I'm sorry, this translation just isn't working for me. Obviously looking at my reading timeline for this book shows that something happened given thatI'm sorry, this translation just isn't working for me. Obviously looking at my reading timeline for this book shows that something happened given that I put it on hold for several years! No doubt this is an odd situation for a book that I have marked as one of my favourites!
I love Dumas, but I freely admit that I prefer the older translations such as the Lord Sudley verison of this very book, or the various Collier editions of other Dumas stories that I have read. Their language tends to be more formal and perhaps archaic, but for me they capture something that I guess I consider essential to Dumas...of course given that I haven't read the originals in French I can't support that claim with facts, it's just my own feelings based on opinion and no doubt the way I was originally introduced to Dumas.
Sorry Mr. Ellsworth, but this just didn't do it for me.
_The Whites and the Blues_ is an interesting chimera of a book: it is a sequel that’s really a prequel (written after The Companions of Jehu, but rela_The Whites and the Blues_ is an interesting chimera of a book: it is a sequel that’s really a prequel (written after The Companions of Jehu, but relating events that occur before it); it is a composite of at least three main storylines (or four if you count the distinction that Dumas makes between the political turmoils of the 13th Vendémiaire and 18th Fructidor ) that are, if not quite distinct, definitely separated by time, place, and often the main characters involved; and is, as Dumas himself states, a work that is “…the most strictly historical of any that I have undertaken…a book in which romance is relegated to the second place.” Still, it was a book I enjoyed, though it is definitely not one to be counted amongst the top tier of his work.
We begin in Strasbourg at the height of the terror, when the Revolutionary tribunals could, and did, use the guillotine in the most heavy-handed manner possible, executing people not only for being royalists, but even for the slightest infringements of ‘correct’ revolutionary thought, or being a member of the wrong revolutionary party (a circumstance that could change from day to day). We meet young Charles (an interesting instance of Dumas using one of his friends, Charles Nodier, as a character in his story based on the latter’s reminiscences) as he arrives in the city at the behest of his father to study Greek with the famous scholar Euloge Schneider. Little does Charles know that Schneider is one of the most infamous of the local revolutionary leaders, known for his bloodthirsty and indiscriminate use of ‘Lady Guillotine’. Soon enough Charles finds himself embroiled in local politics partly through his befriending of young Eugene de Beauharnais, a young man trying to free his aristocrat father from the clutches of the revolutionary tribunal, and who is also destined to make a very famous step-father in the future.
This early part of the tale follows Charles as he moves first from under the shadow of Euloge Schneider to become the secretary of the famous General Jean-Charles Pichegru at his time of ascendancy and we see already the myriad maneuvers and machinations of plots, counter-plots, reprisals, and conspiracies that made up the daily life of revolutionary France. It is astounding to see the successes that the revolutionary army had at this time when one considers the instability of their government(s) and the back-stabbing nature of the many parties that vied for control of the revolution for their own ends. Of course when the price of failure, even the most understandable by the greatest general, resulted in the loss of one’s head it is easy to see how motivated they were to succeed. This is also the section in which we meet a noble young aristocrat, the current Count of Sainte-Hermine, who has been captured by Revolutionary forces and is being led to his execution. Though only a ‘bit’ character he is important as he is the brother of Morgan, whom readers of The Companions of Jehu will recall as one of the main protagonists, and whose fate is fuel for the fire that motivates all of the Sainte-Hermine scions.
With nary a backward glance Dumas drops the character of Charles once this section is complete and the narrative moves to Paris where he recounts the various political turmoils of the 13th Vendémiaire and 18th Fructidor that coincide with the burgeoning rise of a young artillery officer named Buonaparte, or Bonaparte, to the highest ranks of military prestige. Here we meet the dashing counter-revolutionary Coster de Saint-Victor (something of a lost opportunity by Dumas as not much is made of him), as well as witness the rise of the fictional Morgan de Sainte-Hermine in the ranks of the Royalists and the historical Paul Barras in the ranks of the Revolutionaries. A romantic sub-plot between Coster and a famous courtesan, Aurelie de Saint-Amour (who is also entangled with the aforementioned Barras), sadly goes nowhere and we begin to see that Dumas’ competing desire to tell a ‘true history’ as well as a romance means that one side of the equation will have to suffer. From this point forward Dumas more or less consistently wears his ‘historian’ hat and allows the ‘romantic’ one to be relegated to a minor role.
