#cardinal barone

[zhoras-bitch]

The Cardinal of the Church just happened to adopt the one in a billion time catcher whose power is instantly recognizable since birth because of her unique eye color. Uh-huh.

[alaydbug]

lou and siobhan enjoyed being baron WAY too much they were giggling and kicking their fucking feetsies the whole time.

[dluebirb]

So. ABOUT THAT FIC I PROMISED-

In my defence I got invited to a social function with people I want to be around, so what else was I supposed to do-

minor setbacks.

uhhh @justletmereadmycomics @fanatess @theosb0rnway you guys usually like this stuff?? Here ya go lol

This is part of my Cardinal Rules series, but you don't have to read it to make sense of this! Barely. If you want to get caught up on it, it is over here on Ao3!

Fic link on Ao3: Here

----

The Housing Situation

Mikey’s POV

Mikey had recently concluded that living off warm, half-melted food in a tank was not optimal sustenance.

Don’t get him wrong, Mikey was overjoyed to have any food, given that the entire kitchen was barren, but only so much could be done with fruit snacks, pop tarts, and granola bars. He had a sinking feeling that with another meal, somebody might puke, and he wouldn’t blame them. Meals were always after training, anyway.

“What’s on the menu t’night, Miguel?” Leo asked, sheathing his twin katana and stretching on his tiptoes.

“If you say anything involving fruit snacks for the next month, I swear—” Casey Senior growled.

“Well, we don’t not have fruit snacks?”

Casey Senior grumbled, and Donnie’s mouth became a line.

“I’m getting fast food!” April decided and stuck her bat into her bag, zipping it up and slinging one strap over her shoulder.

“Yay, April!” Leo cheered and raised an arm, still holding one of his swords, into the air.

“Anyone got a request?”

“Anywhere but Wendy’s,” Donnie grumbled.

“Starbucks.”

“We’re not getting JUST Starbucks!” April groaned. “I’ll just raid Fred Meyers. Text me if you want anything specific.”

“No cold stuff unless you can buy a cooler!” Splinter reminded her.

April gave a thumbs-up as she stuck her phone in her pocket. “Be back in forty-five minutes, tops. If I’m not, then I’m probably dying.”

“April!”

“It’s a joke!” she reassured as she ascended the stairs to the outside world.

----

By April's return, Donnie was konked out on the couch, battle shell discarded on the ground next to him.

The small spines on his shell were finally uncompressed and puffed out a bit, no longer flattened to the rest of his shell. Soft snores occasionally came from the vicinity, face twitching slightly as Mikey undid his mask, removed his goggles, and set them aside.

“Yeah, baby!” Mikey cheered quietly with a giant grin as he saw April’s bags.

“Everyone say ‘Thank you, April,’” Splinter instructed them from where he was rifling through what little they did have.

A chorus of ‘thank you April’s rang around the room, and she put the bags down on the remnants of a broken table with a soft thud.

“Yo, Dee! Donnie. Wake up, bro,” Leo muttered, poking their purple brother insistently until the soft snores turned to a singular grunt.

“Nardo.”

“April brought food.”

“Finally! Some good news!”

“You’re welcome, Dee!” April called, cupping a hand around her mouth.

“Yes, yes, thank you, and such,” Donnie muttered, not quietly as he stood, and April could tell that he noticed his apparent lack of accessories but decided to let it be in the meantime.

The group leaned in to inspect April’s relatively simple wares and, save for microwaveable pizzas and breakfast burritos, much of the ‘grab-and-go’ variety. But, such was life.

“Reluctant sigh. Who knew that carbonated beverages could taste so good,” Donnie hummed as he downed one, in a move that Mikey thought was highly uncharacteristic for him.

“I did,” Leo retorted. “And so did anyone with taste, bro.”

Donnie gave him a sharp glare and bonked him on the head with the can before dropping it into a haphazardly labeled ‘recicling’ bag.

“This bag says ‘resi-clean’. Recycling is spelled with a ‘y’, dumdums.”

Raph gave Donnie a light glare in return, and with a black marker, crossed out the offending phrase, and wrote ‘ryclicling’.

“What? No! Instead of the ‘i’, not the ‘e’!”

“Oh, come on! You gotta give Raph something to work with, Dee!” Raph explained, and Mkey couldn’t help but giggle as he crossed out ‘ryclicling’, replacing it with ‘reciclyng’.

