' as the end of an era:  For me, this is the closing of a chapter for the band. Everybody needs a break, they need a bit of distance from this band and time to look forward and ask, ‘Where am I?’ And, ‘What do I want to do?’ We need to find other ways of being inspired.

additional sources: rammwiki, Rammstein history, affenknecht.com, navy.mil

[famousinuniverse]

The Canal Saint-Martin is a 4.6 km long canal in Paris, connecting the Canal de l'Ourcq to the river Seine. Nearly half its length, between the Rue du Faubourg du Temple and the Place de la Bastille, was covered in the mid-19th century to create wide boulevards and public spaces on the surface. Wikipedia

[eastwindmlk]

Look! Something happened here and idk. It got away from me. Anyway for @jilytoberfest day 24 we revisit Bigger Fish. Prompt: 🎶Then I know everything is gonna be fine, Because you are mine🎶 -You Shine from Carrie - The Musical

Word count: 3.606... yeah I know.

Waking up in a small boutique hotel on Paris’ Place de la Bastille on the day of your wedding should feel like waking up in a dream. Lily knew that. Still, she sat up in the Egyptian cotton sheets, bleary-eyed and hard-hearted.

Everything should have been dreamy, from the French breakfast waiting for her on her balcony with a view of the courtyard and the muffled uproar from the square rising over the building. To the incredibly fluffy tear-stained pillows she’d cried herself to sleep on and all because of one man.

James Potter, who had ran back into her life at the eleventh hour like they were in some sort of soap opera. Where he returned just in time to confess his love for her and steal her away to the future they were always meant to have.

He almost did. Showing up at the airport, begging her to not do it. The only difference was that she wasn’t the heroine. She wasn’t going to blow all of this off just because he swanned in at a ta-da nick of time to swoop her off her feet. That was not who Lily Evans was.

Lily Evans was sensible and steady, she went through school and dated the footie captain and when he eventually broke her heart, like everyone said he would, she moved on. She found a dependable, unremarkable colleague who brought her coffee and complimented her hair even if he never noticed when she cut it.

He wasn’t a big fish and that is what made him right. Right?

She gripped the edges of her goose feather duvet and peered into the glaring sun, wondering if maybe she was making a mistake. Her eyes lifted to the clock, it was a little before eight and the make-up and hair team would be there in half an hour. Which should be long enough to warm up her cold feet.

Lily took a quick shower, getting dressed in her wedding lingerie and a silk robe before settling herself on the balcony. She was intent on enjoying the view, the sun, the breakfast and staunchly ignored the humdrum of the touristy city below her. Just as she was ignoring the doubt swirling in her chest.

All she had to do was get through today – and the rest of her life – wondering what would have happened had she been brave enough not to board that plane.

She was sipping her morning coffee when the door to her room burst open, the hot drink dripping onto her fingers. It was at this moment that Lily regretted giving the front desk permission to let her mother in.

“Lilykins! Darling! Are you alright?” She asked and without looking Lily could tell that she was frazzled and red-faced. “Are you not bothered by all the ruckus? The receptionist said that ‘ze are protesting ze new work low but ze won’t burn down anyzing ‘ere’,” her mother scoffed and Lily suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at her mother’s abysmal imitation of the French accent.

The bride-to-be turned her torso to offer her mother a sympathetic smile. “You know that sounds awfully mean when you do that right?”

“Do what?”

“The accent,” Lily pointed out, her lips pressing into a thin smile.

Her mother sighed dramatically, her whole torso rising and falling with it. “Don’t be so soft, Lilykins. I am sure they know I don’t mean it that way,” she said, her forehead wrinkling while she gestured vaguely around herself before plopping down on the edge of the bed. Seemingly to catch her breath.

“Oh I don’t know, the French aren’t renowned for their sense of humour,” she pointed out now just trying to get a rise out of her mother. A little thing to distract herself from the restlessness that still brewed in her chest like a storm at sea.

Ruth Evans tutted and shot her daughter a playful glare before letting her expression soften. “It’s a nice room,” she started trying to make small talk. Her mother hated small talk.

