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doorp · 8 months

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What started out as theories abt when the main cast died but got silly

Annabel + Lenore ✨

This one is pretty straightforward, there’s these Barbie movie redraws flynn did that shows Annabel and Lenore being caught by “NMPD nevermore police department” , with the year 1901 in the corner, implying that’s when they died and got sent to nevermore

This little 1901 in the corner is interesting on like a meta level to me bc 1. in the original Barbie meme theres no date on the slate thingies, so flynn decided to add that piece of info on her own, and 2. this was just after episode 67 came out (on fp I think) and uh little tidbit, before that episode there was a theory that Theo died in like the 1860s or something based on the logo in the newspaper abt his death, the ny daily tribune, and after episode 67 came out and ira mentioned a ship that wasn’t available for public use until 1899 on the discord we were trying to do mental gymnastics to make the 2 dates work but then red came on like “please we accidentally grabbed the wrong logo it’s meant to read new York tribune not New York daily tribune its fixed now we fixed it please” and then a few days later they streamed doing this piece

Anyway, ira talks about the oceanic, which was “the finest ocean liner in the world” the *largest ocean liner in the world* until 1901

The RMS oceanic had its maiden voyage in September of 1899, at the beginning of fall. Annabel says she arrived in New York a fortnight before meeting Lenore, presumably during the spring. Annabel arrives at lenores house in april/may of 1900, spends six months there, and then leaves around the fall, probably somewhere around September or October. Lenore then spends a few months doing her thing and then arrives at her family’s home in either December 1900 or January 1901, during the winter. HERES where it gets interesting. We can assume that Annabel died in the cold, from her spectres chilling atmosphere and all together appearance of corpse in a freezer. She even has frostbite on her fingers and toes, as well as snowflake like glitter in her veil. We can also assume she died on her wedding day, the way she wears her rings on different hands and her wedding dress in spectre form. So if she died in the cold and on her wedding day, then when was her wedding, and how could it be in winter?

heres my 2 theories

1. Lenore beats Annabel at chess just for funsies fairly quickly after arriving, then they try to elope and get caught by their dads

2. Lenore courts Annabel, wins her hand, and they get engaged. Since engagements usually lasted around 6 months to 2 years, their engagement could have been anywhere from however long it takes Lenore to win at chess to December 1901. If their wedding day was in November/December, that means Lenore got away with pretending to be a man for a whole YEAR and they spent that year just being gay and shit/doing schemes.

I personally like option 2 more bc its just sadder that they did get away w it for a while then ultimately got caught - it would also explain why Annabel is just SO into Lenore, if all she remembers is that year they spent being all sneaky and gay and shit, it would explain how she’s just used to flirting and holding onto Lenore in secret. It would also explain why Annabel assumes Lenore is up to scheming at nevermore. if they eloped a few weeks after they reunited it would still be like yeah that makes sense they are such u haul lesbians, but them becoming sneaky codependent gays ripped from each other on their wedding day just hurts more and makes more sense time/character wise

Duke - 1912, maybe even 1912 specifically, idk

Duke has a coin that’s dated to 1912, and Eulalie says it looks brand new. There’s been arguments about wether or not the coin is actually newly minted, but I don’t think we can say for sure. It might not matter either way- I have a theory that the suit cases the students carry aren’t actually random personal items of interest, but a suitcase they packed right before a pivotal event in their lives. Perhaps Duke does have newly minted coins in his suitcase, but he didn’t actually die in 1912. Also! Duke is implied to be a Houdini like figure, so I imagine he’s not later than the 20s.

Pluto - 1914 ish

Plutos spectre wears a British ww1 military uniform, its debated wether or not the jacket was his dads or his, but regardless he couldn’t have died earlier than 1914. Pluto is named after the cat in the short story called The Black Cat by Edgar Allan poe. In the story a cat named Pluto gets its eye slashed out by its drunken owner, eventually getting hung from a tree by the man. Theres obvious references to the story in Plutos design and shit overall, when he manifests a belt snaps around his neck implying he died from strangulation, his spectre has like, a pluming collar/leash of smoke around its neck, his spectre looks like it’s made of ash kinda (someone described him as a burnt rabbit to me once) which is probably a reference to the part in the story where the man’s house burns down, only 1 wall remaining erect, with the image of a black cat scorched into it. Plutos eye is covered by his hair, he walks into a door frame, he’s got spectre abilities called “blink” and “evil eye” so w Pluto until we get more info it’s no earlier than 1914 if you subscribe to the Pluto went to war theory or no earlier than like, say the 20s? if you subscribe to the Plutos dad was a vet theory

Berenice - 1920s

Shes a flapper, cmon. shes from the 1920s. Look at her. We already know she was run over by a cop car after running from some guy, and I tried to look into where the cop car was from but i didn’t have much luck. mostly just confirmed the era, when I searched cop cars of the 1920s pretty similar images to the one that killed bee show up. A few others I think have looked into it more? but im not completely sure. There’s been a lot of theories about where Berenice is from, I’ve seen Louisiana, Chicago, Harlem (Harlem renaissance specifically) but there’s not a lot of conclusive info about Berenice. we know her pearls were real, in the way they scattered, so she had so have some means of affording them. Pearls are held together on a string, but only real pearls have pieces of metal between the pearls to keep them from rubbing against each other. Bees pearls scatter in long strings, not completely all over the place like fake pearls without that structure would.

Eulalie - 1935

The song Eula sings in her death flashback is a Japanese lullaby that was rediscovered in 1935. Its a popular theory that Eulalies death was a hate crime, a fire started because of hate towards Japanese Americans during ww2. She probably died in the forties in america, I don’t think she died in Hiroshima or Nagasaki, the fire that killed her isnt how atomic bombs would have killed her. The kid she sings to asks if someone started the fire on purpose, so imo it was likely a hate crime.

Morella - 1950s - 70s??

Okay so, Morella. we know the least about her. with will we can guess that he was lower class and stuff, but all we know abt Morella is that she’s Irish. Shepards pie and Guinness is pretty timeless. The reason I say 50s to 70s is bc according to Remigoesinsane the clasp to her locket started to be used around that time! that’s all I have on her tbh, a theory of mine is that she died in a factory accident trying to save someone when the machinery went crazy, but that’s mostly it.

Ada - 1930s

Ada’s clothes in her death flashback match those worn by maids in the 1930s, and the lingerie she wears in the manor also matches lingerie worn in the 30s. It would also make sense for Ada’s character to be from the 30s. That decade was called the “somber thirties” bc of how fucked up the economy was after the stock market crash. It was a major time of economic disparity, and Ada’s obsession with trying to seem upper class elite could stem from not having much when she died. She probably sees nevermore as a blank slate, a place where people will see her as more than just “the help” would also make sense that the man that killed her was a rich guy using his power to take advantage of her and get away with the crime. Especially since the poem, Tamerlane, was from the pov of a rich guy lamenting a relationship he had with a lower class girl named Ada.

