I'm reviewing The Lost king of France ...

 ... by Deborah Cadbury today.  Read on to discover my thoughts on this book ...

This book begins in April 1770 when Archduchess Maria Antonia left her family, home, and country to travel to France.  She was making her way to Versailles to be married to Louis-Charles, Duc de Normandie.  Naturally, being betrothed to the Dauphin meant that she would have to adapt to life in the French Court, and upon being accepted into the French Royal family, she became Marie-Antoinette.

Louis-Charles eventually acceded to the throne and became Louis XVI.  There were three surviving children, Marie-Thérèse, Louis-Joseph and his younger brother Louis-Charles.  One has to wonder what was going through Marie-Antoinette's mind as she travelled to France as a young teenager. Did she perhaps envisage the terrible fate that awaited her some twenty or so years later - probably not - but that journey must have been full of trepidation of one form or another.

The revolution took hold of Paris on July 14th, 1789 and then the rest of the country quickly afterwards.  There had been a significant period of societal unrest in advance of the storming of the Bastille, but the changes that were coming for the country, Marie-Antoinette and her family were harrowing and are still studied, written about and debated today, some 230 years later.  The Lost King of France charts the life of Louis-Charles, the boy who would have become Louis XVII and finally answer the many questions about what happened to that little boy.

I really enjoyed this piece of non-fiction on numerous levels.  First, it filled some of the gaps in my knowledge of French history generally.  Secondly, with the focus being the young Louis XVII, and through the author's rigorous research, it was fascinating to have a new insight into the revolutionary cause.  The privations that the dwindling members of the royal family suffered and the way they were treated sometimes made the reading difficult.  Ideology for the cause took precedence over common decency and humanitarianism.  Something, regrettably, that we are still witnessing across our modern and supposedly much more enlightened world today.  But man's capability for inhumanity to his fellow man is within us all.  It's just a question of making a choice.

Thirdly, the book looks at the aftermath of the revolution and the commencement of the Napoleonic age, along with the many pretenders to the throne of France.  Today, of course, with our leaps in technology and science, we can say definitively whether Louis XVII survived or died and whether the descendants of any of the pretenders to the throne have a bona fide claim or not.  I found that section of the book to be as fascinating as the earlier parts.

This is a riveting piece of history, narrated in a flowing and easily readable way.  Some of the subject matter is disturbing, but the 18th century was a turbulent time.  A book that thoroughly deserves its five stars.

Other book reviews include France: The Dark Years  France on Trial  The Vanished Collection  and Cursed Bread

I'm Off My Beaten Track in Casablanca ...

The vast city of Casablanca at twilight

 ... today.  I've been trawling through my journals and found some forgotten notes from my travels in North Africa.  Check out my thoughts from that time ...

MOROCCO MEMOS

'... I opened the curtains in Casablanca to the spectacular view of towers of containers and the wall of the dock.  Not quite what I had been expecting.  My imagined view of the city was all based on the black and white movie of the same name with Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid that was released in 1943.  I’d somehow lost myself in the romance of the story and Rick’s Bar.  The real and immediate view from the window of my cabin kinda shot an Exocet missile through the imagined!  But there’s still Risk’s Bar, I told myself in consolation as I meandered along to breakfast, my trusty travel guide in hand to read over coffee...'

This modern city, with a population of more than 4.2 million, boasts of being the largest urban development, the chief port, and the economic and business centre of Morocco. What I encountered and described in my journal was something a little different.  Read on ...

'... as I got off the supplied transport to take us into town, I and my fellow travellers were immediately besieged by men wanting to entice us into their taxis to drive us across and around the town.  Taking ‘No thank you’ for an answer was something unheard of and clearly unacceptable here.  I just kept walking across the vast square to be free of the constant barracking....'

'... as I meandered along the streets I saw derelict buildings next to French Colonial edifices next to 21^st century empty new builds.  Jay walking is inviting a death sentence, and at the standard, marked and managed crossings are just as dangerous.  No-one gives any quarter here.  The standard of driving is the same as I witnessed in Egypt decades ago, it’s just that everything today happens at a much greater speed with absolutely no regard for the green agenda.  Chaos without even a glimmer of organisation to temper it...

'... I eventually discovered the souk and stepped beneath its ramshackle roof.  Lots of little ‘shops’ in every inch of space and lots of stall-holders, again all men, barracking and clamouring for your attention and offering a ‘good price’.  Then a Vespa came storming down the narrow alleyway – it was the first of a number and it became apparent that this was the norm.  I made my way out and back onto the wide streets where there was no-one to bother me with whatever they wanted to sell.  My peace didn’t last long as I made the mistake of turning to look at a mobile stall selling nothing but oranges.  I was barracked again and just ran a few steps ahead to get away.  It seems the standard European art of browsing is an absolute no-no here...'