“Just spit it out, Mother,” Lily huffed, not wanting to pussyfoot around whatever her mother had to say. She felt like, today of all days, she was entitled to an expedited process. She simply did not have it in her to take her mother’s delicate sensibilities into account today.

Ruth’s lips pursed while she levelled her youngest daughter with a disapproving look that bounced right off of her. “Don’t call me ‘mother’ in that tone,” she sniffed and shifted in her seat before coming right out with it. “I was just… See. I heard that a certain someone might be back in town.”

Lily grimaced and placed her coffee back on the cast iron table, the thought of consuming anything suddenly making her feel ill. “He is, not that it is of any consequence to me,” she dismissed as blasé as she could manage while her heart threatened to burst from her chest and tattle on her.

“Right, of course, it isn’t. I just- It made me wonder how you’re feeling about all of this,” she said while she gestured around her vaguely in an attempt to indicate the whole situation. Or, at least, that is what Lily assumed she meant.

She turned fully in her seat and away from the food and the view to look her mother squarely in the face. That was the plan, but she could only drop her eyes to her hands when she answered her. “It’s beautiful. Every girl dreams of getting married in Paris.” Her voice sounded distant and tight, very much unlike her. Even more so, very much unlike how you’d want any bride to sound on her wedding day.

There was a moment of silence, patient and expecting. There was something extremely unsettling about it. Her mother was never silent, not like this. It made the words she did not want to say rise to her lips nearly instantly. Her secrets fought their way up her throat to see which one was going to fill the emptiness her mother’s silence left.

Lily nearly confessed to what happened at the airport when she was saved by a knock on the door. Her mother stood up in a flurry to open up for the beauty team. Which, hopefully, meant that her mother would let the situation rest for the sake of keeping up appearances.

After all, she would probably die of embarrassment if these total strangers knew there was trouble in paradise.

For a glorious thirty minutes while she was poked with brushes and having her hair pulled and twisted in every which direction, Lily enjoyed her mother’s chatter on how the venue was coming along. Ruth didn’t like small talk unless it would earn her praise.

The end of her peacetime was rung in by Petunia stomping into the room, her blonde hair in her signature, braided twist - which had made an appearance at every formal event after she’d perfected it at age sixteen. - the aubergine maid-of-honour dress still on its garment bag. Lily had no time to ask her if she wanted to use the large en-suite bathroom to change before her sister’s shrill shriek rang through the room. “Seriously, Lily! The airport!”

If her face had not been slathered in foundation a quarter inch thick, she might have flushed. The redhead just wasn’t sure if it was in shame or frustration. “Did something happen at the airport?” her mother chimed in and it was like watching the spark that started the great fire catch.

“You haven’t told her?”

“Tuney,” she cautioned and hoped that a withering look was just as powerful through a reflection.

Not that they had often worked on her sister, who barrelled on with her usual amount of consideration for her younger sibling. Next to none. “The Potter boy showed up at the gate,” she informed their mother, her nose turned up to drive home her superior tone.

Ruth gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth in shock. “Lily Josephine Evan! Why did you not tell me?” The use of her full name made Lily cringe even at age twenty-eight.

‘Because of that reaction’ Lily thought to herself, but she wouldn’t say that now. “I didn’t think it mattered much,” she lied and closed her eyes to let the make-up artist apply another layer of powder and hoped she was done now.

“No? I would think that the other man showing up means quite a lot,” Petunia’s snide remark burned away the remaining cringe and her glare turned deadly.

Her perfectly painted lips disappeared into a thin line when she turned around to look at her sister. It was their mother that interjected. “Petunia!”

“Well, I don’t have some fancy man show up at my gate, begging me to marry him instead,” she said with an indignant sniff and an upturned nose. “’S all I’m saying. “

That is when she started to regret flying with the airline her sister worked for, even if the tickets had been free. The gossip train was clearly very effective and she would not be surprised to see that her sister was a little too well-informed on things.

