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Happy BIrthfay, Coeurderev!

I wish you'll have a very happy birthfay among the people you loves!

HanriotFran

Happy Birthday, Coeurderev!

I only wanted to wish you a very happy day celebrating with your beloved ones. Happy Birthday, Coeurderev!

HanriotFran

Merry Christmas, my dear friends!

I just loved this time of the year when I was with my Master and his wife, living in Rue de l'Observance. And I'll write about it soon. Here, we are all celebrating and now I can't possibily write so have a ...





From your dear friend...





See you soon! And today...Champagne for ME!

François.

Thirty-three for ever.



I'm so happy! A year like today, December 3, but of 1761, I was born in Nanterre, a little country village very close to Paris and now , one of its neighborhoods. My parents were happy because I had arrived to this world...but not for it was ME, an unique person, a child with a sensitive heart and an squeamish soul ; no . They were both happy for I was a male, and being a male I will be more useful in the work market.

I was the first Hanriot who was born out of my family's native province, Burgundy and that was a detail that sadened them a little - Marie- Cécile was born in Sormery, the village in which my own parents had begun their path in this life - but not too awfully much. They were not sentimental at all.

How many December 3 I've seen since then, my dear citizens! Most of them were happy like the one in which I've tasted champagne rosé for the first time in my life, few of them very sad, like the two ones I spend in jail...but all my birthdays are good to remember, for I had people who loved ready to laugh when I was amused and close enough to dry my tears away if I feel anguish making my chest to ache. My souvenirs goes and goes...and I saw Maître's Formey face again, shinning with a bright smile when I opened my first birthday gift in his home: a spinning top! It was great, all deep green with some little red dots. I LOVED it. And I can almost feel again Blanche's soft skin under my fingers, her plump lips searching my own's, when I kissed and embraced her the day I turned 20's. My own family couldn't come to Paris to celebrate my birthday properly and my Master was travelling, so I did my own little party in my first house, rue Battoir. The only guest in it was Blanche...My Blanche. Her father never knew about what we did and I was really in Heaven, because I believed she really loved me. I made love to her and even if I wasn't, I feel I was her prince back then...Well; I was not a Republican when I was 20! And later, the December 3 I spent at the Hôtel-de-Ville...It was so funny! All my friends were there, my family, my Master Formey...Blanche and her husband. It was a bittersweet party. MY LAST BIRTHDAY. I laughed and laughed as a child, even if my heart ached in great pain every time I would notice Blanche and her beloved one kissing each other. I was exultant, with my high-feathered bicorn, my bright uniform, some of my dreams becoming reality and my beloved ones around me.There was enough champagne rosé to celebrate and the sky was dark, plenty of iridiscent stars twinkling above us. It was a cold night, but I wanted to make the birthday toast in one of the Hôtel-de-Ville's courtyards. We found a dreamy, odd atmostphere there, but I thought it was perfect to say my three wishes out loud. It was like being already dead and in Paradise. I lifted my champagne glass and I shouted in sheer euphoria:





- I want to share eternity with you all; I want peoples of the world would fight for their happiness; I want this place to be my home while I'm still alive!!!

And then we began to shout, and toast, and sing and dance...

My last birthday! All my wishes become true, and I'm thankful of it, even if I never could have a great love relationship with my mother and sister, even if Blanche never loved me, even if I didn't see Robespierre's ideas succeding in our time. I'm thankful. I'm very thankful.

As I've already told you, I'm in Heaven right now, but I have no more years added to my age. I celebrates my birthday party, yes, but I'll never be old . History keeps going on in the human world, but I ,François Hanriot will always be 33 years old. 33 years old...like Camille Desmoulins had once said: " The critic age for a Revolutionary".



Not Anastasia!



- “They said he’s not dead! – whispered an old lady.

-Some friends rescued him just before the Robesperrist will be brought to the scaffold- chuckled another one.

- But it’s not possible – added a big , tall chocolate seller – Everyone in Paris knew him well, and his face and hair were unmistakables. I’ve seen him in the chariot, and even if he was all covered by blood and one of his eyes was hanging over his cheek I recognized him on the spot.

- Yes, maybe – answered the first old lady – but he has been seen walking close to his former house at Rue de la Chef…

From Heaven, I let a little laugh go; I was very amused. Saint-Just wanted to know what had made me laugh this way.

