Petite mort sortie Rambuteau: la collection noire de publie.net (Publie.noir) (French Edition)

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Les fameux corsets de Jean-Paul Gaultier qui donneront forme notamment aux flacons de ses parfums. Elle travaillera ensuite dans la mode pour Dior ou pour le magazine WallPaper. Goldo Gravity Paint Pot par le street-artiste Pimax: Les masques monochromes de Goldorak en pigments purs par le Street-Artiste Chanoir. Nu descendant un escalier et L. Galerie Camera Obscura boulevard Raspail Paris www.

Installations de ballons par Francesca Pasquali. Tornabuoni Art Paris http: Plusieurs raisons expliquent cet engouement. Les spots chic et tendance attirent de nouveaux visiteurs. Vintagez-vous 26 rue Paul Bert Saint-Ouen. Il mixe plusieurs techniques: Les chats ont leurs stars: A partir du 2 septembre Hot-dog au chocolat: Partly for the sake of the piece, but principally for that of the man whom she was so near running over, Mlle. The piece was a comedy, with airs written by Baron Ernest von Manteuffel, and set to music by a composer of the day.

The subject was extremely interesting, and Mlle. If you are in quest of anyone, native or foreigner, there is a moral certainty of your meeting with him there in the space of two hours, at the outside. The most remarkable monument of popular gratitude may be seen on this bridge—the statue of Henri IV. And if the French cannot boast of having in reality a good prince, they may comfort themselves in contemplating the effigy of a monarch whose like they will never see again.

At the foot of the bridge, a large phalanx of crimps—commonly called dealers in human flesh—have established their quarters, recruiting for their colonels, who sell the victims wholesale to the king. Such are the heroes picked out to be the support and pillars of the State; and these future great men—a world of conquerors in embryo—are purchased at the trifling price of five crowns a head. Among the remarkable incidents which the Pont-Neuf has witnessed during its three centuries of existence must be mentioned certain amateur robberies, committed by gentlemen of the highest position.

The Duke of Orleans is said to have set the fashion, which, one stormy night, after prolonged libations, was imitated by the Chevalier de Rieux, the Count de Rochefort, and a number of friends more unscrupulous than themselves. The count and the chevalier, though the only ones of the party who got arrested, played the mild part of lookers-on, taking their seats on Henri IV. In due time, however, after several of the passers-by had been plundered of their cloaks, the watch was called, when the active robbers took to flight, whereas their passive accomplices, unable to get down all at once from the back of the bronze horse, were made prisoners, and kept for some time in confinement.

Mazarin, indeed, was so glad to have his enemy, the Count de Rochefort, in his power, that he could scarcely be prevailed upon to let him out at all. Nor has he in this institution deviated from the rule, for the Academy is manifestly a monarchical establishment. Men of letters have been enticed to the capital like the grandees, and with the same object: The consequence is fatal to the progress of knowledge, because every writer aspiring to a seat in that modern Areopagus knows that his success depends on Court favour, and therefore does everything to merit this by sacrificing to the Goddess of Flattery, and preferring mean adulation that brings him academical honours to the useful, manly, and legitimate employment of his talents in the instruction of mankind.

Paris is the only place where it can support any kind of dignity, though it is even there sorely badgered by the wits of the capital, who, expecting from it neither favour nor friendship, point all their epigrammatical batteries against its members.

Marc Villard

There is, in fact, but too much room for pleasantry and keen sarcasm. Is it not extremely ridiculous that forty men, two-thirds of whom owe their admission to intrigue or fawning, should be by patent created arbiters of taste in literature, and enjoy the exclusive privilege of judging for the rest of their countrymen?

But their principal function has been to circulate and suppress new-coined words; regulating the pronunciation, orthography, and idioms of the French language. Is this a service or injury to the language? I should think the latter.

We have some, however, who boldly think for themselves, trust to the judgment of the public, and laugh at the award of the Academy. Nothing can better mark the contempt in which a few spirited writers hold the decrees of the forty forestallers of French wit and refinement than the following epitaph which the author above cited, the terror of Voltaire, the scourge of witlings, Piron, ordered to be engraved on his tombstone: Many very distinguished writers have, in every generation since the birth of the Academy, been included among its members.

