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andy-rea · 4 years

Text

Maybe

Rating: General Audiences

Fandom: Versailles (TV 2015)

Relationship: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)

Characters: Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015) Chevalier de Lorraine (Versailles 2015) Louis XIV (Versailles 2015) Alexandre Bontemps (Versailles 2015) Henriette d'Angleterre (Versailles 2015) Marie-Thérèse (Versailles 2015) Original Characters

Additional Tags: Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks

Language:English

Series: Part 1 of the Monchevy Soulmates Series

Summary: In a world where a mark should appear where your soulmates hands touch you for the first time, Monsieur doesn't believe his mother's stories about it anymore. When he was a child he used to imagine his soulmate, but life seemed so cruel to actually reserve something like this for him. So, now he is almost 16, dressed in his mother's favorite gown, ready for his brother's marriage announcement at Palais Royale. What can possibly go wrong?

Maybe

Philippe really wanted to run away. If he was in better circumstances, if he wasn’t wearing a gown, if he wasn’t in heels, he would probably go back to Saint Germain in a hurry.

Running, possibly.

The prince of France sighed, checking on his hair in the mirror, braided by his mother just a few hours earlier.

She always liked to dress him up, since he was a child. After all, he was her “little princess”.

When he was little, everything about this dress-up thing was normal to him. The first time his mother braided his hair, he was ten and it was finally long enough for her to do it properly. He remembered the moment he saw himself in the mirror, a boy in a lilac dress, long dark hair up in a simple braid and just one, single lock left free to settle on the boy’s naked shoulder, too short to reach the dress’ neckline. Now, almost six years later, the strand of black hair reached that neckline and rested on the fabric of the green gown he wore, at chest high.

Philippe caressed that lock of hair, fear of messing it all up. He felt like he was watching someone else, someone he couldn’t recognize.

He was still looking in the mirror when he felt a hand at his lower back. Philippe raised his eyes in the glass, and a spontaneous smile formed on his thin lips. His mother smiled back at him, standing still behind his back.

“Philippe… ma petite princesse.” the Queen of France kept smiling, making her second son turn around so he would face her. She took his hands in hers, both of Philippe’s wrapped in light green gloves, long enough to reach his elbows. The queen cared so much for his gloves, in fact, he wore them all the time, a shorter version was made for his male clothing, but she went more uncompromising during court events. Tonight was no exception.

“Thank you, mother,” Philippe said in a whisper, still smiling at her. She checked one more time at his dress, then his gloves and his hairstyle, smiling, satisfied that everything was perfectly settled. As she seemed to say something else, someone cleared their throat and distracted them. Mother and son turned, seeing Bontemps waiting for a sign to speak. Queen Anne smiled, nodding to allow him to talk.

“My Queen, Your Highness, it’s time. The King is waiting for you to make your entrance.”

“Of course he is,” Philippe whispered, only for his mother to listen. She smiled again at him, releasing his hands from her gentle grasp, and began to cross the room, through the door that connected them to the Gran Salon. The prince followed, hearing Bontemps doing the same behind him.

“Tell me, Bontemps,” Philippe waited for the young man, letting his mother make her own entrance before him. The Prince put his right, gloved, hand on the valet arm, allowing him to lead the short way through the salon. “How much my dressing for tonight is the Queen’s idea?”

“I sincerely don’t know what you are talking about, Your Highness,” Bontemps said politely, as he always were.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about. He’s announcing his marriage and now I can dress as I please. Something must be up tonight, and I know him too well to ignore it.”

“Monsieur, I really don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me,” the valet said and smiled, but Philippe knew from his voice tone that he knew it very well indeed. “But, if I can tell you with all due respect… I will take off my gloves for tonight’s event if I was in your shoes.”

“Luckily, you are not. Plus, listen to my mother rumble again and again about all that soulmates stuff? Please, spare me.” His mother loved to tell him stories about soulmates when he was a child. Every night she was ready with a new story, written in an old journal she took with her everywhere. When the King died, she took away that book, and Philippe never saw it again. Every story was so different from one another, one time it talked about a shiny prince and a farmer daughter, another one was about a princess of a foreign kingdom and a king, already married to someone else. But his favorite was about a couple of valets, separated by their king at the end of the tale. It was sad but Philippe had always seen himself in one of them, who found out who their soulmates were, then got their mark for never seeing each other ever again.

“You know,” Bontemps interrupted him, the only one Philippe allowed to do it, posing his free hand on the prince’s, still on the valet arm, though they were so close to the salon. “That is not just soulmates stuff. I have my own mark, and I’m very grateful for it. It reminds me that someone loves me, no matter what.”

“Isn’t a marriage made for that thought of yours?”

“Are you so sure about that, Your Highness?” the valet broke their contact, taking both of Philippe’s hands in his instead. “Do both of us a favor tonight and listen to me. Take off these gloves, and give all this stuff a chance, before it’s too late.” Philippe stared at him, confused by his words. Why so suddenly? “I promise I will think about it during dinner,” he finally said, even if his confusion was still there, written in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I think I won’t have anymore from you right now, won’t I?” Philippe lightly smiled, nodding while releasing his hands from Bontemp’s gentle grasp. “Yes, I think so. Now, It’s time for me to make my glorious entrance before my brother steals all the attention. How do I look?” the valet looked at him for a moment before smiling at him, a smile that could be compared only with a father’s one. Philippe had no memories about his father, at least not a clear one. All was blurred, he was so little when the man died, and Bontemps was the closest figure to a father that he could ever have. Yes, he had his uncle, the other Monsieur as his mother liked to call him, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same. “Stunning. Maybe tonight will be your chance to steal all the attention, who knows.”

“Bontemps, sometimes I really don’t understand whose valet you are, mine or Louis’. But, thank you for your words. Now, clear the way, the show is beginning.” Philippe straightened his naked shoulders and raised his head, ready to make his entrance in the salon. He knew what to expect once inside, he could already see in his mind all the kind of emotion that will appear on the nobles’ faces once they will see him dressed like that. Disgust, hilarity, concern, maybe rage (probably Louis’), even desire if someone hadn’t ever seen him like this. Philippe was curious, like every time he crossdresses, on how much people would try to talk to him with feminine pronouns. Yes, he was dressed like a woman, but he was a man under all that fabric and ribbons. He liked to be a man, a man that liked to cross-dress too. He knew that in other circumstances if he hadn’t been the king’s younger son and then the king’s brother, he would probably be imprisoned and sent to the American colonies if caught dressing like that in public. But, that was France, that was the Palais Royale, and that was royalty. And even if Louis often liked to forget sometimes, Philippe was royalty too.

Monsieur crossed the door of the Grand Salon, a polite smile on his lips and his eyes right ahead of him, pointed on the Queen just at the farthest end of the room. Philippe let his stare to pose on his brother, right beside their mother, and for a second the blue of the sea met the azure of the storm. If they were still kids, Philippe would have probably lowered his gaze, afraid of the consequences of disrespect to the king. But now he wasn’t a kid anymore, he was a young man, he was a soldier on his inner side. He would win a war, he knew it for sure. But Philippe was locked in the palace instead, studying the war from the books and the stories of those who lived that kind of reality. The two brothers were now facing each other and after a little moment, the room went silent. Philippe smiled again at that sudden absence of any sound, it seemed like everyone had stopped breathing. Bunch of cowards, it was the only way he could call all of them, even if it was only in his thoughts. After all, even the king’s brother had to respect his guests. At least, aloud. Philippe bowed in front of his brother, or better, he made a reverence, as every other noble lady had done before him. He knew Louis would be mental for it, but he also knew the king would never throw a fight right there, in the middle of the party. After a couple of glasses of wine, he would forget about his ladylike reverence. “Enough, brother,” Philippe raised his eyes at those words and realized Louis was watching him politely, not a sign of disgust written in his sight. “You look stunning tonight, our mother has a talent for fashion, I’m sure you agree.” Now he was confused, who the hell is this, and what happened to his annoying brother? “Of course she has,” Philippe said with a little voice, smiling though feeling like the most confused man of the country. Or the world, better. “Well, you remember Henrietta, right?” the prince looked at his brother like he had something growing on his curled head. “You mean our childhood friend Henrietta? The Henrietta who I played cards with all afternoon? Yes, I think I might remember her.” For the first time that night, his gaze went on Henrietta, beautiful as always in her light pink dress. Her eyes had the same veil of confusion as his own, they matched perfectly. “I believe you two would be a perfect match, don’t you think mother?” Oh, there it is, the pink elephant he felt behind him, the knife ready to stab him right between his shoulders. He knew something was up, but he didn’t imagine it would be out so soon. Philippe looked at his mother then and her smile explained everything, all the cards were on the table now. Bontemps words echoed in his mind, a bleary warning that he hadn’t caught. Maybe the valet thought he had more time. Well, he hadn’t.

“Louis, I don’t…” Henrietta tried to say something, but she was smarter than that, she knew nothing she said would change anything. And so do him, he knew nothing could be done at this moment. So he straightened his shoulders like the man he was, so much in contrast with his dressing and his looking, but he knew by his brother’s eyes that he never looked more masculine before. “I think some decisions have been already made about this. So, brother, who am I to interfere?” Philippe asked rhetorically and made a reverence again, smiling to his fiancée (oh, he had to practice saying this out loud) in the process. “Now, if you excuse me, I would like to take advantage of my last free man night. I think we will see each other at the dinner table, won’t we?” And he was gone, gone before his tongue got him in more trouble. He only needed some wine, so much wine, and everything would be alright. Philippe knew someday that night would come, the moment in which Louis will tell him who he had to marry. Thinking about it, he was lucky after all. He knew Henrietta very well, they were friends for years, she was the first one he told about his preferences, and she was always supportive of him. She told him she was in love with his brother, she hoped Louis liked her back and maybe marry her someday. But that day will never come, and the truth was slapped in their faces in front of every noble of France. How kind of him, so caring. Philippe sighed at these thoughts, closing his eyes to gain some strength he was sure was missing. His life was at a breaking point, and he thought about it as an island, divided by a swollen river. On one side, there was him in his high uniform, a shiny sword tied at his left side, Henrietta at his right one, dressed in the most beautiful wedding dress he would ever imagine. On the other side, there was always him, dressed with his casual wardrobe, a huge smile on his face, and a male figure beside him. His hand shows a mark, a soulmate's mark that looked like the one his mother talked about in all her bedtime stories when he was a child. “Your Highness?” reality brought him back in that salon, to that voice calling him. Philippe opened his eyes and turned, frowning at the sight of Bontemps in the company of a boy he’d never seen before. “Bontemps. Something wrong?” he tried to say, clearing his throat soon after. The valet shook his head, nodding at Philippe’s hands. “I see you followed my advice, Your Highness, I’m so glad about it.” Philippe looked at him in confusion and lowered his gaze on his hands, wincing slightly when he saw his naked skin. Probably he took off his gloves while deep in thoughts, or he was so idiotic and didn’t notice someone was taking them off. He hoped for himself it was the first option.

“Oh well… Maybe. I think my brother’s words were… convincing, you know. Who’s this?” Philippe pointed a finger to the young man at the valet side, making him wince for a second. Then a smile broke on his handsome face and his eyes met Philippe’s before he bowed in front of him. “My pleasure, Your Highness. My name is Philippe de Lorraine, but they call me Chevalier. I think it has the same effect as your Monsieur, Monsieur.” “He is the Count of Armagnac’s younger brother, just designated after his father's death. They arrived today to live here with some other noble families. Our King’s idea.” Philippe snorted for a second, but he smiled right after, as his eyes were back again in the other Philippe’s. “Well, it seems like we both have a brother ahead of us, don’t we?”

“For this reason, I thought, with your mother’s consent, you two could have something in common. The palace can be so huge and empty sometimes.”

Philippe frowned at the mention of his mother so out of place in that sentence's contest.

"I must say my mother had a lot of surprises for me tonight, hadn't she?" the Prince murmured, lowering his gaze for a second. When he looked up again, he met the Chevalier's smile, and his own lips moved to mirror that expression. He was handsome, and that was a fact. He had long, blond hair, so fair that it almost reflected the salon's lights.

"Well," the Chevalier's take a step ahead, presenting his right arm to him. "I think we shouldn't make them wait, shouldn't we?"

Philippe smiled, a real smile so different from those he reserved for the nobles and for his brother. The Prince took that arm then, pleased at the sensation of his jacket fabric, so soft under his naked hand.

"I totally agree with that. Bontemps, I hope our guest will find a seat beside mine at the table." The valet smiled at his Prince, bowing slightly in front of them.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The dinner went better than Philippe could ever imagine. In the beginning, he felt awkward to sit between his new, stunning, fiance' and his new good looking friend, but his smart-talking and the wine made Philippe relax before the main course. Food was eaten and more wine was drunk, the atmosphere in the Salon light and full of its occupants' smiles. In that joyful air the Chevalier's took his right hand, skin against skin, making Philippe shiver a little bit.

"You know, people say that this palace has the most wonderful garden in the whole of France. I would really like to see them, at the lantern light they would be even more breathtaking." Philippe's smile grew on his lips at that request and nodded briefly, feeling his black hair move around his head.

"I think that is a wonderful idea. And I would like some fresh air." The Prince replied, adjusting his gown before standing up, hiding their entangled hands in the fabric of his skirt. While they were crossing the room to the door, Philippe's eyes met Bontemps'. The valet was openly smiling, some kind of sparks in his gaze. The younger smiled back, catching that sparkle and knew its twin was now in his own fair eyes. Philippe hurried a little his pace, entering the gardens with a sigh of relief, the fresh air of that beautiful night like a gentle touch against his skin.

"I knew they were beautiful. But, Your Highness, I believe your mise en place put everything else in the shadows."

"What a charmer, You are," Philippe was delighted by his attention, he would be a fool to deny it. That man in front of him was saying everything he wanted to hear by someone, he was holding his hand in that kind of way he thought he could only dream about. For the first time, he felt 'normal', a young man like the ones of his mother stories, that valet in which he always feels so identified. "Surely, You say all of this to every man You want to sleep with." The blond tightened his grip on his hand, taking it to his lips. He gave him a perfect kiss on the back of his hand, making the prince almost blush.

"You believe it or not my prince, I've never done something like this with anyone else." The Chevalier's voice was so clear that Philippe couldn't do less than believe him.

The Prince took a step forward then, coming closer to that man and to his mermaid’s voice. Maybe that was what Bontemps was babbling about a few hours before, that marriage wasn't made for soulmates. In fact, when Philippe thought about it, even in his mother’s stories rarely soulmates were married at the ending of the tale.

"You know… call me a fool or naive if you like. But, Chevalier de Lorraine, I believe you." and their entangled hands were the proof of his speaking. Chevalier's hand was warm against his own cold one, and the prince found himself shivering for it. That was new for him, he never felt something like that for anyone. "And I think You could accompany me to a little walk among the oranges, couldn't you?"