- Oh, nothing! – I said happily – some people in Paris believes I’m not really dead…

-Nonsense!

- Not so much! They really have reasons to relieve it, Citoyen Saint-Just…

He put in his famous stern face, the one that would make all Convention to shiver. His voice didn’t sound precissely funny.

-Hanriot…WHAT have you done?

But I never was afraid of Saint-Just. Even in Heaven, I’m still a little irresponsible.

-Bah! Don’t worry…I just go there time to time – I answered with another little laugh.

- HANRIOT! Where’s “THERE”? – Saint-Just was almost shouting.

- There…I mean the world. The physical world. I slip from here to there, and all it’s done. I use to walk by my former neighborhood and visit places I know . Just to see how they are now…

Saint-Just facial features softened, and he must laugh too:

- Citoyen le Général…You know you must not do that! – he said.

- Yes; I know…And that’s the reason I behave this way time to time…It’s funny. And even if I'm a ghost now , I’m a mischievous one.

-As mischievous as you were when alive…aren’t you? – and Saint-Just bursted in laugh.

And yes; Citoyen Saint-Just was right . I’m a mischievous ghost. I love to have fun. And when I want to have fun, I do weird things…Some time after my death, I used to go down, to the world and appear as if I was alive at Jardin-des-Plantes. Many, many people had seen me and really believed I was alive. They truly saw me walking close to my former house, dressed the same way I used to when I lived there. Not with my militar uniform and my feathers, but with some of the clothes I owned before and people will recognize as mine. There was a rumor that I had remained alive and my friends had just put another wounded man inside the chariot that travelled to the scaffold. Since I was very injured, maybe the change wouldn’t be noticed. But most of the neighbors said it was indeed me; they had seen me more than once and even wounded, the one who was there, lying inside this awful chariot of death was ME, no doubt! The rumor grew up and the fact was even been repported to the authorities who didn’t pay any attention to it. A neighbor or two, tried to Chat with “me”, but then, I would walk in a hurry to disappear on the corner of the street and they wouldn’t see me any more. The ones who were convinced I was alive, discussed where I was living. They pointed I must be living in Choisy, a Commune in which I had a lot of friends; however, they couldn’t find any house rented by me. Of course, I was not in my former little house of Rue de la Chef, it should be too noticeable…They went to look at my mother’s and sister’s home, and later, they asked to my ancient Master if I was living with him , but I was not .My Master cryed softly and answered that he wanted so badly to have me to spend his last years with his beloved "son". I was not here, I was not there…I was anywhere…They didn’t realize I was dead for real.





Later, I was bored of my little prank and I never returned to the world. Most of people who had known me, were now dead and it was not fun any more. So I remained quietly in Heaven. It was 1822. Then, there were were people who saids I was finally died and was buried in Père Lachaise under another name . They gave so many different names that I didn’t remember them very well.

When Lenôtre began to write his little French revolution tales, he wrote about my supposed surviving, and explained that he didn’t believe in it, nevertheless, he feel it was his personal duty to mention it in the chapter he consacred to me in his “Vieux Maisons, Vieux Papiers”. He said that he had listen the absurd story from a person who was totally worthy as a reliable source. I amused myself a great deal reading about it.

However, my legend doesn’t lasted so long and people forgot quite quick that I *could* have survived ; they even forgot who I was and that I ever existed. I’m not Grand Duchess Anastasia and no movie was filmed about me. No, I’m not Anastasia. I’m still ignored and my steps in life are fading right now…

I’m not unhappy, since where I am, unhappiness doesn’t exist..but I wish I could be remembered. At least a very, very little...





François.

"la Terreur et la Vertu" - "Danton"

I'm a little tired of seeing the same stills of the movies I like about French Revolution. I know that "La Terreur et la Vertu" is the best TV movie ever made about our beatiful Jacobin times, but the only stills I could find online were the ones taken from the second part of it, "Robespierre". I know that we, Robespierrist are the best people you can read about in history books (erhm...modestly! :D) , but I also thinks that Dantonist all corrupted they could be, deserved to have their pics taken and posted on the net for French Revolution's people to see, too. Most of them doesn't have their "Fan Club" (Saint-Just and Robespierre have a lot of modern young girls dying for them) so, I thought that I could put their nice pics here, in my LiveJournal page.