Very few, however, of the forty members have at any one time been men of genuine literary distinction; a duke who has written a pamphlet, an ambassador who has published a volume, having always had a better chance of election than a popular novelist or dramatist. The Pont-Neuf was, for a considerable time after its first construction, the most important highway in Paris. It was the only bridge of importance; and what is now the greatest thoroughfare of Paris—the line of boulevards—was not yet in existence. Long, moreover, after it had ceased to be fashionable, the Pont-Neuf remained popular by reason of the vast stream of passengers perpetually crossing it in either direction.

It was much in favour with itinerant dealers of all kinds, and equally so with beggars. Even in our own time it was on the Pont-Neuf that Les deux Aveugles of Offenbach deceived the public and exchanged confidences with one another. The plague of beggars is nothing, however, in these days, compared with what it was before the Revolution.

Nothing has yet been done to remove this evil, and the methods hitherto practised have proved to be remedies worse than the disease. Amongst the ancients there was a class of people that might be called poor, but none reduced to absolute indigence. The very slaves were clothed, fed, had their friends; nor does any historian say that the towns and streets were full of those wretched, disgusting objects which either excite pity or freeze charity itself: Let our new schemers say what they will, great proprietors are a nuisance in the State.

They cover the lands with forests and stock them with fawns and deer; they lay out pleasure-gardens; and thus the oppression and luxury of the great is daily crushing the most unfortunate part of the community. In the very dead of night old men, women, and children were suddenly seized upon, deprived of their liberty, and thrown into loathsome gaols, without the assignment of any cause for so cruel a treatment. The pretence was that indigence is the parent of crimes, that seditions generally begin among that class of people who, having nothing to lose, have nought to fear.

The ministers who then wished to establish the corn-law dreaded the effect it would have on that world of indigent wretches, driven to despair, as they would be, by the advanced price of bread which was then to be imposed. As this was the most effectual method of silencing them, the Government never took the trouble to devise any other.

When we cast an eye abroad, it is then we are convinced of the forlorn condition in which our lower sort of people drag out their miserable life. The Spaniard can cheaply provide himself with food and raiment. Wrapped up in his cloak, the earth is his bed; he sleeps soundly, and wakes without anxiety for his next meal. The Italians work little, and are in no want of the necessaries, or even luxuries, of life.

The English, well fed, strong and hale, happy and free, reap and enjoy undisturbed the fruits of their industry. The Swede is content with his glass of brandy. The Russian, whom no foresight disturbs, finds abundance in the bosom of slavery; but the Parisians, poor and helpless, sinking under the burden of unremitting toils and fatigue, ever at the mercy of the great, who crush them like vile insects whenever they attempt to raise their voice, earn, at the sweat of their brow, a scanty subsistence, which only serves to lengthen their lives, without leaving them anything to look forward to in their old age but indigence, or, what is worse, part of a bed in the hospital.

In the open space where Ravaillac and Damiens were subjected to such abominable cruelty, and where so many criminals of various kinds and classes were afterwards to be broken and beaten to death, the guillotine was at a later date set up. His figure is perfectly well known to the populace; he is for them the greatest tragedian. Whenever he exhibits they crowd round his temporary stage: I have seen some of these delicate creatures, whose fibres are so tender, so easily shaken, who faint at the sight of a spider, look unconcerned upon the execution of Damiens, being the last to avert their eyes from the most dreadful punishment that ever was devised to avenge an offended monarch.

The bourreau , although his employment brands him with infamy, has no badge to distinguish him from the rest of the citizens; and this is a great mistake on the part of the Government, particularly noticeable when he executes the dreadful commands of the law. It is not only ridiculous: Should he not be clad in garments more suitable to the minister of death? What is the consequence of so gross an absurdity? A populace not overburdened with the sense of sympathy are all taken up with admiration for the handsome clothes and person of our Breakbones.

