For anyone that knew me as Clubdescordeliers, I’d like to say that the account that is currently Clubdescordeliers is not run by myself, despite the fact that the current owner has saved posts/messages/etc I have sent and seems to be pretending to be me. What more they have done with the account I do not know and do not care. Enjoyable as it would be to push this further, I’m sorry to say I don’t have the energy or care at the moment. However, if I am threatened, stalked, or harassed in the future, action will be taken against all involved. Thank you.
“ But what reptile is so grovelling that when he is trampled on will not stand up and bite back? And the republic cannot ask me to turn the other cheek”
Camille Desmoulins VC5
[an unusual pic - maybe not the most flattering - but who doesn’t know how that feels?]
|—||Camille Desmoulins, Le Vieux Cordelier no. 1|
‘Love is stronger than fear’
and stronger than meanness
or harm or spite
On the Dining Halls and Meals
This part should have 14 articles, but Palmer show only from the first to the tenth ones.
Is there anything about how the seats were assigned—alphabetically, by year, in some other fashion?
By masters, so probably by year, but I’m unsure how they were assigned apart from that. Good question, I will look into the book if I can find it.
Someone asked me for the full schedule, so here. It’s an extract from the School of Revolution, by Palmer, 1975. It is an extract from the school’s rules papers.
There was something radiant about Camille’s smile, when it came out true and full rather than as a hint of upturn in a trembling lip. There was something forceful in his bursts of joy; light seemed to stream from him when he was happy. And he could be as happy as he could be despondent or tormented. From the smallest things, things others would entirely have passed by or taken for granted or accepted with quiet peace.
He could float across the courtyard of Louis-le-Grand, untidy dark hair streaming behind him, laughter in his eyes and light in his every word as he related a teacher’s praise or a phrase of Latin that had caught his eye. Maxime could stand in his pleasure as in the spray of a waterfall, watching it, being sprinkled with droplets—and then give back the emotion, a bit more stable and lasting.
Camille was fragile, but he was so strong. He was an impressionable, vulnerable child, too old and young for his years, but happiness that came to him was intensified as sun in a magnifying glass.
Camille’s joy could warm even frigid dormitories at five in the morning.
I am not absolutely positive, but I’m pretty sure this is a language labeling fluke on the part of Amazon. I’ve not seen any English translation of Camille’s works other than History of the Brissotins, but it would be terribly exciting if one existed.
I’ll try to research this 1938 edition further. It would be wonderful if it turns out I’m wrong and it is indeed in English!