Author: Charles Nevin
Publisher: Random House
ISBN: 1780578091
Category : Travel
Languages : en
Pages : 284
Book Description
Enough! For far too long, Lancashire has languished under the grimy pall of smoke and muck and mills and mines, enveloped in outdated condescensions, smothered by the easy dismissals that put down the north of England as just 'up there' and 'grim'. Thank you very much George Orwell, Monty Python and every London cabbie. But Lancashire is not up there. Lancs is actually situated in the centre of the British Isles. And far from being grim, it is a place of wit and wonder, romance and surprise, a land of exotic influence whose people have always looked outward to sophistications and influences beyond frontiers and seas. Indeed, French writer Honoré de Balzac recognised these affinities and yearnings in the Lancashire people when he had one of his characters declare that 'Lancashire is the county where women die of love.' Mock if you like, but then think about it: where is the magnificent thoroughfare that inspired the boulevards of Paris? Where did they go to film Brief Encounter, the most romantic British film ever made? Where did the young Shakespeare dream of and draw on for his inspired imaginings? Join Charles Nevin, Fleet Street journalist and humorist, as he returns to his roots and reveals all this and more. Discover the true Camelot and the beauty that is rugby league. See where Lancastrians go to die, but first visit Lost Lancashire and its great twin cities, Manchester and Liverpool. Mull over why Britain's greatest comics, from Laurel to Coogan, Formby to Vegas, Dodd to Kay, Fields to Wood, Morecambe and Dawson, have all come from Lancs. Mere coincidence? Give over, and read on . . .
Lancashire, Where Women Die of Love
Author: Charles Nevin
Publisher: Random House
ISBN: 1780578091
Category : Travel
Languages : en
Pages : 284
Book Description
Enough! For far too long, Lancashire has languished under the grimy pall of smoke and muck and mills and mines, enveloped in outdated condescensions, smothered by the easy dismissals that put down the north of England as just 'up there' and 'grim'. Thank you very much George Orwell, Monty Python and every London cabbie. But Lancashire is not up there. Lancs is actually situated in the centre of the British Isles. And far from being grim, it is a place of wit and wonder, romance and surprise, a land of exotic influence whose people have always looked outward to sophistications and influences beyond frontiers and seas. Indeed, French writer Honoré de Balzac recognised these affinities and yearnings in the Lancashire people when he had one of his characters declare that 'Lancashire is the county where women die of love.' Mock if you like, but then think about it: where is the magnificent thoroughfare that inspired the boulevards of Paris? Where did they go to film Brief Encounter, the most romantic British film ever made? Where did the young Shakespeare dream of and draw on for his inspired imaginings? Join Charles Nevin, Fleet Street journalist and humorist, as he returns to his roots and reveals all this and more. Discover the true Camelot and the beauty that is rugby league. See where Lancastrians go to die, but first visit Lost Lancashire and its great twin cities, Manchester and Liverpool. Mull over why Britain's greatest comics, from Laurel to Coogan, Formby to Vegas, Dodd to Kay, Fields to Wood, Morecambe and Dawson, have all come from Lancs. Mere coincidence? Give over, and read on . . .
Publisher: Random House
ISBN: 1780578091
Category : Travel
Languages : en
Pages : 284
Book Description
Enough! For far too long, Lancashire has languished under the grimy pall of smoke and muck and mills and mines, enveloped in outdated condescensions, smothered by the easy dismissals that put down the north of England as just 'up there' and 'grim'. Thank you very much George Orwell, Monty Python and every London cabbie. But Lancashire is not up there. Lancs is actually situated in the centre of the British Isles. And far from being grim, it is a place of wit and wonder, romance and surprise, a land of exotic influence whose people have always looked outward to sophistications and influences beyond frontiers and seas. Indeed, French writer Honoré de Balzac recognised these affinities and yearnings in the Lancashire people when he had one of his characters declare that 'Lancashire is the county where women die of love.' Mock if you like, but then think about it: where is the magnificent thoroughfare that inspired the boulevards of Paris? Where did they go to film Brief Encounter, the most romantic British film ever made? Where did the young Shakespeare dream of and draw on for his inspired imaginings? Join Charles Nevin, Fleet Street journalist and humorist, as he returns to his roots and reveals all this and more. Discover the true Camelot and the beauty that is rugby league. See where Lancastrians go to die, but first visit Lost Lancashire and its great twin cities, Manchester and Liverpool. Mull over why Britain's greatest comics, from Laurel to Coogan, Formby to Vegas, Dodd to Kay, Fields to Wood, Morecambe and Dawson, have all come from Lancs. Mere coincidence? Give over, and read on . . .