Their attention is engrossed by the elegant behaviour and appearance of this deputy of the King of Terrors; they have hardly a thought to bestow upon the malefactor, and not one on his sufferings. Of course, then, the intention of the law is frustrated. The dreadful example meant to frighten vice from its criminal course has no effect on the mind of the spectator, much more attentive to the point ruffles and the rich clothes of the man whose appearance should concur in adding to the solemnity than to the awful memento set up by a dire necessity to enforce the practice of virtue by showing that he who lives in crime must die in infamy.

The executioner, from the stigma inherent to his profession, and of course to himself, cannot hope to form alliances among the other ranks of citizens. It is not many years since the Bourreau of Paris publicly advertised that he was ready to bestow the hand of his daughter, with a portion of one hundred thousand crowns, on any native Frenchman who would accept it, and agree to succeed him in business.

The latter clause would have staggered avarice itself; but the executioner of Paris was obliged to follow the practice of his predecessors in office, and marry his heiress to a provincial executioner. Russia, Turkey, and the Roman Court are now the only Powers in Europe which maintain a censorship over books. But the custom of burning objectionable volumes, instead of simply pronouncing against them and forbidding their circulation, belongs altogether to the past.

Plenty of books were forbidden in France under the First and Second Empire; and when the infamous Marquis de Sade sent Napoleon one of his disgraceful works, the emperor replied by ordering the man to be arrested and confined in a lunatic asylum. Under the Restoration many a volume was proscribed; but since the great Revolution of no Government in France has ventured to restore the custom of having a condemned book burnt by the executioner. Whereupon Voltaire, indignant at the barbarity of such a punishment, brought out, anonymously, another pamphlet in defence of the cremated one, when this, in its turn, was sentenced to the flames.

The assembly, according to popular rumour, began at night, and ended with cock-crow. On his right was the solitary lamp, on his left a man or woman who had charge of the powders or ointments which it was customary to distribute among those present. The ointments were supposed to enable the members of these strange associations to recognise one another by the smell.

The secret meetings of the Templars, the Anabaptists, and the Albigenses have all been represented as assemblies of sorcerers.

It may well be that the severity of the tortures inflicted on the accused, and the promise held out to them of forgiveness in case of avowal, induced many of them to admit the truth of charges without basis. The province of La Brie would seem during the magical times of Catherine de Medicis to have been inhabited almost entirely by sorcerers—by people, that is to say, who either considered themselves such or were so considered. The shepherds and herdsmen of the province possessed, it was said, the power of putting to death the sheep and cattle of their neighbours by burying various kinds of enchantments beneath the paths along which the animals were sure to pass.

Some of these wonder-working shepherds were taken and prosecuted, when they confessed in many cases that they had exercised various kinds of bedevilments on the beasts of certain farmers. They made known the composition of their infernal preparations, but refused to state where they were buried, declaring that if they were dug up the person who had deposited them would immediately die. Whether the reputed sorcerers possessed the secret of some chemical mixtures which had really an injurious effect on cattle, or whether they were merely actuated by vain fancies, it would be impossible at the present time to say.

But many shepherds and herdsmen of La Brie were, towards the end of the seventeenth century, condemned and executed for magical practices. Thus two shepherds, named Biaule and Lavaux, were sentenced by the same judge to be hanged and burnt; and the sentence, after being confirmed by the Parliament of Paris, was put into effect on the 18th of December, Magical practices have been denounced by more than one Church council; nor were incantations and witchcraft supposed by any means to be confined to the ignorant classes.

Pharamond passed for the son of an incubus; and the mother of Clovis for a witch. Philip the Bold consulted a sorceress. The madness of Charles VI. THE most important, the most interesting, the most absorbing thoroughfare on the right bank of the Seine, and, therefore, in Paris generally is that of the boulevards, in which the whole of the gay capital may be said to be concentrated. Numbers of Parisians pass almost the whole of their life on the Boulevard des Italiens; or between the Boulevard Montmartre to the east, and the Boulevard de la Madeleine to the west of what, to the fashionable Parisian, is the central boulevard.

Nothing can be easier than to breakfast and dine on the boulevards; and it is along their length or in their immediate neighbourhood that not only the best restaurants, but the finest theatres are to be found. Stroll about the boulevards for a few hours—an occupation of which the true boulevardier seems never to get tired—and you will meet everyone you know in Paris. If, moreover, the upper boulevards, those of the Madeleine, the Capucines, and the Italiens, represent fashionable Paris, the lower boulevards, from the Boulevard Montmartre to the Boulevard Beaumarchais, represent the Paris of commerce and of industry; so that the line of boulevards, as a whole, from the Madeleine to the Bastille, gives a fair epitome of the French capital.