The final section, ‘The Eighth Crusade’, tells of Napoleon’s conquests, and ultimate defeat, in Egypt (a defeat whose circumstances would eerily mirror the crippling one he would later suffer in Russia). Another character from The Companions of Jehu, Roland the dashing and death-seeking lieutenant of Napoleon (and Morgan's opposite number), gets to play a relatively large role here though he is still very much a minor character (and largely the one through whom any remaining romance elements of the plot are conveyed). Eugene de Beauharnais (now Bonaparte’s step-son since introducing him to his mother, the famous Josephine, in an earlier section) is one of the few characters from the first part of the story that re-appears, though always only in casual mentions and never as the prominent character I thought he might become. This final section was, to me, the slowest going and the one where Dumas most explicitly seems intent on writing something akin to a ‘pure’ history. There are still scattered elements of romance to be found, though they seem to largely be colouring for the primarily historical text. No main ‘hero’ arises from the narrative, aside from Napoleon himself, who in some ways still remains on the periphery of it, perhaps being a character too large (in Dumas’ mind) to be treated merely as a character in his story. Thus we mostly see him from the outside, a colossus whose decisions will shape the world (as they do the narrative), but into whose mind we never fully enter and who looms more as an external presence than a true protagonist.
All of this perhaps does not make it seem as though _The Whites and the Blues_ is a very well-constructed narrative, but I did quite enjoy it (perhaps largely due to my fascination with the period and curiosity to see how Dumas would handle the character of Napoleon) and would recommend it to anyone interested in the era, or devoted to Dumas’ works (it is certainly not the weakest of his books I have come across even if it is not his strongest). The colour and detail with which Dumas paints his history alone makes it a fun read. Indeed, the picture of Paris in the middle sections of the narrative, which showed France teetering between fully embracing the Revolution and returning to the arms of the Bourbon dynasty, presented a fascinating picture. I especially found the bizarre and almost hipster-like figures of the royalist ‘Incroyables’ (who nearly amounted to dandyish royalist street gangs), and their female counterparts the decadent and diva-like ‘Merveilleuses’ particularly intriguing. Still, I think this book does show that Dumas-the-romancer is ultimately a much more entertaining writer than Dumas-the-historian, and he is most successful when he either lets the romancer take the driver’s seat (as he does in the more famous The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo), or manages to strike a more harmonious balance between the two (as he does in the intriguing Memoirs of a Physician). All in all a good read and I still aim to complete my reading of the ‘Sainte-Hermine’ cycle with the final volume (the famously fairly recently discovered The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon) at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future....more
One thing that is perhaps important to get out of the way first: the subtitle 'A Sequel to the Three Musketeers' is both from one perspec2.5 – 3 stars
One thing that is perhaps important to get out of the way first: the subtitle 'A Sequel to the Three Musketeers' is both from one perspective the truest statement that could be made about this novel and also, as most readers coming to this book will take it, the most egregious lie possible (there is certainly not an Athos, Porthos, Aramis, or D'Artagnan to be found anywhere amongst its pages). The only way this book can truly be considered a sequel to the Three Musketeers is in a purely chronological sense since it takes place very soon after the events of the first book. Indeed the fact that the central villain in the one becomes the main hero of the other (more on this below) makes the claim even less tenable and one might even say that this book actually takes the Three Musketeers and flips it on its head. In regards to a close connection between the two works, let's just say they occur in the same era and leave it at that.
I was somewhat dubious about this book when I first heard about it given the proliferation of Dumas forgeries throughout history made in an attempt to cash in on his more famous tales, and the very real possibility that even if this was genuine the fact that it has only been published (widely at least) now might speak to its relative lack of literary merit. It’s definitely not in the same league as _The Three Musketeers_ or _The Count of Monte Cristo_, but that being said it is a fine work, albeit one that is unfortunately incomplete. Dumas does a good job as usual at creating vivid characters and putting them into suitably melodramatic situations against the backdrop of history. Historical and political events are front and centre in this tale and as such the title given to this edition, 'The Red Sphinx', is much more appropriate than the one it first had in serial publication (‘The Comte de Moret’, given here as an alternate title). Cardinal Richelieu, the ‘red sphinx’ of the title, is by far the more likely protagonist of the story than the aforementioned Count, an illegitimate son of Henri IV whose adventures as invented by Dumas also occur in the pages. These adventures, as swashbuckling and romantic as they may be, have much less to do with the meat of the novel and even his love affair with the possibly invented Isabelle de Lautrec seem little more than footnotes when compared to the overarching shadow of the Cardinal and his actions in securing his hold over the monarch of France and France's own rising place on the stage of Europe.