The news shocked their mother into silence for just long enough that her sister could shoot Lily a look, Superior and satisfied with ruing a perfectly peaceful morning. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her mother’s voice trembled with emotion and she almost worried that she was going to burst into tears. Grateful that she’d already done her make-up and would not want to ruin it with tears.

“Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it all when it really isn’t,” Lily pointed out, her voice gentler now. Mindful of her mother’s fraying nerves.

“Well, what did you tell him?”

“I am here, am I not?” she answered, her toe pushing up her sock and hoped the answer was enough to soothe her mother.

Ruth sighed in relief, her smile appearing from behind the clouds. Another crisis averted. “That you are and you will be such a beautiful bride,” she cooed, her hands clasped together. “I’ll go get changed. Petunia, help your sister into her dress. It’s almost time,” she said with more enthusiasm than she thought she could muster for her own wedding.

Lily stood, facing the mirror while her sister laced her into the bodice of her white gown and while she felt like she looked like a princess with the Tudor-style bodice and the puffed skirt. She was Cinderella on her way to the ball, all she was missing was her glass slippers.

“What are those?” Petunia’s disgust was evident in her voice when Lily lifted her skirt to slip into her low-heeled slippers.

Her eyes travelled down to look at pastel blue, fluffy socks she’d worn from the moment she stepped out of the shower. “My something blue?” Lily replied, her tone questioning while her sister yanked the warm socks off her feet.

Her sister tutted, not unlike what their mother had done before. “You’re so strange sometimes,” Petunia complained while she fuzzed over Lily’s veil for a moment. “All done. Now smile, this is the happiest day of your life.”

The words echoed in her mind. The happiest day of her life. Lily knew it ought to be, but all she could focus on were the clouds that had rolled in earlier, the restless sea that roiled in her chest. She forced the corners of her lips up into a smile and was grateful that Petunia did not care if it reached her eyes or not.

Lily told herself that she was just nervous, this was a big day for everyone involved. It was only natural to feel a little nauseous. Especially when your mother reappears in the room and just so happens to also be dressed in white.

“Mother,” she started and the words stuck in her throat when Ruth looked up at her. “Mum,” she tried again, tempering her tone. “Why are you wearing white?”

Her mother laughed, her fingers caressing the string of pearls that she wore on every important occasion. “I’m not wearing white, darling. This is crème,” she said defensively, tracing her fingers along the taffeta silk fabric that had a similar sheen to that of her wedding dress.

Despite feeling like she should be offended by her mother’s actions, she couldn’t help but also be grateful for the distraction it offered. The more she could focus on this, the less she would think about her doubts.

More importantly, she won’t think about him.

By the time Lily made her way across the hotel lobby on her way out, the protest had indeed moved on without as much as a rubbish bin lit on fire. It was all that her mother talked about on the way to the venue, more distractions.

Lily’s storm seemed to finally break while she stood waiting in the wings as the stragglers filed in minutes before the start of the ceremony. Her hands were wringing in front of her nervously when Petunia grabbed her shoulders. “Breathe, Lily,” she commanded sternly and took a few deep breaths with her until she was satisfied. “Remember to smile when you see him.”

Her eyebrows brew together at the remark she blinked at her sister before asking. “Who?”

“Your fiancee, Lily. I know you’re nervous but smile for him when you see him, he won’t know the difference from when you feel better after the ceremony,” she explained and pushed a stray lock of hair back into her up-do before lowering the blusher over her face. “Happiest day of your life,” Petunia reminded her once more and handed her the bouquet of flowers. She scowled at the Baby’s Breath she’d explicitly said she hadn’t wanted.

So, this is where her mother chose to be traditional then. It was fine, she supposed.

Lily wrapped her hands around the ribbon-bound stems while she rocked from her heels to her toes a couple of times, hoping that the chapel was warmer than this side room. If only she could have kept her socks on. It wasn’t like anyone would notice.

All thoughts of socks faded to the background when their father opened the door, right on cue. The first notes of Pachelbel’s canon started to float their way. This was it. The start of the rest of her life.