The poorest of the boulevards are at the eastern end of the line, and the richest at the western; and the difference in character between the inhabitants of these opposite extremes is shown by a military regulation instituted under the Second Empire. Neither the district inhabited by the needy workmen of the east nor the western district, where dwelt the richest class of shop-keepers, was allowed to furnish the usual contingent of National Guards.

The artisans were too turbulent to be entrusted with arms, while the tradespeople were equally unreliable, because from timidity they allowed their arms to be taken from them. Beginning at what most visitors to Paris will consider the wrong end of the line of boulevards, we find that on the Boulevard Beaumarchais Paris has a very different physiognomy from that which she presents on the Boulevard de la Madeleine, which the visitor may reach by omnibus, though it is more interesting to travel in some hired vehicle which may now and then be stopped, and more interesting still to make the whole of the three-mile journey on foot.

At either end of the line of boulevards is a Place , or open space, which, for want of a better word, may be called a square: Place de la Bastille to the east, Place de la Madeleine to the west. Advancing from the Bastille to the Madeleine, we find the appearance of the shops constantly improving, until, from poor at one end, they become magnificent at the other.

But at the Bastille end one notices here and there a little sacrifice to the useful and the indispensable. In like manner, the importance of the theatres increases as you proceed from the Bastille westward. Nearly half the playhouses of Paris are on the boulevards: Many other theatres, if not entered direct from the boulevards, are in their close vicinity.

From to what is now called the Boulevard Beaumarchais was known as the Boulevard St. The Marriage of Figaro was played in public for the first time on April 27th, Lenoir the Lieutenant of Police to appoint a censor; at the same time asking him, as a special favour, that the piece might be examined by no one else: It was so read by M. Coqueley, advocate, and I begged M. Lenoir to notify what he retrenched, objected to, or approved. Well or ill read—perhaps maliciously mutilated—the piece was pronounced detestable; and not knowing in what respect I had sinned for according to custom nothing was specified , I stood before the inquisition obliged to guess my crimes, but aware, nevertheless, that I was already tacitly proscribed.

As, however, this proscription by the court only irritated the curiosity of the town, I was condemned to readings without number. Whenever one party was discovered, another would immediately be formed. At the beginning of it was already a question who could obtain the privilege of hearing the play read by Beaumarchais—an admirable reciter—whether at his own house or in some brilliant salon. The first performance of the Marriage of Figaro was thus described by a competent judge.

Scarcely half of those who had besieged the doors since eight in the morning succeeded in finding places. Most persons got in by force or by throwing money to the porters. It is impossible to be more humble, more audacious, more eager in view of obtaining a favour from the Court than were all our young lords to ensure themselves a place at the first representation of Figaro.

All the parts were entrusted to performers of the first merit. Mademoiselle Sainval, who was the tragic actress then in vogue, had, at the urgent request of Beaumarchais, accepted the part of the Countess Almaviva, in which she displayed a talent the more striking from being quite unexpected. Dazincourt represented Figaro with all his wit, and relieved the character from any appearance of vulgarity. Delessarts, with his rich humour, gave relief to the personage of Bartholo, which is thrown somewhat into the background. The secondary parts of Basil and Antonio were equally well played by Vanhove and Bellemont.

Finally, through a singular caprice, a somewhat celebrated tragedian, Larive, not wishing tragedy to be represented in the piece by Mademoiselle Sainval alone, asked for the insignificant little part of Grippe-soleil. It was in the midst of a fire of epigrams in prose and verse that the author of the Marriage of Figaro pursued his career, pouring out on his enemies not torrents of fire and light, but torrents of liveliness and fun.

The Marriage of Figaro was represented sixty-eight times in succession, and each time with the greatest possible success. All sorts of anecdotes were told in connection with the success of the work. The Boulevard Beaumarchais of the present day was as already mentioned called, until some fifty years after the Revolution, Boulevard St.

