#comte de paris

[roehenstart]

Equestrian portrait of Louis Philippe Albert d'Orleans, Count of Paris (1834-1894) and Robert d'Orleans, Duke of Chartres (1840-1910). By Alfred de Dreux.

[nice1cream]

I love "The Count of Monte Cristo". The story, in any version, be it the book, a movie or a musical, actually has my entire heart.

All the plotting, scheming, secrets and plans. The masquerading for other people and forseeing every move to come out on top, and most of all, the way that it all perfectly comes together. Like Dumas really went "Chechov's gun? I'm gonna make Chechov's hair relevant to the story!" and my autistic brain is all in for that kind of stuff.

And also the book is very long, so I have time to properly process everything that's going on. So if anone was about to suggest me a book, I'm not hearing any of it, unless it takes me 5 years to read and every time I open it for longer than a day it actually makes me feel like I am also a part of the Parisian society, exchanging gossip and going to fancy dinners in my carriage pulled by newly bought horses.

[josefavomjaaga]

Lavalette about the "divorce"

This is taken from "The Memoirs of Count Lavallette". An interesting remark (allegedly) made my Napoleon at the time when he finally decided to give Josephine the boot:

A few days before he had sent for me. He had been looking out for some friend of the empress, who might help to sweeten the bitter about to be presented to her. His choice fell on me. "The nation," he said, "has done so much for me, that I owe her the sacrifice of my dearest affections. Eugène is not young enough for me to keep him for my successor; nor am I old enough to give up all hopes of having children, and yet by Josephine I can have none. The tranquillity of France requires my choosing a new consort [...]"

Emphasis by me.

This statement, if true, would mean that the idea of Eugène suceeding Napoleon indeed had been around and had been seriously considered, at least by some people at court. But much more interesting to me is the reason why it can't happen, according to Napoleon: Eugène is too old.

Eugène, by the end of 1809, had only just turned 29. And with Naps being 40 and often enough in danger of being killed either in war or through assassination - would a successor old enough to immediately take over not have been advantageous?

But of course, Eugène also had been trained in the art of governing a country ever since he had been made viceroy of Italy (this fact was probably what made him look to some as the likely successor - he seemed as if Napoleon already prepared him for it). He was a grown man and, even if he usually in the end obeyed, he did have his own ideas.

Which was precisely the problem, in my opinion. A successor already old enough to develop his own political vision would have been somebody whose opinion an emperor might increasingly need to take into account. A newly born heir would not have any political ideas of his own for almost another two decades. Giving his father a lot more time to govern without the slightest considerations for anything but his own will.

This may have been the cause for Napoleon to call Eugène a "tête carrée" (blockhead, pigheaded) later on Saint Helena. Because Eugène indeed had dared to occasionally consider Napoleon's orders not quite perfect.

It's also why I feel like family life with the King of Rome might have turned much less idyllic very quickly, if Napoleon and his son had lived together until the latter reached puberty. Sooner or later, a Napoleon II would have decided he wanted to do some things differently than his father. And the opinion of the official crown prince could not have been brushed aside as easily as that of mere government officials.

[frenchcurious]

L'Itala qui a remporté le raid Pékin-Paris de 1907. Après la course, le comte De Dion a déclaré ''Un homme ayant une voiture peut aller n'importe où dans le monde''. - source Antoni Gual.

[gavroche-le-moineau]

My plan for this blog in 2024 is to follow along with Les Mis Letters again in both French and English (I think I may try a different English translation!) but I will not be reading as closely as I did in 2023. I will still be posting and reblogging about Les Mis and les mis letters, though!

My goal for the start of the year is to make decent headway with my Original French Concept Album translation & annotation project! I have a lot of the translations on the back burner and this seems like a good time finish annotating them.

I'm also planning to read more French classics this year! (I hope nobody minds if this les mis blog branches out into a 19th-century-France-but-mostly-still-Les-Mis blog). I'm going to start with Notre Dame de Paris because 1) it's still Hugo 2) it's relatively short and 3) I'm interested in comparing the language with the French musical!