Thus readers coming to this book expecting a ‘sequel to the Three Musketeers’ will indeed be surprised at this predominance of the Cardinal who now is no longer the scheming villain grasping for power against a noble family that are merely his pawns, but more or less the hero of the story, holding France together by his own genius and daring. Indeed Dumas paints such a vivid picture of the in-fighting, greed and venality of the French court that one wonders how it could have survived without such a man controlling it from behind the throne (or frankly why the musketeers would have bothered to be their champions in the more famous book). Centering on the weak-willed and feckless Louis XIII, his grasping and scheming mother Marie de Medicis, his cowardly and treacherous brother Gaston, Duc d'Orleans, and his unfaithful wife Anne of Austria, intent on supporting her Austrian and Spanish family against France, the royal house seems ripe for its own downfall from within. It suddenly seems less surprising to see Richelieu as the hero as it is apparent that he is the one man competent enough to keep the ship of France on an even keel even in the midst of the royal chaos around him.
As I said I enjoyed the novel, though I wish Dumas had been able to pull together a more coherent plot and there are some problems: the story of the Comte de Moret’s love for Isabelle de Lautrec barely gets off the ground and, quite frankly, is the least interesting part of the story; an intriguing character created by Dumas in the form of the swashbuckling sword-for-hire Etienne Latil gets only enough time in the pages to make us wish he was there more often; and our real hero, Cardinal Richelieu, is barely getting his pieces in place on the chess board of Europe before the story breaks off. Alas Dumas never finished the tale and we don’t get the chance to see how he was going to bring all the strands together in the end. The editor cobbles something of an ending to the story by adding the novella ‘The Dove’ as the capstone. On the face of it this makes eminent sense as it was a story Dumas had written years earlier in epistolary form, detailing the final end to the love between the Comte de Moret and Isabelle de Lautrec. I personally found it a little less than satisfying, however, given the fact that I thought the romance to be one of the weakest (and least interesting) threads of the novel.
I am perhaps not doing a very good job at encouraging people to read this book and that is certainly not my intention. I enjoyed my time with the Cardinal and his men and wish Dumas had finished the tale, but ultimately I imagine this book is likely to be of primary interest to Dumas aficionados and completists....more
This book presents a very short extract of some of the entries in Dumas’ magisterial Dictionnaire de Cuisine. A well-known bon vivant, Dumas was a gouThis book presents a very short extract of some of the entries in Dumas’ magisterial Dictionnaire de Cuisine. A well-known bon vivant, Dumas was a gourmet and gourmand of long standing and thus situated quite well to write such a document.
Told with Dumas’ customary wit and charm, most entries give a short definition for the entry often including anecdotes or the history of it centering around the most common usage along with any more outre facts associated with it. For example who knew that pastry shops in France used to be considered an inferior kind of tavern which it was shameful to frequent before the elevation of the pâtissier in Dumas’ day?
Or his amusing discussion of pepper: “As it is one of the most powerful stimulants, it is only used in moderation in good cooking; and nervous, susceptible people should even abstain from using it. This does not apply to country people, the sensibility of whose stomachs has become dulled by their habitually eating coarse food, and which therefore needs to be strongly excited. Pepper is just right to produce this effect; so it is much used in all provincial cooking. There are three kinds of pepper; black pepper, white pepper and long pepper.”
Ironically Dumas says of potatoes: “This excellent vegetable was brought from Virginia by the English admiral Walter Raleigh in 1585, and since then has preserved people from famine.” Given that his grand dictionnaire was published about 30 years after the great Irish famine I’m not sure how he meant this statement to be taken.
