#tuilleries

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Nicolas Pérignon (French, 1726-1782) Vue du Jardin des Tuilleries, 1772

[sylvain1970]

Vertumne, Tuileries, Paris. Francois Barois. Dieu romain des saisons, du changement et de la croissance des plantes.

[lafcadiosadventures]

rewatched les diaboliques yesterday. I still hate [redacted plot point] but if you think hitchcock’s psycho has the best death scene in a bathroom in terms of acting/staging/editing (ok maybe we can give the editing point to H) and if you think he’s some kind of visionary genius for projecting signs in screenings asking not to spoil the ending to friends,,, think again

[castelnou]

jardin des tuilleries

paris (france)

[thepointoftheneedle]

Lockwood and Co

Well, I watched the show because I'd enjoyed the books ages ago. For some reason the show made me want to write fiction which I haven't done for an age. Will I continue it? No clue. Maybe...? It's canon after The Empty Grave but I've tried to avoid major spoilers for anyone who has only seen the tv show and hasn't read the books. Anyway, here's the prologue in case anyone else enjoyed the silly little ghost-hunting show.

Lockwood stalked into the kitchen and turned on the gas under the kettle. As he reached for the Earl Grey his elbow nudged the charred skull that sat on the kitchen worktop and he smiled wryly at the incongruous domestic arrangements in place in Portland Row.  “Alas, poor Skull,” he murmured. “People always misquote that line you know, Skull.  ‘Alas poor Yorick, I knew him Horatio,’ not ‘I knew him well.’  Idiots.”

He dropped a teabag into a mug and leaned back against the counter, waiting for the whistle of the kettle.  It wasn’t worth making a pot; he was alone in the house.  Holly was at home, packing.  George was at the embassy poring over maps of the Paris Catacombs with the representative of the French Ministère des Evénements Paranormaux.  Lucy was with Barnes at the passport office in Petit France. If Barnes couldn’t pull some strings, that would be as close as she’d get to France.  Lockwood and Co. would have to go without her.  It didn’t bear thinking about.

“We’ve got a lot in common you know Skull,” he said as the kettle began to sing.  He knew he wouldn’t get a response.  The Skull had made the ultimate sacrifice for them, given up his life… afterlife… whatever the hell it had had, to save them at the showdown at Fittes House.  Well, to save Lucy really. He’d just been an unintended beneficiary of the Skull’s heroism.  He poured the boiling water into the mug and set the kettle down. He picked up the blackened bone, stared into its ruined sockets. “We were both prepared to die for her.  I think I’m a little bit jealous that you got to do it.”

Still holding the skull, Lockwood sat down at the table, waiting for his tea to brew.  Lucy would have been mashing the bag against the side of the mug with a teaspoon, or a fork, or whatever came to hand like an absolute savage.  He preferred to wait, to let the scent of bergamot pervade the warm kitchen on the steam rising from the mug. “Ever been to Paris, Skull?” he asked.  “My parents went there on honeymoon.  They had a guidebook. It must be in the library somewhere.  Art galleries and parks and cafes on the Rive Gauche.  I think they stayed in a grand hotel near the Luxembourg Gardens.”  He chuckled but there was no mirth in it. “That’s what she should have of course.  She should be going to Paris with someone who can give her all that, order escargot in garlic at a fancy restaurant just to see her face when she realises what it is, walk hand in hand with her through the Tuilleries, kiss her breath away in front of one of those huge water lily paintings that make you feel like you’re floating. All that romantic stuff.  Instead, she gets me, a rapier and a guaranteed brush with death. Even you’d do better than that wouldn’t you, Skull? Give her candles and rose petals on the carpet and a little chocolate in gold paper on her pillow.   I mean you couldn’t do much else I suppose, couldn’t follow through on any of it but then, I don’t do that either, do I?  Never even kissed her. I’m more of a ghost than you ever were, trapped behind silver glass, no idea how to get out.”

The skull said nothing.  Lockwood shook his head, appalled by his own mawkish foolishness.  He stood, snatched up his mug, grasped a corner of the scalding teabag and flicked it across the kitchen into the bin while heading out of the room. Behind him, on the thinking cloth, the skull flickered softly with a greenish flame.

[empirearchives]

Army opinion of Napoleon in 1805

From the diary of Washington Irving, Paris, date: June 2, 1805:

“Walking in the Garden of the Tuilleries encountered young french officer with whom I had travelled in dilligence last summer from Bordeaux to Toulouse. He had passed all the winter at his mothers in Languedoc & had come to Paris in hopes of getting a commission to go over to England in the flotilla. Warm in praise of the emperor—said the army universally loved him & would carry him even in their hands.”