The destruction of the Bastille was the first event in the French Revolution; and many have asked why the fury of the crowd was particularly directed against a building which, monument of tyranny though it was, had never been employed against the people at large, but almost always against members of the aristocracy, on whose behalf the Revolutionists were certainly not fighting.

But although the dungeons of the Bastille were for the most part filled with political offenders, persons of every station in life did, from time to time, find themselves enclosed within its walls. The too celebrated fortress was originally built to protect the east of Paris, as the Louvre was constructed to guard the west. It stood on the south side of the boulevard now known by the name of Beaumarchais, and consisted of eight towers, four of which looked towards the town—that is to say, the Rue St. Above the shop of the wine-seller who inhabits No. It was less as a fortress than as a State prison that the Bastille was known, and by the nation at large execrated.

Prisoners were taken to the Bastille on a simple lettre de cachet: The victims were introduced secretly into the fortress; and the soldiers on guard had instructions to turn aside when any prisoner was being brought in, so that they might not afterwards recognise him.

Once inside the dungeon, he was liable to undergo frequent interrogations without even knowing on what charge, or even suspicion, he had been arrested. The treatment in prison depended absolutely on the will of the governor. Those under detention were kept in solitary confinement, without anyone outside being able to obtain news as to whether they even existed. They were not allowed to receive letters from their family or friends. The internal regulations of the Bastille are sufficiently well known to us by the numerous chronicles and memoirs published in connection with it, including, in particular, those of Linguet.

My bed was intolerable, and the bedclothes dirty and worm-eaten. I drank, or rather poisoned myself with, foul stagnant water. What food they brought me! Famished dogs would not have touched it. Accordingly, my body was soon covered with pustules, my legs gave way beneath me, I spat blood, and became scorbutic. The dungeons received neither light nor air, except by one narrow window pierced in a wall nearly five metres thick, and traversed by a triple row of bars, between which there were intervals of only five centimetres.

Even on the most beautiful days the prisoners received but feeble rays of light. There are some rooms—and mine was one of them—which look out directly upon the moat into which flows the great sewer of the Rue St. Thence ascends a pestilential exhalation, which, when once it has entered these rooms, can only with much difficulty be got out again. It is in such an atmosphere that the prisoner has to breathe. There, not to be absolutely stifled, he is obliged to pass his nights and days glued to the inside bars of the little window in the door, through which a glimmer of light and a breath of air may reach him.

When the Bastille had done its work on the last remains of feudalism and on the Court aristocracy, the turn came of the people—the precursors of the Republic, the martyrs of the Revolution. After the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the Bastille was filled with Protestants. Here were shut up the Jansenists and the fanatics known as the Convulsionnaires. Here, too, suffered, until he was taken to the scaffold, the brave Governor of India under the French domination, Lally, who had given offence to the Court rather than to the sovereign.

Voltaire, Mirabeau, Linguet who, after making his escape, published in London his eloquent account of the cruelties to which prisoners in the Bastille were subjected , Latude, and numberless other men distinguished in different walks of life. The 14th of July, , saw the first blow struck by the Revolutionists against that monument which, to them, symbolised all that was hateful in the ancient monarchy.

War had already virtually been declared between the two sides. Everything seemed in favour of the king, the Court, the nobility, and the monarchical party generally. On the 8th of July the National Assembly had, on the motion of Mirabeau, demanded from the king the removal of the foreign troops.

The news of this tyrannical step fell upon Paris on Sunday, July 12th, like a spark on a barrel of gunpowder. The Palais Royal, which might be regarded as the head-quarters of the Revolution, became violently agitated. A superstitious importance was attached to the familiar incident; and the Revolutionists, with the people around them, saw in the ordinary explosion of a midday gun, intended only to interest the public by marking the time, the signal for an uprising against the ancient monarchy. I have just come from Versailles.

Necker is dismissed, and his dismissal is the signal for a new massacre of St. This evening all the Swiss and German battalions will march from the Champ-de-Mars to put to death every patriot. We have but one resource: What colours do you prefer—green, the colour of hope, or the blue of Cincinnatus, the colour of American liberty and of democracy?