Perhaps most interesting from a historical perspective are the recipes Dumas often includes such as the Arab omelette made with flamingo or ostrich eggs (which he learned personally from the chef of the Bey), or Russian recipe for bear paws.
While I cannot doubt Dumas’ expertise or flair for French cooking I can only shake my head at his obvious disdain for the cooking of other cultures (how could he say that one eats poorly in Italy or Spain?!) He even directly states “my first preoccupation in writing this book was to demonstrate the cuisine of peoples who have none.” Um, okay Alexandre, thanks for that.
Not to be outdone, there are many often amusing comments and asides made by the editors who point out Dumas’ mistakes or clarify references he has made.
All in all this was an enjoyable read and I ‘d recommend it for the lover of food or those curious about the history of cuisine. ...more
We continue where Dumas left us at the end of volume 1 of _Ange Pitou_. The first ¾ of the book are taken up with the main action of the 3 – 3.5 stars
We continue where Dumas left us at the end of volume 1 of _Ange Pitou_. The first ¾ of the book are taken up with the main action of the burgeoning Revolution in Paris. True to character Marie Antoinette’s pride and disdain increase as her scope for power and domination decrease; the King continues to vacillate, wanting to please everyone and ultimately pleasing no one; Gilbert seems to be an ally to both sides as he attempts to steer the monarchy through the troubled political waters that threaten to engulf them on the one hand, and on the other tries to promote the ideas of fraternity, equality, and liberty that are the ostensible aims of the Revolution; Father Billot continues to take part in momentous events in the city while it slowly dawns on him that the early ideals of political change are not adhered to by all and his horror at the events he witnesses enacted in the name of liberty grows. The final ¼ of the book follows our boorish, though well-meaning, hero Ange Pitou as he travels back to Villers-Cotterêts with Gilbert’s son Sebastien in tow for safe-keeping.
Ok pet peeve number 1: Despite it being the lynch-pin of the cliffhanger ending of the last volume Dumas does not, anywhere in volume 2, disclose the secret of Gilbert’s casket which was so central a MacGuffin to the plot of volume 1. I think I know what it contains, but damn, c’mon Alexandre…it better be in the next book in the series! Pet peeve number 2: not enough Gilbert and mesmerism…don’t set the dude up as the second coming of Cagliostro and then give him a desk job! Aside from that this was a satisfying “conclusion” to the story of the taking of the Bastille and the birth of the French Revolution (or at least as satisfying as any story with a blatant cliff-hanger ending can be). The first part of the book allows Dumas to paint his picture of the Revolution and its principle movers and shakers (with a few of his own invention) in broad, colourful strokes and I enjoyed it. The second part shows Dumas in melodrama mode as poor Ange Pitou finds himself unlucky in love and the entanglements of romance become bound up in the political agitation of the day. He also manages to set himself up as something of a local revolutionary hero and military leader in his attempt to both impress the lady of his heart’s desire and to elevate himself from the role of country bumpkin.
Al in all a fun read and good continuation of the series, though I have discovered, with some chagrin, that most of the English translations of the next volume in the series, _The Countess de Charny_, are heavily abridged. Maybe it’s finally time to try and read some Dumas in French. ...more
_Ange Pitou_, also known as _Taking the Bastille_, continues the “Marie Antoinette Romances” and further details the travails of the French monarchy i_Ange Pitou_, also known as _Taking the Bastille_, continues the “Marie Antoinette Romances” and further details the travails of the French monarchy in the dying days of its power. The title refers to the ‘hero’ of the story, Ange Pitou, an orphan being raised by his tyrannical and parsimonious aunt in the environs of Villers-Cotterêts (Dumas’ birthplace). As the story in volume 1 begins Ange Pitou is on the verge of being expelled from his school under the tutelage of the Abbé Fortier for his heinous use of “three barbarisms and seven solecisms in a theme of only twenty-five lines” which are anathema to the Latinist churchman’s ears. Pitou, much more inclined to his life as a poacher and haunter of the forests around Villers-Cotterêts, is not personally upset by this set-back, but rather fears the wrath of his aunt who harboured dreams of the young man becoming an Abbé and supporting her in her old age. As events continue Pitou eventually finds himself in the care of a much more moderate guardian ‘Father’ Billot, a farmer of some standing and the local agitator of political unrest (he also happens to be the father of the beauteous Catherine, a fact not altogether without interest to Pitou). So far so pastoral. Of course Dumas will not leave things in this state and it soon comes to light that not only was Pitou once under the guardianship of our old friend Gilbert (now known as Doctor Gilbert), but Billot himself is both a tenant of Gilbert’s and a fiery adherent to his more advanced political philosophies. Through not only the ownership of a banned political tract composed by Gilbert and found in the possession of Pitou while on Billot’s farm, but also the theft of a mysterious casket left in the farmer’s care by Gilbert, both the farmer and the former schoolboy find themselves on the run from secret police and on the road to Paris where they will take not insignificant roles in the historic storming of the Bastille, the symbol of tyrannical oppression in the eyes of the people, and un-official commencement of the French Revolution.