John Evans was the opposite of his flighty and erratic wife. He was solid and calm, a rock that Lily would cling onto all the way down the path of pink petals. Like her sister before him, her father took a deep breath with him and pointed to his cheek. Smile.

Lily clutched her father’s arm and the storm had run its course when she clutched onto his arm. She knew her father would not lead her wrong, he only wanted what was best for her. This was what was best for her. A steady, dependable man and a quiet life.

She’d almost convinced herself of that as she slowly walked down the aisle with a smile on her face. When her eyes were drawn to someone sitting in the fourth row, almost all the way in the back. Dark hair and grey eyes. Sirius Black, one of the only mutual friends of her and James she still felt close enough to to invite to the wedding.

She’d thought that seeing him there would make her happy. Perhaps it would have if he’d looked happy for her, but his face was blank, only the hint of a smile and a nod sent her way when they locked eyes.

This was not approval, this was surrender. The smile on her face turned apologetic before she rend her eyes away from him and back to the front, the future waiting for her.

A future that was already suffocating her. The idea of a white picket fence and charity bake sales weighed down on her chest like a tonne of bricks. Lily dug her fingers into her father’s arm and hoped he would notice her panic, he would get her out of this.

Before John could look at her, they were at the end of the aisle. Her hand was placed in a limp, sweaty palm. All she wanted to do was pull her hand back and run, but instead, she froze in the realisation that the moment of quiet, of acceptance, had only been the eye of the storm.

Her body moved when it was prompted to by her groom. They stood, face-to-face when the priest started the traditional opening words. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to…” The rest of the words were drowned out by the blood rushing through her ears, and the pounding in her throat.

Lily knew that the priest would be reading a passage from 1 John 4 that they’d agreed on and she couldn’t help but see the passage in a different light now. While she knew it spoke of God’s sacrifice, she related to that more now than ever that he was promising her life to a man she was not certain of.

The whole church was silent, leaving her to drown in her waves of panic when she heard the rattling of the door. Something tugged inside of her and it took her concentrating on the words being said to not turn around. To not be hopeful.

Lily’d had her chance yesterday at the airport. It would be too much to ask for another one. Everyone knew that the words that would follow were just for tradition’s sake, no one ever actually spoke up. She kept her eyes on their hands while she grimaced her way through the silence that would undoubtedly follow the priest’s words.“Before we proceed with the vows, should anyone here present know of any reason why these two should not be married? If so, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

One heartbeat and there was a quiet cough, a shuffle and Lily’s breath caught in her chest. Would her rescue come from an unexpected place? A murmur started to rise through the guests and the door rattled again. But no one spoke up.

The priest drew in a deep breath to continue the ceremony when two things happened at the same time. Someone cleared their throat from her side of the church and the door crashed open, the rush of relief nearly bringing her to her knees when she heard an echo from the day before.

“Stop!” James’ voice echoed through the decorated columns of the church sounding breathless and desperate as he had at the gate.

Lily only took a moment to take in the shock on the priest’s face before turning to face him, just like everyone else. Everyone but Sirius and James were still in their seats, craning to see the man slowly making his way down the aisle towards them.

“I will not hold my peace,” James said, loud and clear this time and before Lily knew it her hands were in his. “Lily, please,” he pleaded literally dropping to his knees in front of her.

The whole church was collectively holding their breaths and Lily could feel the tension mounting. She knew she should turn him away, it would be the right thing to do. “James,” she choked out while she looked down at him but the words wouldn’t come.

“I know that this is a little too late, but I cannot let you go without making damn sure that you know how much I love you,” he spoke so evenly, so sure of himself. Like he had rehearsed the words over and over again. “I have been an idiot for ever letting you go. I should have asked you to marry me before uni but we were young and I thought I would have you forever because I could not imagine sharing my life with anyone but you.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him and received an apologetic smile in return. When she pulled her hands back from his, he didn’t resist. He did not drop his hands either, waiting expectantly while she pushed the veil back to uncover her face and placed her hands back in his.