After that I think I will read and blog about Le Comte de Monte Cristo because it won in the poll I made about what I should read next, and I'm familiar with the story, having read sections in French courses. I hope to eventually get to every book on that list but I think I have to start with small goals for the year.

If anyone is interested in reading these books along with me I would be overjoyed. I saw some interest in a Count of Monte Cristo daily email letter and honestly if there's enough interest I would be willing to start one.

I'm really excited to get started on these projects in 2024 and I hope it continues to be interesting to all those who follow me even if it's not strictly Les Mis!

[forsuperbang]

I am French, I went to Versailles, I went to Paris, and yet when Dumas said Villefort was transferred to Versailles, I can't help but wonder : "was it already part of the city, or was he transferred to a goddamn castle??"

I am dumb.

[postcard-from-the-past]

12th-century Château de Belvoir, Franche-Comté region of eastern France

French vintage postcard, mailed in 1904 to Paris

[plaques-memoire]

Plaque en hommage à : Auguste Comte

Type : Lieu de résidence

Adresse : 10 rue Monsieur le Prince, 75006 Paris, France

Date de pose : mars 1894 [inscrite]

Texte : Auguste Comte, né à Montpellier le 19 janvier 1798, fondateur de la sociologie instituant la religion de l'humanité, habita cette maison depuis le 15 juillet 1841, jusqu'à sa mort le 5 septembre 1857

Quelques précisions : Auguste Comte (1798-1857) est un philosophe et sociologue français, considéré comme le fondateur du positivisme, une philosophie de la science notamment basée sur la loi des trois états des connaissances humaines qui lui permet d'établir une classification des sciences. Sa pensée est résumée dans des ouvrages comme ses Cours de philosophie positive, parus de 1830 à 1842. Il est également professeur de plusieurs disciplines, dont l'astronomie et les mathématiques, au sein de divers établissements comme l’École polytechnique, et acquiert une excellente réputation dans le monde académique. Il s'intéresse également à la vie politique française, et fonde par exemple durant la Révolution de 1848 la Société positiviste qui cherche à influencer la politique du gouvernement selon les principes du positivisme, s'inscrivant dans une certaine continuité du saint-simonisme : il fera ainsi paraître un Système de politique positive. A la fin de sa vie, il donne au positivisme une dimension religieuse, la présentant comme une "religion de l'Humanité" et fondant une Église positiviste, dont les principes sont par exemple formalisés dans le Catéchisme positiviste (1852). Décédé des suites d'un cancer de l'estomac, il laisse un important héritage en philosophie. D'autres plaques commémoratives en son honneur peuvent être trouvées en France, en particulier à Paris et à Montpellier, sa ville natale.

[abdlrimespotiques]

JOUNAL2 Coste hubert red chaussee AIDANT POUR ME LANGER jour nuit M'insaller dans mon fauteuil recherchent amis daddys AIME ETRE LANGER ET CUOTTE C1OCHOU

RAP RIMES PROSES REFRAINS

[2t2r]

Victor Lustig, escroc célèbre comme l'homme qui a vendu la tour Eiffel deux fois

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/victor-lustig-escroc-homme-qui-a-vendu-la-tour-eiffel/

Victor Lustig, escroc célèbre comme l'homme qui a vendu la tour Eiffel deux fois

[yakumtsaki]

After a decade of ceaseless plotting, rumormongering, and some discreet poisonings, Comte and Comtesse de Frou Frou have finally gained their rightful place among the inner circle of the royal family! While cowardly nobles might be fleeing Paris for their country estates, the de Frous Frous are staying put. 1789 is going to be their year!

[historicalbookimages]

🦎 Oeuvres du comte de Lacépède Paris: P. Duménil, 1836.

[apoptoses]

Armand, Haussmann, and Paris:

The thing about Paris that's not really discussed in the VC books themselves is the Haussmann project.