And he did. He guided the prince through the gardens as he knew them for his whole life. The moon, high in the cloudless sky was their guide, the bright stars the only witnesses of their time together, the audience of one of many kisses that they gave each other that night. Words were said, so many to fill thousands of pages of a book Philippe will certainly keep forever in his mind.

Splitting for sleep was hard, both their faces a mirror of what they spent the night doing. Their lips were swollen, still red and wet even when they reached the hallway in front of Philippe's rooms. The candles were the only audience of their last kiss, the braids in Philippe’s hair were a long-gone memory. Now his dark, long waves were loose on his shoulders, the makeup on his face not so in place anymore. But the Chevalier didn’t seem to care, both his hands were holding the Prince’s face and he locked their eyes together. “Henceforth, every day that I do not touch you, taste you, feel you, will be a day of death and mourning.” Chevalier murmured right against Philippe’s lips before kissing him again, and that tasted like a goodnight kiss. A new, bright smile cracked on Monsieur’s face, while his hands flew in a second to cover the other ones.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to let a single day pass without seeing you, touch you, taste you, or feel you. You are under my skin, Chevalier de Lorraine… and you don’t even know what kind of trouble you put yourself on.” The smile on the other man’s face didn’t show any kind of worry. Chevalier kissed his forehead this time,

the small hint of blond mustache pinched his skin, and for a split second, Philippe thought about that sensation on other parts of his body, so much more sensitive than his visage.

“I’m not worried, my Prince. I know royalty always keeps its promises,” He said and took a step backward, sliding aways his hands from the other’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, will I?” Philippe simply nodded, biting his lips while he watched the blond young man walk across the corridor, and disappear around the corner. A huge smile took place on his lips as he turned around and entered his quarters, the feeling of those gentle hands still a relevant feeling above his skin. He watched himself in the mirror again, like he did a few, but that felt like years, hours earlier. Now, his hairstyle was completely ruined, his precious hair clip was now pinned on Chevalier’s jacket, right where Philippe had placed it while in the gardens. He liked the idea the other owns something it was his, and that hair clip was his favorite.

The prince let his own gaze go down to his neck and he moved his long hair to look better at his soft skin. There was one little, but so visible, red spot on it, right down his jawline. Philippe touched it like he was afraid of feeling it burn, but it didn’t. It was warm, yes, but a good kind of warm, and it was tender under his fingertips. His first love bite. Someone cleared his throat again, and the prince got distracted again from his inspection. A valet was behind him, a little smile on his own face but a particular sign on his cheek took the other man all the attention, a shape of a handprint. A birthmark, it seemed. A soulmates’ mark.

“Your Highness, I think it's time to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day, I can assure you that, if I may.” Philippe took a moment to look at him, before answering. He was a ginger, so rare in their country, his curly hair cut really short so anyone could barely see he was curly. Nobody was cutting their hair like that in France, so Philippe frowned a little.

“You may. Begin to unfasten the corset.” the prince ordered and took away his waves, so the valet could reach the laces. He saw him nodding and reaching him, soon beginning to work with the knots. “Why is your hair so short?” he asked him, without really the intention to. But the boy kept his smile, his hands still busy with the laces.

"My lover liked them this way. It shows my mark." The valet's voice was calm like he was talking about the weather, or the soup he ate for dinner. "He is very proud of it. And so am I." The prince kept watching him through the mirror, his hands still caressing his own hair.

"I've never seen you here before. What's your name?"

"Lucas, your Highness. And yes, I arrived today, with the nobles and other valets." Philippe nodded and he never let the gaze flip from the valet reflection. He felt the corset loosen the grip around his own torso, and the Prince could finally breathe properly again. “For what it's worth, we are very grateful to your highness for allowing us to follow our masters. At home... It would have been very hard. " Philippe watched him turn and put the garment back with attentive eyes, always through the glass.

“I would like to take all the credit for my brother's placement choices, but in reality my observations count as very little. Although I'm glad it's a good thing for some of us at least, ” The prince then saw him smile as he approached again, working hard afterward to untie the bows of the dress's skirt.

“I don't want to be indiscreet, but I noticed earlier that you bonded with master Philippe. I haven't seen him smile like that since the count of Armagnac was still alive, " the prince tightened his shoulders hearing that name, narrowing his eyes.

"To live here, maybe you have to learn to keep your tongue in check." the valet immediately lowered his face, actually realizing that he had talked too much.

"Forgive me, your highness," he said, continuing with quick hands to finish his job and help him put on his nightclothes. During the action, Philippe could not get that bright smile out of his mind, and he could not even imagine seeing that face obscured by sadness. He walked towards the bed almost like a puppet, sitting on the mattress before looking at the valet again.

"Thanks and ... I'm sorry. I was thoughtless, ” he said almost as if it were a secret, and he noticed the boy smile as he heard him address to himself like that.

“You know, you are so different from what is expected. And it's a good thing, your highness. One day who knows .. You could be a great king. " Philippe was speechless for a moment, but Lucas gave him no way to reply. “But now you have to rest. A great day awaits you, ” he continued and blew on the candles, so they both found themselves in the dark. Philippe heard him go away and saw him in the twilight go through the door of his bedroom, going out and closing it behind him.

When he woke up the next morning, Philippe was sure that his lips were red exactly like the night before. He felt his head in full motion, the previous night spent reviewing all the memories of the past evening, those kisses, and those light touches. For a moment, as soon as he opened his eyes, Philippe thought it was just a giant dream. Then he had felt his swollen lips and the discomfort at his torso where the corset splints had tightened him, and yes, it was all true. A smile was born spontaneously and he ran a hand through his hair still with his eyes closed, removing it from his rested face. He then brought that same hand to his mouth but stopped halfway. There was something different, the tone of his skin was different. It was more red, like a birthmark he was sure he didn't have before.

As a…

No, it was not possible.

He sat up suddenly, without taking care of the hair in front of his face this time. He blamed the semi-dark that still reigned in the room, surely he had seen wrong. Then he quickly got up from the bed, throwing the covers sideways, making them almost fall off the mattress, and hurried with his bare feet to the window. He opened the doors without care, letting the wood slam and the roaring rumble for his apartments. Then he laid his eyes on her skin again and felt his heart beating madly in his chest as if it wanted to go out and plant himself on that wine-colored skin. The prince only looked up when he heard the door of the room open, revealing a breathless Lucas, still in light clothes and a jacket that was evidently thrown hurriedly on his shoulders to seem presentable.

"Your highness, what .." he stopped too, noting what had shocked him in that way. And when Philippe noticed the bright smile on the face of that boy he had just met, he understood that yes, it was really what he thought. At that moment he really felt part of those stories that had accompanied him throughout his childhood, and the phantom island that seemed to represent his life appeared again in his mind.

But this time, the hand joined to his was Chevalier's, both of them smiling. And then all the words that Philippe had no sense during the evening before found a place, beginning to write his personal story, worthy of being written alongside those present in the journal that his mother so jealously guarded.

#monchevy #soulmatesau #soulmates #versailles #philippe chevalier de lorraine #Philippe d'Orléans #philippedorleans #fanfiction #fanworks

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7r0773r · 5 years

Text

The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson

I was leaving the South To fling myself into the unknown. . . . I was taking a part of the South To transplant in alien soil, To see if it could grow differently, If it could drink of new and cool rains, Bend in strange winds, Respond to the warmth of other suns And, perhaps, to bloom. —RICHARD WRIGHT

***

Across the South, someone was hanged or burned alive every four days from 1889 to 1929, according to the 1933 book The Tragedy of Lynching, for such alleged crimes as “stealing hogs, horse-stealing, poisoning mules, jumping labor contract, suspected of killing cattle, boastful remarks” or “trying to act like a white person.” Sixty-six were killed after being accused of “insult to a white person.” One was killed for stealing seventy-five cents. (p.39)

***

Throughout the South, the conventional rules of the road did not apply when a colored motorist was behind the wheel. If he reached an intersection first, he had to let the white motorist go ahead of him. He could not pass a white motorist on the road no matter how slowly the white motorist was going and had to take extreme caution to avoid an accident because he would likely be blamed no matter who was at fault. In everyday interactions, a black person could not contradict a white person or speak unless spoken to first. A black person could not be the first to offer to shake a white person’s hand. A handshake could occur only if a white person so gestured, leaving many people having never shaken hands with a person of the other race. The consequences for the slightest misstep were swift and brutal. Two whites beat a black tenant farmer in Louise, Mississippi, in 1948, wrote the historian James C. Cobb, because the man “asked for a receipt after paying his water bill.”

It was against the law for a colored person and a white person to play checkers together in Birmingham. White and colored gamblers had to place their bets at separate windows and sit in separate aisles at racetracks in Arkansas. At saloons in Atlanta, the bars were segregated; Whites drank on stools at one end of the bar and blacks on stools at the other end, until the city outlawed even that, resulting in white-only and colored-only saloons. There were white parking spaces and colored parking spaces in the town square in Calhoun City, Mississippi. In one North Carolina courthouse, there was a white Bible and a black Bible to swear to tell the truth on. (pp. 44-45)

***

[In 1861] Florida heartily joined a new country whose cornerstone, according to the Confederacy’s vice president, Alexander Hamilton Stephens, was “the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery—subordination to the superior race—is his natural and normal condition.” This new government, Stephens declared, “is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth.” (pp. 58-59)

***

But the masses did not pour out of the South until they had something to go to. They got their chance when the North began courting them, hard and in secret, in the face of southern hostility, during the labor crisis of World War I. Word had spread like wildfire that the North was finally “opening up.” (p. 161)

***

When the people kept leaving, the South resorted to coercion and interception worthy of the Soviet Union, which was forming at the same time across the Atlantic. Those trying to leave were rendered fugitives by definition and could not be certain they would be able to make it out. In Brookhaven, Mississippi, authorities stopped a train with fifty colored migrants on it and sidetracked it for three days. In Albany, Georgia, the police tore up the tickets of colored passengers as they stood waiting to board, dashing their hopes of escape. A minister in South Carolina, having seen his parishioners off, was arrested at the station on the charge of helping colored people get out. In Savannah, Georgia, the police arrested every colored person at the station regardless of where he or she was going. In Summit, Mississippi, authorities simply closed the ticket office and did not let northbound trains stop for the colored people waiting to get on. (p. 163)

***

Fewer than one out of five sharecroppers ever saw a profit at the end of the year. Of the few who got anything, their pay came to between $30 and $150 in the 1930s for a year of hard toil in the field, according to a leading Yale anthropologist of the era, or between nine and forty-eight cents a day. The remaining eighty percent either broke even, meaning they got nothing, or stayed in debt, which meant they were as bound to the planter as a slave was to his master. (p. 167)

***

Yet the hardened and peculiar institution of Jim Crow made the Great Migration different from ordinary human migrations. In their desperation to escape what might be considered a man-made pestilence, southern blacks challenged some scholarly assumptions about human migration. One theory had it that, due to human pragmatism and inertia, migrating people tend to “go no further from their homes in search of work than is absolutely necessary,” [British historian E. G.] Ravenstein observed.

“The bulk of migrants prefers a short journey to a long one,” he wrote. “The more enterprising long-journey migrants are the exceptions and not the rule.” Southern blacks were the exception. They traveled deep into far-flung regions of their own country and in some cases clear across the continent. Thus the Great Migration had more in common with the vast movements of refugees from famine, war, and genocide in other parts of the world, where oppressed people, whether fleeing twenty-first-century Darfur or nineteenth-century Ireland, go great distances, journey across rivers, deserts, and oceans or as far as it takes to reach safety with the hope that life will be better wherever they land. (p. 179)

***

Against nearly every assumption about the Migration, the 1965 census study found that the migrants of the 1950s—particularly those who came from towns and cities, as had George Starling and Robert Foster—had more education than even the northern white population they joined. (p. 262)

***

Overall, however, what was becoming clear was that, north or south, wherever colored labor was introduced, a rivalrous sense of unease and insecurity washed over the working-class people who were already there, an unease that was economically not without merit but rose to near hysteria when race and xenophobia were added to preexisting fears. The reality was that Jim Crow filtered through the economy, north and south, and pressed down on poor and working-class people of all races. The southern caste system that held down the wages of colored people also undercut the earning power of the whites around them, who could not command higher pay as long as colored people were forced to accept subsistence wages. (p. 317)

***

[George Starling] and his co-worker barely noticed that everyone else at the bar happened to be white as they regaled each other with stories from riding the rails. When it was time to go, they paid their tab and put their glasses down.

The bartender had said very little to them the whole time they were there. Now the bartender calmly picked up their glasses, and instead of loading them into a tray to be washed, he took them and smashed them under the counter. The sound of glass breaking on concrete startled George and his co-worker, even though this wasn’t the first time this had happened to them, just not at this bar, and it attracted the attention of other patrons.

“They do it right in front of us,” George said. “That’s the way they let us know they didn’t want us in there. As fast as you drink out of a glass and set it down, they break it.”

There were not colored or white signs in New York. That was the unnerving and tricky part of making your way through a place that looked free. You never knew when perfect strangers would remind you that, as far as they were concerned, you weren’t equal and might never be. (pp. 340-41)

***

“Even in the North, refugees were not always safe,” wrote Arna Bontemps and Jack Conroy in the 1945 book Anyplace but Here. “One hard-working migrant was astonished when a detective from Atlanta approached him and informed him that he was wanted back home for ‘spitting on the sidewalk.’”(p. 367)

***

Contrary to conventional wisdom, the decline in property values and neighborhood prestige was a by-product of the fear and tension itself, sociologists found. The decline often began, they noted, in barely perceptible ways, before the first colored buyer moved in.

The instability of a white neighborhood under pressure from the very possibility of integration put the neighborhood into a kind of real estate purgatory. It set off a downward cycle of anticipation, in which worried whites no longer bought homes in white neighborhoods that might one day attract colored residents even if none lived there at the time. Rents and purchase prices were dropped “in a futile attempt to attract white residents,” as Hirsch put it. With prices falling and the neighborhood’s future uncertain, lenders refused to grant mortgages or made them more difficult to obtain. Panicked whites sold at low prices to salvage what equity they had left, giving the homeowners who remained little incentive to invest any further to keep up or improve their properties.

Thus many white neighborhoods began declining before colored residents even arrived, Hirsch noted. There emerged a perfect storm of nervous owners, falling prices, vacancies unfillable with white tenants or buyers, and a market of colored buyers who may not have been able to afford the neighborhood at first but now could with prices within their reach. The arrival of colored home buyers was often the final verdict on a neighborhood’s falling property value rather than the cause of it. (pp. 376-77)

***

[Martin Luther] King was running headlong into what the sociologist Gunnar Myrdal called the Northern Paradox. In the North, Myrdal wrote, “almost everybody is against discrimination in general, but, at the same time, almost everybody practices discrimination in his own personal affairs”—that is, by not allowing blacks into unions or clubhouses, certain jobs, and white neighborhoods, indeed, avoiding social interaction overall.