The Works of Honoré de Balzac
The lily of the valley. The gallery of antiquities
The Works of Balzac
The lily of the valley
The Comédie Humaine
Scenes from the Comedie Humaine
Compendium
The Best Works of Balzac
Author: Honoré de Balzac
Publisher: Good Press
ISBN:
Category : Literary Collections
Languages : en
Pages : 10489
Book Description
The Best Works of Balzac compiles some of the most influential novels and short stories by the renowned French author Honoré de Balzac. Known for his realistic portrayal of French society in the early 19th century, Balzac's works are characterized by intricate character development, detailed descriptions of social structures, and a deep exploration of human nature. The collection includes masterpieces such as 'Eugénie Grandet' and 'Père Goriot', showcasing Balzac's keen observation of human behavior and his ability to capture the complexities of everyday life. Honoré de Balzac, a prolific writer and a prominent figure in French literature, drew inspiration from his own experiences and observations of the society around him. His commitment to portraying the realities of his time in a nuanced and compelling manner set him apart as a literary giant of his era. I highly recommend The Best Works of Balzac to readers interested in exploring the intricacies of human relationships, societal dynamics, and the impact of ambition and greed. Balzac's narratives provide a rich tapestry of emotions and motivations that continue to resonate with audiences today.
Publisher: Good Press
ISBN:
Category : Literary Collections
Languages : en
Pages : 10489
Book Description
The Best Works of Balzac compiles some of the most influential novels and short stories by the renowned French author Honoré de Balzac. Known for his realistic portrayal of French society in the early 19th century, Balzac's works are characterized by intricate character development, detailed descriptions of social structures, and a deep exploration of human nature. The collection includes masterpieces such as 'Eugénie Grandet' and 'Père Goriot', showcasing Balzac's keen observation of human behavior and his ability to capture the complexities of everyday life. Honoré de Balzac, a prolific writer and a prominent figure in French literature, drew inspiration from his own experiences and observations of the society around him. His commitment to portraying the realities of his time in a nuanced and compelling manner set him apart as a literary giant of his era. I highly recommend The Best Works of Balzac to readers interested in exploring the intricacies of human relationships, societal dynamics, and the impact of ambition and greed. Balzac's narratives provide a rich tapestry of emotions and motivations that continue to resonate with audiences today.
The Selected Works of Honore de Balzac
Author: Honore de Balzac
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
ISBN: 1465527745
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 19641
Book Description
Half-way down the Rue Saint-Denis, almost at the corner of the Rue du Petit-Lion, there stood formerly one of those delightful houses which enable historians to reconstruct old Paris by analogy. The threatening walls of this tumbledown abode seemed to have been decorated with hieroglyphics. For what other name could the passer-by give to the Xs and Vs which the horizontal or diagonal timbers traced on the front, outlined by little parallel cracks in the plaster? It was evident that every beam quivered in its mortices at the passing of the lightest vehicle. This venerable structure was crowned by a triangular roof of which no example will, ere long, be seen in Paris. This covering, warped by the extremes of the Paris climate, projected three feet over the roadway, as much to protect the threshold from the rainfall as to shelter the wall of a loft and its sill-less dormer-window. This upper story was built of planks, overlapping each other like slates, in order, no doubt, not to overweight the frail house. One rainy morning in the month of March, a young man, carefully wrapped in his cloak, stood under the awning of a shop opposite this old house, which he was studying with the enthusiasm of an antiquary. In point of fact, this relic of the civic life of the sixteenth century offered more than one problem to the consideration of an observer. Each story presented some singularity; on the first floor four tall, narrow windows, close together, were filled as to the lower panes with boards, so as to produce the doubtful light by which a clever salesman can ascribe to his goods the color his customers inquire for. The young man seemed very scornful of this part of the house; his eyes had not yet rested on it. The windows of the second floor, where the Venetian blinds were drawn up, revealing little dingy muslin curtains behind the large Bohemian glass panes, did not interest him either. His attention was attracted to the third floor, to the modest sash-frames of wood, so clumsily wrought that they might have found a place in the Museum of Arts and Crafts to illustrate the early efforts of French carpentry. These windows were glazed with small squares of glass so green that, but for his good eyes, the young man could not have seen the blue-checked cotton curtains which screened the mysteries of the room from profane eyes. Now and then the watcher, weary of his fruitless contemplation, or of the silence in which the house was buried, like the whole neighborhood, dropped his eyes towards the lower regions. An involuntary smile parted his lips each time he looked at the shop, where, in fact, there were some laughable details. A formidable wooden beam, resting on four pillars, which appeared to have bent under the weight of the decrepit house, had been encrusted with as many coats of different paint as there are of rouge on an old duchess' cheek. In the middle of this broad and fantastically carved joist there was an old painting representing a cat playing rackets. This picture was what moved the young man to mirth. But it must be said that the wittiest of modern painters could not invent so comical a caricature. The animal held in one of its forepaws a racket as big as itself, and stood on its hind legs to aim at hitting an enormous ball, returned by a man in a fine embroidered coat. Drawing, color, and accessories, all were treated in such a way as to suggest that the artist had meant to make game of the shop-owner and of the passing observer. Time, while impairing this artless painting, had made it yet more grotesque by introducing some uncertain features which must have puzzled the conscientious idler. For instance, the cat's tail had been eaten into in such a way that it might now have been taken for the figure of a spectator—so long, and thick, and furry were the tails of our forefathers' cats. To the right of the picture, on an azure field which ill-disguised the decay of the wood, might be read the name "Guillaume," and to the left, "Successor to Master Chevrel." Sun and rain had worn away most of the gilding parsimoniously applied to the letters of this superscription, in which the Us and Vs had changed places in obedience to the laws of old-world orthography. To quench the pride of those who believe that the world is growing cleverer day by day, and that modern humbug surpasses everything, it may be observed that these signs, of which the origin seems so whimsical to many Paris merchants, are the dead pictures of once living pictures by which our roguish ancestors contrived to tempt customers into their houses. Thus the Spinning Sow, the Green Monkey, and others, were animals in cages whose skills astonished the passer-by, and whose accomplishments prove the patience of the fifteenth-century artisan. Such curiosities did more to enrich their fortunate owners than the signs of "Providence," "Good-faith," "Grace of God," and "Decapitation of John the Baptist," which may still be seen in the Rue Saint-Denis.