I see staring me in the face the spies and satellites of the police. But I will not fall alive into their hands. Let every citizen follow my example. Soon the trees of the Palais Royal garden were stripped. The excitement and enthusiasm spread in every direction. Arms were seized wherever they could be found. The busts of Necker and of the Duke of Orleans, idols of the moment, were carried through the streets veiled with black crape.

More than one detachment of the French Guards joined the crowd.

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In the Tuileries Gardens several persons were killed by a cavalry charge under the command of Prince de Lambesc, of which the chief effect was to exasperate the insurgents to the utmost. Partial engagements now took place at various points. At the gates of Paris, the barriers where a tax was levied on provisions brought into the city were set in flames.

During the night the district assemblies held a general meeting, at which it was resolved to urge all who possessed arms to bring them to district head-quarters, that militia companies, to be promptly formed for the occasion, might be furnished therewith in a regular manner. These militia bands were intended to act on behalf of the nation; if necessary, against the populace. But the general excitement was too great to allow of such formal measures being taken as the well-to-do citizens of the hurriedly constituted district assemblies thought advisable.

To all recommendations of prudence there was but one reply: In place of the green colour adopted in the first instance by the insurgents of the Palais Royal, which the day afterwards was rejected as the family colour of the Counts of Artois, the tricolour had now been assumed: It was against the abuses of the ancient system, and in view of a thorough reform, that the people were rising. Camille Desmoulins had begun the Revolution on Sunday, the 12th of July, at noon. On the morning of Monday, July 13th, the alarm bell was rung in every church, and the drum beaten in every street.

Bands were now formed, without much system, under the names of Volunteers of the Palais Royal, of the Tuileries, etc. Women were everywhere making blue and red cockades—the white was not absolutely essential; the blacksmiths were forging arms; and it has been calculated that in thirty-six hours fifty thousand pikes were made. Tumultuous meetings were held in the churches, with a view to some regular organisation of the movement. Paris was being turned into a camp. The citizens of the district assemblies, carried away by the ardour of the people whose impetuosity they had sought to restrain, the students of the various schools, the clerks of the public offices, the workmen of the faubourgs: The fact that Paris was threatened by Swiss, German, and various kinds of Austrian troops could not but awaken the patriotism of Frenchmen generally.

The first enemy to be fought was the army of foreigners waiting to swoop down on the city. The one thing decided upon was to stop the entrance of provisions into Paris: The National Assembly was behaving, meanwhile, in the most heroic manner. On the morning of the 14th of July Paris was surrounded at all points by foreign troops, and was at the same time threatened with famine.

But one course was open to the insurgents: There was a general feeling that an attack must be made, and the object unanimously chosen for the first assault was the Bastille: Thirty thousand men hurried to the asylum of aged soldiers; when, without much time being wasted in parleying with the governor, the sentinels were seized and the place entered by force. In the cellars twenty-eight thousand muskets were discovered concealed beneath hay and straw; and with these the invaders, whose numbers had gradually increased, hastened to arm themselves.

Five years before, the king, on consenting to the liberation of Latude, had promised that henceforth no one should be sent to the Bastille except for a definite period, and after formal conviction on a positive charge. But this engagement had not been kept; people had been arrested, and incarcerated as at the present time in Russia on the simple denunciation of police officers and spies; sometimes on mere suspicion, at others without even suspicion, and simply for the gratification of private malice.

The terrible lettre de cachet , on the strength of which arrests were made without further explanation, had indeed become a purchasable thing, with a fixed price, like any other article of commerce. It was doubtless, however, the memory of a long course of ancient wrongs that, above all, animated the people in their rage against the Bastille.

There was, moreover, however, a strategical reason. As a fortress, the Bastille commanded the Rue St. To destroy it, therefore, was considered at once a good moral and a good military act. The governor, De Launay, had already prepared his defence; and in addition to the guns of position in the towers, he had placed a number in the interior courtyard.

The gates and the outer walls had been loopholed and armed with wall-pieces, and a quantity of paving-stones, cannon-balls, and lumps of iron had been carried up to the towers, in order to be hurled down upon the heads of the expected assailants. The garrison consisted only of men, 32 of whom were Swiss, while the other 82 were old pensioners.