“It is the culmination of all these personal discriminations,” he continued, “which creates the color bar in the North, and, for the Negro, causes unusually severe unemployment, crowded housing conditions, crime and vice. About this social process, the ordinary white Northerner keeps sublimely ignorant and unconcerned.” (p. 387)

#isabel wilkerson #book quotes

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proselys · 6 years

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Philippe’s Characterisation in Season 3 (MAJOR SPOILERS)

I don’t have time to do this episode by episode so here is an overview (a long one) of Philippe’s characterisation in Season 3. It’s from what I remember so I’m probably missing a few things and bits wont be in order. Also, spoilers, obviously.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As I think back to when Philippe arrived back at Versailles, it’s almost certain that his PTSD was affecting him, but in ways we haven’t seen before. In Season 1, Philippe acted out. He took it out on others, yet this time it is a lot more internal and it’s himself that he’s punishing for it - which is such a reoccurring theme in his life.

He gets back, realises how different Versailles is. How different and grown up the Chevalier and Liselotte is and how he doesn’t quite fit into the picture anymore. In his mind, they don’t need him. They’ve done well without him for so many months and he doesn’t know how to cope with that. Philippe’s used to being the one that the Chevalier hung on too. He relied on that because he didn’t have anyone else. Even in Season 2, Liselotte depended on him because she was his new wife. She was in a foreign country. She needed him. But now Liselotte and the Chevalier are best friends (my favourite thing ever) and he feels alone.

So, he pushes them away because he doesn’t want to intrude on their lives. But it’s not only that. I think Philippe knew that this time coming back from war was worse than the last. I think he knew how much it was affecting him and how depressed it was making him, and he didn’t want the Chevalier to put up with that. So, he breaks up with him because he knows he deserved better. Should he have done that? No. But let’s also remember that they hadn’t been properly okay since the beginning of Season 2. Yes, things started to get better for them at the end of that season but only for a moment before Philippe went to war.

‘‘But there are things I must do before I can love you again.’ ‘

Philippe needed to find himself before he could give that person to the Chevalier, but he only ended up losing himself more. Philippe never stopped loving him, I don’t think he ever could, but he wasn’t in the right state of mind to love him and I think he was trying to save them both in his own stupid way from his own actions. That and he didn’t think the Chevalier needed him anymore, which is also stupid because Chev will always need him. It just so happens that he grew up as well, became more confident, learnt not to lean on Philippe for everything and both of them are not in the same place.

As the season progresses, one thing I noticed was that Philippe never once got angry about the Chevalier and Delphine. Yes, there was a bit of snarkiness when he saw their flirting, but I don’t think it was meant to be hurtful. This could be for a few reasons; Philippe was mindful of how he and Thomas had made the Chevalier feel and so it would be hypocritical to be bad at it. Philippe wants him to be happy and if this woman made him happy then that was okay with him. I don’t think through most of the season that he actually realised they were in love. I think he thought of it as a fling and that it would end at some point.

This is totally apparent in the scene where they’re sitting on the bed together (one of my favourites). Chevy is talking, and Philippe goes ‘’are you really in love with that women?’’ I don’t think he fully grasped it. But he still didn’t argue or fight with him about it. He gave him advise on how to win her over which is something Philippe would have never have done before. He’s certainly matured and it’s beautiful to see in moments like this, even if the circumstances aren’t the best. But continuing with that scene, when he’s talking about love, again he’s never stopped loving the Chevalier, their love has just changed and grew and it’s something they must find again. Philippe needs to let go of the past desperately, but he’s stuck in a limbo between the past and the future. He doesn’t know what the future holds, and it scares him so he’s trying to cling onto the past, but what he once had has moved on without him. But I mean, come on, the way they look and act around each other, those two will be in love forever.

Anyway, back to the Chevalier and Delphine, I truly don’t think Philippe understood the depth of their love until the last episode when he got Chevy released from prison. At this point he was starting to realise how much he needed him back, after his talk with Liselotte but I don’t think he expected the rejection he got. The thing I like about Season 3 is that there’s so many parallels to Season 1. This is obviously a parallel to when Chevy got out of prison the first time. How Philippe was the one who rejected him at first. But I think this is the scene where Philippe finally understands how much the Chevalier loves Delphine. That he’s got to stop thinking about himself and realise that the only way to get into Chev’s good books again is to free Delphine. I don’t think he was doing it just to get Chevy again. I think he did it because he truly cares about the other man and the realisation of what a shitty thing his brother is doing has come to light. Philippe has always been for the people, it’s clear with how many times he goes into Paris, how he’s willing to negotiate nicely with them. How his friendship (and obvious crush) with Guilliame bloomed. By doing this it shows everyone that he’s on their side, that he cares. He has been the underdog for so much of his life that he knows he must use the power he has to look after all the other underdogs.

Now, onto perhaps the most important bit. Philippe and his obsession to find out who the man in the iron mask is. Obviously massive SPOILERS regarding the main plot of the show. Anyway. Philippe starts this obsession because he’s lost. He doesn’t have his family to really rely on anymore because he’s pushed them away. His PTSD and ultimately depression isn’t making it any better. So, he needs something to focus on, to give all his time too so he doesn’t sink any further. He doesn’t feel like he belongs, and honestly, I don’t think he’s really feeling anything to begin with and this is the only think that makes him alive.

Philippe knows he’s good at war, but he doesn’t know that about anything else. The only person with worst esteem issues than him is the Chevalier, and even his have gotten better. He wants to be good at something, to prove to everyone and himself that he can do something, and this is what he focuses on. So, he obsesses, and he works, and he focuses on this because the outside world is a scary place. But it doesn’t do him any good. If anything, it’s making him feel worse. I don’t think it helps that he knows that Bontemps is keeping valuable information from him. That’s the one thing I feel that Philippe has always hated; people keeping things from him and lying to him. He has major trust issues anyway thanks to Louis and others, so to have something he respects and has been there through most of his life is something that Philippe doesn’t like. I think therefore he enlists Fabian’s help because he knows Fabian is trustworthy and wouldn’t lie to him about important matters. That and he thinks Louis is in on this little secret. Philippe has issues, bless him.

Then he finds out about their potential half-brother and he realises things are getting serious. Not only could this jeopardise his future but also Louis’, and despite their continued brother rivalry, Philippe is forever loyal to him. He knows he must protect his brother’s legacy as much as he can, and it scares him. He’s scared at the thought that the Vatican is has a way to try and overthrow his brother. And this only goes downhill when they find out it’s their father. But for Philippe there is a glimmer of hope. He was two when Louis XIII died and never had a father figure to look up to, say for Louis. Louis, although only four at the time had Mazarin who saw him as a son. Philippe never had that and so to finally have a father is something that gives him joy. It’s what he’s always wanted.

But of course, that only ends in tragedy too. Philippe wanted his father to live the rest of his life out in peace, but Louis has other ideas. He knows deep down it’s the right thing to do, but Philippe’s always tried to find alternatives to a tough situation. And this is where he starts to spiral. Until now he’s been suppressing the revelation that he’s not who he thought he would be his whole life, but after they kill their father he starts to worry about who he really is. Is he simply a murderer? Is he nothing? Is he just the prince who everyone sees in their eyes; who drinks and parties and doesn’t care about a single thing? Both brothers are having extreme existential moments, but Philippe reverts to the only method of coping he knows. Self-destruction.

It might not be obvious, but Philippe has always been a very self-destructive person. He’s had to be to make sure the light never shined away from his brother. But now he has no one. Even Louis seemed ready to be rid of him (though I think Louis was having his own ‘’ahh help who am I’’ moments so I can let him off a bit) and so Philippe turns back to drinking, parties and wasting away. Philippe feels more lost than ever and he simply can’t hold it in anymore. The scene after the party where he’s sitting on the bed and Liselotte and the Chevalier are looking like disapproving parents is also one of my favourites. Philippe is desperate, on the edge. He’s spiralling, and he doesn’t know how to stop it. And they’re trying to help him, but he can’t reach them. He’s too far in his head. He just breaks down because there’s nothing else he can do. He can’t tell them what’s made him like this because he’s scared they’ll judge him, push him away as he’s pushed them away. That they’ll truly abandon him, and he’ll have no one ever again. He’s blaming it all on himself and you can tell that all he wants right now is the Chevalier to hold him, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that. That small glimmer of hope in his eyes when Chevy lifts his head up to look at him, silently telling him he needs him but they both know that can’t happen. The Chevalier doesn’t was to let those walls down just to be pushed away and hurt again and Philippe can’t let himself hurt him again.

That’s why he goes to Saint Cloud, because he feels he’s lost everyone and that he’s nothing. If he disappears then maybe it will make everything right again. Philippe’s stuck in the past, has always been stuck in the past because it consumes him and eats him alive and he doesn’t know how to get out of it. Instead of going forwards he feels like he’s going backwards. All these old feelings have resurfaced, and I don’t think anyone had a lower opinion of Philippe than himself.

Liselotte comes to save the day, as she always does. The way she speaks to him, tells him that they need him. That he needs to go back and be with his family truly saves him. That’s all he’s wanted, to feel like he belongs and that they want and need him. He might never feel like Versailles is home, but he has his little family to help with that. That’s all Philippe has ever wanted. To feel like be belongs somewhere and that he has a purpose in life, and he does. In the middle of Chevy and Liselotte.

Philippe and Louis have always had a tumultuous relationship, it was how they were brought up but in Season 3 you see a real bond between them form, especially in the later episodes (besides their arguing, but that’s just normal for them). Liselotte is right in saying that Philippe is the only one that Louis will listen too, even if he does it in his own way and Philippe certainly takes that on his own shoulders to try and put into place. This season he’s felt more comfortable challenging Louis because Louis sees him more as his equal than he has ever done. He’s showing it more as well and that gives Philippe the confidence to tell him what is right and what is wrong. And Louis, somewhat listens to him and that gives him more courage to go further. He saves Delphine for the Chevalier, tries to get Louis to stop imprisoning the protestants and warns him of what will happen if he carries on like this. As it’s said in history, Philippe was the more devoted prince because no once has he ever tried to overthrow Louis, has only tried to aid him and teach him on where he’s going wrong. He certainly doesn’t agree with him all the time or even most of the time, but he has his back always. They were brought up as brothers first and foremost and that is what they will always be.

When he saves Louis’ life, I feel he starts to begin to find himself again. He starts to realise who he is, and no one can take that away from him. He is Louis’ brother, his equal, his best friend. He is wife to Liselotte and lover to the Chevalier. He has his own little family that he loves and adores (I’m ignoring how they portrayed Philippe with his children because that’s wrong) and he can make a difference if he puts his mind to it. It might take him a while to catch up with everyone else but it’s the beginning of him finally feeling like he belongs. For so many years he’s been after Louis’ validation and love and now he finally has it and it gives him some sort of peace.

Of course, I must leave this scene to last. It is after all the last MonChevy (MonCheLotte) scene we have. From the Chevalier saying goodbye to Delphine and how that left off to this scene there has been a dramatic jump. I wish there was another episode to fill in for what we’ve missed. But that’s the thing with Versailles, unless they state the time you don’t know how much has passed. I like to think a few days has at least, so it’s given Philippe and Chevy time to talk through things, talk through their feelings. Anyway…

The fact that they both admit they’re scared is a big tell in how far they’ve come. They’re able to talk about how they feel with actual words and not shouting and fists. Philippe’s face when Chevy tells him he loves him gives is one of the purest things in the world. They’ve been in a relationship for over ten years at this point and he finally gets to hear it. It’s the validation they both need, to hear the other say it to quench their fears and concrete their love for one another. We all know they love each other, they know they love the other, it’s simply that reassurance they need to know the other loves them. Philippe starts to feel complete. He has the Chevalier, and he has Liselotte. Philippe loves them both, albeit in different ways but he does. He and the Chevalier are both her boys and he’s okay with that. After everything, Philippe is okay.

So, to wrap it up in a neat little box, Philippe has gone through an emotional rollercoaster this season. From feeling lost, like he doesn’t belong and alone, battling with his mental health and trying to prove he’s good enough for anyone. Philippe might still be selfish and childish, and he might have done things he shouldn’t have, but there’s no denying that he’s matured and grown up and starts to realise that he does have a place in this world. He is worth something. He is no longer the cloud in front of the sun.

#versailles season 3 #spoilers #versailles spoilers #Philippe d'Orléans #chevalier de lorraine #Princess Palatine #monchevy #monchelotte #2810 words on my boy #I love him #louis xiv #character analysis #I got emotional writing this #Versailles

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itsjulesharper · 6 years

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When we left our intrepid characters, Philippe had stupidly and against all sense, charged off on his own, in the night, without guards (yeah, this would never happen) to the Bastille to find out who this mysterious Duc de Sullun is. And promptly got hit on the nopper. Louis meanwhile, thinks he is hot shit because of all the awesome lights and running water he’s given to his people. JUST LOVE MEEEEEE.

So somehow, Philippe has made it back home to bed, and Liselotte is leaning over him while he is disorientated and half-awake. He looks awful. Bontemps is heard saying, “nothing to worry about, your Highness.” (WRONG form of address – should be ‘your royal Highness’. And so it starts.) Did Bontemps clonk Philippe? Of course, he was acting all forms of suspicious last ep, so he was most obvs. there to swoop in and bring Philippe back. Can’t have a royal prince of France just getting all KILLED without a guard or backup or anything, can we?? Anyways, the doctor says he has a mild concussion and Bontemps adds, “caused no doubt, by the fall.” WHAT FALL. So this is the narrative being spun by suspect Bontemps, eh? “I didn’t fall, ” mumbles Philippe. “I was hit.” There is blood on the pillow and the camera focus goes from clear to fuzzy then back again and everyone is concerned and I am concerned that they keep calling him YOUR HIGHNESS FFS. Philippe wants to talk to his brother but Liselotte says he’s not going anywhere. Philippe mumbles stuff about ‘the mask’ and Bontemps looks quite a bit shitty while Liselotte is all confused and Philippe goes on: “his eyes… one of the prisoners… was wearing a mask.” Bontemps tells the doctor to ensure he gets the rest he needs, Philippe finally falls asleep and we are into the intro.