Please, enjoy! Those ones were also my friends until they became all traitors, so my heart still feels friendship for them. I can't hate eanyone, you know? Not even Coffinhal (I was only scared by him...and a little upset, yes). Well, stop chatting stupidly, Hanriot...That's the only thing you know how to do properly!





Here you go!..How are they smiling those two! Jacques Ferrière as Danton and Roger Crouzet as Desmoulins.How do you like these two guys?





Hmmmm. Can you recognize Fabre here? At first, I liked Fabre d'Eglantine. he knows very well how to tell stories and surely you'll laugh listening to him speaking about the last news. He was hilarious! Here, the actor Alain Nobis plays Fabre and he does it greatly. Close to him, we have Roger Crouzet as Desmoulins again. They seemsed not very pleased, tough...





Danton (Jacques Ferrière) and his Louison (Cécile Vassort). I can't lie...I didn't like this girl much. Even now, in Heaven that our passions are not so strong, I must confess I can't stand her!





Dantonis are very happy at home! Danton (Jacques Ferrières) just came from Arcis and brought a goose to Lucile Desmoulins (Rolande Cabanis)and some wine for the friends...Did you notice that this wine is not WHITE but TRANSPARENT as plain water? I think that they used water inestead of wine t make the movie. Just watch this:







Danton was at his trial; the moment was not fun for him...However, he choosed to play "the special guest star" inestead of the accused man who must proove his innocence. It seemed hard for him to understand that it was not Brodway, nor Hollywood but Revolutionnary Court...



Poor Hermann (Jacques Lalande)! I believed he should die from a heart attack after listening to Danton angry shouts...Vadier and I were making him signs to end the whole thing RIGHT NOW!







And yes...I've already posted some pics of me (Michel Trévières) and Vadier (Pierre Asso) in this very moment, but I can't resist to post them again and some more. Voilà!

























We were VERY nervous to said the truth...We were afraid Danton would turn people on his favor. He knew very well how to use words and modulation of his voice, and could twist the sense of a phrase like a magician. I was in one of those days in which my face would ache of trying to look as a severe Jacobin leader. I ended Danton's trial very, but very tired and not even champagne could calm me down. I was scared by what culd be coming up for US...

Tomorrow, I'll post some more nice pics...and at least two of citoyens Hébert (François Maistre)and Chaumette (Francis Lax) !

Salut et Fraternité!
François.

Pissed Sans-Culotte's family.



This is for my dearest friend Gwynplainée, who asked me the whole cartoon of satanized Sans-Culottes. It could be a British cartoon or even a pro-British one "made in France". I don't know which is the case.

By the way...Le voilà!

François.

Being myself...



Oh! What a day! I felt like I was to faint and let my little body to rest in my ottoman , with a heavy sigh. My face ached, my legs ached, my back ached and every muscle I had ached. I felt even feverish.

- I'm glad I'm already home - I said in a light voice - Being all time serious and stiff is not a good thing for me...Being a Commandant General is not an easy thing, nowadays.

-Nope - agreed my friend Joseph Turlot- But you makes it hundred times harder putting on this hard face of yours and moving as if you have a heavy stick inside your ass.

I laughed heartily...

- The last sentence is not exactky polite - I said- But it's true!When in public, I feel a little like walking with a stick inside my...-I laughed again - Oh! I can't repeat it without feeling amused! My dear Jo...It sounds really weird when you saids it...

Damour came and gave me a glass of fresh lemonade and said:

- My Commandant...Why do you act so different than you REALLY are when you goes to Jacobin or Cordelier Club? Why can't you be nice, so people would know the REAL François Hanriot? The real YOU?

I felt suprised...So... what I was doing was not right? People would be more at ease with my childish personnality than facing the stern and hard Sans-Culotte I've made up to "go outside" and "play" the ruthless Jacobin?

- I supposed I must be a serious and severe revolutionnary leader- I sighed again- and that my real "me" wouldn't fit in this image. People will never come to respect me if they knows how I really am.