Prospero ✨

PROSPERO! prospero drinks espresso with his chosen last meal, which was invented in 1901. I think he died from tuberculosis. For a long time a major cause of death has been tuberculosis. So much so that Victorians made it a beauty standard. A major inspiration of Poe himself was tuberculosis, in the masque of red death, along with the grief he was left with after his wife died from it. It rots your lungs, makes you cough up your bloodied respiratory system until you suffocate in it. In the maze, prospero says he felt queasy, like something was crawling under his skin when he died. When prospero cuts his hand, he says he’s going to be sick, and tells Annabel that he’s afraid of blood. (Probably specifically his own blood bc u know he was feeding people to rats like minutes before that) This, coupled with the imagery of blood pouring out from his plague mask when he says the “queasy, like something was crawling under my skin” line, makes me think his death involved a lot of blood! And as I said before tuberculosis was like really gross and bloody and gory. Furthermore, this quote from the writer is SO interesting

In the poem prosperos namesake is in, the masque of red death, the prince prospero, hiding and ignoring a sickness ravaging his country, decides to host a huge party! Everyone’s having a grand old time, the festivities only pausing when the clock strikes, leaving everyone in a dread filled silence, the party picking up almost immediately after and brushing it off. Eventually the plague does get in though and kill them all because they ignored the feeling of dread.

The prince and the party goers die because the prince is blissfully and willfully ignorant of the disease. Bc their hubris didn’t allow them to see the threat of it. Nevermores prospero, however, is obsessed with staying healthy/hygienic as possible. He wears his gloves even when he eats, hates being touched, almost throws up when he cuts his hand. He hallucinates a thousand dirty hands grabbing him and trying to perform an operation on him with disgusting germy tools. He sees the hand he cut amputated, imagining that the wound got so infected that it had to be removed. He stares in horror at his hand before Ada even makes eye contact with him. My theory is Prospero grew up hearing terrible stories of people dying from infection, disease. He heard of people slowly drowning in their own blood. He decided to take every precaution, he simply wouldn’t allow that to be his fate. After Ada attacks him he tells Annabel “you must think me neurotic” for being so upset over the blood on his hand. This feels, so specific and intentional to me. Not just because Annabel dealt with her anxiety and her dad treating her panic attacks like he did, and this is a whole “omg look they’re bonding” moment, but bc, immediately after he tries to assure her that “im not, you know, im perfectly sane” like shit like this has happened before, where ppl called him neurotic for being that sick at the sight of his own blood, or that obsessed with hygiene. The irony being that, he spent his life obsessing over staying healthy, so much so that people called him neurotic, only to die that slow gory death anyway.

That whole, prospero dying from tb tangent aside tho, how it correlates to the time of his death. He probably died in the early 1900s, the earliest being 1901-1906ish, bc again, that’s when espresso started gaining popularity. My guess is he died around the 20s, ik the tb vaccine came out around the 20s, but people still died of it after and are still dying/contracting it today, and in the 20s there were a lot of Italians emigrating to America, and prospero is so aggressively Italian American (eating espresso and cannoli with chocolate chips for his last meal) that it’d make sense. So woo!

Monty - 1910s

Monty is a cowwwwboyyyyyy. The Wild West pretty much tapered out around the early 1900s. He can’t be that recent. He also mentions calamity Jane so that definitely puts him past the 1800s. He seemed to have a pretty wild life, kicked in the head by a horse, tooth knocked out by a human, tied to train tracks and left for dead after calling the pastors daughter loose. crazy guy crazy time

Will ???

Will is so plain i cannot get a read on where hes from im sorry

obligatory thank you for making it to the end, I barely made it myself, this was sitting in my drafts for weeks before I decided to just get it over with. <<333

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #annabel lee nevermore #white raven #ada nevermore #duke nevermore #morella nevermore #prospero nevermore #berenice nevermore #will nevermore #pluto nevermore #eulalie nevermore

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dwellordream · 2 months

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Fashion Showdown: Silver (Match 1)

#silver #fashion #polls #history

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beehunni62 · 1 year

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Married Mongolian Women’s Hairstyle in the Yuan Dynasty

Mongolians have a long history of shaving and cutting their hair in specific styles to signal socioeconomic, marital, and ethnic status that spans thousands of years. The cutting and shaving of the hair was also regarded as an important symbol of change and transition. No Mongolian tradition exemplifies this better than the first haircut a child receives called Daah Urgeeh, khüükhdiin üs avakh (cutting the child’s hair), or örövlög ürgeekh (clipping the child’s crest) (Mongulai, 2018)

The custom is practiced for boys when they are at age 3 or 5, and for girls at age 2 or 4. This is due to the Mongols’ traditional belief in odd numbers as arga (method) [also known as action, ᠮᠣᠩᠭᠤᠯ, арга] and even numbers as bilig (wisdom) [ᠪᠢᠴᠢᠭ, билиг].

Mongulai, 2018.

The Mongolian concept of arga bilig (see above) represents the belief that opposite forces, in this case action [external] and wisdom [internal], need to co-exist in stability to achieve harmony. Although one may be tempted to call it the Mongolian version of Yin-Yang, arga bilig is a separate concept altogether with roots found not in Chinese philosophy nor Daoism, but Eurasian shamanism.

However, Mongolian men were not the only ones who shaved their hair. Mongolian women did as well.

Flemish Franciscan missionary and explorer, William of Rubruck [Willem van Ruysbroeck] (1220-1293) was among the earliest Westerners to make detailed records about the Mongol Empire, its court, and people. In one of his accounts he states the following:

But on the day following her marriage, (a woman) shaves the front half of her head, and puts on a tunic as wide as a nun's gown, but everyway larger and longer, open before, and tied on the right side. […] Furthermore, they have a head-dress which they call bocca [boqtaq/gugu hat] made of bark, or such other light material as they can find, and it is big and as much as two hands can span around, and is a cubit and more high, and square like the capital of a column. This bocca they cover with costly silk stuff, and it is hollow inside, and on top of the capital, or the square on it, they put a tuft of quills or light canes also a cubit or more in length. And this tuft they ornament at the top with peacock feathers, and round the edge (of the top) with feathers from the mallard's tail, and also with precious stones. The wealthy ladies wear such an ornament on their heads, and fasten it down tightly with an amess [J: a fur hood], for which there is an opening in the top for that purpose, and inside they stuff their hair, gathering it together on the back of the tops of their heads in a kind of knot, and putting it in the bocca, which they afterwards tie down tightly under the chin.

Ruysbroeck, 1900

TLDR: Mongolian women shaved the front half of their head and covered it with a boqta, the tall Mongolian headdress worn by noblewomen throughout the Mongol empire. Rubruck observed this hairstyle in noblewomen (boqta was reserved only for noblewomen). It’s not clear whether all women, regardless of status, shaved the front of their heads after marriage and whether it was limited to certain ethnic groups.