“THE OTHER ‘I’!”

“THEN YOU GOTTA TELL RAPH THAT!” Raph shouted back, sweat pooling on his forehead.

“UNLESS SPECIFIED, IT’S ALWAYS THE FIRST LETTER!”

Donnie and Raph gave each other equal looks of frustration and desperation, and Raph finally crossed it out, writing ‘recycling.’

“Oh, thank Pizza Supreme in the Sky.”

Ignoring his brothers, Mikey rifled through April’s bags, which, aside from real food, included three air mattresses, Pez dispensers, and parts of a bed set. Mikey took some paper plates from another of April’s bags.

“Protein bars and dried fruit, as the world intended!”

Mikey smiled to himself and arranged a relatively nutritious plate for each of them. Or as nutritious as one could get with protein bars and dried fruit. Contrary to April’s apparent beliefs, they were not as the world intended.

Though, he realized it might be safer for Casey Junior. The guy sometimes could have taken better to actual food as he did to non-perishables like beans or butter. Mikey had no idea how half a stick of butter was less toxic for his stomach than an excellent old-fashioned PB&J., And Mikey was pretty sure he wasn’t allergic either!

“Say, what’s with the air mattresses in the other bags, Apes?” Leo asked conversationally, and April carefully chewed her dried banana slice before answering.

“Figured that since Mike and Junior still don’t have rooms, they might need somewhere to sleep. You feel me?”

“Touche. Alright, let’s think. Who do we have to house?” Leo asked.

“There’s us four, plus dad, that’s five. I haven’t had time to forge documents for Junior yet, so six,” Donnie rattled off.

“I’m moving back in with my mom until my campus is back on dorms,” April said.

“I am still in my human apartment above you,” Draxum supplied.

“I don’t have a permanent residence,” Casey Senior admitted.

“Well,” April began. “Know what’s great about the apocalypse?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “The housing market opens up like movie theaters in summer, and prices are about as much as I paid for all this! There’s an apartment a few doors down from me that I’m pretty sure you could get your paws on.”

“You’ve got papers, right?” Donnie asked the ex-Foot General.

“I was born legally if that’s what you mean. The Foot legally gave each recruit an apartment room.”

“First legal thing they ever did, huh? Regardless, that will do.”

Splinter managed to look pensive while eating a bag of Cheetos. “So the six of us remain, yes?”

Donnie nodded. “And with four rooms between us.”

“Well, who’s got the biggest rooms?” Raph asked, and Donnie typed on his wrist computer as he munched on a protein bar.

“The three of us have rooms about the same size,” Donnie explained, gesturing to himself, Raph, and Leo. “We haven’t unpacked everything, so most places are fair game.”

“Either of you got a preference?” Leo asked, and Casey Junior shrugged.

“I can just set one up in the living room; you don’t have to—” he began but was cut off.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope. We are not couch surfers in this house, Future Boy,” Splinter shook his head adamantly, and Casey put his hands up in defense.

“Ooh! Can I room with you, Dee?” Mikey asked, jumping at the opportunity.

“I suppose so, Angelo.”

“Ouch,” Leo smirked, and Mikey stuck his tongue out.

“I still love you, Leo!”

“Yeah, yeah, ditto.” Turning to Junior, he asked, “You got a preference between me and Raph?”

“I don’t mind,” the human said, if not a little sheepishly.

“Cool. I’m stealing you, in that case. You good with that, Raph?”

Raph gave a thumbs-up. “Raph’s all good!”

“How much sleep are any of them going to be getting?” April asked Casey Senior in a hushed tone.

“By the looks of them? Very little.”

“I take offense to that!” Mikey called, and April chuckled.

“You’ll survive, Mike. Eat your canned peaches.”

Leo’s POV

Leo watched Cassandra and Baron Draxum as they watched April as she nearly submerged herself in a duffle bag. She seemingly found what she had been looking for and straightened her glasses.

“All that for a measly shoe?” Baron Draxum inquired, and April nodded.

“It’s a good shoe! Don’t you two have any packing up to do?”

“We do not live here.”

“Huh. Guess not! Well, let’s go! Grab those bags?”

Cassandra shrugged and took two plastic bags, regaining her footing as April nearly dragged her like a corpse down the corridor.