In 1853 Napoleon III commissioned Haussman to completely renovate Paris. The plan was to tear down all of the old structures and rebuild the city; reorganizing the streets and reshaping them to accommodate more green spaces, and replacing smaller buildings with taller apartment blocks in more uniform style.

The Paris Armand knew when he arrived as the coven master and which he came to know as the theater leader would have looked something like this:

Dark, winding streets leading off wide boulevards and short, leaning buildings.

The Haussman project would see all of these places systematically torn down, occupants removed to other areas of the city while new buildings were put in their place. In some areas workers were destroying and rebuilding things 24 hours a day.

At this time Armand would have been living at the theater on the boulevard du Temple, Paris's street of theaters:

This dagguerotype shows the boulevard in 1838. This painting, in 1862, looks much the same:

But by 1863 all but one theater on the street had been destroyed, and that was only because that theater was on the opposite side of the street shown in the painting. How and why it wasn't pulled down, I don't know- no information on it seems to exist, just like no explanation for the very small handful of other old structures that were left untouched.

That theater, the Théâtre Déjazet, still exists today. But it was established in 1770 by Comte de Artois, so while it could have been Anne's inspiration for Armand's theater it's not the 'rickety wooden rat trap' that seats 300 that Lestat describes in TVL.

Anyways, knowing all of this, I think it makes even more sense why Armand so quickly grabbed onto Louis and was ready to run away with him at any cost.

Armand, who'd been kidnapped from the monks, who'd had his palazzo torn out from under him, who'd established something of an existence under Les Innocents and was then ripped out of that world when the cemetery was destroyed. Who was watching the city he'd finally come to know get systematically torn apart. Everything that was familiar to him was being taken again.

So why not let Louis burn the theater? He arrived in Paris in 1870, just as Haussman was dismissed. But the work of destroying and rebuilding Paris was set to carry on. Chances were the Theatre de Vampires would be next, and if that were the case there's no way the crypts beneath the place would remain safe and undiscovered.

And if he'd stayed where would they go during the renovation? What would they do? What would the point be in continuing trying to run a coven he was bored of and a life he didn't care for in a new location?

Armand was going to have to begin again somewhere- better that be with Louis, out in the world, than roaming a now unfamiliar Paris. And even though he didn't burn the theater himself, allowing/instigating Louis to do it still gave him more control than letting a stranger come in at some unpredictable moment to demolish things all over again.

(And what of Lestat, what does he feel about these changes? He never could have shown Louis the Paris he knew and loved, which existed when Louis was still mortal- that Paris was largely gone)

Chances were Anne might not have known most of this at the time she wrote interview or even TVL. But I think it still makes a lot of sense and brings up a point about Armand and immortality that I don't see brought up much- that not only do vampires lose every mortal they've ever known, but with time they also see the destruction of every place they've ever known or loved.

(ps: I'm not an expert on this topic or anything, so if anyone does know why some buildings were unchanged or has any interesting historical info to add by all means please, reblog and add it on!)

[huariqueje]

The Studio of Comte Deheaulme de Vallombreuse , 36 Rue Jouffroy, Paris. - Akseli Valdemar Gallen-Kallela , 1886.

Finnish, 1865-1931

Pastel , 58.4 x 42.5 cm.

[fdelopera]

America owes its independence to Haym Salomon, a Sephardic Jewish Patriot

A Jewish American Hero

by Yosef Kaufmann

October 17, 1781. An eerie silence takes hold over the battlefield outside Yorktown, Virginia. After weeks of non-stop artillery shells and rifle fire, the rhythmic pounding of a drum is all that is heard. Through the wispy smoke that floats above the battlefield, a British officer can be seen waving a white flag. General Cornwallis has surrendered Yorktown, ending the last major battle of the American Revolution. The surrender of Yorktown and the nearly 8,000 British troops convinced the British Parliament to start negotiating an end to the war. On September 3, 1783, the treaty of Paris was signed. The war was over.