When I learned about that piece of information, I was simply going to leave it at that but, what actually motivated me to write this post is to show what I believe to be evidence of what Rubruck described. By sheer coincidence, I came across these Yuan Dynasty empress paintings:

Portrait of Empress Dowager Taji Khatun [ᠲᠠᠵᠢ ᠬᠠᠲᠤᠨ, Тажи xатан], also known as Empress Zhaoxian Yuansheng [昭獻元聖皇后] (1262 - 1322) from album of Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk, Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of Unnamed Imperial Consort from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Mueum in Taiper, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of unnamed wife of Gegeen Khan [ᠭᠡᠭᠡᠨ ᠬᠠᠭᠠᠨ, Гэгээн хаан], also known as Shidibala [ᠰᠢᠳᠡᠪᠠᠯᠠ, 碩德八剌] and Emperor Yingzong of Yuan [英宗皇帝] (1302-1323) from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368), early 14th century. National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

To me, it’s evident that the hair of those women is shaved at the front. The transparent gauze strip allows us to clearly see their hairstyle. The other Yuan empress portraits have the front part of the head covered, making it impossible to discern which hairstyle they had. I wonder if the transparent gauze was a personal style choice or if it was part of the tradition such that, after shaving the hair, the women had to show that they were now married by showcasing the shaved part.

As shaving or cutting the hair was a practice linked by nomads with transitioning or changing from one state to another (going from being single to married, for example), it would not be a surprise if the women regrew it.

References:

Mongulai. (2018, April 19). Tradition of cutting the hair of the child for the first time.

Ruysbroeck, W. V. & Giovanni, D. P. D. C., Rockhill, W. W., ed. (1900) The journey of William of Rubruck to the eastern parts of the world, 1253-55, as narrated by himself, with two accounts of the earlier journey of John of Pian de Carpine. Hakluyt Society London. Retrieved from the University of Washington’s Silk Road texts.

#mongolia #mongolian #yuan dynasty #mongolian history #chinese history #china #boqta #mongolian traditions #history #gegeen khan #empress dowager taji #mongol empire #William of Rubruck #historical fashion #arga bilig #central asia #central asian culture #mongolian culture #asia

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jinkookspencil · 9 months

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my daisy | kth

you're late... but your lifelong crush helps you get ready

description/tags: taehyung one-shot / angst and suggestive / taehyung is her childhood family friend and neighbor / historical!AU! / this can be any historical era you wish it to be, it was inspired by the regency era, bridgerton, and taehyungs photofolio but it can be the early 1900s if you want it to be too it's really not that specific / ~1.9k words

rating: 18+ minors dni / 18+ even though it's suggestive because it starts out in an 18+ way but reader is alone (she is touching herself) /

author's note: this is my first time writing taehyung!! i had this written in my drafts for a while, intending to publish it when layover was out in celebration of him! <3 finally completely edited for like the third time and now i can finally get to work on my requests. i hope you guys like it :') i literally gave him one of my favorite scenarios of all time.

A chill summer breeze wafts through the windows, cooling your otherwise sweltering bedroom… though a bead of sweat forms at your hairline, for your bare body still radiated heat.

The sudden air against your folds tickled, right while you’d been playing and feeling through and within them while lying atop the restricting cotton bedsheets, your other hand lost in the tangles of your own hair.

“T-t-t….” you moan into the dimly lit room, imagining it’d been the hand of your brother’s best friend getting you close to the edge instead of your own. His name almost slips from your lips….

But the man himself storms into your room instead.

“Mr. Kim!” you screech, seeing him at your side at once. Quick to grab the pillow from beneath your hips and jerk the sheet below until it was free from its tidy dressing onto the mattress, you were unkemptly covered in seconds. “Get out!”

But Kim Taehyung still stood before you, head merely tilted downwards, waiting for you to properly wrap your bare body with the fabric. Tugging the thin sheet tightly at the back, you'd been oblivious to the fact that it outlined every curve and dip of your figure and truly, was all the more tantalizing to the man before you who'd been obviously failing his attempts not to steal glances at you through his periphery. It was unsurprising.

Taehyung had always been a menace. The boy never listened, never followed any rules except his own, and evidently never learned how to knock on another’s door.

It was no secret to your family that you'd been smitten with Taehyung, the neighbor’s only grandson, since childhood, long before he grew to be your brother's most trusted friend. He'd been your friend first, after all, until the two of you had come of age and society deemed such a friendship inappropriate with youthful, hurried engagements, infatuations, and hormone-riddled courtships running amuck...

It proved to be a lifelong infatuation that followed you into womanhood, and though the days spent picking flowers, reading fairy tales, and ‘make-believe teatime’ were long behind you, his friendship with your brother still kept Taehyung in your life, and you were as thankful for it as the fond, playful memories of your youth.

The sheer power of your own feelings only made itself apparent when he’d went away to begin his apprenticeship in France with no promise of an engagement or any indication of reciprocated feelings. Despite an initial sorrow, the longing had turned into an ache in your chest that seemed impossible to ignore, only slightly remedied by his occasional letters and gifts. It was a short-lived hope that he could still be yours. His return as society’s most eligible, handsome, and accomplished bachelor only made it harder to confess - for everyone fell under Taehyung's spell.

With rumors of his charming reputation and dedicated work in France swirling through society and countless men and women organizing courting arrangements before he'd even arrived a month ago, you thought to make haste with your confession, but your half-written love letters were ultimately kept away in the drawers right behind where he'd stood now, with the postcards, letters, and gifts he'd sent you over that time. And you'd spent all those nights with him away just as you had tonight, imagining he'd been there, in your very room, bare as you'd been right beside you... And it had to have happened as such.

“Oh, I apologize, Miss_____,” he says calmly, and the hint of a smirk appears on his face before he turns to face away from you, “But I’m here on orders of your dear mother. You’re, uhm, expected?”

Fuck. You lost track of time.

“Should I tell her you’re not feeling well?”

“No. No, I have to be there, sir. I’m expected to make at least one possible match tonight,” you panic, slithering into the undergarments you’d discarded by the bed earlier. Too hasty to feel shame, and, for the first time, thankful that women’s undergarments cover more than they ever should, you march to the wooden partition, only for your corset to be in Taehyung’s hands.

“Allow me to help,” he offers with a smile. “Your sisters are furious at your being late already, and well, I’m the only one who won’t give you an earful.”

You resign, stepping between Taehyung and the mirror and readying yourself into the corset. Looking at your reflection, you could see your figure and breasts through the sheer chemise with ease…. Practically as naked as you had been. And the man you’d who held your corset and your affection in his hands was staring at the same image with a blank expression on his face.