'A little further on I come across a plaque above an old doorway.  I tried the door, it was firmly locked, but the content of the inscription above was intriguing. I make a mental note to check it out when I can ...'

'... And as for Rick’s bar – that’s not real.  It only ever existed in a studio in Hollywood.  The Rick’s Café, here in Casablanca, was only inspired by the bar in the film.  Another disappointment...'

'... making my way across the square and I’m barracked again.  Luckily, I spy the laid on transport and I decide that enough of this city is more than enough.  It seems that my fellow travellers feel the same way as there are hardly any seats left ...'

There will be more from my journals in the coming weeks and months.  Keep watching this space...

Join me on an #AprilAuthorChallenge ...

 ... and learn much more about the next book in Jacques Forêt Mystery series ...

Every day throughout the month of April I will be posting across all of my social media about book 7 in the Jacques Forêt Mysteries. Check out the list of aspects in connection with the book on the right.  

For the moment, all I'm going to tell you is that the title is Meyrueis.  It's late summer and Lucien, Jacques Forêt's son, is in England staying with his grandmother and his uncles as the story begins.  The timing is only a few weeks after the end of Mazargues.  The crime featured in this book is a very different one from that in Mazargues.  As such, it has been great fun doing all the research necessary for the story.  And a lot more research that I will probably never use!  But that's how it goes - you find an answer to one question which generates other questions and suddenly, your whole day has been spent in the library or on Google!  I so love this job!

For the next story, there will be new characters along with Jacques, Didier and all of their old colleagues.  There will be characters who return, as did one particular individual at the end of Mazargues.  Check out the extract below :

and then…

 

A heavy postern gate slammed shut behind a tall, broad-shouldered and muscled man. He swept his hand through his thick silver-grey hair and donned a black fedora. He glanced across at a waiting car, a silver Mercedes, and smiled. Striding out, he crossed the open space, moved towards the car, opened the passenger door and got in.

“I’ll need a new name,” he said.

There will be more about him during April!

Rivers of France…

Image by Philippe Fuchs, Pixabay

… I’m continuing my trip along La Loire and stopping here in Nevers, today. Come and join me …

Leaving Digoin behind, the river meanders in a north-westerly direction until it hits the southern edge of the city of Nevers.  It takes a sharp turn south for a short distance and then west to meet the river Allier.  Like La Loire, the Allier also rises in the Cévennes, to the east of the city of Mende, and flows generally north for 421 kilometers (262 miles) until it meets the Loire.  The Allier is also the thirteenth longest river in the country, and is on my list of other rivers to explore.  Watch out for further posts in the future.

Nevers is a very old city.  Way back in 52 BCE, Julius Caesar made the fortified town into an important storage depot and stronghold for his army. However, at that particular time, Nevers (original name Noviodunum), was situated on the borders of territory ruled over by a warring local tribe who attacked, destroyed the camp by fire and put Caesar’s position in Gaul at risk.  But there’s much more to this city than a bit of Roman history.  Moving forward to the 16th century, Luigi di Gonzaga, the third son of the Duke of Mantua became the Duc de Nevers in 1565.  He brought with him his own ‘army’ of artists and artisans from Italy.  He established the spun glass industry in the city, introduced artistic pottery and established the art of enamelling.  The products created as a result of Gonzaga’s investment and encouragement were sent by river as far afield as Orléans and Angers.  By the middle of the century, the pottery/glass industry was at its height with numerous workshops and thousands of craftsmen employed.

Regrettably, the revolution in 1789, changed everything.  Today there are only remnants of those glory days left, along with a fabulous collection of pottery and glass at the local museum that is well worth a visit.

From the banks of the river, if you head into the city centre, it’s about a twenty minute walk to rue Saint-Gildard.  On this street you will find the resting place of perhaps one of the most famous women in France – Marie-Bernarde Soubirous, a miller’s daughter and the eldest of nine children.  She was born into poverty in Lourdes, suffered various ailments as a child and became Saint Bernadette following her visions.

Born in 1844, she took the religious habit of a postulant twenty-two years later and joined the Sisters of Charity at their motherhouse here in Nevers.  On April 16th, 1879, she died and is laid to rest here in what was then the convent.  In 1970, the motherhouse was converted to a centre for pilgrimage, the Espace Bernadette Soubirous, that is now run by volunteers and a very small number of nuns. Bernadatte has her resting place inside a stunning glass and gold casket.

The order of nuns in Nevers is also famous for a much more mundane reason.  And if you want to find out about that then check out my post from a while ago, Here.

There will be more about La Loire, on May 6th as I will be undertaking an #AprilAuthorChallenge next month.  If you want to catch up on posts you may have missed, click the following links La Loire Digoin  River Le Loir