In the gardens, and Louis and Leopold are in a frantic battle of swords, with lots of clanging and thrusting and grunting and moving about. Leopold finally elbows Louis in the face and draws blood, and Louis looks quite shocked. Bontemps makes a step forward but Marchal puts a hand on his shoulder. Not yet. Louis gives Leopold a look, wipes his nose and turns away… but Leopold advances and Louis whirls, blocking the thrust and they continue to clash. Louis lands a blow on the other man’s kidneys and he advances again before a breath can be caught. They grapple and struggle and in the struggle, Leopold manages to disarm Louis, taking both swords. Louis is shocked and angry (as you would be) and we hear the tiniest sound of a blade being drawn, then see Marchal step forward as he slides his dagger from his belt *heart eyes*. Leopold takes a breath then lowers both swords, his point proven. Bontemps says loftily, “It is customary for the king’s adversary to bow after the fight.” Leopold, looking sweaty and spent, answers: “In Austria it is customary for the loser to bow.” Bontemps ain’t havin’ any of that: “This is not Austria, your Majesty. This is Versailles.” (Not YOUR MAJESTY, UGGGGH). There’s a bit of a Mexican standoff and we see shitty Bontemps, mouth breathing Louis, Leopold looking from every face and gauging the mood and how much he can get away with. Finally he inclines his head (not at ALL like a proper bow) And offers Louis’ sword back. Louis takes it in silence.

And next scene we are walking back into Versailles. Louis says, “a clever ploy. A vicious attack hidden behind a show of weakness.” Leopold replies, “History remembers the winner, not the manner of his victory.” Ah, so now we are on the subject of winners, and Louis says it is time to enter negotiations. Leopold received word from Rome and they ‘look favourably on your guardianship of Strasbourg and Luxembourg.’ Louis is pleased and now wants to discuss Spain. Sure, your Majesty go right ahead, because I am taken by the lovely staircase and marble everywhere. Ahhhh, now they are talking about their ‘deal’ – on King Charles of Spain’s death, they split the spoils. Louis replies that much has changed since that deal. Leopold is all ‘such as?’ and Louis leans in and says tightly, “I won the war.” Before Leopold can reply, the queen floats down the stairs, asking who won. Of course she is talking about the duel, and Leopold says “His Majesty was kind enough to allow me victory.” The queen is concerned for Louis’ bloody nose, but he’s ‘meh, it’s nothing’ about it. Her gaze darts from Leopold to Louis, then back again and Louis picks up on the weirdness, saying that she seems…. “tired.” Huh. Not what I would’ve gone with, but there you go. Nothing that can’t be remedied by a walk in the gardens, it seems. And just look at Leopold – a ‘yeah, I shagged you last night and it was goooood’ expression if ever I saw one.

how you doin’?

The queen looks flustered, bobs a curtsey and hurries down the steps, and Louis does not see her or her lady’s smiles as they float off. Leopold turns to Louis: “how much of Spain do you want?” Louis answers tightly, “All of it,” then continues up the stairs. Leopold sighs, glances back down to the queen in the distance then goes on his way.

*historical note: Louis did indeed demand Spain as part of his wife’s dowry because at the time, he knew Spain could not pay the monies he wanted and so, the ‘we give you money in exchange for the ‘not challenging the throne of Spain” agreement was forfeit. It was also expected that King Charles of Spain (the queen’s brother and also in possession of the mighty Hapsburg jaw) wouldn’t live very long. He surprised them all by living until he was nearly thirty-nine. He was born in 1661, a year after his sister Marie-Therese was married to Louis and so was living in France. She was 22.

that art on the wall – lulz.

so pretteh….

We are back with Philippe, and he is finally on his feet, shuffling along and holding his head but still in a daze. He goes into one of Louis’ private salons and Louis and Bontemps are there, Louis telling him he really should be in bed. Dazed and confused, he sits, and Bontemps butts in with his prepared standard line – that Philippe had ‘an unfortunate accident.’ But nuh-uh Philippe is not here for that mansplaining shit. But Bontemps is really invested in this, even going so far as to say that he spoke with the governor who assured him that Philippe SLIPPED AND FELL. Nup. Philippe calls bullshit on that, saying he went to the Bastille to see the prisoner, then was struck, and that the prisoner wore a mask of iron. And I must say, Louis is rather calm after hearing a prince of France not only went to the Bastille ALONE and without guards, but was hit. He says he was told that the prisoner’s real name was Macquart. Philippe is confused and now we hear the lie Bontemps has settled on – the prisoner is a petty criminal and of unsound mind, believing himself to be an actual duke, so the guards gave him the title of le duc de Sullun to appease him. But why that name? Apparently, ‘Sullun’ is latin – the reverse of ‘nullus’, meaning ‘no one’. And the man in the iron mask does not exist, Louis explains, and it is all in Philippe’s head. Bontemps watches them both in silence but his expression is not quite right but I am suddenly distracted by what Louis is wearing. Look at it! Louis tells Philippe to go back to bed and the scene becomes blurry.

We are back in the gardens and Leopold is striding around, obvs looking for the queen to remind her of teh sexytimes they both had. How indiscreet of him. He finds her nervously undercover of some trees and does his best alpha male impression by silently going over to her, cupping her face and going in for a neck snog. The queen doth protest, overcome by some late shyness/modesty/guilt/loyalty I suppose. Why not? Leopold asks. “You will soon be gone,” she softly replies. Oh, okay. “It will only increase the pain of your departure,” she adds when he wants to just snog it out and enjoy each other. He looks frustrated, asks if he can trust her, that he needs her help. “Your husband is trying to destroy the dynasty that our ancestors have spent six hundred years creating. He will claim all of Spain on your brother’s death. The Hapsburgs will soon be extinct.” The queen is concerned and wants to know what he intends to do about it. “I will stop him.” But how? Oh, apparently his niece Eleanor will marry the queen’s brother, Charles. Plus he wants the queen to write a letter to her brother recommending the union. The queen asks why she should help him, so he plays the “you are a Hapsburg” card, plus the ‘your husband just wanted you for political stuffs, not you as a woman’ guilt trip. Wheeee. He rubs it right in: “He abandoned you the day he married you. Since then, his only gifts have been solitude and infidelity.” The scene cuts to the queen with parchment and quill, thinking what to write, then goes back to them in the garden where they finally kiss WHERE ANYONE CAN SEE THIS, and we have three close-ups of the queen’s ruby ring and THIS IS SIGNIFICANT so take note of it. The queen’s voiceover is then heard: “My dear brother Charles. I am writing to you concerning marriage…”

*Historical note: they mess up the real time lines so much it makes my head spin. Charles of Spain married in 1679 at the age of eighteen to …..SPOILER!!!! Philippe’s favourite daughter, Marie-Louise. She was 17. Can you see how confused I am – are we in 1679? Or 1674 because baby Philippe was born then? Or 1667, when the street lights were first on? Or…. …..SPOILER!!!! 1683 when the queen dies? UGH. FRUSTRATED. 😫

Now back in the salons and we hear the Chevalier holding court, saying “they say that at Villarceaux she spent her nights on her back in bliss, and her days on her knees in penance.” Chortle, chortle. “If you want my opinion – and I’m sure you do-” He suddenly is cut short by the appearance of Maintenon in the doorway, Delphine beside her, and he skilfully changes with subject with “the question is… what colour for the forthcoming season? Blue or green?” The two women blithely stroll and mingle while everyone gossips (CHAIRS WITH ARMS NOOOOO 😡😡) and I’m loving the look of that dark-haired noble behind Liselotte. So very mysterious. We follow Maintenon, and suddenly we see Louis’ last bedmate gossiping with the other demoiselles, saying “behind that air of prudishness, she’s quite the slut. And the next time I see the king, I’ve a good mind to tell him about it.” Silly chit. We know how this is gonna end, don’t we? (but also – look at those gowns!!) And look at this screen cap, which I loooove. Look at the demoiselle’s expression over her shoulder. And the two messieurs behind Delphine, just waiting for a scene.

Delphine is at a loss as to who everyone is talking about, and is shocked when Maintenon confirms she is the subject of all the gossip. Of course there’s no truth to the rumours, she assures Delphine, then excuses herself. She glides, head held high, out the doors and then leans against the stone wall, taking unsteady breaths. The camera pans around and Bontemps appears. “her ladyship seems upset.” (WAT LULZ. Not the correct way to address a marquise, ffs……) “Tell me, Bontemps,” she starts a little out of breath. “Do you consider it the mark of nobility to destroy a lady’s reputation with sordid gossip and lies?” errr…. no. Bontemps looks a bit out of his depth. She nods. “Neither do I.” And she floats off. So now Bontemps is all het up and goes into the salon, all curious-like. He looks a bit shitty as he sees the gossip girl laughing with her gossip friends and then the scene cuts back to Maintenon, who appears to be stomping about and looking for someone. Ahhh. Madame de Montespan. Montespan greets her politely but Maintenon gets right into it, accusing her of being behind the rumours. Montespan claims her innocence – “Why would I do such a thing?” – and Maintenon comes back with the old and favourite ‘you’re just jealous’. Montespan finds that amusing, says it is the other way around, that she was ready to risk everything, while Maintenon is not. And then… ahahahhhhhaaaaaa! She says, “is it true you put other women in his bed?” And I LAUGH AND LAUGH because as I mentioned in Ep1, this is what the real Montespan did, and the real Maintenon tried her earnest to keep women OUT of Louis’ bed because of all the sinning and stuffs. Well, apparently the king has needs that must be satisfied and these women mean nothing to him, says Maintenon with much conviction. Yeah, but nup. Montespan has her number, can see the other woman is scared. Of what? “Of your own passion. You are scared that if you give in to it, you will lose control. You take refuge in piety and denial but behind the mask you’re just screaming with pain.”

Next scene – Leopold is studying paperwork in his rooms with his Austrian Bontemps, niece Eleanor reading a book in the corner, and he is told King Charles is expecting their imminent arrival. How is Leopold going to approach the negotiations, his Austemps asks. The same as Louis – “Lie, haggle, concede, coerce, protest…. and smile.” When his man reminds Leopold the king is dangerous and starts to offer advice, Leopold gets a bit shitty. He does not need advice: “This is a game of cards. The prize is Spain and I have the trump card.” DISMISSED, AUSTEMPS.

Right, so Louis enters the small prayer room where Maintenon has perched her carcass. Again. She turns. Louis is shitty. “There is talk in the salon.” Oh, I’ll bet there is. He wants to know if there is any truth in it. “No, Sire. It is scurrilous gossip designed to destroy my reputation.” DEAR LORD, MAINTENON. You could’ve come clean. He was offering you the prime opportunity to tell him all about it. And so you LIE, knowing how he feels about liars. *headdesk* Louis is annoyed because it also damages his reputation. Maintenon kisses ass: “The king must know he has my total trust. I only pray I have his.” Right-o, sowing the seeds for when she finally does tell the truth, then. He gives her a look then says, “come with me.”

Back in Leopold’s rooms and Eleanor wants to go to the salons. “No, you will stay here and practice your embroidery.” (Lulz) “Embroidery is for spinsters.”😆 He gives her a champion side eye – she needs to show a little more humility and respect… oh, and befriend the queen. Eleanor isn’t impressed – the queen seems dull to her. She’s a Habsburg, dammit. And you will talk to her about Spain. Ugh. Srsly. How boring. Eleanor seems lovely and bouncy like a teenager often is, looking for fun and excitement. But Leopold doesn’t care for that: “You are only here because I have a use for you.” Eleanor looks shitty, as would I. “Yes, Uncle.”

Bontemps doing his now-standard shitty look.

Right-o, so Louis enters the salon after Bontemps announces him, and everyone stops gossiping and playing cards and does the usual stand/bow/curtsey. He looks shitty, and Maintenon behind him looks apprehensive, and then he announces “To lie is a sin. To slander is a sin. To seek to destroy someone through unfounded gossip is a sin. A woman close to me who does great honour to this court has seen her reputation stained by the poison of gossip. In harming her, you harm your king. This will stop. Now.” The camera pans to Maintenon, then to the Gossip Girl as Louis turns to look at her and – we learn her name is Mademoiselle de Vasseur – tells her she is no longer welcome at Versailles. The camera pans to a few faces: the shocked and controlled-panicky Vasseur, Maintenon who follows Louis as he leaves, Liselotte with a tight expression, Montespan as Vasseur rushes from the room while whispers start. Liselotte approaches Montespan, says the girl is innocent. Montespan: Nobody here is innocent. Liselotte: You started those rumours. Montespan: They’re not rumours, they’re true. She deserves to be punished for her past, just as I was.

Liselotte leaves while Bontemps gives Montespan the most shittiest look eva.

The music swells (LOOOOOVE the music!) and we are outside, in the coeur d’honneur following a hooded female figure all the way up to the guards who cross their weapons and TAH-DA it is the return of Sophie! “I think you’d probably better arrest me.”

Scene cut to Marchal walking through to his office dungeon, and he gives a sigh, turns and sees Sophie standing there. Then a conversation is had about where she’s been (Holland) and why she was there (Thomas told her) and what she is doing now (being a double agent, apparently. Working for William of Orange as a spy but telling Marchal all about it). Marchal looks rather intimidating, circling her and meeting her eyes and getting very close, but Sophie looks very cool and calm. Now they are both before Louis and he is all “A spy. Here at Versailles.” She spins her story, saying she refused to spy, that she was not suited, that she then escaped by seducing the guard then taking refuge in convents and taverns on the way home. Huh. A likely story. Louis is a bit shitty at the thought of her wanting to reclaim her title and fortune (Cassel’s fortune), and Sophie is all “I place myself at your mercy, sire.” Louis is not fooled. “Lock her up.” Sophie plays her trump card, blurting out that William of Orange’s army is on the march, 10,000 men headed to Austria to support Emperor Leopold. Louis’ WTF face is so funny 😄 Interesting that Sophie gives up some info to ‘prove’ her innocence, yet that info can’t immediately be confirmed or denied. Of course, Marchal is gonna make enquiries to confirm it and meanwhile she remains locked up.

We are back with Philippe, who is fully dressed on the bed, contemplating…. something. He slowly sits up and with a determined look, heads to see Louis. Bontemps looks surprised to see him, says the doctor was most insistent. “He is no longer my doctor. And I know what I saw.” Bontemps looks worried as Philippe continues on, and Bontemps strides off to see a guard, instructing him to go to the stables and prepare a horse and messenger to leave immediately for Rome.

The queen is teaching Eleanor Spanish in the queen’s rooms as they play cards, the younger girl asking questions about “the king, your brother” saying she must miss him and I am UGH NO HE WAS BORN IN 1661, A YEAR AFTER SHE LEFT SPAIN TO MARRY LOUIS. The queen is coolly “yes, I miss him terribly,” (reminder: MARRIED) and she has his portrait to remind her of him (the original was painted by Claudio Coello). Eleanor is holding back the ewwww when the queen says “it’s not his fault he was born that way. As you can imagine, he suffers, but he has a noble heart.” Eleanor is so not impressed.

*historical note: Charles of Spain was the last of the Hapsburgs and had a shit load of physical and mental challenges, due to a history of consanguineous unions (uncles marrying nieces, cousins to cousins. Louis and the queen were actually first cousins, as their parents were brother and sister) . If you are interested in reading more about the doomed Hapsburg dynasty there was a fascinating study done in 2009 in science journal PLOS One on the role of inbreeding in the European royal dynasty here.