Meanwhile, Leo made a mental note: blowing up two air mattresses should be done after taking them into any room — particularly a room with a narrow doorway.

Well. Better late than never.

“Okay, turn them the long way… Back up… And run at ’em!”

Mikey and Casey Junior took off at a sprint.

“We can just portal them in,” Leo said, throwing his hands up in disbelief.

“Yeah, but this is still better!” Mikey said as he and Casey rammed their mattresses; they passed the threshold. “Yeah, baby! That’s how we do!”

“Well, you did something, that’s for sure,” Leo muttered and helped Casey up.

“Something cool!” Mikey corrected.

“Sure, Mike.”

As it happened, both mattresses had made it around halfway to the unoccupied area of the car.

“Hey, if it works, it works!” April said, and Leo turned to her. The human looked amused, and a bag slung over her shoulder. Cassandra stood next to her with a few old store bags.

“Are you guys heading out?”

“Yeah, we’ll be back tomorrow. Try not to drive each other crazy?”

“No promises!”

As Leo returned to his room, Casey successfully pushed the mattress to the open part of his room.

“Yeah, we should have inflated those after getting them in the room,” he said, more to himself than to Casey.

“Is here okay?” Casey asked, and Leo looked up.

He’d gotten the tall, thin side of the mattress on the ground, with enough space between it and Leo’s more defined space that there was a decent walkway.

“Stamp of approval!”

Casey lowered the mattress down and put his mask on it. Leo looked at the barren area pensively.

“We should probably decorate, y’know?”

“Huh?”

“You’re living here, yeah? Decorate your space, make it a place you want to be in; you feel me?”

“Uh… Sort of?”

“You’ll get it eventually. We’ll grab and work off the stuff you saved from your other room. Dad’s always got a spare Lou Jitsu poster or action figure here or there.”

Casey frowned like it was a never-before-considered novelty to him. Which, Leo remembered as he half dragged the guy out, it probably was.

Casey’s pile of things, stuffed in a bag marked with his name (which had been crossed out at least three times. Raph was many things, but he was not a good speller) was much smaller than the others, containing a few things blankets, some spare clothes that April had dug up for him a few weeks after the invasion, and some books that Donnie had given him as a “housewarming gift.”

“Take this, and sort out where you want your stuff. You know Lou Jitsu, right?”

“Wasn’t he Master Splinter?”

“More like Dad was him. But yeah. I’m pretty sure Cassandra’s a fan, too. I’ll dig up some old merchandise, and we’ll stick it up, m’kay?”

“‘Merch’?”

Leo gave him a look of shock. “Merch. Memorabilia. Posters and stuff?” No reaction. Leo groaned and rubbed the area where his nose would have been if he had been a human. “When you like a book, TV show, video game, movie, or whatever, you get stuff from that thing. I’ll show you.”

He led Casey back to their room and pointed at his ‘Mad Dogs’ flag and Jupiter Jim figure. “This stuff! That’s merch. Mikey and Donnie made our awesome Mad Dogs flag, and we definitely didn’t scam a guy at JJ Con to let us get JJ figures for cheap!”

“Cool,” Casey breathed and studied them from a distance with interest as Leo perused a spare box.

“C’mon, I swear we head one in here,” he muttered, before pulling something out of it. “Here we go!” He handed two flags to Casey. “Your very own Hamato and Mad Dogs flags!”

He accepted the flags and unfolded them. One was the same flag that Leo had pointed out to him, and the other had a black backdrop with the green Hamato symbol emblazoned on it.

“Woah… Thank you!” Casey exclaimed, and Leo grinned, eyebrows raising at his tone shift.

“Cool, huh? Come on, we’ll hang them up.”

Even after the invasion, Leo wasn’t too sure where Casey fit into their gaggle of weirdos, and he was fairly sure it was a mutual feeling. But dammit if he wouldn’t try to make it work.

It would work out — a bit of Mikey’s undying optimism, his own devil-may-care commentary, Raph’s worrying, Donnie’s weirdly helpful cynicism, and whatever the others had, and there was no way it wouldn’t.

It had only taken a half-meal and what Mikey would have called a ‘bonding moment’ with Casey to get Leo feeling like he could have fought the entire Battle Nexus again, and win.