If not for Haym Salomon, however, the decisive victory at Yorktown never would have happened.

Haym Salomon was born in Leszno, Poland, in 1740. In 1770, he was forced to leave Poland for London as a result of the Partition of Poland. Five years later, he left London for New York City, where he quickly established himself as a broker for international merchants.

Sympathetic to the Patriot cause, Haym joined the New York branch of the Sons of Liberty, a secret society that did what it could to undermine British interests in the colonies. In 1776, he was arrested by the British and charged with being a spy. He was pardoned on condition that he spend 18 months on a British ship serving as a translator for the Hessian mercenaries, as he was fluent in Polish, French, German, Russian, Spanish and Italian. During those 18 months, Haym used his position to help countless American prisoners escape. He also convinced many Hessian soldiers to abandon the British and join the American forces.

In 1778, he was arrested again and sentenced to death for his involvement in a plot to burn the British Royal fleet in the New York Harbour. He was sent to Provost to await execution, but he managed to bribe a guard and escape under the cover of darkness.

He fled New York, which was under the control of the British army, and moved to Philadelphia, the capital of the Revolution.

He borrowed money and started a business as a dealer of bills of exchange. His office was located near a coffee house frequented by the command of the American forces. He also became the agent to the French consul and the paymaster for the French forces in North America. Here he became friendly with Robert Morris, the newly appointed Superintendent of Finance for the 13 colonies. Records show that between 1781 and 1784, through both fundraising and personal loans, he was responsible for financing George Washington over $650,000, today worth approximately over $13 million.

By 1781, the American congress was practically broke. The huge cost of financing the war effort had taken its toll. In September of that year, George Washington decided to march on Yorktown to engage General Cornwallis. A huge French fleet was on its way from the West Indies under the command of Comte De Grasse. The fleet would only be able to stay until late October, so Washington was facing immense pressure to lead an attack on Yorktown before then.

After marching through Pennsylvania, with little in the way of food and supplies, Washington’s troops were on the verge of mutiny. They demanded a full month's pay in coins, not congressional paper money which was virtually worthless, or they would not continue their march. Washington wrote to Robert Morris saying he would need $20,000 to finance the campaign. Morris responded that there was simply no money or even credit left. Washington simply wrote, “Send for Haym Salomon.” Within days, Haym Salomon had raised the $20,000 needed for what proved to be the decisive victory of the Revolution.

Haym’s chessed continued after the war. Whenever he met someone who he felt had sacrificed during the war and needed financial assistance, he didn’t hesitate to do whatever he could to help.

He was also heavily involved in the Jewish community. He was a member of Congregation Mikveh Yisroel in Philadelphia, the fourth oldest synagogue in America, and he was responsible for the majority of the funds used to build the shul’s main building.

He also served as the treasurer to the Society for the Relief of Destitute Strangers, the first Jewish charitable organization in Philadelphia.

On January 8, 1785, Haym died suddenly at the age of 44. Due to the fact the government owed him hundreds of thousands of dollars, his family was left penniless.

His obituary in the Independent Gazetteer read:

Thursday, last, expired, after a lingering illness, Mr. Haym Salomon, an eminent broker of this city, was a native of Poland, and of the Hebrew nation. He was remarkable for his skill and integrity in his profession, and for his generous and humane deportment. His remains were yesterday deposited in the burial ground of the synagogue of this city.

Although there is little proof, many believe that when designing the American Great Seal, George Washington asked Salomon what he wanted as compensation for his generosity during the war. Salomon responded “I want nothing for myself, rather something for my people.” It is for this reason that the 13 stars are arranged in the shape of the Star of David.

[valkyyriia]

Day 6 - Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec Moi?