Leopold does not like what Louis proposes for their negotiations. “If you claim all of Spain and its territories you will trigger a war with every country in Europe!” Louis is not deterred, because yo, he has won one war and his army is well-prepared for another. Leopold is mucho angry: it would be a war without end. “I want what is mine,” Louis replies. “You think everything is yours,” is Leopold’s reply. Louis is all casual-like: “What will you do if the Turks advance on Vienna? Hope it rains? Or are you counting on the rabble that is William of Orange’s army?” Leopold’s expression is ‘uh-oh’ as Louis delivers his persuasive argument – “the only person who can protect you is me.” But Leopold says that the pope will never approve of giving Spain to Louis. More negotiations – Louis says he’ll only take 80%, Leopold says ‘nup, nuh-uh.’ Better start Turkish lessons, then.

Next scene…. Philippe riding ALONE through the woods and minus any guard or escort. I am wondering if this horrid oversight of what it actually means to be a prince of France is deliberately ignored in order to show the viewer that he is very bad-ass and fiery and will do whatever TF he wants. But it backfires on this viewer. It is stupid. We see a nice shot of the Bastille and then we are inside, where Philippe is talking to the head guard and we learn that the dude in the room that Philippe said contained the Iron Mask Man has cut his wrists. We see this dude – Macquart – obvs dead, face down on the desk and with blood on the floor. Philippe lifts up the dead man’s head, and he knows it is not the one who was originally there. We cut to the jailer, who is looking just a wee bit nervous, then Philippe asks “Who struck me?” but the jailer is still going with the ‘slipped and fell’ defence and Philippe is not happy about that. He also says the dead man wore a mask of iron….aaaaand the jailer is all confused and “Your Highness, there is no prisoner wearing such a thing,” which we all know is total bullshit because we have seen it all with our own eyes. The body is removed, the jailer bows and Philippe is left standing in the room looking a bit frustrated and sighing mightily. Then he spots the words “KILL ME” carved in the stone wall. He turns and walks out, past a ranty and smelly-looking poor sod in a cage outside. Philippe pauses with a brief sad smile, does the whole “Do you know who I am?” to which the ranty dude says “I know you better than you know yourself.” then it sounds like he says “Philippe of Gutter and Arsewipe and Good Dung.” My French subs say “of gutter and dung” which is about right. Philippe is amused, asks if he knew of the (now dead) man in the cell. “Everybody knows him, nobody knows him, if you know what I am saying. Don’t look him in the eyes, he’ll eat you up.” Is he still alive? Philippe wants to know. Dude gets a bit angry: “he’s undead! You can’t kill him!” But Philippe is also angry and all “did he wear a mask?!!” Ranty Man sticks to his story: “He will kill you with his eyes!” and then we hear other noises and Philippe has had enough, striding out as Ranty Man finishes with “Cain, brother of Abel. Two brothers drenched in blood and cursed forever!” which is pretty much a dead giveaway to what is to come.

Right, so back in the gardens of Versailles and…. okay, the Chevalier is strolling arm-in-arm with Liselotte, while two servants walk behind with the baby, looking all cosy as a couple. Also WEIRD AF because historically those two hated each other at this stage, only calling a truce much later in life when everyone was older and (I guess) tired of fighting about shit. Maintenon bows her head at Liselotte’s greeting and she asks to admire the petit prince and everyone smiles and looks on adoringly. Then Maintenon looks all concerned and serious and I know some shit is gonna go down because she is Maintenon the cow and knows Liselotte was part of the rumour spreading. “If I may. I don’t mean to seem impertinent, but I think you are making a grave mistake by keeping him here.”

baby Philippe ahhhhh!

WAT.

The Chevalier gives Liselotte a look, and Liselotte is all calm and “is that so?” Maintenon replies: “Well, it is not the right environment for a child.” (and I laugh and laugh because LOUIS HAS ALL HIS KIDS THERE, and for fucksake, if it is good enough for HIS HEIRS then it is good enough for everyone else!) Liselotte, comes back with a polite fuckyou:

Kindly shut the fuck up.

Liselotte: May I ask what gives you the right to tell me how to look after my child? Maintenon: I was a governess. Liselotte: Yet never a mother. Maintenon: (expression a bit tight) Alas, no. Liselotte: You’d think one of your many lovers would solve that problem. Maintenon: (after a pause) It would seem your reputation for honesty and integrity is ill-deserved.

Then Maintenon flies off on her broom glides away while the Chevalier smacks his lips and says “well, that went well,” and Liselotte is much disturbed by what just transpired. (Narrator: As well she should. Much wtfuckery is about to explode. EXPLODE, I TELL YOU! 😡)

We are back with Louis and his ministers, and Colbert is flicking annoyedly through the pages of a ledger, saying that their monies to finance their expansion into the Americas and to fortify their borders will add another two million to the deficit. UUUUGH. More pesky money talk and Louis can’t quite believe that he doesn’t have an endless pit of money to allow him to run the country as he sees fit. (Sames, Louis, sames) He demands that his people respect the law i.e. pay the taxes they simply cannot afford. So begins the rise of Tyrant Louis in all his splendour, setting the stage for an obvious revolt later on. Colbert is annoyed and frustrated. Then Bontemps enters and says he’s discovered the source of the Maintenon rumours. Louis knows without Bontemps confirming: “bring her to me.”

We are back in Paris, with Guillaume and Jeanne in their eh-by-gum Yorkshire workshop where they are stressing about taxes. G thinks his workers are just being slackers, and demands to know who hasn’t paid their taxes because his is an upstanding, law abiding citizen. Some workers say they haven’t – they don’t like the hike: “the king’s gone too far.” Thus ensues a resigned exchange: “if you want us to pay more taxes, give us more money.” “If I pay you more money, the business will fold.” “Whether we work or not, most of us are gonna die in rags and poverty.”

Back at Versailles and we have a stunning-looking Montespan going before Louis. His back is turned, Bontemps says “there is a piece of paper on the table. You will read it aloud then sign it.” So with great trepidation she reads: “I, the Marquise de Montespan, do hereby renounce and relinquish my place at the court of Versailles. I pledge to sever all contact with anyone I may know at the palace and will take no further part in court life. I shall devote the rest of my days to prayer and charitable work. I have sinned and I accept my penance.” She signs as Bontemps tells her her affairs are in order, and a carriage will take her to the convent of Sainte Ursule, never return to court. Montespan is clearly shaken, says, “a condemned normally has a right to a last word before being led away.” Louis does not turn around as she begins: “where I once saw the warm face of a man, I now see the stone face of a tyrant. You treat those around you like slaves and you place yourself beyond mortal sway. But remember the story of Icarus – fly to close to the sun and you will fall and drown.”

Bontemps always seems to be in a state of shitty side-eyes

There is a pause: Louis looks so very shitty, like a petulant child suffering a parental scolding. Finally he says (still not turning around), “the dance is over. Go.” And so Montespan leaves. Louis says to Bontemps, “In time I will forgive her. But I will never forget.” And there we have it. The end of Montespan’s reign. We see her in slo-mo through the corridors, music swelling as she makes her final walk past the courtiers, her face a mask of tight control. Maintenon watches her go then turns on her heel, slo-mo walking towards the camera that smug, nasty little witch.

*Historical note: Montespan did indeed leave Versailles for a convent but it happened over time. First she was moved to a less favourable apartment in 1685, then in 1687 Louis changed his visiting times. She was consoled from this fall from favour by seeing her children married off well, then in 1691 she finally left court to the convent Saint-Joseph in Paris’ Rue de Saint-Dominique, where Louis allocated her an allowance of 500,000 francs. You can read more about her here.

The scene cuts to Maintenon in her rooms, now lounging nekkid in the bath, and Louis the creeper is watching her through the gap in the door. She stands, wraps herself in a sheet and is surprised to see Louis in the shadows. She wants to know how long he’s been there, and he acts like a teenager, kind of stuttering and getting her robe. Right. They stand before a glorious mirror, and she thanks him for what he said in the salons, in defence of her honour. (what honour UUUUGH) and then he goes in for a snog and she is more than willing to let him, even as she whispers “Please don’t. I can’t.” More snogging, a bit of va-jay-jay grabbing, which seems to snap her out of it, breaking away and hissing, “Enough. His majesty takes advantage of his station.” ?????? WTF. Louis is angry: “sometimes I don’t know what my station is with you.” And Maintenon is all “I would ask you to leave.” He does in a mighty huff but she stops him with an offering: “The Marquise de Quincy awaits his majesty in his room.” Nice pimpin’ there, Maintenon. Louis turns and storms off, while Maintenon sits and looks a bit stressed but most def. does not cry as you would expect one would when you send the man you love INTO ANOTHER WOMAN’S BED.

And there Louis is, entering his room as a pretty marquise obediently sits on his bed and removes her robe. Louis’ expression is all ‘ugh’ and quite a bit shitty but hey, lets not allow feelings and stuffs to get in the way of a tumble in the sheets, eh?

Meanwhile, Leopold is in his room, quaffing from that FABULOUS GLASSWARE, and his door slowly opens to reveal the queen. And so they engage in some shagging after she tells him she wrote the letter.

Louis stands and stares melancholic from his window as Bontemps enters, and he bids his servant to come join him a moment. He is in a mood: “Everyone looks at a king and says ‘I would give anything to be in his place. All he wants is his.’ But they see only the surface. They see nothing of the shadows below.” Bontemps: “No one has all he wants, sire. Not even a king.” Louis replies cryptically, “From the darkest shadow springs the brightest light.”

A shot of the fountain now and is it daybreak or sunset? We follow Marchal walking a dingy corridor with keys, leading us to Sophie in a cell. Has he come to torture her? “My men have checked every detail of your journey from Holland. It seems you are telling the truth.” And so, the king has given permission for her release. “You are once again, the duchesse de Cassel.” Yeah, but nah. Marchal still does not trust her and I am on his side with that. Something just seems off with it all. “You may be free,” Marchal drawls, “but whatever you do, whoever you talk to, wherever you go, I’ll be watching you.” Sophie casually walks past him, looking a little flirty. “Even when I return to my chambers?” Marchal watches her go with a suspicious eye and I am all OKAY THEN.

We are in the chambers of Liselotte, where she is cooing over baby Philippe’s cot. Look at her face! What a lovely domestic motherly scene. PITY IF SOMETHING WERE TO HAPPEN TO IT. Liselotte is all heart eyes “Philippe, he smiled! Come and look!” Meanwhile, Philippe is moping on the bed, while she breathlessly says “look at those blue eyes! Aren’t they beautiful!” And still Philippe looks mega-shitty and now I AM SO ANNOYED because Real Philippe absolutely adored his children and it physically pains me to see him portrayed as a spoilt, moody asshole. But wait, ‘blue eyes’ hits a chord with him and we can practically see his brain starting to click and turn. BLUE EYES. And he storms off without a word. UGH.

Philippe stomps into Marchal’s dungeon (WITHOUT GUARDS yet again), asks if the name Marcquart means anything to him, then relates what he knows – a thief in the Bastille, face hidden behind an iron mask, then a dead body is removed. The first man had blue eyes, the dead man, brown. Philippe needs Marchal’s help to get to the bottom of it, but bummer, Marchal only serves the king. “Don’t see this as work. See this more of… say…. leisure activity.” LULZ the look on Marchal’s face.

Murder investigation for fun? I AM SO THERE.

your people? errr…. they love you.

We are back in Louis’ rooms and Guillaume is measuring him for shoes, Jeanne taking notes. “Tell me about the mood of the people in Paris,” Louis suddenly says. G is all ‘wtf now?’ before he says “they are happy, sire. To be ruled by so generous a monarch.” But hey, aren’t they unhappy with paying their taxes? “nothing that isn’t cured by hard work, sire.” Louis continues to fish, saying that surely there are some who despise their king. AS IF Guillaume would go “oh, yeah. Let me give you their names.” ? Instead he placates, says there will always be those who don’t think of the glory of France, who think only of themselves…. while Jeanne’s expression is quite a bit ‘ugh.’ She finally says, “they are hungry.” and Bontemps butts in with “mind your tongue” and I am really, REALLY starting to dislike Bontemps this season. Louis wants to hear, however, and goes on a bit of a condescending monologue, like they are both children: “You must understand that a king is only there to serve his people and his country, to defend the land, to develop trade and commerce. To pay for construction. All these things require money. (MANSPLAINING a king’s duties) And the only way to raise money is through taxation. Is that so wrong?” Jeanne: It is. If it bleeds the people dry. Louis: SHOCKED FACE. Jeanne: The people his majesty claims to serve believe he serves only personal ambition.

Let me mansplain being a king to you.

The music becomes ominous as Guillaume tries to backtrack, but Jeanne will have none of it. She means what she says. Louis steps to her, gives her a death stare and says, “But you are wrong. I do not seek glory for myself but for France.” (But you are France, Louis. Srsly). Jeanne: Your people care little for the glory of France, sire. They are grateful for clean water and lighting, but neither will fill their stomachs. Louis steps away, looks thoughtful, then thanks them for their honesty. And as they leave, Guillaume is furious. “Have you lost your mind?” Jeanne retorts: “have you lost your origins?” They have a hushed argument about being ungrateful for the king’s favour, how she told Louis the truth, would he have her lie? YES! says G. Why? Because he’s the king! And interestingly, here we see the seeds of motivation for Jeanne. This makes sense. Her character makes sense. We see her in her Ordinary World, we see her struggles and her conflict, dealing with the people around her, and so as time goes on, we understand her motivation for all she does. Unlike Agathe in Season 2, who was just ‘down with the tyrant king!’ without any real reason WHY.

Now we are in a salon with Marchal, and he approaches Philippe. He has news – his agents in Paris say Marcquart was a harmless petty thief, just trying to feed his family. “So what was he doing in the Bastille?” Philippe asks. Marchal: “He was not in the Bastille.”

Duh-DUH. Orchestra, play something dramatic.

We’re walking with Leopold and his Bontemps now, and Leo confirms the pope will look favourably upon the match… and right now I am most concerned with the huge and disturbing absence of PEOPLE. There is a distinct lack of people in Versailles and it is hugely distracting to me. Servants, courtiers, guards, ministers… where ARE THEY??? no one was hardly ever alone in Versailles, there were bodies E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. But these corridors and halls are empty and there only seems to ever be a handful of people in the salons or strolling about the gardens.

Gonna leave you tomorrow. So sad.

Anyways, Leo enters Louis’ rooms – he has good news and bad. Good news – he’s decided he is gonna give 80% of Spain to Louis upon Charles’ death. He says he’s had enough of war, he wants peace and stability. And the bad news? Leo is leaving. They hug, they smile and tonight they will celebrate the signing of their agreement.