[Italics in original]

Source: Washington Irving’s First Stay in Paris, Stanley T. Williams, American Literature, Vol. 2

[dzinahk]

#TomHiddleston in Paris, Tuilleries Garden, March 2023

[chez-mimich]

Parigi, agosto 2023. Che sua quella del metro oppure quella delle brasseries, quella che si incrocia sui Grands Boulevards, quella delle stazioni o quella delle expositions, poco importa: la folla è l’anima di Parigi. Può essere anche una folla discreta come quella che si disperde nelle immense Tuilleries o al Luxembourg, ma sempre di folla si tratta. Ed eccola qui, fermata nel magnifico altorilievo bronzeo di Raymond Mason: “La foule” appunto…

[joachimnapoleon]

A letter from Gourgaud to his mother, written during the Russian campaign and intercepted by the Russians.

[Source: Lettres interceptées par les Russes durant la campagne de 1812, ed. L. Hennet & E. Martin, 1913. Pages 255-6]

***

Baron Gourgaud to his mother Mme Gourgaud

Rue neuve du Luxembourg, n. 8, near the Tuilleries, Paris

Smolensk, 10 November 1812

Do not murmur against me, good mother, if I have gone so long without writing to you, for I really have not had the time since my departure from Moscow. I have had the happiness of being continually employed by our great Emperor; I am also so flattered by the trust he seems to show me that despite the fatigues, the races, the deprivations, I am very content and am very far from complaining.

Before leaving Moscow I received a letter from good Madame Foucher, but since I haven’t had the time to write to my good mother, all the more so was I unable to write to this friend. So I haven’t responded yet. I beg you not to say that you’ve received news from me. I count on replying to her at the first moment of repose.

Tell my good Ninette that she has no need to tell me to try to obtain a receipt for the arrondissement in Paris, tell her that my happiness won’t be complete until I see this tender and beloved sister as happy as I desire her. But one needs patience and sometimes the tortoise arrives before the hare. As for me, I have nothing to desire, since the greatest man in the world has deigned to notice both my zeal and my attachment. So I have much hope; yes, yes we will all be happy.

General Foucher, while crossing over a little bridge, was knocked over by a carriage into the river; he was immediately taken out, but as it was cold, he has had a bit of a fever. I saw him the day before yesterday and he was doing well. I think, good mother, it might be a good idea for you to go and enroll yourself with Madame de Gueheneuc, whose son, my friend, has just had an arm taken off. General Kirgener told me yesterday that this good young man was doing as well as possible. Still, before taking the approach of honesty that I advise, you must consult Ninette and do only what she says.

Farewell, my good mother, rejoice for my happiness, because as long as the Emperor distinguishers me, I will be the happiest of men.

I repeat to you again and I will repeat to you always that you should not worry yourself when I go a long time without writing you, because circumstances often arise where I cannot do so. Always give thanks to God.

I am doing marvelously and am very content. I embrace you from the heart, your good son,

Baron Gourgaud

[P.S.] I don’t need to tell you to embrace my Ninette and her little ones. Tell me if you have bought them the dresses I gave them for my nomination of Baron. Tell Ninette to assure M. de Montalivet that I owe him my happiness.

[beakyspecialpics]

Kiss Under an Umbrella, Jardin des Tuilleries, Paris, 1997

Photo: Louis Stettner

[derniererondeavantlanuit-blog]

Jardin des Tuilleries - Guillaume Lavrut

[josemanuellopezsanmartin]

Jean-Marie Guyau Tuillerie (Vida y obra)

Tal día como el 28 de octubre de hace 170 años, nació Jean-Marie Guyau Tuillerie. Nació el  28-10-1854 en Laval, Mayenne, Países del Loira, (Francia) y murió el 31-3-1888 en Menton, Alpes-Marítimos, (Francia). Fue un filósofo y poeta francés. Sus obras están impregnadas por el vitalismo e insisten en la felicidad de una vida compartida con los demás

[kmp78]

"The petri dish session was the 1st time we met her, but she had already met JL at that Gucci thing where she got a 📸."

And we found out they got together in Paris because she was slightly visible in JL's selfie from the Tuilleries which was March '23 and her petri dish pics were posted April '23. And of course the Stuuuuck video later confirmed that timeline!

Yep. 💯

And her hysterical photographing in Casa Craphole and then at Petri Dish Palace also speak very loudly about when she started Hammering. 🔨

[stuartbramhall]

French Revolution: Napoleon Becomes Emperor

Episode 40 Napoleon Becomes Emperor Living the French Revolution and Age of Napoleon Dr Suzanne M Desan Film Review In 1802 Napoleon became Consul for life and by 1803 his face was displayed on French coins and he had three residences: Malmaison, a few miles to the west of Paris, and royal palaces at St Cloud and the Tuilleries. The justification he gave for promoting himself to emperor (a…

[sightseeingshoes]

Paris Culture: Musee L'Orangerie

‘Within the confines of Tuilleries Jardin is the Musee L’Orangerie. The gallery sits at the west end of the Place de la Concorde and houses many famous Impressionist and Post-Impressionist art…’ The gallery is perhaps most famous for being the site of the permanent collection of Monet’s Nympheas, or Waterlillies.   Having missed the museum on two previous visits to Paris, due to it having been…

[putrimeeli]

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