So, walking alongside the newest addition to their family, as if he had read Leo’s thoughts, (and maybe he had, it wouldn’t have surprised Leo in the slightest) Casey smiled wearily, and determinedly looked at the wall as he held out a fist.

“Well, would you look at that?” Leo smirked. “We’re making progress with you!” He met the gesture, bumping his fist against Casey’s, and blew it into an open palm.

Casey made a soft, exaggerated explosion noise, and Leo could only chuckle.

----

A/N: I finished this not 10 minutes ago... Avid I promise your angst is on its way, I have a Bingo Card to fill up and a handful on generally happy turtles >:>

[zayadriancas]

#NotAllMen

“Would you really rather live a lie than know the truth?”

[planetsandmagic]

Been a part of this project, have a looksie if you're interested in datingmanaging the characters from Conclave!!

Delectatio Morosa: A Conclave Visual Novel

We’re very excited to announce Delectatio Morosa: A Conclave Visual Novel coming soon in early March!

Play as Dean Thomas Cardinal Lawrence as he prepares for an All Saints’ Day Celebration at the Vatican, and try to manage his fellow Curia members too!

[ihkostwrttemberg]

NFL Injury Tracker Woche 17: Jalen Hurts befindet sich immer noch im Gehirnerschütterungsprotokoll, Josh Allen ist von der gebrochenen Hand nicht betroffen, Christian Watson trainiert nicht

Jalen Hurts nahm am Donnerstag nicht am Training mit den Philadelphia Eagles teil, was Fragen zu seiner Verfügbarkeit für das Spiel in Woche 17 gegen die Dallas Cowboys aufwirft. Hurts liegt im Protokoll einer Gehirnerschütterung, seit sein Kopf bei der Niederlage gegen die Washington Commanders am Sonntag auf dem Rasen aufschlug. Cheftrainer Nick Sirianni hat mit seinen Kommentaren am…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some French Loans in Middle English

Loan Word - vocabulary borrowings

Borrow - to introduce a word (or some other linguistic feature) from one language or dialect into another

Administration authority, bailiff, baron, chamberlain, chancellor, constable, coroner, council, court, crown, duke, empire, exchequer, government, liberty, majesty, manor, mayor, messenger, minister, noble, palace, parliament, peasant, prince, realm, reign, revenue, royal, servant, sir, sovereign, squire, statute, tax, traitor, treason, treasurer, treaty, tyrant, vassal, warden

Law accuse, adultery, advocate, arrest, arson, assault, assize, attorney, bail, bar, blame, chattels, convict, crime, decree, depose, estate, evidence, executor, felon, fine, fraud, heir, indictment, inquest, jail, judge, jury, justice, larceny, legacy, libel, pardon, perjury, plaintiff, plea, prison, punishment, sue, summons, trespass, verdict, warrant

Religion abbey, anoint, baptism, cardinal, cathedral, chant, chaplain, charity, clergy, communion, confess, convent, creator, crucifix, divine, faith, friar, heresy, homily, immortality, incense, mercy, miracle, novice, ordain, parson, penance, prayer, prelate, priory, religion, repent, sacrament, sacrilege, saint, salvation, saviour, schism, sermon, solemn, temptation, theology, trinity, vicar, virgin, virtue

Military ambush, archer, army, barbican, battle, besiege, captain, combat, defend, enemy, garrison, guard, hauberk, lance, lieutenant, moat, navy, peace, portcullis, retreat, sergeant, siege, soldier, spy, vanquish

Food and drink appetite, bacon, beef, biscuit, clove, confection, cream, cruet, date, dinner, feast, fig, fruit, fry, grape, gravy, gruel, herb, jelly, lemon, lettuce, mackerel, mince, mustard, mutton, olive, orange, oyster, pigeon, plate, pork, poultry, raisin, repast, roast, salad, salmon, sardine, saucer, sausage, sole, spice, stew, sturgeon, sugar, supper, tart, taste, toast, treacle, tripe, veal, venison, vinegar

Fashion apparel, attire, boots, brooch, buckle, button, cape, chemise, cloak, collar, diamond, dress, embroidery, emerald, ermine, fashion, frock, fur, garment, garter, gown, jewel, lace, mitten, ornament, pearl, petticoat, pleat, robe, satin, taffeta, tassel, train, veil, wardrobe

part 1/2 ⚜ Source ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Notes & References

[snow--witch]

About WTC: I think its very suspicious that Nova showed up at Cardinal Barone's door as a baby being a time catcher (one of the rarest types of presences that manifests when the person is a baby and causes the catchers to have amber eyes). I don't think her biological parents abandoned her, I think this son of a b*tch kidnapped her and I really hope we find out the truth.

