H.M. Williams, Letters

[amie-de-rimbaud.livejournal.com]

Ok, after my previous silly post--which, I fear, only divulged how my fixation with C. and L. nearly borders on psychosis--I wanted to share another instance of recognition, this one more substantial and legitimate. As I was reading through Letters Written in France in the Summer 1790 by Helen Maria Williams, the following caught my eye:

“I have heard several persons mention a young man, of a little insignificant figure, who, the day before the Bastille was taken, got up on a chair in the Palais Royal, and harangued the multitude, conjuring them to make a struggle for their liberty, and asserting, that now the moment was arrived. They listened to his eloquence with the most eager attention; and, when he had instructed as many as could hear him at one time, he requested them to depart, and repeated his harangue to a new set of auditors.” (p. 76)

Now, for some reason the editors, who are pretty meticulous in clarifying historical background, neglect to identify this “young man” with a footnote. How strange! This is C.--right? The chair, the Café du Foy, the great speech...it all seems to fit. I just found it bizarre that Williams doesn’t know him by name, since he would have been familiar by now (1790) in Paris--but I was more struck by the editors’ omission, since they take such care to provide details in other instances. Hmm.

 

Later, in one of her Letters Containing a Sketch of the Scenes...during the Tyranny of Robespierre, she mentions him directly--and none too kindly--in reference to the fall of the Dantonists: “Of this party were Camille Desmoulins, the author of the libel against the Gironde,...Fabre d’Eglantine, who was an intriguer, with more address and less honesty than Camille; La Croix, who was a wretch covered with crimes...etc.” (pp. 70-76).

So, Williams eventually did become acquainted with the name of our dear C., but the first allusion in which he remains anonymous continues to be a source of--hmm, something--to me. I guess it was just the frisson of discovering a new account of C. and experiencing what it must have been like to have arrived from England to France at that time, when the Revolution was still in its pre-Terror phase, and to have listened to the rumors and gossip surrounding the Revolutionary heroes. And C. in the Palais Royal is one of my favorite images of him--that moment of “eloquence” and self-realization.

Anyway, I would definitely recommend reading Williams. I have her Letters...(1790), and although there are later volumes as well, the appendix of my volume has a few selections of letters found in the other volumes, as well as other interesting material, so you could probably get a good idea of her writing just by reading the one volume.

 

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

The description certainly makes it sound like Camille. The standing on a chair and the subject matter of the speech seem right, but the day is wrong. The incident at the Cafe du Foy was on the 12th, two days before the incident. I'd be inclined to assume that the writer simply had the date wrong, but it does leave open the possibility that it is another agitator, possibly someone whom Camille inspired.

[amie-de-rimbaud.livejournal.com]

Ah, you're right about the date! I guess we'll never know.

[victoriavandal.livejournal.com]

Nah, it sounds like him, got to be him - they've just got the date wrong: if you were hearing about it, you'd just assume it was the day before, because it sounds more plausible - so that's how the anecdote has been transmitted. When did they start making those plates with Camille on the chair on them? They seem to have been made throughout the 19thc - I think they're still made now - but did they first appear in 1789 or soon after? (sorry, I'm on dial-up this week so can't do links, but if you google for them (in french) you can see the plates i mean...). I think as far as popular imagination had it, Camille was the man with the chair!

[amie-de-rimbaud.livejournal.com]

I don't know about the history of the plates, but I know exactly what you're talking about. On a different note, I've always been curious about the old statue of him--in a chair--that used to stand in the Palais Royal gardens. I remember reading--for the life of me, I can't remember where--that this statue was taken down by the Nazis during the occupation. My question is: why in the world didn't they put it back up after the war? I've been to the Palais Royal a few times, and I don't remember seeing a Camille statue there...unless I missed it somehow? Hmm.

[victoriavandal.livejournal.com]

If the Nazis took it down, and it was metal (was it a bronze?), it would have been melted down for munitions, I think (unless the sculptor was so famous it was worth stealing!). Metal was very precious in WW2 - the railings round our village cenotaph were melted down in the war - they only got replaced last year! On a related note - I initially read that the statue of Robespierre put up (in Moscow, I think) soon after the Russian Revolution fell apart because it was badly made - but another account suggests that it was destroyed as an act of counter-revolutionary sabotage...

[misatheredpanda.livejournal.com]

According the the inventory taken after his death, Camille himself owned two engravings of the event, so I assume it was a popular image during the Revolution too...

[misatheredpanda.livejournal.com]

You're not wrong, there's no statue of Camille anymore, and I too think it ought to be replaced. However livviebway very kindly showed me the little 'D' marking the spot where he made the speech, which I'd never known was there..

[amie-de-rimbaud.livejournal.com]

Ah, I'd love to see this "D"--I'll make a point of looking for it next time.