-People likes persons like you, who are always laughing and telling hilarious stories...-said Damour- They don't feel attired by marble statues. They likes and respect Saint-Just, yes...but he has a touch of melancholy who makes him a very interesting young man; women are all in love with him! But in your case it's different! You always acts like a stern teacher who says to Sans-Culottes what can they do and what is not a good thing for them. When you are in public, your face looks always petrified and you speaks a little angrily...In your "Ordres du Jour" you writes that Sans-Culottes must learn to live with little things because a good republican doesn't needs "luxes" and that they must leave aside coal, potatoes and other merchandises for a while for "Revolution's sake" if ttheir prices are too high...They doesn't like it a bit.

- But- I exclaimed- I do all this for I believed that a true and severe republican would act this way...I spoke about leaving all those merchandises aside because a good Jacobin is not like those Royals who needs so many little things to live. We must made sacrifices for our country! We are in war after all and those frivolities...

- François -said Turlot in an angry way - No need of showing all day long a face of a dog who is over the point of killing a cat ,to be a good Jacobin, and as for "luxes"...Do you realizes that you are saying people they must not purchase coal and try to go ahead and cook with firewood while you are wearing all those feathers in your hat, drinks champagne and goes to Opera?

My head went blank. Suddenly I understood what was happening...I was showing to Revolution the face of an hypocrite. And my heart bleeded, since I was NOT an hypocrite. Why in heck I always appeared as I was NOT before people? I've always wanted to PLEASE, and the more I wanted to be liked and loved, the more I would get the opposite result to my efforts. People was very complicated, indeed! Blanche, my beloved Blanche didn't like me as a man for I was too childish and candid and "goody-goody"...and now, people was over the point of rejecting me for I tried to show the stern behavior of a restless patriot. I must to act as a severe jacobin for people like Blanche...and my real self must be offered to Sans-Culottes who would like my hilarious stories and my baby-smiles...even my champagne if I wouldn't ask them to don't use coal . Life is not that easy...

I remembered clearly that two weeks ago, I've heard a journalist to say pointing at me: "What a hard face this guy has! He seems an artisan of low rank!"...I flushed. I had not a mirror in front of me, but I knew perfectly that I flushed listening to those words, because my face burned hot...Indeed? I caused that bad impression to people? "an artisan of LOW RANK"? .Master Formey would say exactly the opposite...and for Blanche I was plainly a "cute baby". What a difference! THey were all speaking about the same person...ME! But...Did they truly speak about the same person? I run to Hôtel-de-Ville and had a sight of me on the mirror...It was true! My face was so hardened that I seemed a cruel, bad man! Lord! The man who was at the mirror was NOT me! I tried to slow down, to loose the muscles of my face and when I looked at me again, I was the same François I've always been: a nice, cute child with freckles over the nose, sweet , velvety blue eyes and baby-faced. The difference was great...I was playing my part so convinced of it that I was becoming a cartoon of myself.

I fell over my ottoman and began to cry...I wanted...Oh, I wanted so fiercely to became myself again! I was a convinced Jacobin and wanted to make the world more fair and nice to live in...but I wouldn't want to become a monster, I wouldn't give the impression of being an hypocrite!

I would give my own life for French Revolution, but I was clumsy and was not easy for me to find a balance and know HOW a true Jacobin would act.

I didn't answered to Turlot because I couldn't . I wish I could find something intelligent to say, but words just didn't come to my lips. I drank a sip of lemonade...and it tasted more sour than ever. My whole body became sour, and even if my friends didn't understand exactly why...I bawled my eyes out.

François.



    Some days ago, our Friend Estella posted in her own Livejournal page this message I wanted you all could read. 

   Please; it's very important for all people who cares for history legacy and justice that you signs the petition below. I've already done it. If you does, maybe Robespierre's house in Arras could be turned into a Museum.

   I pasted Estella's messages here , so the news could be known all around the net.

"...Petition to Turn Robespierre's house in Arras into a Museum

I have been extremely negligent in not posting this earlier, but as one of the founding members of theAssociation pour un musée Robespierre à Arras (AMRA), I'd like to invite you all to sign our petition in favor of turning the house Robespierre lived in from 1787 until his departure for Versailles as deputy to the Estates-General in 1789 into a museum dedicated to teaching the public about Robespierre and the Revolution. (For an idea of what this project could turn out to be, check out Saint-Just's house in Blérancourt.)