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 1626 CW: Voice Kink(?), PiV, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Standing Sex Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader Prompt(s): Voice Kink | Discipline/Punishment

Notes: When looking at the list I realized I didn’t really know how voice kink worked, so I talked to @natimiles about it (like I do everything, really) and she explained it and I had the wonderful idea of Comte realizing that the reader thinks it’s hot when he talks in French, so he starts doing it more in the bedroom, and as a result she basically Pavlov’d herself into getting horny when he speaks French to her.

Still not certain this is voice kink necessarily, but… it’s what I’ve got.

Edit 10/7/24: Thanks @floydsteeth for pointing out the context behind 'ma belle fille' and explaining how to fix it. It's really appreciated!!

You had accompanied Comte to a dinner party tonight. The two of you were seated next to each other at a banquet at le Duc de Guermantes’ manor. Le Comte was amicably chatting with le Duc, the two of them being old friends, while you were seated across from your friend, Claudine.

They were speaking in French, as one would expect in Paris. Generally at home, le Comte tended to speak more English for your sake. You were still learning French, after all. Your French had certainly improved after living with him for as long as you had and you certainly weren’t having trouble following the conversation they were having, but..

Something about hearing le Comte speak in his native language was just hot.

He could probably read you a copy of the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, entirely in French, and you’d still be just as hot and bothered.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, a sigh falling from your lips. This did not go unnoticed, much to your chagrin.

Le Comte moved a hand to rest on top of your thigh. The warmth of his palm was nearly scalding as he caressed the clothed skin with his thumb. You looked up at him and saw his attention was still firmly on le Duc. Or well, if you hadn’t known him as well as you did, you’d think so, anyway.

No, with the way he was touching you, he was definitely more focused on you than he’d care for anyone else to know.

You looked away from him and across the table towards Claudine. She made eye contact with you and grinned cheekily, her eyes flickering over to le Comte’s profile before meeting yours again. You flushed and looked away. Her grin widened.

“Mademoiselle, are you feeling okay? Your face is flushed,” le Duc said to you, a look of concern on his face. Comte also turned to you, peering into your eyes worriedly.

“I’m fine,” you said, waving them off with a smile. “I’m just a bit warm. Do you mind if I step outside for a moment to cool off?”

“Of course not,” le Duc replied. “Take all the time you need.”

You moved to stand, Comte’s palm subtly leaving your thigh as you did so. He instead brushed the back of his hand against your forehead, testing your temperature. His hand was cool, thankfully, and you leaned into it.

He hummed. “You are feeling a bit warm, chérie. I hate to cut our visit short, Monsieur le Duc, but I think I should get this one home before she starts feeling any worse.”

You protested. “Comte, I’m fine-”

“Nonsense,” le Duc said, shaking his head. “We can always schedule a dinner for another time, just the four of us, when you’re feeling better. Your health is important, Mademoiselle. Take care of it.”

Your argument died in your throat. You couldn’t very well argue against that, even if you weren’t actually sick. It’s not like you could just tell them you were horny. You just sighed, accepting your fate, and nodded with a smile. Comte stood and held his hand out for you, which you took, and he escorted you out of the manor with an arm around your waist.

Once seated in the carriage and headed home, Comte looked at you questioningly.

“What?” You huffed.

“Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up, chérie?” Comte asked, switching back to English now that it was just the two of you.

You pouted. “I’m not worked up.”

Comte nodded. “Of course not,” he said breezily, lightly brushing his hand across your neck. You shivered at the contact and he raised an eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but thought better of it and just turned away instead. Comte chuckled and pulled you close to him, whispering into your ear with a slight purr. “You’re embarrassed about it, whatever it is.” His breath tickled the shell of your ear and you shuddered. “It’s not my voice. You don’t usually react like this when I talk to you.” Comte kissed your temple. “Or is it?” He repeated, slipping into French.

You swallowed and he chuckled into your ear. “I see,” he murmured thoughtfully, thankfully back in English. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, chérie. I will gladly speak to you in French as much as you’d like.” Comte kissed your cheek. “Perhaps I should start once we get home, hm?” He then continued in French. “Or maybe for the rest of our carriage ride?”