[the-crow-caws-witch]

Sometimes my brain does questionable things

For instance...

I've correlated WWDITS characters with the different Papas from Ghost..

Papa "Primo" Emeritus I: Baron Afanas

Elder, probably a housewife, can and will kill you, loves flowers, knows the most about the occult, will host the illest parties, fam is fam

Papa "Secondo" Emeritus 2: Simon the Devious

Loves the ladies, needs to have the last laugh, bit of a tosser but fuck if it ain't funny, probably has real shit luck tho, doesn't trust witches

Papa "Terzo" Emeritus III: Lazlo Cravensworth

Absolute legend, ladies man/mans man, loves himself, will fuck anything bipedal with legs probably, dapper AF, probably a great dad, nat 20 on alllll charisma rolls and saves

Frater Imperator/ Papa Emeritus IV/ Cardinal Copia: Guillermo de la Cruz

Doesn't quite fit in with the rest, is actually quite smart, tries a bitttt too hard to fit in, probably has daddy issues, his peers are his idols, needs more self esteem

Bonus!

Papa Nihil: Nandor the Relentless

Thinks he's the leader (he's not), probably means well, still kinda stuck in the past, punch first ask questions later, apologizes but he doesn't mean it

Sister Imperator: The Guide

Is done with your shit, invisible until convenient, Group Mom™️, sleeping with the big guy, everyone thinks they wear the pants but it's actually her calling the shots, is DONE with your shitttt

Lemme know what yall think!

Clearly I have problems

[mystery-salad]

Shining Cardinal Azadi of the Church of the Dream

The Church of the Dream has an overarching goal of bringing all sylvari back into its warm embrace, giving them purpose and intimately interconnected feelings and thoughts. It is joyous to be given a Wyld Hunt no matter how big or small, to receive a purpose and goal from the Dream. Courtiers are seen as blasphemous, those who lure others to Nightmare are to be disposed of. Those who fell victim to being lured are to be saved and reconverted. The soundless are to be lovingly brought back to the fold from their meditation, taught how joyous embracing the Dream could be.

The levels below Cardinal Azadi (as a whole called the clergy) are as follows:

archbishops (like baron/countess)

bishops (like duke/duchess)

archzealots (veteran knights, being considered for promotion)

zealots (like knights)

devouts (like initiates)

inquisitors (no courtier connection to make, these are specially chosen clergy who go directly after courtiers and are steadfastly devout)

archinquisitors (uh oh!!!)

Members when given a Wyld Hunt are denoted by "Shining" added before their title, showing their honor and devotion to completing the Dream's will.

Those who die in the process of completing their Hunts are promoted to sainthood and honored in a hall of memories, a garden that grows a grandiose bush that has a leaf from each fallen saint grafted onto its branches.

At first the Church honored the Pale Tree as an emissary of the Dream. Though once they were cast out for their extremist views, the view of her turned to a mislead acolyte who doesn't have the will to go as far as the Dream truly needs. Perhaps she's been even tainted by nightmare herself.

[zhoras-bitch]

This man really thinking my MC is gonna side with his abusive bigoted ass when the other option is the hot gay witchy mommy Vesper who does not think MC's very existence is a sin. The audacity.

[lesmisletters-daily]

A Restriction

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.1.11

We should incur a great risk of deceiving ourselves, were we to conclude from this that Monseigneur Welcome was “a philosophical bishop,” or a “patriotic curé.” His meeting, which may almost be designated as his union, with conventionary G——, left behind it in his mind a sort of astonishment, which rendered him still more gentle. That is all.

Although Monseigneur Bienvenu was far from being a politician, this is, perhaps, the place to indicate very briefly what his attitude was in the events of that epoch, supposing that Monseigneur Bienvenu ever dreamed of having an attitude.

Let us, then, go back a few years.