“This is absolutely humiliating,” you groan, inhaling as he pulls the strings of your corset. Your breasts rise above, forming a perfect, heaving cleavage that remains there, perfectly shaped, as your torso is pulled back…. But only ever so slightly. This was new…. comfortable, and…. just as shapely and alluring. A miracle.

“….It fits well and isn’t as tight as when the girls do it… you have practice, I assume, tying women’s corsets?” you say, taking in your reflection and silently wondering if the man behind you stole another glimpse before he swiftly tied the knot at your back - or if you’d compared to the beauties he must’ve courted in Paris.

Tutting, he ignores the question. His fingers remain at your back, playing with the strings he’d just tied together before tracing your corset's hem. You don't push his hands away when he continues to trace the boning to where it lies below your breast, until his long, elegant fingers ghost your stomach and he pulls his hand away.

It’s only when he steps backward that you exhale comfortably, highly unusual in such a corset, and in the reflection, you see Taehyung grab the dress you were due to wear from its hook behind the partition that enclosed you. He hands it to you without a word from where he stood at your back and with his help, you quickly step into the silky dress, and he ties it up just the same.

The color of the dress allowed your skin to shine as brightly as the rhinestones that adorned it, laid perfectly across your breasts and capsleeves…. Admiring them so, you remember the accompanying jewelry you’d prepared for the evening, a dainty set of earrings, which you put on in a millisecond, and its matching necklace.

“Allow me,” Taehyung says in a hush from behind you, tracing down your arm until he reaches the necklace in the palm of your hand. He brushes your hair to the side, the gentle graze of his fingertips sending chills down your spine as he works away at the lock.

“There”, he says, close enough for you to feel the breath of the word at your nape.

Thankful his gaze was fixated there, chilling as it may be, you quickly attempt to hide your heavy breathing and the rise and fall of your chest by working away at your hair, braiding and pinning it in minutes until you looked like every other 'hopeful' bachelorette.

With a dazzling look and the event kicking off the society’s courting season… you were sure to catch the wild eyes of plenty of eligible bachelors, much to your chagrin. You were at an appropriate age to be wed, let alone courted…. but it was clear that you could never feel about a man what you felt for Taehyung. Every other dead-end meeting your mother had set up in the time he’d been away proved that fact and only frustrated her further, especially when you’d turned down both of Taehyung’s now-married cousins, the highly educated and well-off brothers Namjoon and Seokjin. ‘Artistic boys get you nowhere,’ she’d said, trying to secure your future despite having a soft spot for Taehyung herself.

Now, in the mirror, you could see. Lust. Love. Trust. Humiliation. Your own sinful desire reflected back at you, along with Taehyung's striking side profile. Disregarding the mirror altogether, he had his head turned towards you, surely close enough to smell the rosy scent on your skin, on which you'd continuously felt his warm breathing.

“You look ravishing,” he finally mutters. “You looked beautiful even then.”

“Even then?”

“Before France…” he whispers, toying with the silky fabric at your shoulders. “And tonight....before this…. Especially before this.”

You finally break your own gaze, turning to face him and allowing your nose to brush against his, noting his floral scent… daisies specifically… the kind you’d always play with…. With a hint of some French cologne… The person you always knew, and the man he came to be…

“Any man would be lucky to dance with you.”

“It is not any man that I would wait for. It is not any man that I want…” you whisper, taking Taehyung’s hand and placing it on your waist. But his hand moves, quick to wrap around you and pull your body right against his.

“And what is it that you want so badly?”

Taehyung’s head tilts as his gaze fixates on a spot on your neck, biting at his lower lip and ready to do the same to your exposed skin. His lips meet your neck….

And a loud knock is heard on your door.

“_____, mother is waiting!” you hear through the door. “We’re all waiting. What’s taking you so long? Should I help with the corset?”

Oh… Right.

The two of you exhale against each other, Taehyung’s breath warmer than it had been…. even nicer. But he pulls away, ever so slightly.

“No! No, did that myself. A minute more,” you say, loud enough for your little sister to hear through the door.

“You did your own corset? Strange. Well, do you have any idea where Tae is? None of us can find him after mother sent him up here, and I want to show him how cutely I'd dressed up the teddy bear he got me!” your sister continues. “Mr. Kim Namjoon came looking for him too. Did he run off to the event ahead of us?”

“I don’t know,” you say, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “Now run off. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“I should go,” you say quietly, when you’d heard your sister’s footsteps fade. “I’ll see you there?”

Taehyung nods as he unwraps his arm from around your body, licking the lips you'd almost met.

You hear your name being called lowly from behind you just as you open your bedroom door. Turning only your head, you resist the urge to slam the door shut and kiss away the sudden anguish on Taehyung’s face.

“Save me a dance.”

“Two,” you reply, and he chuckles, walking towards you and taking your hand in his.

"I won't delay you further, my daisy. Tonight, I ask you for a dance, but soon... I hope you'll allow me to ask for this as well." Taehyung brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles with his eyes closed, fluttering them open, and looking at you through his lashes with his lips still there. He doesn't wait for a reply. “Go.”

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hclib · 10 months

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"Playground for Grown-ups"

Earlier this month, the Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board unveiled the first dedicated pickleball courts in the city parks. Thanks to the exploding popularity of pickleball and public demand for places to play it, the park board already has additional courts in works. This is by no means the first time the Minneapolis park board has risen to meet the call for new courts, fields, and equipment. The Minneapolis Park and Recreation Board Records in Special Collections are full of petitions, letters, and pleas for new skating rinks, tennis courts, ball fields, and playgrounds for adults and kids alike. In 1914, one of these petitions united representatives from a who's who of local industry in the call for a place to play one of the era's most popular games.

Under the auspices of the Minneapolis Association of Office Men, professionals from throughout the city wrote to the park commissioners to plea for additional baseball diamonds and amenities at the Parade. The group asked for four concessions: more fields and equipment, water fountains and bathrooms, dressing rooms, and groundskeeping. To reach their goals, the office men asked their members to write directly to the park board. Thus, while many petitions came to the park board as long lists of collected signatures, this petition came as individual letters. These letters came on a great variety of early 1900s stationery. Some of the most ornate letterheads are pictured above.

Despite this impressive mailing and a Minneapolis Tribune editorial supporting the "playground for grown-ups," the resolution of the petition was anticlimactic. The park board had already planned new and improved baseball diamonds at the Parade. Board commissioners added drinking water to the area, but they told the office men that toilets and dressing rooms would have to wait for additional funding.

#minneapolis #minnesota #minneapolis park and recreation board #parks #baseball #1910s #petitions #letterhead

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resplendentoutfit · 1 month

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Playing Dress Match-up: a painted dress and the actual dress or a close match.