The defenders, indeed, were nearly all of them aged, but experienced, soldiers. Their material appliances and the strength of their position were such that the governor looked upon the fortress as impregnable against a mob of people who had neither the art nor the time to undertake regular siege operations. His account of what was taking place in Paris astonished De Launay, and gained the sympathy of the French portion of the garrison.

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His final demand was that the Bastille should be occupied by some of the newly-formed bands conjointly with troops of the regular army. They were followed by others, and soon the outer gates were forced. A terrible fire had been opened on the crowd of assailants, and it was resolved once more to approach De Launay by means of a deputation, which, however, was unable to reach him. At this moment the besiegers set fire to several carts of hay and manure, in order to burn the buildings which masked the fortress and to smoke out the defenders.

At the same time, a constant fire was kept up from the windows and roofs of the neighbouring houses. All this, however, had but little effect on the garrison. A new deputation was now sent forward, bearing a white flag. A white flag was displayed in reply from the Bastille, and the soldiers reversed their muskets. An officer of the Swiss troops passed forward a note, by means of a crane, with these words: It was apparently the Swiss who had fired, heedless of the conciliatory attitude assumed by the French portion of the defending force.

The whole garrison was held responsible for this act of treachery. The exasperation of the people had now gone beyond all bounds, and there was but one cry heard: The fire of the artillery proved more effective than that of the musketry, and the drawbridge was now swept by cannon-balls.

Meanwhile, the garrison was divided against itself. The pensioners wished the contest, of which the end could now be foreseen, to cease, whereas the Swiss mercenaries, careless about the effusion of French blood and, it must be admitted, full of a more youthful courage , were determined to resist to the last. There was another reason which made it unadvisable to prolong the defence. The fortress contained abundance of ammunition, but little or no food; and the numbers, constantly increasing, of the besiegers rendered it impossible to renew the supply.

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It was evident that all Paris demanded the fall of the Bastille. The Swiss, however, would hear of no surrender. As for De Launay, he felt that he was personally detested, not only for the blood he was uselessly shedding, but even more for his persecution of the prisoners under his charge. The Memoirs of Linguet and other revelations had made his name odious throughout Europe. Thus the vengeful cries of the people seemed directed against himself personally. Wild with terror, he seized a match, and was about to explode his powder magazine, when two non-commissioned officers drove him back at point of bayonet.

Outside, a sort of organisation had now established itself. Many bands of volunteers had been moving together since the first uprising, with the volunteers of the Palais Royal, under Camille Desmoulins, among them. These bands were under the command of officers of the French Guards, or of energetic men who were afterwards to distinguish themselves in the military career. According to some accounts, the surrender of the fortress took place immediately after the episode of the note thrust forward on a crane, or, according to another version, pushed through a loophole.

The moment in any case arrived when, promised by some of the French Guards that their lives should be spared, the garrison agreed formally to surrender. The drawbridges were now lowered, and the Bastille was occupied in force. More than once De Launay was thrown down. Having lost his hat, he was now an easier mark than ever for the assaults of the crowd.

That he might not so readily be distinguished, Hulin gave him his own hat, thus running the risk of being himself mistaken for the odious governor. At last Hulin and several members of the escort were thrown together to the ground; and when Hulin managed to rise, the head of the hated governor was being carried aloft on the point of a pike. Within the Bastille the invaders were, meanwhile, breaking open the dungeons.

Only seven prisoners, however, were found, two of whom had become insane. Instruments of torture were discovered. Shocking as this detail may be to a reader of the present day, it should be remembered that under the old monarchy torture was constantly employed in criminal process. Music and dance, but also displays of crafts and specialty foods. From Tuesday to Saturday, until At the Divan du Monde, Rue des Martyrs, Paris Abbesses, and walk down. Starts on Tuesday and runs until See it at Le Tambour Royal, Rue du Faubourg du Temple.

Tickets at fnac, Virgin, Kiosque and agencies. Yves Mikaeloff Meets Kids - and likes telling them what his artistic installations are about, but talks about almost everything else too. September, at the Orangerie in the Parc de Bercy, Rue Paul-Belmondo, Paris For times, call Info.