One of the things that can be annoying about reading Dumas, especially when considering his longer series of books that follow the progress of a specific historical period and group of characters, is that there are often large swathes of time that separate the volumes and important events that occur which are mentioned in passing in a “oh yeah, and while you were gone this happened” kind of way. I don’t totally fault Dumas for this since he wanted to write about long ranging periods of the history of France, and in order to do this in a completely continuous way would have made his already voluminous output unbelievably large and unwieldy. Add to that the problem of reading in translation and the situation of abridgment which unfortunately can occur, especially in some of his lesser known works, and it can be more than a bit frustrating. In this case it has been six years since the last volume (The Queen's Necklace) and the last time we saw Gilbert was even earlier, at the end of Memoirs of a Physician wherein he apparently took ship for America with Philip de Taverney. Balsamo did drop some hints about Gilbert in The Queen's Necklace where he chastised Philip for leaving him for dead (or maybe even killing him, the implications were unclear), but suddenly we have Gilbert locked in the bastille for his incendiary pamphlets, apparently he is also the father of a fifteen year old boy currently going to school in Paris who used to be Pitou’s foster-brother. So, that’s a bit of an information bomb. Added to that is the fact that Gilbert, in addition to being a political philosopher and practicing physician, has also been the pupil of Balsamo/Cagliostro at some point and displays to full effect his mesmeric abilities. Seems to me that this probably could have made for an interesting volume in itself, or at least a bit more exposition from Balsamo on the subject in the last one, but I guess Dumas was too busy to trouble himself with such things…continuity doesn’t seem to have always been his first concern.
Dumas delivers on his usual combination of interesting characters, fast paced action, and excellent dialogue. Ange Pitou himself is mildly interesting, a lanky country bumpkin with just enough book learnin’ to sound like he understands what the revolutionaries are talking about even though he doesn’t. There is also some romantic tension that ties nicely into the political situation given that Pitou’s object of adoration, Catherine Billot, only has eyes for one of the Charny boys, a nobleman and brother-in-law of Andree de Taverney, now the Countess de Charny (oh the wonderfully tangled plot lines of Dumas). Père Billot is a salt of the earth farmer of the gruff but lovable variety looking to level the field and bring equality to the people. More interesting by far is Gilbert, now a man of distinction and some influence far advanced from his previous position of pining unrequited lover to Andree and aspiring philosopher and revolutionary under the auspices of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. The King is still a feckless, though well-intentioned, monarch on the eve of disaster and Marie Antoinette herself has become jaded by her unpopularity with the people and surrounded herself with a sort of anti-court who are opposed to the more moderate wishes of the king and is something much more akin to the vain dragon-lady of popular conception than her previous role of uncertain victim of circumstance. Volume 1 ends, of course, on a cliffhanger as the newly freed Gilbert has just acquired the position of personal physician to the king and regained his stolen casket from Andree after displaying his mesmeric abilities. Andree herself was on the verge of explaining her antipathy for Gilbert to the Queen and detailing the secret contained by the casket when the curtains were drawn. I’m looking forward to volume 2. ...more
Balsamo is back and, after a hiatus of 10 years and the adoption of a new identity (le Comte de Cagliostro), he is ready to begin anew hi3.5 - 4 stars
Balsamo is back and, after a hiatus of 10 years and the adoption of a new identity (le Comte de Cagliostro), he is ready to begin anew his efforts at bringing down the throne of France. The action centres around Marie Antoinette (painted quite positively by Dumas) and the infamous affair of the diamond necklace. This tangled intrigue revolves around the fabulous necklace, worth 1.5 million francs according to Dumas, and the varied attempts by different intriguers to ensure that the queen was presented with it as a sign of love. The court, apparently already suffering under the dual weight of an embarrassing lack of funds and rumours of the queen's infidelity spread by her many enemies, can little withstand a blow in both quarters. From here Dumas weaves various threads and intrigues with his usual aplomb as his varied cast of characters are drawn inexoribly towards their ultimate ends.