Francisco Masriera (Spanish, 1842-1902) • Francisca Aparicio y Mérida, Marchioness consort of Vistabella • 1892 • Prado Museum, Madrid

Court dress • 1900 • Fitted bodice, bateau neckline, frilled cap sleeves, waist band, shallow vee waistline, over-skirt, train, full under-skirt

A different neckline than the painted dress but otherwise quite similar features of the under and over-skirts; similar, though not identical sleeves; the train is decorated like the under-skirt, unlike the solid train on the painted dress. Both lovely.

#art #portrait #painting #society portrait #art history #fashion history #victorian era fashion #painting to dress match #historical dresses

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empress-alexandra · 2 years

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Grand Duchesses Tatiana and Olga on the occasion of their little brother Grand Duke Alexei’s christening, 1904.

#grand duchess tatiana of russia #grand duchess tatiana #grand duchess olga of russia #grand duchess olga #otma #otmaa #1904 #romanovs #Imperial Family #imperial russia #1900s #edwardian #russian court dress #colored photography #colored #b&w picture coloring #imperial children

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chic-a-gigot · 2 years

Photo

La Mode illustrée, no. 28, 14 juillet 1901, Paris. Plaid court (devant). Plaid court (dos). Grand plaid (devant). Grand plaid (dos). Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

#La Mode illustrée #20th century #1900s #1901 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #retouch #Forney #dress #plaid #collar #cape #capelet #court #devant et dos

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tina-aumont · 19 days

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“The Gracia Family what we inherit is both Grace, beauty and intelligence and a lot of gifts and on the other side of that, almost as if we have to pay a price for it, here comes this sense of fate or destiny which means that we can die early”...

Raïna Paris ("Maria Montez, Mysteries and Scandals", 26th April 1998)

Joaquín Gracia Anadón - This story begins with Joaquín Gracia Anadón's father, Pablo Gracia González, little is known about him, but he died when he was 20 years old, leaving a young wife and a baby boy who was Joaquín Gracia Anadón, aged only one year and a half. Joaquín Gracia Anadón was a very smart and clever man, he worked as primary school teacher, secretary of the Peace Court, official and Secretary of the Town Hall in Garafía but in 1884, when he was 43 years old he was processed and sentenced to prison for a fire in Garafía's Town Hall. He served the entire sentence in prison and was released after 16 years and 7 months, in july 1900. He claimed always his innocence and in 2005, after a long investigation by his great granddaughter Pilar Cabrera Pombrol, his innocence was proven and the autorithies had to apologize to the family. He passed away in 1913 at 71 years old.

Isidoro Gracia García - He was born in 1873 and was the eldest of Joaquín Gracia Anadón's children. When he was ten years old he was subjected to a judicial interrogation, today totally unlawful, regarding the fire at the Garafía Town Hall, the charges for which had been brought against his father. This is, unfortunately, the manifestation of a minor, without procedural guarantees, which was included in the sentence and which should have marked Isidoro Gracia García for life. He settled in Baraona in 1904 as a very creditable merchant. He dedicated himself to the prosperous textile business and the export of guayacán wood. His final residence in the Dominican Republic must have been influenced by the advice of his father, who had known first-hand the possibilities of the Latin American country when he was young. His business capacity and human abilities earned him the appointment by the then Minister of State (today, Minister of Foreign Affairs) as honorary vice-consul, upon request of the Royal Consulate of Spain in the country. He died in 1933 in Barahona at 60 years old.

Gaudencia Gracia García - She was the youngest child of Joaquín Gracia Anadón who lived until adulthood as she had a younger brother, Agustín, who died when he was very young. She was born the 12th February 1882. She married José Pedro Pombrol Hernández and had eight kids: María Adoración, Araceli, José Antonio, Gaudencia, Enrique, María del Pilar, Mario and Antonina "Nina" Pombrol Gracia. She passed away in 1921 aged 39.

Isidoro Gracia Vidal - He was Isidoro's Gracia García eldest son and he was born in 1911 and passed away in 1956 at 45 years old leaving a fatherless girl who was only five years old.

Maria Montez - She was Isidoro's Gracia García's first daughter and was called María África for his dad's Country of Origin - The Canary Islands belong to Spain but are located next to Africa - . She was born in 1912. Since her childhood, María was different from other girls and boys her age, she created her own theater stages, and always said from a very young age that she would succeed in the world of cinema. Many children made fun of her for what she said, Maria then complained to her mother that others laughed at her but her mother encouraged her to go ahead, so she would sit under the palm trees and do her plays. On June 3, 1939, Maria arrived in NY for the first time. At that time it was very difficult to climb positions, especially if you came from the rural world. She used the resource of provocation to be able to do it. She not only used her beauty, but also her intelligence. She decided to go scouting, hired two designers to make her the most spectacular dresses ever seen. She begins to frequent night clubs and doesn’t go unnoticed so she begins to appear in the press. In July 1940 she arrived in Hollywood, there she changed her name (until then she was called Marie McFeeters) and also completely reinvented herself. After a successful carreer in Hollywood, she decided to travel to Europe to make some dramatic roles and she was receiveng very good reviews from the chritics and the public. Sadly, she passed away in 1951 at 39 years old leaving a motherless girl aged five...

Adita Gracia Vidal - She was María's younger sister and was born in 1924. Although María put big efforts in her younger sisters to succeed as actresses, they prefered a more classic way of life. In 1949 Maria with her husband and daughter left Hollywood to live in France, Adita went to live with them and so did Teresita. Is not known if Adita ever married or had children. At the time of María’s passing (1951) she was an unmarried woman and María gave her a big sum of money from her will as a way to protect her. Then Adita went to live with Consuelo and her family in Southern California. She passed away at 69 on 8th February 1993.

Lucita Gracia Vidal - She was María and Adita's younger sister, she was born in 1926. Lucita married Frech photo-journalist Jean Roy the 12th April 1946 and had three children: Yves, Jean-Pierre and Marcos. Jean Roy's real name was Yves Leleu and was a war photo-journalist. He was killed in Egypt on an assigment in 1956. Lucita was a young mother with three little kids on her own. She never remarried. Lucita passed away in 1979 in Paris at 53 years old due to cancer.

Jaime Gracia Vidal - He was María, Adita and Lucita's youngest brother and was born in 1927. In 1954, when he was 26 years old, he went to Hollywood to start a career was an actor and with his tall height and green eyes, he was quite a sensation there. After trying luck in Hollywood he went to the US Army and fought in Corean war and ended up having the grade of Sergeant. Regarding his personal life, he dated Merle Oberon while in Hollywood but later married Rosmery Didonato from whom had his only child Jimmy. They eventually separated. In 1977 he married again with Janet González in Santo Domingo. He died at 51 of a heart attack in 31st May 1979.