Some time after the elevation of M. Myriel to the episcopate, the Emperor had made him a baron of the Empire, in company with many other bishops. The arrest of the Pope took place, as every one knows, on the night of the 5th to the 6th of July, 1809; on this occasion, M. Myriel was summoned by Napoleon to the synod of the bishops of France and Italy convened at Paris. This synod was held at Notre-Dame, and assembled for the first time on the 15th of June, 1811, under the presidency of Cardinal Fesch. M. Myriel was one of the ninety-five bishops who attended it. But he was present only at one sitting and at three or four private conferences. Bishop of a mountain diocese, living so very close to nature, in rusticity and deprivation, it appeared that he imported among these eminent personages, ideas which altered the temperature of the assembly. He very soon returned to D—— He was interrogated as to this speedy return, and he replied: <i>“I embarrassed them. The outside air penetrated to them through me. I produced on them the effect of an open door.”</i>

On another occasion he said, <i>“What would you have? Those gentlemen are princes. I am only a poor peasant bishop.”</i>

The fact is that he displeased them. Among other strange things, it is said that he chanced to remark one evening, when he found himself at the house of one of his most notable colleagues: “What beautiful clocks! What beautiful carpets! What beautiful liveries! They must be a great trouble. I would not have all those superfluities, crying incessantly in my ears: ‘There are people who are hungry! There are people who are cold! There are poor people! There are poor people!’”

Let us remark, by the way, that the hatred of luxury is not an intelligent hatred. This hatred would involve the hatred of the arts. Nevertheless, in churchmen, luxury is wrong, except in connection with representations and ceremonies. It seems to reveal habits which have very little that is charitable about them. An opulent priest is a contradiction. The priest must keep close to the poor. Now, can one come in contact incessantly night and day with all this distress, all these misfortunes, and this poverty, without having about one’s own person a little of that misery, like the dust of labor? Is it possible to imagine a man near a brazier who is not warm? Can one imagine a workman who is working near a furnace, and who has neither a singed hair, nor blackened nails, nor a drop of sweat, nor a speck of ashes on his face? The first proof of charity in the priest, in the bishop especially, is poverty.

This is, no doubt, what the Bishop of D—— thought.

It must not be supposed, however, that he shared what we call the “ideas of the century” on certain delicate points. He took very little part in the theological quarrels of the moment, and maintained silence on questions in which Church and State were implicated; but if he had been strongly pressed, it seems that he would have been found to be an ultramontane rather than a gallican. Since we are making a portrait, and since we do not wish to conceal anything, we are forced to add that he was glacial towards Napoleon in his decline. Beginning with 1813, he gave in his adherence to or applauded all hostile manifestations. He refused to see him, as he passed through on his return from the island of Elba, and he abstained from ordering public prayers for the Emperor in his diocese during the Hundred Days.

Besides his sister, Mademoiselle Baptistine, he had two brothers, one a general, the other a prefect. He wrote to both with tolerable frequency. He was harsh for a time towards the former, because, holding a command in Provence at the epoch of the disembarkation at Cannes, the general had put himself at the head of twelve hundred men and had pursued the Emperor as though the latter had been a person whom one is desirous of allowing to escape. His correspondence with the other brother, the ex-prefect, a fine, worthy man who lived in retirement at Paris, Rue Cassette, remained more affectionate.

Thus Monseigneur Bienvenu also had his hour of party spirit, his hour of bitterness, his cloud. The shadow of the passions of the moment traversed this grand and gentle spirit occupied with eternal things. Certainly, such a man would have done well not to entertain any political opinions. Let there be no mistake as to our meaning: we are not confounding what is called “political opinions” with the grand aspiration for progress, with the sublime faith, patriotic, democratic, humane, which in our day should be the very foundation of every generous intellect. Without going deeply into questions which are only indirectly connected with the subject of this book, we will simply say this: It would have been well if Monseigneur Bienvenu had not been a Royalist, and if his glance had never been, for a single instant, turned away from that serene contemplation in which is distinctly discernible, above the fictions and the hatreds of this world, above the stormy vicissitudes of human things, the beaming of those three pure radiances, truth, justice, and charity.