You might be wondering about the status of the house and why it is not yet a museum, at least not one devoted to Robespierre and the Revolution. At the bicentennial of the Revolution, the city of Arras acquired the property for that purpose, but it then entrusted its restoration to the "Compagnons du devoir" in exchange for the use of the building for their own museum, dedicated to the history of guild/trade organizations and with only a tiny space devoted to Robespierre's youth in Arras. While the AMRA definitely considers that the Compagnons deserve to have their own museum, there are potentially other spaces that would suit them equally well, while, for obvious reasons, Robespierre's house is really the most appropriate place to have a museum regarding him and his role in the Revolution. You can read more about the history of the house here.

Because it would really be nice to have some kind of permanent space for the education of the public regarding Robespierre and the Revolution in his city of origin, I encourage you all to sign the petition. You don't have to live in France or be a French citizen to sign. Please help us get to our minimum goal of 5,000 signatures.

If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them..."

I'm sick of all this PINK stuff!!!!



   Non, non, non...Je n'y tiens plus! Who was the stupid one who said that our beloved XVIII Century was PINK? Everyone seems to think that we lived in a pink world, with pink clothes, pink pastries, pink wigs and pink ideas...Just awful! All this pinky stuff is driving me mad. I lived in a very interesting era, and believe me, it was NOT pink at all.

   I think all the confussion comes from Sofia Coppola's film: "Marie-Antoinette", in which the queen is seeing wearing pink dresses - a sort of awful pink...kinda chewing-gum's one - and eating cakes and cookies with pink frosting all over them. It seems that XXI Century people believes that pink is a womanly color and that wearing it glamorizes things...Well, in our times, pink was not a fashion color, not even a color who women would specially wear. Of course there were pink dresses, but pink was not a special  favorite and  in fact , men would wear it as well as women. The more common clothe color was the "puce" one - I think that the translation in English could by "fly"- , sort of a bronze shade, and it was followed closely by blue and light blue. And of course there were no "girl color" and "boy color". Children would wear every kind of colors, both sexs equally. The "pinky-girl" things comes from Victorian times -I'm not completely sure, tough-, I think, and now it seems to be fashionable again...I'm happy not to be alive nowadays and having a girl myself, for I wouldn't want her dressed as a giant frivolous cupcake. And it seems that almost EVERY girl wears pink even in the socks and tennis! They seems to be more than stupid...Not even Marie-Cécile was as frivolous as most of girls they looks today.

   

    Another misconception about XVIII century is that we would eat a lot of cakes, and pastries and desserts...all crowned with a puffy pinky frosting...Again: "NON; CITOYENS!", this was not true, not even at the court. besides, pastries or cakes were never served as desserts in nobility or rich houses. These were for tea time. Desserts were composed generally by creams or plain fresh fruit...I know, for I used to eat them when living along with the Formeys. At the Coppola's movie you'll get sick about the great amount of sweet things to eat they shows...You never knows if it is a movie about Marie-Antoinette or it principal issue is the life of a stupid, flirtiatious girl inside a bakery...but rather in Ney York at Post-modern times than in Paris at  Enlightement era!

   And of course, we all knows that XVIII Century is considered a frivolous time...but all the same: we were NOT AS FRIVOLOUS THAN THAT! There were women who liked exagerated big panniers in their dresses, would wear high hairdoss and weird jewels   ; there also were men who painted their lips and  showed a typical high wig - they called them "maccaroni- ; some people from both sexs were flirtatious and vain...But these were not most of people's customs and not even everyone at aristocratic houses lived in such a stupid way. Those exagerations are novelty for people of other times and they likes to think that everyone dressed and acted this way in my times. Maybe another movie is guilty of this: "Amadeus". Sure, I liked it, but clothes and ways of people were showed too much over-frivolous in it.

    Our century had its stern face too. We had Rococo and Neo-classicism. I like  both of them in their own ways. But  the last years of XVIII's were more severe than frivolous and I must said our color was never a faded pink but an angry red. Red is the color of passion and love; the color of the blood we gave for humanity's sake...even if we failed in our purposes.

   Please...I don't want to see more pink before my eyes! I'm becoming sick and I want to vomit....My blood glycose is going up and up...what a sugary, stupid thing!

   But now, I must leave you...I'm going to watch "The Pink-Panther".



HanriotFran. 

 

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