Dumas seems to have had a things for cardinals, queens and romantic cavaliers...though in this volume they are handled very differently than in some of the other places we've seen them used. We again see our old friends the Taverneys (the wonderfully venal old Baron de Taverney, the angelic and somewhat stiff Andrée, and the heroically romantic Philippe) and a short introduction reintroduces the charmingly dissolute Duke de Richelieu (sadly underutilized in this book). Added to the cast are the impoverished and ambitious adventuress the Countess de la Motte Valois, the lovestruck and somewhat befuddled Cardinal de Rohan, and the also heroically romantic Count de Charny (soon to be rival of our old friend Philippe). The last, and perhaps most important character (at least to the intrigues Dumas developes) is Olivia (formerly Nicole when she was the servant of the Taverneys and lover of Gilbert) who bears a striking resemblance to the queen. Got that straight? Good.
It's great to see Dumas once again in full command of his intricate plot and never really losing any of the strings. The characters are well-drawn and the action fast-paced as always. While not anywhere near the perfection of The Count of Monte Cristo or The Three Musketeers this is an enjoyable read and I truly enjoyed being able to feel for characters on both sides of the plot. Marie Antoinette is quite positively painted (as is Louis XVI whose only great flaw seems to be a lack of backbone) and yet Dumas allows us to see glimpses of her weakness, pride and selfishness that will utlimately lead to her downfall. The Cardinal could have been painted as a pure villain, or complete dupe, but manages to be sympathetic and seen as a victim of circumstances beyond his control. The Countess de la Motte is probably the most one-note character and doesn't manage to approach the sublime heights of villainy and attraction of Milady, but she fulfills her role.
All in all a very fun read that sets things up for the inevitable fall to come. Recommended for fans of Dumas....more
I read this story in two volumes: the Collier editions of _Joseph Balsamo_ and _Memoirs of a Physician_ (which are great translations). I will admit fI read this story in two volumes: the Collier editions of _Joseph Balsamo_ and _Memoirs of a Physician_ (which are great translations). I will admit first of all that the first time I attempted to read these I didn't get very far into the book before abandoning it. I think this was due mostly to my expectations, since this story is not really a swashbuckling adventure tale (though it has its share of intrigue) and I was expecting something more like _The Three Musketeers_. I'm glad that I gave the story a second chance though because, for all its differences from his better known tales, it's still classic Dumas.
We start with a suitably moody scene as a mysterious figure enters a secret chamber hidden in the mountains near the Rhine in the midst of a night time storm only to be confronted by the representatives of the secret order of the Illuminati who wish to overthrow the corrupt political regimes of the day. From here things move apace and we discover that the figure we have met is the elusive Joseph Balsamo (later know more famously as the adventurer and supposed immortal Count Cagliostro). Balsamo is entrusted with the leadership of his sect and given the commission to further the fall of the French monarchy.
The story then shifts to another locale: the estate of the impoverished aristoractic Tavernay family. The father, the Baron de Tavernay, is a crusty old man, barely living at a subsistence level despite his title and estate and when not railing at the circumstances of the present, he is living on his memories of the glorious past. Here we also meet one of Dumas' most interesting, and frustrating, characters: Gilbert, a servant boy raised by the Tavernays. Gilbert is a model figure of his times: a boy born to low estate, but with a quick mind and who has read just enough Rousseau and Voltaire to have a rather large chip on his shoulder. Gilbert constantly rails at the injustice of fate that has set foolish aristocrats above himself simply through the chance of birth, and hungers for the fall of this unjust regime. Warring with this inborn dislike of the people who raised him (albeit with little enough care for his welfare) is his nearly all-consuming passion for the apple of the Baron de Tavernay's eye, his daughter Andree.
