France: A History: from Gaul to de Gaulle

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France: A History: from Gaul to de Gaulle

France: A History: from Gaul to de Gaulle

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kept my distance from the majestic, sterile Doctrinaires, and from the great Romantic flood of “art for art’s sake.” I had my world within myself. I held my life within myself, as well as my renewals and my fecundity; but also my dangers. Which? My heart, my youth, my very method, and the new demand made of history: no longer just to recount or judge, but to summon, remake, revive the ages. To have enough passionate flame to reheat ashes long cold–that was the first point, and it was not without peril. But the second point, still more perilous perhaps, was to enter into an intimate relationship with the revived dead, and who knows? finally become one of them. Having said that, Norwich's book is for the general public, not for the historians. It is to be read as a general history book but not as an historical document. The author deserves full credit for his efforts in simplifying the French history (especially the French revolution and history of the Second & Third Republic). Above all, the book is written by someone who loves France. The author attributes his love of France to childhood travels and to his early life in France and the book reflects that passion. This book is a sort of ‘thank-offering to France’ for all the happiness that glorious country has given him over the years. a solemn meeting to which we were invited, Quinet and I saw with astonishment, in this religion of the bank, a remarkable return of what was supposed to have been abolished. We saw a clergy and a pope; we saw the preacher receive the transmission of Grace from this pope by the laying on of hands. He said: “Down with the cross! ” But it was present in the sacerdotal authoritarian forms reminiscent of the Middle Ages. The old religion, which they claimed to combat, was being renewed at its worst; confession, spiritual direction, nothing was missing. The capuccini were restored: bankers, industrialists. The bland suavity of a new Molinos had the odor of sweet Jesus. Norwich’s long career as a historian has given him a definite assurance of style, which allows him to present historical detail in a thoroughly engaging manner without sacrificing clarity.” ― Library Journal This way, women would thrive in corporate organisations such as the guild. Previously, scholarships for women did not consider these.

example, the one I suggested above, will suffice to make me understood. In the pleasant history in which Monsieur de Barante follows our story-tellers, Froissart, etc., so faithfully, step by step, it would seem that he cannot go too far wrong in clinging to these contemporaries. But then in examining the records, the various documents, so dispersed at the time though collected today, we recognize that the chronicler failed to appreciate, was unmindful of the broad features of the age. This is already a financial and juridical century in feudal form. It is often Pathelin masked as Arthur. The advent of gold, of the Jew, the weaving industry of Flanders, the dominant wool trade in England and Flanders—this is what allowed the English to prevail with regular troops, some of whom were hired and paid mercenaries. The economic revolution alone made the military revolution possible, which, through the punitive defeat of feudal knighthood, prepared, then brought about the political revolution. The tournaments of Froissart, Monstrelet, and the Golden Fleece have little influence in all this. They are completely incidental. When Louis XVI was woken with news of the storming of the Bastille he sleepily asked: "Is it a Rebellion?" "No," replied Duc de la Rochefoucauld, "it's a Revolution." As the story reaches the 19th century, the author gets a bit more in-depth in his story telling. He does a superb job of telling of the end of the Bourbon dynasty. Surprisingly, the author considers the last King of France, Louis-Phillippe, one of the better Kings. The author's opinion is that he was head and shoulders above his immediate predecessors. The rise of Napoleon III and his political demise is also covered as well as the various Republics. This masterpiece by Lynn Hunt is a collection of her contributions to the new cultural history. The book is made up of a bold and multidisciplinary investigation of the imaginative foundations of modern politics.two volumes were successful and accepted by the public. I was the first to have established France as a person. Less exclusive than Thierry, and subordinating the element of race, I strongly underlined the geographic principle of local influences, and along with that, the shared labor of the entire nation in creating, fabricating itself. In my blind enthusiasm for the Gothic I had caused the stone to give forth blood, and the Church to flower, to rise up like the flower of legend. This pleased the public. It pleased me a good deal less. That work shone like a great flame. I found too much subtlety in it, too much wit, too much system. quite essential point, which contemporaries as well as our modern writers neglect, is to distinguish sharply, to characterize the particular personality of each city. Therein lies, however, the true reality, the charm of this so diversified country. I clung to that task; it was a religion for me to reconstruct the soul of each of those old and cherished cities, and that could be done only by showing clearly how each trade and each way of life created a race of workers. I set Ghent aside, that deep hive of battles, with its brave and devout weavers. I also set Bruges aside, so great and so appealing, with the seventeen nations of its merchants and the three hundred painters who made an Italy in one city. And Ypres, the Pompeii of Flanders, today deserted, which preserves its true monument, the prodigious market place of all trades, this cathedral of labor where every good worker should remove his hat.

had no other art in 1833. One teardrop, one only, cast onto the foundation of the gothic Church, sufficed to summon it forth. Something human surged from it, the blood of legend, and, borne up by that powerful spurt, everything rose to the sky. From inside to outside, everything sprang out in blossoms—of stone? No, blossoms of life.—Sculpt them? Approach them with iron and chisel? That would have horrified me, and I would have expected to see them bleed! has one supreme and very exacting condition. It is genuinely life only when complete. All its organs are interdependent and work only as a whole. Our vital functions are linked, presuppose one another. If one is missing, nothing will live any longer. In the past it was believed possible to isolate by the scalpel, to follow separately each of our systems; this cannot be, for everything influences everything.This semi-autobiographical memoir by Ernest Hemingway is set in the roaring ’20s where Hemingway lived, struggling to make a living as a writer and a journalist. Although the book may have been written decades ago, it remains one of the best memoirs about living in France to this day. have told the facts quite plainly. From the time the English lost their mainstay, the Duke of Burgundy, they became quite weak. On the contrary, the French, rallying their armed forces of the South, became extremely strong. But this produced no harmony. The charming personality of this young peasant girl, with her tender, emotional, and joyous heart (heroic gaiety burst forth in all her answers), became a center and she united everything. She acted effectively because she had no art, no magic, no enchantments, no miracles. All her power is humanity. She has no wings, this poor angel; she is the common people, she is weak, she is us, she is everyone. Following the death of her mother six years prior, Gully Wells takes a trip to La Migoua, a house in Provence that had belonged to her mother, the American journalist Dee Wells. The bookrecounts Wells’ time in France, as well as her childhood there and is an entertaining memoir full of surprises and easy to read. A Moveable Feast– Ernest Hemingway more complicated, more terrifying, was the problem I had set for myself as an historian: the resurrection of life in its integrity, not superficially, but in its interior and organic depth. No prudent man would have dreamed of it. Fortunately, that I was not. voices, voices of conscience, which Joan of Arc carries with her into battles, into prisons, against the English, against the Church. There the world is changed. The passive resignation of Christians (so useful to tyrants) is superseded by the heroic tenderness which takes our afflictions to heart, which wants to set God’s justice here below, a justice that acts, that fights, that saves and heals.



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