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Angry Young Men of the July Monarchy
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There's Louis-Philippe, King of the French rather than of France, trying hard to look safely bourgeois rather than pompously regal. Wikipedia informs me to my delighted astonishment that he survived no less than SEVEN assassination attempts (you'd think he'd have got the message) including one that slithers into the realm of absurdity: Giuseppe Mario Fieschi built a device that consisted of 25 gun barrels fixed to a wooden frame, all of which could be fired at once. A n machine infernalen indeed, and deadly too. When Fieschi fired a volley during the king's review of the National Guard on July 28th 1835, eighteen people were killed and a further twenty two injured, Fieschi himself suffering severe injury when several of the gun barrels exploded. One bullet slightly grazed Louis-Philippe's forehead.
Come to think of it, maybe that's the message that Louis-Philippe took away from failed attempts: that here was some kind of providential power protecting him. He was certainly let us say a little complacent. In face of mounting opposition in January and February 1848 by those groups of society that were disappointed in his intransigence on the questions of economic reform and a more extensive suffrage, Louis-Philippe claimed that Parisians would never start a revolution in the winter.
Flaubert's novel opens in 1840 and takes us through to the unrest and upheaval that culminated in the February Revolution of 1848 and beyond, ending with a coda in 1867. Frédéric, the hero of this tale, is suitably placed in Paris, surrounded by men of action, enjoys a small private income due to the generosity of a childless uncle which would allow him to strive for public office without the necessity of compromise in order to earn a living, seems to have some sympathy for the concerns of those outside of his small social circle, is young and hot-blooded and thus all in all seems perfectly placed to be right in the thick of things. That's what you might expect but for the title of course, for this is not his political education, this is the education of the heart. Frédéric longs for the Unattainable Madame Arnoux. At the very moment when he begins to believe that his impossible dream might be fulfilled those high hopes are dashed. He descends into a kind of moral turpitude that sees him torn between a loveless marriage to a young naive ingénue, a relationship with a courtesan on whom he fathers a child, and an equally loveless marriage to a somewhat older but vastly rich widow. Turns out she's not quite as rich as either of them believed. He ends up losing them all from his life, comfortably complacent in front of the fire with his excellent friend Deslauriers, accepting that their time has passed, their ambitions frustrated, their dreams of the future bankrupted.
That cycle of hope and strong desire turning into bankrupt moral turpitude: maybe it is political too.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
n n
There's Louis-Philippe, King of the French rather than of France, trying hard to look safely bourgeois rather than pompously regal. Wikipedia informs me to my delighted astonishment that he survived no less than SEVEN assassination attempts (you'd think he'd have got the message) including one that slithers into the realm of absurdity: Giuseppe Mario Fieschi built a device that consisted of 25 gun barrels fixed to a wooden frame, all of which could be fired at once. A n machine infernalen indeed, and deadly too. When Fieschi fired a volley during the king's review of the National Guard on July 28th 1835, eighteen people were killed and a further twenty two injured, Fieschi himself suffering severe injury when several of the gun barrels exploded. One bullet slightly grazed Louis-Philippe's forehead.
Come to think of it, maybe that's the message that Louis-Philippe took away from failed attempts: that here was some kind of providential power protecting him. He was certainly let us say a little complacent. In face of mounting opposition in January and February 1848 by those groups of society that were disappointed in his intransigence on the questions of economic reform and a more extensive suffrage, Louis-Philippe claimed that Parisians would never start a revolution in the winter.
Flaubert's novel opens in 1840 and takes us through to the unrest and upheaval that culminated in the February Revolution of 1848 and beyond, ending with a coda in 1867. Frédéric, the hero of this tale, is suitably placed in Paris, surrounded by men of action, enjoys a small private income due to the generosity of a childless uncle which would allow him to strive for public office without the necessity of compromise in order to earn a living, seems to have some sympathy for the concerns of those outside of his small social circle, is young and hot-blooded and thus all in all seems perfectly placed to be right in the thick of things. That's what you might expect but for the title of course, for this is not his political education, this is the education of the heart. Frédéric longs for the Unattainable Madame Arnoux. At the very moment when he begins to believe that his impossible dream might be fulfilled those high hopes are dashed. He descends into a kind of moral turpitude that sees him torn between a loveless marriage to a young naive ingénue, a relationship with a courtesan on whom he fathers a child, and an equally loveless marriage to a somewhat older but vastly rich widow. Turns out she's not quite as rich as either of them believed. He ends up losing them all from his life, comfortably complacent in front of the fire with his excellent friend Deslauriers, accepting that their time has passed, their ambitions frustrated, their dreams of the future bankrupted.
That cycle of hope and strong desire turning into bankrupt moral turpitude: maybe it is political too.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>