You swatted at him. “That’s not fair and you know it. You don’t even have to try!”

Comte just laughed.

The moment you were back in Comte’s bedroom, he was behind you and unlacing the ribbon that held your dress together. His hand was lightly caressing the skin there and he dropped his head to your shoulder, kissing the bare skin. If it weren’t for the way he was running his fingers over every inch of your body, you might think he was just trying to help you undress. But then he opened his mouth.

“You’re beautiful, chérie. Ma belle.” You shivered.

He continued to touch you, running fingers over your skin and kissing your neck and shoulders. All the while, Comte was whispering sweet nothings in French. Every kiss was punctuated with a sweet word, and every touch was followed by a kiss. Your dress lay puddled around your feet on the floor and he was still touching you, his fingers tracing every curve and plane of your body.

Comte had barely gotten your clothes off and you already felt like your skin was on fire, your center damp and aching. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts. His thumb and forefinger on each hand tweaked at your sensitive nipples and you gasped, arching into Comte’s firm chest.

“So séduisant, mon amour,” Comte purred, kissing your shoulder. “I love seeing you fall apart in my hands without me even really touching you.”

You whined. “Abel, please.”

His lips trailed up the side of your neck and he nipped at your earlobe, pulling another gasp from your throat. He worried the flesh between the blunted ends of his teeth before tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. At the same time, his right hand released your breast and drifted down your stomach before dipping between the folds of your labia.

You moaned, leaning against him further, as his experienced fingers rubbed loose circles around your clit. He blew a puff of air against your ear and you arched again, inadvertently pressing your hips into his hand. Your backside rubbed against his clothed crotch and he grunted into your ear, pressing his hips against you insistently.

With one swift movement, his pants were off and he was inside you, holding your back against his chest as he thrust into your heat. His mouth was still next to your ear and he groaned, dirty phrases falling from his lips. Comte’s dirty talking was always superb, but hearing him whisper to you in French while he fucked you was transcendental.

You had barely even started and your legs were already jelly. Comte’s arms tightened around your waist, holding you upright as he pounded into you. You hadn’t even made it to the bed; the two of you were still standing right by the doorway. Comte hadn’t even managed to get his clothes completely off.

His cock was nestled deep inside of you, the angle causing the tip to brush against your sweet spot with every thrust. You didn’t even have warning this time before you came, a cry tearing from your throat as your inner walls suddenly squeezed his cock. He swore, not having expected it, and he promptly followed you off the edge. He rutted into you until he was completely spent, slipping from your warmth. Your mixed fluids dripped from between your legs as you all but collapsed in his arms.

Comte was breathing heavily, as were you, but he held you upright. He wiped your sweaty bangs out of your eyes before pressing a loving kiss to your shoulder. “Let’s get cleaned up and get to bed,” he said, thankfully in English this time.

You agreed easily, relaxing against him, your hands on top of his. He chuckled. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Mhm,” you agreed. “My legs don’t work anymore.”

“The second best compliment a man could receive,” Comte laughed. “Alright, chérie. Let’s get you into the bath.”

You walked into the dining hall the next morning for breakfast, having been just a little behind this morning after the intense night you had had. Comte had gotten up just a little bit before you, intending on letting you sleep in. You stopped abruptly when you noticed that Comte and Arthur were chatting. In French, to your dismay.

When Comte noticed you, he smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You tensed up, giving him a warning glare.

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he said innocently. “Comment te sens-tu?”

You groaned and promptly turned on your heel, leaving the room without even sitting down. Comte chuckled and got up to follow you, his breakfast untouched.

Arthur, ever observant, watched you both leave before breaking into a conspiratorial grin of his own. “Sebas, I do believe your fellow housekeeper has fallen ill once again. I daresay we shan’t be seeing much of her again today.”

Sebastian’s exasperated sigh was his only response.

Dividers by @/natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother @candied-boys

@fang-and-feather @faustianfascination @villain-hotline