Of course Andree barely knows that Gilbert exists and so his days are spent in a constant froth, sometimes railing against the injustice of his station, and at others at the injustice of his unrequited love. Into the midst of this little domestic purgatory comes Balsamo, a dashing figure to all who not only promptly informs the horrified Baron that he will soon be visited by the dauphin's fiance who is on her way to Paris (the ill-starred Marie Antoinette), but then mysteriously produces all that the impoverished family needs to impress this great personage apparently out of thin air.
From here a third major thread joins the tale as we begin to be told of the political intrigues of court and see the characters of Marie Antoinette, her somewhat feckless fiance (the future Louis XVI) who lives constantly under the thumb of his domineering grandfather, Louis XV. Added to this power family are the courtiers, most notably Louis XV's mistress Madame du Barry and the old and wily Duke de Richelieu, who are constantly manoeuvering for position at court and who draw into their schemes the hapless Gilbert and innocent Andree, and who in turn are drawn into the wider schemes of Balsamo.
This description barely scratches the surface of what is going on in the tale and doesn't even touch on other interesting elements such as Andree's heroic brother Philippe, the Tavernay's servant girl Nicole (the former lover of Gilbert who also happens to be the spitting image of Marie Antoinette), and a very amusing portrait of the hen-pecked philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau who befriends Gilbert as the latter journeys to Paris. Dumas uses his consummate skill to bring together the varied strands of his plot and show us how all of these characters will be brought together in order to further the plans of the master manipulator (and mesmeric magician) Balsamo.
The only real stumbling block I had, and the thing that put me off the most during my first attempt at the story, were the scenes involving Louis XV and his court. While some elements of this were interesting (namely the intrigues of Madame du Barry as she attempts to get an official presentation at court) others left me somewhat cold as we seemed to follow the foppish king and his meaningless diversions a bit too much. I see what Dumas was doing here: presenting us with a detailed picture of the inherent moral bankruptcy of the French monarchy at the time and priming us with the roots of its ultimate downfall, but one scene of kingly decadence is often much like another and began to get a bit tedious in the end. That said it's still a great story and I recommend it to any hard core fan of Dumas. The character of Gilbert is worth the price of admission and even though he is at times, as I mentioned, a very frustrating, even infuriating, character I think in many ways he is a fascinating one as well....more
_The Companions of Jehu_ is another excellent lesser known Dumas work. Loosely part of a trilogy that covers the Napoleonic wars (the oth3 - 3.5 stars
_The Companions of Jehu_ is another excellent lesser known Dumas work. Loosely part of a trilogy that covers the Napoleonic wars (the others being The Whites and the Blues and the recently unearthed The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon) this book stands alone very well. The story starts at a wayside inn where we are introduced to two of our main characters, told of a recent highway robbery, and a duel is promptly proposed. From here the pace of the book rarely slackens.
One of the most interesting aspects of this story is that there is no actual villain. We have the allies of Napoleon on one side (represented audaciously by the protagonist Roland, aka Louis de Montreval) and the royalists on the other side (with their swashbuckling hero Morgan, aka the Baron Charles de Sainte-Hermine...our heroes seem to like noms de guerre in this book), but neither is presented as the “right side”. They both display honour and nobility in equal measure, despite the fact that they are on opposing political sides. Added to these two main characters are Sir John, a travelling Englishman who befriends Roland and promptly falls in love with his sister Amelie (who is herself the secret lover of the royalist Morgan), Roland’s family, the stalwart royalist guerilla leader Georges Cadoudal, and Napoleon himself, Roland’s friend and mentor here returning from the Egyptian campaign to become First Consul, his first step on the road to empire.
Roland is a melancholy figure, victim to an “ailment” that is only alluded to, but not that hard to suss out, which prompts him to live dangerously and seek a glorious death wherever he can (a death which constantly eludes him, much to his chagrin). Morgan is a consummate gentleman, noble to a fault, who goes so far as to issue an order to his secret society of Royalist highwaymen (the titular Companions of Jehu) that they are to consider the person of Roland sacrosanct since he is the brother of Morgan’s lover. The character of Napoleon is great, by turns noble, capricious and brilliant it’s clear that Dumas enjoyed writing him as a protagonist in the novel. Amelie is a bit of a wet blanket, having little to do but be a tragic heroine and lover to the enemy of her brother.