BUT WAIT…. FORGET THAT. One of the most GTFO scenes is just about to happen. STRAP IN.

Liselotte is in her rooms, cooing over baby Philippe when we hear the doors open. Bontemps, two guards and mega-cow Maintenon walk in. ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?????? Liselotte’s expression drops. “No. Please. Don’t take him away. Let me talk to the king.” Bontemps: It is the law of the palace, your Highness. I am sorry (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK NO IT IS NOT) A guard steps forward and Liselotte pushes him away and WAT. Another guard grabs her and holds her back and I AM IN A FUCKING RAGE BECAUSE SHE IS A PRINCESS OF FUCKING FRANCE WHAT THE FUCK. Liselotte screams, the baby cries (A PRINCE OF FRANCE FOR FUCKSAKE!) “Take him away and you take away my heart,” Liselotte sobs, Bontemps says “this is no place for children” (WHAT A FUCKING CROCK – there were children everywhere in Versailles, including LOUIS’ OWN FUCKING CHILDREN) and Maintenon, that utter fucking hypocritical snake, murmurs “it is for the best,” and the doors close as Liselotte sobs.

And here – HERE – is where I lost all hope for this season. Seriously. This is so much fucking bullshit that I can smell it clear on the other side of the world. THIS IS WRONG. I do not mind historical fiction. I enjoy historical fiction. But when the historical facts are totally and utterly distorted, just for the sake of some dramatic twist – which, having watched the entire season, serves NO ACTUAL PURPOSE – this is a fucking insult. Let us break this down. The baby is a prince of France. A royal mistress, no matter how high in affection, cannot just REMOVE a prince of France. Liselotte is a princess. The hierarchy, while complicated by Princes of the blood and other titles and orders, goes like this: King first, then Queen, then the dauphin and dauphin’s kids, then Philippe (as brother of the king), then Liselotte (as wife to brother of the king), then children of Philippe. Maintenon, ranked as a marquise, is much lower on the totem pole – the Chevalier de Lorraine is a foreign prince, Delphine a duchesse, and BOTH rank higher than Maintenon. Versailles was all about RANK and PROTOCOL and to have an uppity marquise even approach a member of the royal family, much less REMOVE ONE, is so fucking beyond ridiculous that I have to use a telescope to find even a fucking glimmer of where it is. Louis would have gone absolutely ballistic.

GET IN THE FUCKING SEA. 😡 😡 😡 😡 😡

From the ridiculous to the streets of Paris. Colbert is on his soapbox, telling everyone that he is here to remind them of the shared vision that “binds us all together. And of the wonder of our king, Louis.” Cue unpressed looks from the peasant crowd. “You have chosen to question his authority. Our great king has only one purpose. To further the glory of France. But we all must make sacrifices just as he does. We must believe as he does. Dream as he does. Suffer as he does!” Murmurs from the crowd… they are not buying it. “We must trust in him as he trusts in us.” Bastien pipes up: “Why should we trust him? What, so he can steal our money more easily?” The crowd laughs but Colbert valiantly continues: “The king steals from no one! He raises taxes which he then returns to his people. Look at his gifts! Education. Roads. Clean water. Streets like glory!” “And poverty,” Bastien adds. Another peasant heckles, “Glory my arse!” And someone grabs an egg from a cart and hurls it at Colbert and suddenly there is a barrage of food while Colbert tries for calm. Food being thrown despite their complaints of being hungry in the streets… And the guards hustle Colbert away as the crowd turns nasty.

Back in Versailles with Louis telling Bossuet of Leopold’s offering of 80% of Spain, telling the priest he must go to Rome to ensure the support of the Vatican. Bossuet is kinda not really happy, but Louis tells him to remind the Pope where his loyalties should lie, and that the bastion of the Catholic church is France. Bossuet does not see how he can influence his Holiness, and Louis calmly says if he has any doubts, then Bossuet can remain at Versailles and draw up a list of replacements for his position. Lulz. Cue a weird look from Bontemps. Much ringing of hands from Bossuet. Meanwhile Marchal and Philippe are walking through the enfilades, Marchal wanting to tell Louis what they know but Philippe is all ‘nup, he will order you to stop because he thinks I’m just making this all up.’ They agree to wait a few days before telling.

won’t anyone rid me of this chattering wench?

Leopold is getting dressed and his niece Eleanor is chattering about Spanish words and the look on Leo’s face is ….😆 Eleanor now wants to go to Spain. Leo says they are going there, and she is all ‘yay! As long as I don’t meet the king – his portrait is atrocious’ And Leo is all ‘tough. You will meet him. Because you gonna marry him. SURPRISE’ Dear Lord, the look on Eleanor’s face. Her mother is on her way there, and they will leave tomorrow. “I refuse,” Eleanor says bravely, looking devastated. Leo slaps her, then gently says, “you will be Queen of Spain* (*Spoiler: she won’t). You should be grateful.”

Back with Louis walking through the salons, and Louvois reports a bunch of Austrian nobles have been spotted making their way to Spain. Why? A family gathering, perhaps? And why do families gather? Louis muses. Louvois – “for funerals.” Louis: “And weddings.”

Sophie returns to the salons, all clean and pretty again, and people are whispering, watching her circulate. She smiles and greets Liselotte, who is alone and sad and attached to a wall.

*historical note: again, what is it with the absence of people? Liselotte, as princess, has an entourage, ladies-in-waiting, plus courtiers hanging about wanting her favour and attention. She would not be clinging to a wall like a Nigel No-Friends.

Liselotte is pleased to see Sophie, who says she has been in a convent. Sophie asks what has happened since she last saw the pregnant Liselotte, and Liselotte says she had a son…. taken from her. “On whose orders?” Sophie asks. Liselotte just stares across the room, right at Maintenon, who is chatting happily to Delphine, the Chevalier in the background. “THE KING!” Bontemps announces, and Louis walks in with the queen, heading straight for a table where the historical signing is to be conducted. Leopold bows (wtf is that “Louis” as he addresses the king of France?? Wrong.) They sit and prepare to sign, and Louis casually mentions Leo’s niece. “I would like her to stay here. We shall show her all the wonders of Versailles.” Ahhhhh, sneaky Louis. Leo is all “it’s a kind offer, but-” but Louis will have none of it. “My wife has conceived an affection for the princess. She would enjoy her company for a few months.” He looks at Eleanor – “-would that please you?” Damn right, it would. And now Leopold cannot refuse. Louis says she will be well looked after then sticks the knife right in: “who knows? We may even find her a husband.” So the camera pans the crowd, they sign the documents, Louis rises and gives a speech about being former enemies now friends, blood replaced by wine, now allies blah blah. Everyone claps as the music swells.

Festivities begin and the Chevalier is being some kind of circus ringleader, demanding a volunteer as he waves about a cane and some silk, the centre of attention. Has a joke about Philippe being missing, then Louvois’ belly, then Louis stands and volunteers. “A brave proposition from the king,” the Chevalier declares as Louis ties on the blindfold. “Olé” (lolwat) he then announces and Louis smiles and starts to blindly grope about the room as courtiers laugh and scatter. I see Maintenon deliberately putting herself in the way, but the Chevalier good-naturedly prods the king with his cane. The queen is watching, playing cards as Leopold hovers behind her, asking her for courage and then whispering something in her ear. As the king laughs and enjoys the game, the queen’s face is looking more panicky as Leo keeps whispering and Jebus, I bet my front teeth he is suggesting something along the lines of regicide… Even that is too much. Meanwhile Louis gropes about, still laughing and the doors behind him open and everyone stills, their faces dropping in shock and horror. Louis senses the mood, quickly removes the blindfold and we see Colbert, battered and bloody and with a smashed-in face. “My God.” Louis gasps. “Who did this to you?” Colbert swallows, then shakily gets out, “the people of France, sire.” Louis looks horrified.

The music swells and that is the end of Episode 2. UGH. What is in store for the next ep?

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Versailles S3, Ep2 – The one with Sophie’s return When we left our intrepid characters, Philippe had stupidly and against all sense, charged off on his own, in the night, without guards (yeah, this would never happen) to the Bastille to find out who this mysterious Duc de Sullun is.

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newsfact · 2 years

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Three reasons why Lakers can’t trade for Trail Blazers’ Damian Lillard

Whenever an NBA star becomes available as a free agent or trade target — or, really, could possibly become available at some point in the future — the Lakers are automatically connected to that player. The standard Photoshop images quickly hit social media, and the fake trades are constructed.

Damian Lillard has gotten this treatment, of course. The Trail Blazers star expressed frustration with the state of his team after Denver defeated Portland in the first round of the 2021 NBA playoffs despite missing Jamal Murray and Will Barton. His surprisingly direct comments caused fans and analysts alike to wonder if he would consider requesting a trade during the offseason.

“Where we are isn’t good enough to win a championship if it’s not good enough to get out of a first-round series with two of their best three or four players not on the floor,” Lillard said.

NBA League Pass: Sign up to unlock live out-of-market games (7-day free trial)

Speculation about Lillard’s status and the possibility of joining the Lakers kicked into high gear once again after Yahoo Sports’ Chris Haynes recently reported on Lillard’s summer meeting with LeBron James and Anthony Davis.

“‘Bron asked what I was thinking with my situation, and I told him what I’m telling you: that I just want to be in a position to win it all,” Lillard told Haynes. “He painted the picture to me that if I were to leave, the situation could look like this. He didn’t tell me to come to LA, and he didn’t say anything to me that I didn’t already know other than what it could look like.

“I told him, ‘I know if I were to play with y’all, I know it would work out because of my skill set,’ and who I am and who they are.”

Uh-oh. Should the folks in Portland be concerned? No, not really. There are three big reasons why Lillard won’t be heading to Los Angeles anytime soon.

Damian Lillard wants to win a championship with the Trail Blazers

While Lillard acknowledged that he knew how he would fit alongside James and Davis, he also told Haynes that he was hesitant to join any version of a “super team.”

“I’m sure it would be great to play with LeBron and AD and play in a big market, but as attractive as it sounded and as fun as that might be, I don’t feel in my heart that that’s who I am or where I belong,” Lillard said. “And one thing I want to emphasize is that this decision wasn’t made out of comfort. I’m not afraid to be out of my comfort zone because I’m going to live here when I’m done playing regardless. I made my decision based on what I actually want to do.”

He echoed that sentiment during a freestyle on “Bars On I-95,” rapping that “Me not wanting to join a super team might end up being my Achilles’ heel.”

Lillard has also rejected the idea of playing for other title contenders. After 76ers fans cheered for Lillard during a game at the Wells Fargo Center, the six-time All-Star told reporters that it was “funny” to hear. Lillard is definitely aware that the Sixers covet him, but some “Brotherly Love” won’t alter his stance.

“I know what it is and I know what it’s about. But I’m a Trail Blazer,” Lillard said (via ESPN’s Tim Bontemps). “I appreciate the love. I appreciate the respect that they showed and the desire or whatever but I’m 10 toes in Rip City, and I’ve said that time and time again and tonight I laughed about it during starting lineups but that was that.”

The mission for Lillard is bringing a title to Portland. He watched Giannis Antetokounmpo win a championship with the Bucks, and he wants to have a similar experience with the only franchise he has ever known.

“I want to win a championship here. And because of how strongly I feel about that, I don’t know how rewarding it would feel for me at this point if I won somewhere else,” Lillard told Haynes. “Winning it here would be a lifetime achievement for me.”

MORE: How long is LeBron James out?

Neil Olshey won’t trade Damian Lillard

Trail Blazers president of basketball operations Neil Olshey has never seemed interested in discussing a Lillard trade in general, but there is “no way” he would ever trade Lillard to the Lakers, according to Haynes. That’s about as definitive as you can get.

Olshey made a few minor changes to the roster during the offseason and never considered moving Lillard. His biggest splash came when he hired Chauncey Billups to replace longtime coach Terry Stotts. Olshey believes that Billups is capable of leading Portland deeper into the playoffs after back-to-back first-round flameouts.

“Chauncey is a proven leader with an elite basketball IQ that has won everywhere he has been,” Olshey said back in June. “He is prepared for the challenge of developing the championship habits and strategic approach we need to achieve the expectations and goals for our franchise.”

It’s been a bumpy start to the 2021-22 campaign, though. The Trail Blazers have lost three of their last four games, and as long as they continue to struggle, the questions about whether Lillard can achieve his ultimate goal in Portland will remain.

MORE: Early NBA Rookie of the Year odds

The Lakers don’t have a great trade package for Damian Lillard

Let’s say Lillard sours on the idea of sticking with the Trail Blazers, and Olshey changes his tune, too. Even if that does happen — again, there are no indications that either side wants to end the relationship — what exactly could the Lakers offer that would put them above other suitors?

Los Angeles isn’t going to trade James or Davis. It could put Russell Westbrook on the table, but he would only help keep Portland in the same tier of the Western Conference. The Lakers sent out their best young players and draft picks in order to acquire Davis, so there isn’t much left on their roster that would intrigue the Trail Blazers. (It’s also worth noting that salary-matching would be a major hurdle.)

Unless the Lakers got extremely creative and involved another team in this process, a blockbuster deal just couldn’t happen. But hey, we’ll always have the Photoshops.

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unwillingadventurer · 6 years

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Tagged by @ilwinsgarden, thanks :D

Rules: choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions.

We choose (not going with DW this time because everyone knows our loves there and we’ve answered them a lot before)

Raffles

Versailles

Colditz

First character you loved:

Hmm probably Raffles before we also discovered our love for Bunny

Philippe. He was really intriguing.

Simon (or maybe Player for eye candy lol)

The character you never expected to love so much:

Mackenzie. Not that we didn’t really expect it, but we just really find him hilarious.

Not sure, Bontemps maybe?

Carrington. At first we weren’t sure but then he showed himself to be awesome.

The character you relate to the most:

Bunny without a doubt. Anxious at times, writer, loyal, fancies Raffles lol

Sophie a little maybe but not really any of them.

Pat Grant. Quiet and hardworking and tries to get along with everyone. Though he’s much more adventurous.

The characters you’d slap:

The slimy guy moneylender in Mr. Justice Raffles. Ugh.

There’s quite a lot of characters you’d want to slap if you knew them. Louis most of the time lol

Mohn. He’s still our fave character though. Also Collins.

Three favourite characters (in order of preference)

Raffles & Bunny (too hard to choose a fave) and then Mackenzie.

Chevalier, Philippe, Liselotte

Mohn, Simon Carter, ahhh it’s hard as we love em all...Preston then.

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

None. Like them all, still do.

Thomas maybe. That was kinda the point of his character but anyway...

No one.

A character you did not like at first but now do:

None! We mostly like everyone.

Henriette. Not that we didn’t like her as such but on first watch we weren’t as invested until later in the series. Now we love her.