Publisher: Library of Alexandria
ISBN: 1465527745
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 19641
Book Description
Half-way down the Rue Saint-Denis, almost at the corner of the Rue du Petit-Lion, there stood formerly one of those delightful houses which enable historians to reconstruct old Paris by analogy. The threatening walls of this tumbledown abode seemed to have been decorated with hieroglyphics. For what other name could the passer-by give to the Xs and Vs which the horizontal or diagonal timbers traced on the front, outlined by little parallel cracks in the plaster? It was evident that every beam quivered in its mortices at the passing of the lightest vehicle. This venerable structure was crowned by a triangular roof of which no example will, ere long, be seen in Paris. This covering, warped by the extremes of the Paris climate, projected three feet over the roadway, as much to protect the threshold from the rainfall as to shelter the wall of a loft and its sill-less dormer-window. This upper story was built of planks, overlapping each other like slates, in order, no doubt, not to overweight the frail house. One rainy morning in the month of March, a young man, carefully wrapped in his cloak, stood under the awning of a shop opposite this old house, which he was studying with the enthusiasm of an antiquary. In point of fact, this relic of the civic life of the sixteenth century offered more than one problem to the consideration of an observer. Each story presented some singularity; on the first floor four tall, narrow windows, close together, were filled as to the lower panes with boards, so as to produce the doubtful light by which a clever salesman can ascribe to his goods the color his customers inquire for. The young man seemed very scornful of this part of the house; his eyes had not yet rested on it. The windows of the second floor, where the Venetian blinds were drawn up, revealing little dingy muslin curtains behind the large Bohemian glass panes, did not interest him either. His attention was attracted to the third floor, to the modest sash-frames of wood, so clumsily wrought that they might have found a place in the Museum of Arts and Crafts to illustrate the early efforts of French carpentry. These windows were glazed with small squares of glass so green that, but for his good eyes, the young man could not have seen the blue-checked cotton curtains which screened the mysteries of the room from profane eyes. Now and then the watcher, weary of his fruitless contemplation, or of the silence in which the house was buried, like the whole neighborhood, dropped his eyes towards the lower regions. An involuntary smile parted his lips each time he looked at the shop, where, in fact, there were some laughable details. A formidable wooden beam, resting on four pillars, which appeared to have bent under the weight of the decrepit house, had been encrusted with as many coats of different paint as there are of rouge on an old duchess' cheek. In the middle of this broad and fantastically carved joist there was an old painting representing a cat playing rackets. This picture was what moved the young man to mirth. But it must be said that the wittiest of modern painters could not invent so comical a caricature. The animal held in one of its forepaws a racket as big as itself, and stood on its hind legs to aim at hitting an enormous ball, returned by a man in a fine embroidered coat. Drawing, color, and accessories, all were treated in such a way as to suggest that the artist had meant to make game of the shop-owner and of the passing observer. Time, while impairing this artless painting, had made it yet more grotesque by introducing some uncertain features which must have puzzled the conscientious idler. For instance, the cat's tail had been eaten into in such a way that it might now have been taken for the figure of a spectator—so long, and thick, and furry were the tails of our forefathers' cats. To the right of the picture, on an azure field which ill-disguised the decay of the wood, might be read the name "Guillaume," and to the left, "Successor to Master Chevrel." Sun and rain had worn away most of the gilding parsimoniously applied to the letters of this superscription, in which the Us and Vs had changed places in obedience to the laws of old-world orthography. To quench the pride of those who believe that the world is growing cleverer day by day, and that modern humbug surpasses everything, it may be observed that these signs, of which the origin seems so whimsical to many Paris merchants, are the dead pictures of once living pictures by which our roguish ancestors contrived to tempt customers into their houses. Thus the Spinning Sow, the Green Monkey, and others, were animals in cages whose skills astonished the passer-by, and whose accomplishments prove the patience of the fifteenth-century artisan. Such curiosities did more to enrich their fortunate owners than the signs of "Providence," "Good-faith," "Grace of God," and "Decapitation of John the Baptist," which may still be seen in the Rue Saint-Denis.