Teresita Gracia Vidal - She was María's youngest sister, born in 1929 or 1930. Teresita began her modelling in 1949 in France after taking modelling lessons. The photographers who mainly worked with her were Willy Maywald and Georges Saad and she was regularly seen in fashion spreads in magazines like L'Officiel, L'Art et la Mode and Vogue. She usually modelled Jacques Heim designs. She had a very successful carrer as a model in the 50s. In the early 50s, Teresita and Yves Manuel started dating and by February 1952 they got married and years later, by 1956/57 they had their daughter Raïna Manuel Paris Gracia. By 1959 Teresita had a strong and passionate relationship with Italian actor Maurizio Arena that meant the ending of her marriage with Yves Manuel and she settled in Rome as some italian producers spotted her, sadly, her relationship with Maurizio Arena didn’t last as he fooled her. Teresita passed away on January 17th 2023 at 93 years old.

Tina Aumont Gracia - She was María Montez only daughter. She was born in 1946 and when she was only five years old she lost her mum. She lived with her father and aunties but when he married Italian actress Marisa Pavan, aunties and uncles had to flee the house. The relationshio she had with her step-mother was very difficult and at the time she was 17, she married a friend of her dad just to get away from that crazy house. In 1964 a stillborn girl was born. One year later she separated Christian Marquand and went to live with Frédéric Pardo, the love of her life according to their closest friends. After breaking up in 1972, Tina started to use hard drugs and she became hooked to heroin. Although she had great success in cinema, by March/April 1978 Tina travelled to Thailand and send back to home two deities statues filled with opium, Frabrizio Lori received the statues at home and went directly to jail although he didn’t knew a thing. That meant the end of their relationship. Tina was arrested in Italy, and charged with illegal importation of 400 grams of opium. She was eventually sentenced to three years imprisonment, which she managed to reduce on appeal to nine months. Then she was banned from Italy, her country of adoption. Leaving Italy had broken her heart. She moved back to France. In the mid 80s her lifestyle was of partying everynight with her fiend Alain Pacadis and with her partner in crime actor Jean-François Ferriol who she married in January 1985. In the late 1990s Tina couln’t afford pretty much. After her glory days, her father’s heritage was in the hands of her stepmother and she was reduced to living in a minuscule apartment located in a modest Parisian quarter full of penniless immigrants, and the rent was paid by the city’s social services. In the year 2000 Tina’s health was failing as she suffered from a major stroke and had to live with medication for her lungs although she never gave-up smoking. She eventually cut loose from the metropolis and settled in Port-Vendres near the Catalunyan border. After a quiet couple of years she died in her sleep at home in late 2006. She was 60 years old.

María Montez Gracia Fiallo - She was born in 1951, two weeks after her famous auntie's passing, that's why she was called María Montez as name. Her dad Isidoro, passed away in 1956 when she was 5 years old, just as her cousin Tina. Since she was a little girl, María Montez Gracia Fiallo showed she had talent for performing. As a teenager, she earned a scolarship from the Fundación de Crédito Educativo, and with it she was able to travel to Madrid, Spain, in order to study dramatic art. She moved with her mother Safo. Later, she appeared in Spanish TV shows and films, and she was also very active in theatre for many years there too. Maria also starred in international productions from films, TV and the stage from the United Kingdom, Italy, Germany and France. For years she was part of the Roy Hart Theatre company in London. She stopped her artistic career when she was expecting her first child, daughter Desiree D'Alessandro, who was born with down syndrome, and two years later she had a son, Ricardo D'Alessandro. She lives in Dominican Republic.

Raïna Manuel-Paris Gracia - She is Teresita's only child and she was born between 1956 and 1959. Her parents divorced when she was little. Fairy tales and Legends were her refuges. They helped her understand the difficulties of her childhood. By the age of twelve, she had read most of the myths and legends of the world. From Ireland and Russia to Arabia. Her love of transformational story telling has taken her from an MFA in Film from Columbia University to a Ph.D. in Mythological studies and Depth Psychology. She is a published writer of non-fiction, poetry, and several scholarly articles, as well as a documentary filmmaker. Her understanding of what gives meaning to daily life has led her to her work with dreams, and to include meditation practice in her classrooms. She is a lecturer and scholar who speaks on several subjects. Nowadays, she lives in Ojai, California with her husky mix Numen and her horse Quincy.

#Gracia Family #Joaquín Gracia Anadón #Isidoro Gracia García #Isidoro Gracia Vidal #Maria Montez #Lucita Gracia Vidal #Adita Gracia Vidal #Jaime Gracia Vidal #Teresita Montez #Tina Aumont #María Montez Gracia Fiallo #Raina Paris #María Montez II #familiar karma #Pablo Gracia González #Gaudencia Gracia García

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shreyamistry · 9 months

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Hey There! I saw this, and I couldn't agree more! Nothing says I love you more than "I'm willing to try this for you." And this works for all kinds of relationships: romance, friends, and family, too.

Would you be able to create something showing this for one of your characters or pairings? It could be a drabble, fic, edit, art - anything at all!

NO PRESSURE AT ALL - only if you want to, but I'd love to see what you could come up with!

Pairing: Hana x MC

Prompt: “I’m willing to try this for you.”

Word Count: 1900+

Summary: Nicole invites Hana to a rock concert when the pair visit New York. Nicole relives the nostalgia of living in New York while Hana lives vicariously through the life of a New Yorker.

A/N: Thank you for the ask! I hope this fits (I was trying to rack my brain very hard to find something that makes sense and this is the conclusion my brain came to). I hope you like it 🩷!! Requests are open if anyone is interested !!

Thank you for reading! I hope you like it!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Hana dotes on her dress, her slim fingers smoothing down the fabric trying her best to make it look as sleek as she would prefer. The peach colored gown made her feel almost out of place compared to the other outfits she saw - even compared to Nicole she felt like an outcast. She glances around nervously, picking at a stray piece of lint that lingers on her dress. The fabric soft to the touch, cooling and calming - it helped Hana stay grounded despite her nerves.

“Hana!”

She turns her attention to Nicole who smiles brightly, she draws Hana into a quick hug pulling away to hold her at arm’s length. The pair had decided to meet up at the venue as Hana needed to meet with aspiring young men her parents would try to set her up with if King Liam didn’t work out; and Nicole wanted to meet up with her old co-workers. The thought of Nicole as a waitress intrigued Hana, she often wondered what it would feel and be like to be a true New Yorker without a royal background.

“Nicole! I’m so pleased to see you.”

She smiles brightly as Nicole pulls her in to place a kiss on her cheeks, quick and chaste. She sighs to herself happily, the short interaction enough to make her heart flutter in her chest and her mind race with thoughts. Nicole offers her a cup with a weird array of scents coming off of it giving her a puzzled look.

“It’s a concoction of every soda,” Nicole laughs at the concern written across Hana’s features. “Trust me, it sounds gross but it’s - well kind of gross, but that’s half the fun. It’s a New Yorker thing, I guess.”