Downing? Again it’s not that we didn’t like him but he wasn’t really used in series 1 so we didn’t have many feelings.

Three otps: (three for each?)

There’s not even three main characters lol so can only go with Raffles/Bunny but there’s enough love there for three otps.

Philippe/Chevalier is our only Versailles ship really but we also don’t mind Fabien/Claudine

None. We don’t have any ships for this. We’re all about the friendships in this series.

Can’t think of who to tag at this moment. But please do if you want to. :D

#question thingy

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louisleroisoleil · 7 years

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[ Continued from HERE -- > @mcnsieur ]

Louis had opened the gates for him, and him alone. Both had been childhood friends of Henriette, but his friendship with her varied greatly from that of Louis’. While they may not have loved each other as a husband and wife should, especially in the middle part of their marriage, they were friends. When children, or Louis, or the Chevalier were not mentioned they had a wonderful time getting along. Philippe had lost a true friend, one who wasn’t there for favors, one who knew him better than even Louis. And he did not want to be in a gold cage as he grieved. He wanted to be where he was the ruler, he wanted to be at his home, for his own servants would want to be consoled, for they knew her too. So Louis let him leave on the roads that even with assurance that they were safe, obviously were not.

Philippe decided to not ride in his carriage. In a moment of rarity he wanted to ride his horse, perhaps because he just did not want to be confined. The carriage came anyways, he had alot of things. At the half way mark, the small, small envoy which for the King’s brother should not have been so small, was taken over. It wasn’t some loud ambush, and no one was killed. But Philippe was taken. He had been knocked off his horse, and Rohan had taken him, threatening those around that he would kill them all, and the man he was now holding, a black sack over his head, if they did not continue on their path. He paid them off handsomely to not reveal who he was, and if they did that they would be killed. It was a small envoy of people who valued their lives, and were close to Philippe not the king, its was not a hefty price to pay.

So Rohan took Philippe, who didn’t wake up, somehow, til they were already at their destination. Philippe was disoriented, he had no idea where they were, but that didn’t seem to matter as his clothes were stripped from short of his shirt and pants. It was like he was a common criminal. He tried to protest, but each time he said something he was only hit. He could not tell who was behind this for the men who were doing this to him all wore masks. Rohan spoke coldly, “Do not worry, we have a mask for you as well.”

Philippe’s eyes went wide as he saw what they meant, an iron monstrosity. Their intent was that no one was to know who he was, he saw that. He realized that, and that made him struggle to get out of this. The man who was speaking frowned, it was barely noticeable with the mask that he wore, “They will know him by his hair,” it was just a simple sentence, he supposed it would be true. But he suspected they didn’t want his hair interfering with the lock that became more prominent the more he looked at it.

He felt it then, a chunk of his hair had been grabbed, and he could feel the knife slide through it. And it kept happening. He struggled more, and another man had taken to holding him still so that he would not move so much. After all their aim was to not kill him… yet… it seemed. Soon it stopped, and his energy had been sapped, he had relaxed in the arms of the men, but he had a plan. A plan that would hopefully be able to catch them all off guard. They were moving again, probably to prepare him to be put in the mask.

He made his move, with the strength that he had he surged up from the stool they had set him, and he tried to run. He tried, but he was caught, and thrown to the ground, and placed roughly back on the stool. They did not hesitate. Rohan placed the mask on him, and then the surrounding metal cage that held it in place. The lock clasped shut with a dangerous click.

His hands were then bound in front of him, and he was stood up, and lead somewhere else. Somewhere down many stairs. They came to a door that looked like a prison cell and Philippe knew where they were. They were at the Bastille, and he panicked. The Chevalier refused to speak of this place, and now he was here, and no one would know. No one would look for him, his security had always come second to Louis’ and now the price was being paid, and Louis would carry one, thinking his brother hated him. He was shoved in, and the door closed.

His desire for cleanliness was first to go. Nothing was clean in this cell. His desire to keep his clothes, what was left of them went next as they became torn and frayed. His desire to have his hands unbound was next. His desire to eat was one of the last things to go, not like they fed him enough anyways. He had never been a terribly hungry man for anything that wasn’t sweet, but one could only eat so much maggot infested bread.

He had never kept track of the days, he only knew it changed because he could see it in the tiny window that he couldn’t reach. Funny how even now he couldn’t reach the sun. That didn’t stop him from hoping he would see it— see him again. He missed his brother, he also missed the Chevalier, but he missed Louis more. It was a brother thing, that he supposed only brothers would ever be able to understand. He missed his brother terribly, and he decided one day that he would only accept rescue from Louis.

He made that decision some time ago. He wished he had counted days, because he did not have any idea how long he had been gone. He had no idea who missed him. He had no idea where anyone was for he never saw his captors again. He stopped asking why he was here, and what he had done, what treason did he commit long ago for the guards only shouted at him, and never got any response.

He was lonely and miserable, and was slowly forgetting. The ropes that tied his hands had frayed and fallen off, just like his mind began to fray. He couldn’t remember what the Chevalier sounded like. He didn’t remember what he looked like, though he knew he had black hair. He couldn’t remember any details of his marriage, Henriette’s face was merely a blur, like when one’s eyes blur before they cry. He could remember that Louis called him brother, it was a word that rang out in his mind. He could remember Louis’ voice, and that he was the son. He supposed they looked alike, but since he could not remember what he looked like, Louis’ face had disappeared from his memory too. All those small short term things happened slowly. Eventually he forgot what his Chevalier looked like, only picturing a knight from long ago in his place.

To help him not forget things completely, not go insane— completely, he gathered rocks, and bits of straw and made little battle plans, he constructed each one eloquently with his limited materials. He could always here Louis’ voice telling him Brother. He took it as a sign of approval whenever France was certain to win in his made up scenarios.

The days grew long, and silent. There was a stillness to the air. It had to have been years. But Philippe had no way of knowing because he had been stupid in the beginning and had not marked the days. The stillness was interrupted one day, taking care to not ruing his imaginary battle plan he went to the door, and peered out the tiny window, but he saw nothing. It was probably another prisoner getting into a fight, he supposed they did that. He wouldn’t know, he had not seen another living soul since being locked in here.

But then there was a noise directly outside his door. He was sitting now looking at it, his confusion covered by the mask he wore, the mask he had worn for so long. It didn’t even feel like a burden any longer. It was just part of him. The door swung open and he jumped back hitting the wall with a slight thud. His heart was racing, were his captors returning, what was going to happen to him? He thought surely they wanted to keep him alive, but now he was not so sure.

He heard a voice, it was calling orders. He knew that voice. It was the one that called him brother in his head. It was the one that approved his battle plans. With a voice broken from four years of disuse he said so quietly it was almost missed, “Brother?”

All eyes turned to him, sitting in his little cell, hunched over eyes big once in awe of it being true, but now scared that he had misspoke. Would a guard hit him? He remembered being hit when he was placed in here. There was a defining silence again, and Philippe only hung his head. It had to have been imagined. He felt tears, not remembering the last time he cried, they were caught in the metal of the mask making it less comfortable. He was to be left again, as still no words were spoken.

He looked up again, and before him was a man he was dressed in gold, and Philippe would swear that the sun itself had come into his tiny dark cell. The man looked important, but Philippe dared not say another word. He had been wrong earlier, the man who called him brother in his head had clearly not been here, and he had made a fool of himself, which wasn’t hard to do considering the circumstances.

Everyone was looking at the man who stood before him now, everyone was looking at them, everyone was looking at him. He looked at the man before him, and briefly wondered what his fate would be for clearly this man held it in the palm of his hand.

Losing Henriette had been hard for Louis. He had pulled away from her some time before it happened, but that did not mean that he did not love her. Henriette was the only woman Louis had ever truly loved, even though he should not have loved her. But, he tended to do what he wanted. But to make it worse, Louis didn’t just Henriette. He lost Philippe too. He’d not wanted Philippe to leave. The last thing he wanted was to lose his brother too. They were grieving. Sure, he told Philippe that it would mean he was against him, but he was really saying, please don’t go. But Philippe had left with him. Everyone he truly loved was gone, other than Bontemps. As much as So Louis had buried himself in his palace, his women and running France. If Philippe didn’t need him, then he didn’t need his brother either. He had chosen to leave with the Chevalier, and Louis would persevere. He would grieve and he would move on. He was Louis XIV and he was the King of France.

As time went on, Louis stopped himself from thinking of Philippe often, because he was his brother. There were times when they were boys, that Philippe was the only thing that got him through the pressure, the pressure of being pawed at, of people constantly putting in his head how a King behaved, how he was Louis XIV, how even though he had not taken over ruling yet, he was the King of France. He didn’t deal with the pain he felt over losing the person most important to them, when he was wasn’t dead, well at all. But, appearance was important. He never let anyone know how he felt, and only thought of Philippe when he got the chance to be alone, time to allow himself to be just Louis, who missed his brother.

Something wasn’t right though. He should have heard something, anything and he’d not heard anything for quite some time. He knew that Philippe had not left on the best of terms with him. They were both upset about a lot of things, but something wasn’t right. Something was not right. It was a little while longer, before he got word that the Chevalier was here to speak with him. He had heard all the excuses from the man he barely tolerated, how Philippe been taken, how they all had been ambushed, how he had searched for weeks, maybe longer for his lover, but could not find him. Louis very rarely acted out in anger in front of people, but when he did, he did not hesitate. He grabbed the man by the throat in a move shocking everyone and narrowed his eyes, “Where is my brother?” There was no answer. Why had no one told him? He was the King. Where? was Philippe? What had happened to him? Louis gained his bearings long enough to try to put together, some sort of a plan. It would take time and what if Philippe didn’t have time? He truly had to believe that Philippe was out there. He would know if his brother was dead. He would feel it.

In what felt like weeks later, weeks and weeks of searching France, England everywhere, Louis still had not found Philippe. He did not sleep, he barely ate, and to make it worse, he had discovered that he had a traitor in his midst in the form of some guards that were working against him. There were guilty of many things, unforgivable things, but were still unwilling to tell Louis who was their leader. Louis was about to order him to be hung, when the man let the words slip. “You won’t find your dear brother without me.”

He had not wanted to talk but finally, he let something slip about a dungeon and a mask and it did not take Louis long, but he decided to go check the Bastille. He was not sending his guards to check. He was going to check. Louis was Philippe’s brother and he was going to have anyone killed who had anything to do with this, if his brother was harmed.

It had taken time. Even under the order of the King, people were not willing to tell him much. There was a silence, but finally, he searched every single cell in the Bastille. Moving to the final one deep inside the Bastille, he found himself face to face with a man, in an iron mask, a man who looked weakened and by his movements slightly insane as well. He was about to turn from him, wanting to know who he was. That could not be Philippe. That could not be his brother. That could not be the man who owned more shoes than probably all of France.

But then, he heard the word and though the voice was broken, and it was hoarse, he would know that sound anyway and he turned to the cell, his hands on the bars. “Brother, is that you?” There was pain in Louis’ face and heartbreak. He needed to know. “Speak to me. Tell me. Is it you? Are you Philippe Duc d’ Orleans…Brother, is it you?” He tried to plead with the figure, hoping but dreading the truth. This man had clearly been through an ordeal and none of this was cleared through him. He was the King. But now, he just needed to know, had he found his brother?

#mcnsieur #You think because I am King I am not also a brother? [Philippe]#V: I am France [Canal+ Versailles (Main Verse)]#AU and such #Wear It until you love it and die in it [Man in The Iron Mask AU]#although it doesn't completely fit in that verse #and my heart

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blackkudos · 7 years

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August Wilson

August Wilson (April 27, 1945 – October 2, 2005) was an American playwright whose work included a series of ten plays,

The Pittsburgh Cycle

, for which he received two Pulitzer Prizes for Drama. Each is set in a different decade, depicting the comic and tragic aspects of the African-American experience in the 20th century.

Childhood

Wilson's maternal grandmother walked from North Carolina to Pennsylvania in search of a better life. Wilson was born Frederick August Kittel, Jr. in the Hill District of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the fourth of six children, to Sudeten-German immigrant baker/pastry cook, Frederick August Kittel, Sr. and Daisy Wilson, an African-American cleaning woman, from North Carolina. Wilson's mother raised the children alone until he was five in a two-room apartment above a grocery store at 1727 Bedford Avenue; his father was mostly absent from his childhood. Wilson would go on to write under his mother's surname. The economically depressed neighborhood where he was raised was inhabited predominantly by black Americans and Jewish and Italian immigrants. Wilson's mother divorced his father and married David Bedford in the 1950s, and the family moved from the Hill District to the then predominantly white working-class neighborhood of Hazelwood, where they encountered racial hostility; bricks were thrown through a window at their new home. They were soon forced out of their house and on to their next home.

In 1959 Wilson was one of fourteen African-American students at the Central Catholic High School, where he dropped out after one year. He then attended Connelley Vocational High School, but found the curriculum unchallenging. He dropped out of Gladstone High School in the 10th grade in 1960 after his teacher accused him of plagiarizing a 20-page paper he wrote on Napoleon I of France. Wilson hid his decision from his mother because he did not want to disappoint her. At the age of 16 he began working menial jobs, where he met a wide variety of people on whom some of his later characters were based, such as Sam in The Janitor (1985).

Wilson made such extensive use of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh to educate himself that it later awarded him an honorary high school diploma, the only diploma it has ever bestowed. Wilson, who had learned to read at the age of four, began reading black writers at the library when he was 12 and spent the remainder of his teen years educating himself through the books of Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes, Arna Bontemps, and others.

Career

Wilson knew that he wanted to be a writer, but this created tension with his mother, who wanted him to become a lawyer. She forced him to leave the family home and he enlisted in the United States Army for a three-year stint in 1962, but left after one year and went back to working various odd jobs as a porter, short-order cook, gardener, and dishwasher.

Frederick August Kittel, Jr. changed his name to August Wilson to honor his mother after his father's death in 1965. That same year he discovered the blues as sung by Bessie Smith, and he bought a stolen typewriter for $10, which he would often pawn when money was tight. At 20 he decided he was a poet and submitted his poetry to such magazines as Harper's. He began to write in bars, the local cigar store and cafes, longhand on table napkins and on yellow notepads, absorbing the voices and characters around him. He liked to write on cafe napkins because, he said, it freed him up and made him less self-conscious as a writer. He would then gather the notes and type them up at home. Gifted with a talent for catching dialect and accents, Wilson had an "astonishing memory," which he put to full use during his career. He slowly learned not to censor the language he heard when incorporating it into his work.

Malcolm X's voice would influence his life and work (such as The Ground on Which I Stand, 1996). Both the Nation of Islam and the Black Power spoke to him regarding self-sufficiency, self-defense and self-determination, and he appreciated the origin myths that Elijah Muhammad supported. In 1969 Wilson married Brenda Burton, a Muslim, and Wilson converted to Islam in order to sustain the marriage. He and Brenda had one daughter, Sakina Ansari-Wilson, and divorced in 1972.