The story has the usual twists and turns one comes to expect of Dumas, though perhaps with fewer of the subplots and many intertwined story elements of some of his other tales. We of course have the doomed love of Morgan and Amelie; the destined antagonism of Roland and Morgan (something which the former does all he can to stimulate, and the latter all he can to diminish); the machinations and intrigues of Napoleon against both his known and unknown enemies; and the overarching attempts by the Companions of Jehu to overthrow the revolutionary regime and reinstall the Bourbons on the throne.
There are many gripping scenes, daring adventures, and near-death experiences. One of the most fascinating moments in the story for me was the Victim’s Ball. There is much contention as to the historicity of these events, but (according to legend at least) these victim’s balls were apparently secret soirees held by the children and survivors of the royalist victims of Madame Guillotine. They had the air of licentious masked balls wherein the participants dressed in the finery of pre-Revolution days and even wore fine scarlet ribbons or threads around their necks, a macabre reminder of the fate of their forbears. It would make an excellent scene in a movie version of the story.
Overall _The Companions of Jehu_ is an excellent swashbuckling adventure. Not quite in the league of The Three Musketeers or The Count of Monte Cristo, but if you’re looking for a good fix of Dumas adventure this is a great place to get it....more
2018 re-read: Is it wrong that perhaps the definitive story of revenge is one of my all time top comfort reads? What can I say? I love this book. It i2018 re-read: Is it wrong that perhaps the definitive story of revenge is one of my all time top comfort reads? What can I say? I love this book. It is just such an unadulterated pleasure. So still 5 stars obvs.
Random thoughts: While I have no doubt of the justice of his machinations against those who wronged him (his dinner party in the house at Auteuil is particularly delicious in this regard) it is apparent that Monte Cristo has more than a little of the sadist in him. Not content to play with his enemies we even see Monte Cristo toying with the emotions of his poor steward Bertuccio and he seems to relish the torture he forces him to undergo in regards to his plans involving Villefort and Andrea; and the lengths of despair he allows the elder Morrell to feel before saving him at the eleventh hour is somewhat problematic. Perhaps the crowning example of this, however, is when he strings poor Maximilian Morrell along for a month with his anguish over the death of (view spoiler)[ Valentine (hide spoiler)] when he could easily have let him know the truth. The book tells us the why of this:
...this is the secret of my conduct towards you. There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
Ok...I guess. Still seems like a douche move to me that could have gone horribly wrong.
Also, as always I loved many of the supporting characters in this book (with special shout outs to Franz d'Epinay and Eugenie Danglars) who always seem (to me at least) to be fully realized people with unique and interesting personalities. Heck even the boys club of Chateau-Renaud/Debray/Beauchamp whose main purpose seems to simply revolve around being rich bros that hang with the main characters each display glimmers of distictiveness and have at least one or two chances to shine on their own.
All in all, this book is great. Read it if you haven't; if you have then re-read it!
Original review:
This is one of the books that I keep coming back to and re-reading whenever the urge strikes...and it strikes quite often; five times so far. Considering the sheer length of the book that might seem odd, but Dumas keeps things moving with his breakneck pace from the moment that poor Edmond Dantès is wrongly imprisoned by jealous rivals until the final consummation of his intricate plan of revenge.
Despite the speed at which Dumas keeps the plot moving, we are still treated to an in-depth story that examines the lives of the many characters that make up the main cast and are slowly initiated into the tangled ways in which their lives intertwine.
I think Dumas too often gets a bad rap for being some kind of early pulp 'penny-dreadful' writer who cranked out tales like sausages on a conveyor belt, but just reading the beautiful words he puts on the pages (admittedly in translation for me), and experiencing the fascinating characters and events to which he treats us, should be enough to dispel this myth. I find that the characters in his stories are often much more real, and multi-layered, than he is often given credit for and while their emotions may run quite high (it is romantic fiction after all) he never deviates from the kernel of truth about human nature that he seemed to know so well.
This book has it all, from revenge to murder, intrigue, escapes, love, hatred, damnation and salvation all tied to a plot that keeps on giving and urging you to turn the next page to see what strange adventure will happen next....more
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