Hana laughs gently before taking the drink to her lips. She breathes out deeply before taking a sip from the straw, her face scrunching up in disgust before settling into a look of distress. Every polished part of her screams this is nasty and undignified, but most of her is excited. She goes for a second sip getting a squeal of excitement from Nicole.

“I told you!” Nicole laughs, “it sounds gross, tastes gross, but you can’t stop yourself from going back for seconds!”

“I never realized how exciting being a New Yorker could be,” she replies, “you lived such an exciting life before coming to the courts of Cordonia.”

“It wasn’t all glamor, you should’ve seen the giant rat I called my roommate back at my old place.”

“A giant rat? In your home?!” Hana gasps.

“Mhm,” Nicole nods, she leads Hana by the hand further into the stadium they were at. The sound of music grew louder and louder as they weaved through people, Nicole taking lead to make sure she and Hana could get through the crowd quickly. “I named him Derek, I can’t explain it but he looked like a Derek. Though, I think I was influenced by watching Grey’s Anatomy with him.”

Hana shakes her head in disbelief, letting a giggle leave her lips as Nicole pulls her to a stop the both of them watching each other as people talk excitedly around them the overwhelming sound of music and voices nearly drowning them out from hearing one another.

“I’ve never seen Grey’s Anatomy,” Hana whispers, “Is it good?”

“Hmm, think Open Heart with more drama.” Nicole smiles.

“I love Open Heart.”

“You’re welcome for letting you onto it,” Nicole grins, “I have season 3 on DVD we can watch sometime, though be warned it’s not as good as the first season.”

Hana smiles sweetly, her cheeks flushing crimson red thinking back to her marathons with Nicole watching the first and second season. She remembers the warmth of Nicole’s body next to her, the taste of unhealthy American snacks, and the fun they had laughing and crying over fictional characters and what would become of their medical careers. It was different for Hana, before then she’d never even truly seen a film; her family found it a waste of time. A distraction from her studies and her duties as a woman of the Lee family, she only ever recalls watching a single movie in her youth and that being the Titanic because her mother was fascinated by the concept and Leonardo DiCaprio.

She adored this part of life, the contrast different from growing up in New York versus that of growing up in the courts as she did. The fun she felt with Nicole only grew, she made her branch out and try things she never would’ve even considered or thought to be to be done. The sheer amount of American media from film to music to television excited every part of Hana’s brain. There was so much to learn and notate, even media meant for fun consumption Hana found there was something to learn from it. She never thought she’d find herself at a concert in this way — sure she’d been to classical concerts but they paled in comparison to the excited energy around them.

Hana’s pulled out of her thoughts as she gazes onto the stage in the middle of the stadium where a band takes the stage excitedly talking to the crowd.

“Thank you for coming Hana, I’m glad I can share so much of my life with you. I know this is overwhelming, but you’re handling it like a champ!”

Hana grins, “it does hurt my ears a bit, but I’m happy I came. I’m willing to try this for you.” Nicole squeezes Hana’s hand in return, failing to hide a grin in her attempt to be seen as nonchalant. She’s about to reply when the band speaks up, turning their attention away from each other to the front stage.

“Are you ready to rock New York?!”

“WOOOOO!” The crowd cheers, it’s nearly deafening to Hana, as she tries her best to not show it seeing the smile on Nicole’s face.

Before long the concert is in full swing, people mosh and dance around her with excitement. Hana herself is clinging to Nicole’s arm to not get swept away into the craziness of New York’s crowds, enjoying the feeling of holding Nicole’s hand. This is not something she would’ve done herself, she wouldn’t have even considered coming to a rock concert a mere two months ago. There was something about Nicole that made her feel emboldened and brave; it made her a better person.

The bravery she felt with Nicole; it instilled upon her that she could be her own person and face the world with all of her strength and prove herself to her family and friends alike. She studies Nicole, the excitement on her face as she screams lyrics to a song that Hana can barely understand. Hana couldn’t explain it, but despite being unfamiliar and not all that interested with the event, she still felt engaged and she enjoyed herself even. The smile on Nicole’s face was the most important thing to her in this moment; seeing Nicole happy made Hana happy.

Thinking back on this night, Hana would regard this night as the night she truly full heartedly had fallen in love with Nicole Brooks.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Nicole hunkers down with Hana’s head in her lap, the two of them sitting in the back of a limousine on the way back to the airport. Their four day excursion to New York came to a conclusion, though Nicole almost wishes she and Hana could stay forever and show her all the wonders of New York. Nicole felt comfortable here, it wasn’t all high end glamor and royalty, it was her eating a giant $2 slice of pizza with Derek watching hoping Nicole would drop a few crumbs for him to scurry by and eat.

Nicole longs to be back in New York as much as she won’t express it, so much has changed that she knew she couldn’t just return to New York and pretend she was Nicole Brooks, not Lady Nicole. She wouldn’t know how to settle back into being a waitress with shitty customers, shitty pay, and dull outfits, houses, and friends.

Going to Cordonia reminded Nicole she truly didn’t have many friends or much family to keep up with, she texted a few people in the time she left but none all that important, none that pulled her back to New York. She truly only missed the rock scene, it was her saving grace from her day-to-day life. Long night shifts spent sucking up to rich people for a half decent tip to be able to go see her favorite bands live, to feel a part of a group. Her rock friends being the only few people that would hit her up to see what concerts she’d be at so they could meet up and party together.

She sighs to herself, she wonders what would happen if she’s unable to convince Liam to take her hand in marriage — truthfully, she didn’t know if she even wanted him that much. After everything that happened, everything she’s been through, all the ups and lows, the only constant through it all was Hana. The shoulder for her to rest on and vice versa. She knows she shouldn’t and she knows the possibility is limited; but she often found herself wishing it were Hana’s hand in marriage she was chasing. She shakes the thoughts of her head, Hana and her may have kissed once, but she shouldn’t lose focus now.

She brushes her fingers absently through Hana’s hair, a lingering smile plastered on her features. She hums in appreciation as her fingers glide effortlessly through the strands of Hana’s hair, enjoying the comfort of another person. Her heart giddy in her chest, she never had someone in her life that cares about her happiness like Hana does. Nicole’s many exes would refuse to go on a spontaneous trip or even to a free rock concert.

She remembers the excited, nervous energy bustling through the crowd as they hoisted Hana up to crowd surf. Nicole’s ex would’ve never been caught dead letting herself get crowd surfed, even her ex-boyfriends didn’t appreciate the rock scene as she did. Hana however was different though, she did things Nicole loved without hesitation and Nicole would do the same. She knew her and Hana were more than friends despite the mental turmoil she went through, in the short time she’s known her competing for Prince Liam’s hand in marriage she’s learned more and spent more time with Hana than she did the crowned prince.

She wasn’t sure if Hana returned the feelings, she would be happy just being friends even if they both knew their connection was deeper. She would do anything to keep Hana in her life; she wanted to spend the rest of her life learning about Hana and her interests — as friends or lovers. She wanted to return the favor of doing what Hana loves as Hana does for her.