While admitting that it was not for a political office that God created Monseigneur Welcome, we should have understood and admired his protest in the name of right and liberty, his proud opposition, his just but perilous resistance to the all-powerful Napoleon. But that which pleases us in people who are rising pleases us less in the case of people who are falling. We only love the fray so long as there is danger, and in any case, the combatants of the first hour have alone the right to be the exterminators of the last. He who has not been a stubborn accuser in prosperity should hold his peace in the face of ruin. The denunciator of success is the only legitimate executioner of the fall. As for us, when Providence intervenes and strikes, we let it work. 1812 commenced to disarm us. In 1813 the cowardly breach of silence of that taciturn legislative body, emboldened by catastrophe, possessed only traits which aroused indignation. And it was a crime to applaud, in 1814, in the presence of those marshals who betrayed; in the presence of that senate which passed from one dunghill to another, insulting after having deified; in the presence of that idolatry which was loosing its footing and spitting on its idol,—it was a duty to turn aside the head. In 1815, when the supreme disasters filled the air, when France was seized with a shiver at their sinister approach, when Waterloo could be dimly discerned opening before Napoleon, the mournful acclamation of the army and the people to the condemned of destiny had nothing laughable in it, and, after making all allowance for the despot, a heart like that of the Bishop of D——, ought not perhaps to have failed to recognize the august and touching features presented by the embrace of a great nation and a great man on the brink of the abyss.

With this exception, he was in all things just, true, equitable, intelligent, humble and dignified, beneficent and kindly, which is only another sort of benevolence. He was a priest, a sage, and a man. It must be admitted, that even in the political views with which we have just reproached him, and which we are disposed to judge almost with severity, he was tolerant and easy, more so, perhaps, than we who are speaking here. The porter of the town-hall had been placed there by the Emperor. He was an old non-commissioned officer of the old guard, a member of the Legion of Honor at Austerlitz, as much of a Bonapartist as the eagle. This poor fellow occasionally let slip inconsiderate remarks, which the law then stigmatized as <i>seditious speeches</i>. After the imperial profile disappeared from the Legion of Honor, he never dressed himself in his regimentals, as he said, so that he should not be obliged to wear his cross. He had himself devoutly removed the imperial effigy from the cross which Napoleon had given him; this made a hole, and he would not put anything in its place. <i>“I will die,”</i> he said, <i>“rather than wear the three frogs upon my heart!”</i> He liked to scoff aloud at Louis XVIII. “The gouty old creature in English gaiters!” he said; <i>“let him take himself off to Prussia with that queue of his.”</i> He was happy to combine in the same imprecation the two things which he most detested, Prussia and England. He did it so often that he lost his place. There he was, turned out of the house, with his wife and children, and without bread. The Bishop sent for him, reproved him gently, and appointed him beadle in the cathedral.

In the course of nine years Monseigneur Bienvenu had, by dint of holy deeds and gentle manners, filled the town of D——with a sort of tender and filial reverence. Even his conduct towards Napoleon had been accepted and tacitly pardoned, as it were, by the people, the good and weakly flock who adored their emperor, but loved their bishop.

[zayadriancas]

#IRegretNothing

“It wasn’t difficult for me. Scary yeah, but not difficult.”

[racefortheironthrone]

How did cardinal Wolsey manage to go from being a religious figure to basically our life’s version of asoiaf ‘hand’? Was cardinals the second authority after the king because cardinal richelieu acted like this in france in the next century?

It's not that they were the second authority per se, but since the clergy were the most educated people in medieval society, it was quite common for them to end up in major government posts - especially if it involved specialized skills like knowledge of canon law.

So for example, if you go down the list of Lord Chancellors of England in the Middle Ages, they're almost all archbishops, bishops, deans, deacons, archdeacons, abbots, etc.. It's not until the 13th century that we start seeing barons or judges or justices or lawyers on the list, and even then they are very much in the minority.

[chic-a-gigot]

Les Modes : revue mensuelle illustrée des arts décoratifs appliqués à la femme, no. 11, vol. 1, novembre 1901, Paris. La Marquise de Pompadour. Portrait par Boucher, offert par elle au Cardinal de Bernis. A M, le Baron A. de Rothschild. Bibliothèque nationale de France

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

SUMMARY: While awaiting execution for murder, Baron Victor Frankenstein tells the story of a creature he built and brought to life - only for it to behave not as he intended.

It's probably because she loves Christopher Lee so much but for some reason the Creature looks even more babyboy in this film than the 30s version. It's another cardinal sin the mod has committed having never seen a Hammer horror.