“I love you, Lily Evans. I always have and I always will.” James paused to cast a quick glance at the groom beside her, still processing the shock. “If you truly, in the depths of your heart have no love left for me then I will step back. Resign myself to having the one constant person in my life being Benjy bloody Fenwick.”

She giggled, actually, giggled at that. Lily knew it was inappropriate but she couldn’t hold it back. He’d always had that effect on her. His smile was dazzling and yet anchored her in this bonkers moment. This impossible, larger-than-life moment.

It was just so… James. Her James. Who, even after all these years, she loved so much that she could burst. Even standing here, dressed in white to promise herself to another man, she couldn’t help but love him, to admit that she’d hoped he’d swoop in and save her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

“This is not the time or place, I am very well aware of that. Still, I need to ask one last time. Marry me instead?”

Lily felt her lips move before her mind even had time to properly process the words, tears spilling down her cheeks. The guests reacted before she realized herself that she, in a well of emotion, said yes.

[fidjiefidjie]

Belle soirée 💙🎸🎤 💙

Renaud 🎶 Triviale poursuite

(Live Bastille)

[psalm22-6]

Complaints coming to you from 1862

Many of the first reviewers of Les Misérables complained that the title was uncouth, overdramatic, and misleading but in his Étude sur les Misérables de M. V. Hugo, Félix Courtat took it a step further, complaining that the chapter titles themselves offended his sensibilities. He wrote that he reproached Victor Hugo for his choice in chapter titles because:  

They seem calculated to sell books by searching to stimulate the curiosity of buyers rather than coming from an austere writer who only thinks of instructing them. I will only cite two examples among many others. 

1. “Little Gavroche Takes Advantage of Napoleon le Grand.” This means that a gamin of Paris choses to live in the elephant of the place de la Bastille. 

2. “In Which an Agent of the Police Gives Two Punches to a Lawyer.” This means that he gives him two pocket pistol. 

The reason that the second example upsets him is because of the pun on “coups de poing,” the thing that the agent of police is said to give the lawyer. That word can either mean a punch but also a type of gun. Several reviewers I have found disliked Hugo’s use of puns.  You can read Courtat’s meticulous account of everything he disliked in Les Misérables here, or you can read my English translation here.  

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Roméo et Juliette

The Opéra de la Bastille in Paris (the Garnier's sister venue) is currently putting on a production of Gounod's opera "Roméo et Juliette" that has some serious Phantom vibes going on!

"Roméo et Juliette" is one of the major operas that are referenced in Gaston Leroux's novel. It is cited in two scenes: In Chapter 2 "The New Marguerite", Christine sings some pieces from the opera, including the final death scene ("Seigneur! Seigneur! Pardonnez-nous!", which are the last words of the opera). But the most memorable scene is probably when in Chapter 10, Erik comes for Christine singing the wedding-night song, "Nuit d'hyménée", from which the line "La destinée t'enchaîne a moi sans retour" (originally "m'enchaîne a toi") is quoted three times as Christine follows Erik through the mirror and leaves a baffled Raoul behind in her dressing-room.

For the staging in this new production, the grand staircase of the Palais Garnier has been recreated and serves as the central setpiece for the entire action. The opera also opens with a masked-ball scene, and even the costumes are reminiscent of the "white, black, red" colour scheme of the masked ball scene in Leroux.

Other design elements of the Palais Garnier - even the balcony scene takes place on a balcony that looks just like the ones in the Garnier's entrance hall!

I am super happy to see one of the "Leroux operas" being staged in such a Phantom-y fashion! Too bad I will not be able to see it :((...

[georges-dufrenoy]

Georges Dufrenoy (1870 - 1943), artiste peintre postimpressionniste français

Vue de Paris, representant la rue de Charenton et le faubourg Saint Antoine peint de la place de la Bastille

Oeuvre : « Paris, la rue de Charenton sous la neige» 1908 - huile sur toile 71 x 92 cm

1930 - Tableau reproduit dans "Les artistes nouveaux" de Gabriel Mourey