Nicole leans down to place a kiss to Hana’s temple, whose lips curve into a smile in her sleepy state snuggling in closer to the New Yorker. She strokes Hana’s cheek with the back of her hand; feeling the exhaustion of the night starting to hit her. She herself could also use a nap. Nicole leans back in her seat, her fingers never leaving Hana’s hair as she lets her eyes close hoping her dreams would keep this feeling in her chest alive.

She didn’t know at the time, but this was the moment she truly fell in love with Hana Lee.

#hana lee #hana x mc #the royal romance #trr #choices #choices fanfic #ask #answered #jerzwriter <3 #ty for the ask I do hope it does your prompt Justice 🫶🏻#it’s been soooo long since I wrote for Hana #I miss her so much #she’s my baby #I kith her

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joachimnapoleon · 2 years

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Today is the anniversary of Murat’s death; instead of something sad and gloomy, here is a compilation of Murat’s contemporaries saying nice things about him.

***

Murat was a good man. He was dashingly brave, and possessed military talents together with a great desire to please and to be admired. He sought to have good manners and overdid them. One saw by his exaggerated dress and his attentions to the ladies that he wished to resemble the Villarceaux and Sévignés of the days of Louis XIV. These famous courtiers were the models he had chosen, but the rough hearty republican could not be completely hidden, and the mixture of the two opposite types of character would have been ridiculous at times if one had not been conscious of the honest, frank soldier in the background who reconciled the puppets one to the other. Consequently, in spite of his male and martial beauty he was a far less dangerous person than he imagined.

-Hortense de Beauharnais, The Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol. 2.

***

Much has been said of this truly extraordinary prince; but only those who saw him personally could form a correct idea of him, and even they never knew him perfectly until they had seen him on a field of battle. There he seemed like those great actors who produce a complete illusion amid the fascination of the stage, but in whom we no longer find the hero when we encounter them in private life.... What, so to speak, idealized him was his truly chivalrous bravery, often carried to the point of recklessness, as if danger had no existence for him.

-Recollections of the Private Life of Napoleon, by Constant, Premier Valet de Chambre, Vol. III, 1900, pgs 207-208.

***

The beauty of his person, the charm of his smile, the natural urbanity of his manner--to which, however, he was inclined to add more importance than was consistent with his proper dignity--and the richness of his dress, pleased the multitude and the army, although self-reputed sages laughed at this last display, and pronounced it ridiculous. The affability and gentleness of his manners, which were such as could not have been anticipated from a man of low birth, endeared him to the Court.... Murat was a Charles XII in the field, but a Francis I in his Court. He would have regarded the refusal of a favour to any lady of the Court, even though she were not his mistress, as an indignity.... Unfortunately for him as well as for our poor country, Murat fancied himself extremely sagacious in the art of kingcraft, and above all, that he alone could manage his affairs in the then intricate political state of the times. I do not mean to imply by this that the King was deficient in a certain sagacity; on the contrary, he could at times reason very aptly, and according to the opinion of his minister, Giuseppe Gurlo, who was a man of no ordinary stamp of mind, the King when in council often reasoned in a manner far superior to any of his ministers.

-General Guglielmo Pépé, Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol I [Pépé served under Murat in Naples]

***

In this supreme elevation, he appeared neither astonished nor dazzled; no alteration manifested itself in his naturally generous and easy character; he remained for his parents, his friends, his old comrades, what he had been in his village, or on the benches of the school, or in the lines of a regiment, and yet the greats, the princes, the sovereigns themselves admired in him the noble urbanity befitting the courts, with the imposing grandeur befitting the throne. I have seen this prince in the midst of the armies; his presence alone electrified warriors’ hearts; leaders and soldiers, friends and enemies, he drove them all. The Cossacks, in the background of a Russia in flames, suspended combat to lower their pikes before him, as a sign of homage to this model of valor; they called him their Hetman, as in Egypt the Arabs called him the French Murat-Bey, each one thus signaling by the designation who in their minds commanded the most admiration and respect.

-Jean-Michel Agar, the Count of Mosbourg, from Murat: Lieutenant de l’Empereur en Espagne, 1808, published by Murat’s grandnephew, Joachim Joseph André, in 1897. Agar was Murat’s childhood friend and later served as his finance minister.

***

Posterity will certainly blame King Joachim for some political errors, which in the end were the cause of his own ruin; but his goodness of heart, his frankness and generosity, command an affectionate remembrace. As a warrior, he became an object of veneration to all nations, from the Arab of the desert to the Cossack of the Don. He was loved even by his enemies, and would have been adored throughout the kingdom of Naples, without any exceptions, had not his officers and functionaries sometimes acted at variance with his intentions, and disgusted some classes of the people by vexatious stretches of authority. One of his foibles was, an incapacity to punish; and this, like an analogous failing in parents towards their children, engenders laxity and disobedience.... His desires were those of a King, but his mind was too much that of a soldier; his heart was that of a warm friend to mankind, and was, as said of the gigantic Sir William Jones, "even bigger than his body."

-Memoirs of the Life and Adventures of Colonel Maceroni, Vol II, 1838, pages 348-9. [Maceroni was one of Murat’s aides-de-camp during his reign in Naples]

***

I remember how he envied my position. One day when we were walking together he tried to prove to me that on the staff I had a hundred opportunities and means of bringing myself into notice–that is, of getting on; whereas a regiment was a blind alley where one was confounded with the mass, and that, if you did distinguish yourself, jealousy restrained everyone from speaking of you. Captain as I was, I should be a general before he, a major, was colonel. This statement was the only one not correct, for it was as Bonaparte’s aide-de-camp, a staff-officer that is, that he gained his success. How often did I recall this conversation when I saw him dash like a whirlwind up all the steps of rank and arrive, borne by Caesar’s eagle, with one swoop at the summit of human greatness! I must say, however, that he lost none of the amenity and good-nature which so well blended with his open soul, and with the chivalrous ardour which made him the bravest of the brave.

-The Memoirs of Baron Thiébault (late Lieutenant-general in the French Army) Vol 1; New York (Macmillan Company), 1896, pg 255

***

Who is there who doesn’t know of Murat’s wild courage, and who would not believe that a warrior like that has a soul of steel, an indomitable character? Well, there is not a softer, more gentle creature in private life, even more weak at times. If in camp he receives a letter from his wife, he cries like a child. But at the sound of cannon his head is up, he rushes out and throws himself into the fray–on the battlefield that Achilles has twenty elbows.

-Napoleon to Molé, as recorded by the Count of Mosbourg in Murat: Lieutenant de L'Empereur en Espagne 1808, page 73.

#Joachim Murat #Napoleon’s marshals #Napoleonic #today in history #memoirs

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