For kids, from three to nine years old. Tuesday to Friday, at September and continue until Sunday. Last year I think this was only on one Sunday, but Paris is upgrading its river to be a water-sport-and-leisure attraction, so this year the festivities will last for four days. Watch this space for details. Paris Sheep Day - Feel like you've been clipped?

Then see how French sheep like it on Sunday, 5. September, at the Ferme de Paris. This is just to the west of the Vincennes racetrack, in the Bois de Vincennes, by the Route de Pesage. Beneath the Maps - maps can contain more information than may be apparent, and for this reason they were once jealously guarded by those in power.

A history of maps, especially those of Paris, are featured in all their details in a current exhibition lasting until October at the Pavillon de l'Arsenal, Boulevard Morland, Pa ris 4. Theatre In the Green - Four shows will be presented outside, weather permitting, between now and 3. August; on Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. To close, there will be Shakespeare's 'Peines d'Amour Perdu,' from 4.

October, on Saturdays and Sundays. Rue Lobau, Paris 4. The hours are from Now extended until Les Perles de Bahrein-Dilmoun: This exhibition continues until Sunday, Dilmoun comes to us as the general name of a civilization which began 5, years ago and flourished between 2, and 1, BC. Study of this civilization only started 30 or 40 years ago. Almost forgotten, but now on view at the Institut du Monde Arabe , 1.

This exhibition of sculpture will continue until Okay, there's dancing and music too, plus special effects and water stuff, all to make you think of the good old Louis' days when taxpayers stood in long lines to see the royal show. Coming dates are Tickets are from 70 to francs. Visits to both are daily and begin at You must bring nine friends and make reservations in advance by calling 01 40 01 25 Entries are 60 and 45 francs. Two tours are available each day; at Find Bullfrog in the middle of the Champ de Mars, by the central fountain.

Get a souvenir Bullfrog t-shirt. Join the Bullfrog team for 'flag football' every Tuesday at Continues until Tuesday, Tour price is francs. No credit; no cards accepted. No phone either, but you can write to these good ol' boys at BullfrogBikes hotmail. The fare is francs for a one-hour tour for two, and francs for a minute one-way trip to the Tour Eiffel. This is a heck of a good deal if your feet are flat and tired. There are usually one or two stationed at Concorde, but there are many in reserve - for group excursions.

Batobus - the city's bus on the Seine is something to think about trying if your feet get tired from walking beside it. Down on the water there is a different view too. All-day tickets are not overly expensive and allow getting on and off as often as you wish.

Except for the item below, this series of exhibitions is nearly over. One is still listed with last week's feature about the multi-function park at La Villette. Balzac's missing statue by Rodin at Vavin can be seen at the exhibition. It is also the bi-centenary of Balzac's birth - which was on May - so the Web has swung into gear.

In addition to the Web site above you may want to take a look at this other one, to see complete texts and illustrations. These amounted to, at his death, 10, pages in 97 volumes. The exhibition continues until 5. The museum's library is currently closed, but will reopen on Maison de Balzac, Rue Raynouard, Paris Jean Moulin, - This is a special exhibition, on the occasion of the anniversary of Jean Moulin's birth.

It is more biographical detailed than the permanent exhibit. January , daily except Mondays, from Catalogue available, 80 francs. Rue Chaptel, Paris 9. Many of these are from private collections. These are on show at the museum until For the museum, open daily except Tuesdays, from Jean Racine - gets a remembrance in the Yvelines department this summer, with theatre, conferences, tours, an exhibition and concerts being staged.

For details of the full program, try the Web site for the Ile-de-France. While at the site, check to see if the 'Historic Writer's Route' program is still operating. Open Tuesday to Friday from Some of the above items have been carried over for many issues of this magazine. If you require more information - such as addresses or phone numbers - check ' All Past Issues ' either from here, or from the top or bottom of any page in the magazine. Is Here If it were not for four elevators, this would be one very long line.

Ed wears official 'CE' eclipse shades; brand-name: Paris Once every millennium about this time, people start making plans to visit Paris, to be here when the tired old '99 rolls over into the brandnew '

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