In 1968, he co-founded the Black Horizon Theater in the Hill District of Pittsburgh along with his friend Rob Penny. Wilson's first play,Recycling, was performed for audiences in small theaters, schools and public housing community centers for 50 cents a ticket. Among these early efforts was Jitney, which he revised more than two decades later as part of his 10-play cycle on 20th-century Pittsburgh. He had no directing experience. He recalled: "Someone had looked around and said, 'Who’s going to be the director?' I said, 'I will.' I said that because I knew my way around the library. So I went to look for a book on how to direct a play. I found one called The Fundamentals of Play Directing and checked it out."

In 1976 Vernell Lillie, who had founded the Kuntu Repertory Theatre at the University of Pittsburgh two years earlier, directed Wilson'sThe Homecoming. That same year Wilson saw Sizwe Banzi is Dead at the Pittsburgh Public Theater, his first professional play. Wilson, Penny, and poet Maisha Baton also started the Kuntu Writers Workshop to bring African-American writers together and to assist them in publication and production. Both organizations are still active.

In 1978 Wilson moved to Saint Paul, Minnesota, at the suggestion of his friend director Claude Purdy, who helped him secure a job writing educational scripts for the Science Museum of Minnesota. In 1980 he received a fellowship for The Playwrights' Center in Minneapolis. He quit the Museum in 1981, but continued writing plays. For three years, he was a part-time cook for the Little Brothers of the Poor. Wilson had a long association with the Penumbra Theatre Company of St Paul, which gave the premieres of some Wilson plays. Fullerton Street which has been unproduced and unpublished, was written in 1980. It follows the Joe Louis/Billy Conn fight in 1940 and the loss of values attendant on the Great Migration to the urban North.

In 1987, Saint Paul's mayor George Latimer named May 27 "August Wilson Day." He was honored because he was the only person to both come from Minnesota and win a Pulitzer Prize.

In 1990 Wilson left St Paul after getting divorced and moved to Seattle. There he would develop a relationship with Seattle Repertory Theatre, which would become the only theater in the country to produce all of the works in his ten-play cycle and his one-man showHow I Learned What I Learned.

Although he was a writer dedicated to writing for theater, a Hollywood studio proposed filming Wilson's play Fences. He insisted that a black director be hired for the film, saying: "I declined a white director not on the basis of race but on the basis of culture. White directors are not qualified for the job. The job requires someone who shares the specifics of the culture of black Americans." The film remained unmade until 2016, when a film adaptation directed by Denzel Washington and starring Washington and Viola Davis began filming.

Wilson received many honorary degrees, including an honorary Doctor of Humanities from the University of Pittsburgh, where he served as a member of the University's Board of Trustees from 1992 until 1995.

Wilson maintained a strong voice in the progress and development of the (then) contemporary black theater, undoubtedly taking influences from the examples of his youth, such as those displayed during the Black Arts Movement. One of the most notable examples of Wilson’s strong opinions and critiques of what was black theater’s state in the ’90’s, was the “On Cultural Power: The August Wilson/Robert Brustein Discussion”—being just one of the times where Wilson spoke plainly for the progression of black theater. Here, Wilson engages in a fairly heated discussion with Robert Brustein. As with all debate neither truly came out ‘right’, however both played a hand in calling attention to a huge issue, and shedding light on how poor of a state the form was in. Undeniably, Wilson left an everlasting imprint on Black Theater's development.

Work

Wilson's best known plays are Fences (1985) (which won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award), The Piano Lesson (1990) (a Pulitzer Prize and the New York Drama Critics' Circle Award), Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and Joe Turner's Come and Gone.

Wilson stated that he was most influenced by "the four Bs": blues music, the Argentine novelist and poet Jorge Luis Borges, the playwright Amiri Baraka and the painter Romare Bearden. He went on to add writers Ed Bullins and James Baldwin to the list. He noted: "From Borges, those wonderful gaucho stories from which I learned that you can be specific as to a time and place and culture and still have the work resonate with the universal themes of love, honor, duty, betrayal, etc. From Amiri Baraka, I learned that all art is political, although I don't write political plays. From Romare Bearden I learned that the fullness and richness of everyday life can be rendered without compromise or sentimentality." He valued Bullins and Baldwin for their honest representations of everyday life.

Like Bearden, Wilson worked with collage techniques in writing: "I try to make my plays the equal of his canvases. In creating plays I often use the image of a stewing pot in which I toss various things that I’m going to make use of—a black cat, a garden, a bicycle, a man with a scar on his face, a pregnant woman, a man with a gun." On the meaning of his work Wilson stated "I once wrote this short story called 'The Best Blues Singer in the World,' and it went like this— “The streets that Balboa walked were his own private ocean, and Balboa was drowning.” End of story. That says it all. Nothing else to say. I’ve been rewriting that same story over and over again. All my plays are rewriting that same story."

The

Pittsburgh Cycle

Wilson noted:

"I think my plays offer (white Americans) a different way to look at black Americans," he told The Paris Review. "For instance, in Fences they see a garbageman, a person they don't really look at, although they see a garbageman every day. By looking at Troy's life, white people find out that the content of this black garbageman's life is affected by the same things – love, honor, beauty, betrayal, duty. Recognizing that these things are as much part of his life as theirs can affect how they think about and deal with black people in their lives."

Although the plays of the cycle are not strictly connected to the degree of a serial story, some characters appear (at various ages) in more than one of the cycle's plays. Children of characters in earlier plays may appear in later plays. The character most frequently mentioned in the cycle is Aunt Ester, a "washer of souls". She is reported to be 285 years old in Gem of the Ocean, which takes place in her home at 1839 Wylie Avenue, and 322 in Two Trains Running. She dies in 1985, during the events of King Hedley II. Much of the action of Radio Golf revolves around the plan to demolish and redevelop that house, some years after her death. The plays often include an apparently mentally impaired oracular character (different in each play)—for example, Hedley Sr. in Seven Guitars, Gabriel in Fences or Hambone in Two Trains Running.

Chicago’s Goodman Theatre was the first theater in the world to produce the entire 10-play cycle, spanning from 1986 to 2007. Two of the Goodman’s productions—Seven Guitars and Gem of the Ocean—were world premieres. Israel Hicks produced the entire 10-play cycle from 1990 to 2009 for the Denver Center Theatre Company. Geva Theatre Center produced all 10 plays in decade order from 2007 to 2011 as August Wilson's American Century. The Huntington Theatre Company of Boston has produced all 10 plays, finishing in 2012. During Wilson's life he worked closely with The Huntington to produce the later plays. Pittsburgh Public Theater was the first theater company in Pittsburgh to produce the entire Century Cycle, including the world premiere of King Hedley II to open the O'Reilly Theater in Downtown Pittsburgh.

TAG - The Actors' Group, in Honolulu, Hawaii, produced all 10 plays in the cycle starting in 2004 with Two Trains Running and culminating in 2015 with Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. All shows were Hawaii premieres, all were extremely successful at the box office and garnered many local theatre awards for the actors and the organization.

Two years before his death in 2005, August Wilson wrote and performed an unpublished one-man play entitled How I Learned What I Learned about the power of art and the power of possibility. Recently produced at New York's Signature Theatre and directed by Todd Kreidler, Wilson's friend and protégé, How I Learned explores his days as a struggling young writer in Pittsburgh's Hill District and how the neighborhood and its people inspired his amazing cycle of plays about the African-American experience.

Personal life

Wilson was married three times. His first marriage was to Brenda Burton from 1969 to 1972. They had one daughter, Sakina Ansari, born 1970. In 1981 he married Judy Oliver, a social worker; they divorced in 1990. He married again in 1994 and was survived by his third wife, costume designer, Constanza Romero, whom he met on the set of The Piano Lesson. They had a daughter, Azula Carmen Wilson. Wilson was also survived by siblings Freda Ellis, Linda Jean Kittel, Donna Conley, Barbara Jean Wilson, Edwin Kittel and Richard Kittel.

Wilson reported that he had been diagnosed with liver cancer in June 2005 and been given three to five months to live. He died on October 2, 2005, at Swedish Medical Center in Seattle, and was interred at Greenwood Cemetery, Pittsburgh, on October 8, 2005, aged 60.

Legacy

The childhood home of Wilson and his six siblings, at 1727 Bedford Avenue in Pittsburgh was declared a historic landmark by the State of Pennsylvania on May 30, 2007. On February 26, 2008, Pittsburgh City Council placed the house on the List of City of Pittsburgh historic designations. On April 30, 2013, the August Wilson House was added to the National Register of Historic Places.

In Pittsburgh, there is an August Wilson Center for African American Culture.

In Seattle, WA along the south side of the Seattle Repertory Theatre, the vacated Republican Street between Warren Avenue N. and 2nd Avenue N. on the Seattle Center grounds has been renamed August Wilson Way.

Honors and awards

1986: Whiting Award for Drama

1987: Pulitzer Prize for Drama – Fences

1987: Tony Award for Best Play – Fences

1987: Outer Critics Circle Award – Fences

1987: Artist of the Year by Chicago Tribune

1988: Literary Lion Award from the New York Public Library

1988: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Joe Turner's Come and Gone

1990: Governor's Awards for Excellence in the Arts and Distinguished Pennsylvania Artists

1990: Drama Desk Award for Outstanding New Play – The Piano Lesson

1990: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – The Piano Lesson

1990: Pulitzer Prize for Drama – The Piano Lesson

1991: Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame award

1991: St. Louis Literary Award from the Saint Louis University Library Associates

1992: American Theatre Critics' Association Award – Two Trains Running

1992: New York Drama Critics Circle Citation for Best American Play – Two Trains Running

1992: Clarence Muse Award

1996: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Seven Guitars

1999: National Humanities Medal

2000: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Jitney

2000: Outer Critics Circle Award for Outstanding Off-Broadway Play – Jitney

2002: Olivier Award for Best new Play – Jitney

2004: The 10th Annual Heinz Award in Arts and Humanities

2004: The U.S. Comedy Arts Festival Freedom of Speech Award

2005: Make Shift Award at the U.S. Confederation of Play Writers

2006: American Theatre Hall of Fame.

Plays

Recycle (1973)

Black Bart and the Sacred Hills (1977)

Fullerton Street (1980)

Jitney (1982)

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (1984)

Joe Turner's Come and Gone (1984)

Fences (1987)

The Homecoming (1989)

The Coldest Day of the Year (1989)

The Piano Lesson (1990)

Two Trains Running (1991)

Seven Guitars (1995)

King Hedley II (1999)

How I Learned What I Learned (2002)

Gem of the Ocean (2003)

Radio Golf (2005)

Wikipedia

#August Wilson #04-27 #10-02

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womenofcolor15 · 4 years

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SPORTS CHAOS: NBA, MLB, NHL Seasons SUSPENDED! Players Self-Quarantine After 2 Jazz Players Are Infected With Coronavirus + Rudy Gobert 'Mocks' Virus Then Tests Positive + Reporters & Players Are PISSED

The Coronavirus has hit the NBA, sending the entire league into chaos and self quarantines and causing it to suspend the rest of the season until further notice. Reporters and teammates are reportedly PISSED at Rudy Gobert. Plus, the MLB & NHL are suspending everything too (for now). Everything inside…

Almost a month before the playoffs, the NBA abruptly suspended ALL games for the rest of the season until further notice after a Utah Jazz player tested positive for the Coronavirus.

Utah Jazz player Rudy Gobert reportedly tested positive for the Coronavirus (COVID-19), which forced the league’s hand in canceling the rest of the season. The league didn't release his name, but sources close to the situation revealed it was him.

"The NBA is suspending game play following the conclusion of [Wednesday's] schedule of games until further notice,'' the league said in a statement issued shortly after 9:30 pm EST. "The NBA will use this hiatus to determine next steps for moving forward in regard to the coronavirus pandemic.''

NBA To Suspend Season Following Tonight's Games pic.twitter.com/2PTx2fkLlW

— NBA (@NBA) March 12, 2020

The Utah Jazz also issued a statement:

Jazz statement pic.twitter.com/HQ13iHPdCr

— Sarah Todd (@NBASarah) March 12, 2020

Just a couple days ago, the league was exploring options of playing game sout with no fans in the arena - only media, personnel and select family members. Most teams were up for this, except for the Knicks who reportedly were ok with keeping things as is - fans and all.

That all changed last night. The league’s complete suspension announcement was made shortly after it postponed a game between the Utah Jazz and Oklahoma City Thunder just before tipoff. Right before the game, NBA officials brought Jazz head coach Quin Snyder and Thunder head coach Billy Donovan together at mid-court for a discussion. After the conversation, both teams exited the court.

Check it:

The Jazz-Thunder game has been put on hold.

Rudy Gobert and Emmanuel Mudiay (illness) were late scratches. #NBA pic.twitter.com/1rBzXdb2sM

— One Sports (@OneSportsPHL) March 12, 2020

Here’s a timeline of the events from last night leading up to the league suspending the rest of the season:

This is the timeline of most definitely the weirdest day in NBA History. Ahead of the Jazz-Thunder matchup tonight in OKC, Rudy Gobert and Emmanuel Mudiay were both out for illness. Seconds before the game was supposed to start, the P.A. announcer for the OKC Thunder stated... pic.twitter.com/KFpoN90vth

— combat carl (@combat_carl_1) March 12, 2020

The New Orleans Pelicans' game at the Sacramento Kings was also postponed because one of the referees scheduled to work that game worked Utah's game on Monday.

Rudy & Emmanuel have both been ruled out (illness) for tonight's game.

— Utah Jazz (@utahjazz) March 11, 2020

Before Rudy tested positive for the virus, the Jazz announced he and Emmanuel Mudiay had been ruled out for “illness.” Right now, it’s unclear if Emmanuel has Coronavirus.

Jazz guard Emmanuel Mudiay was also taken to the hospital to get tested for the coronavirus, some reports say his results came back positive as well but the NBA hasn’t made it official yet. Jazz players were told to self-quarantine after tonight’s game against OKC was postponed. https://t.co/y10Ji4pKiF

— Francis Argueta (@francisnewyork) March 12, 2020

It’s alleged Rudy was being “careless” in the locker room by touching other players and their belongings.

Jazz player Donovan Mitchell has also tested positive for the Coronavirus, sources told ESPN.

Jazz star Donovan Mitchell has tested positive for the coronavirus, league sources tell ESPN. Jazz players privately say that Rudy Gobert had been careless in the locker room touching other players and their belongings. Now a Jazz teammate has tested positive.

— Adrian Wojnarowski (@wojespn) March 12, 2020

He posted a message on IG to thank everyone for their prayers and concern:

View this post on Instagram

Thanks to everyone who has been reaching out since hearing the news about my positive test. We are all learning more about the seriousness of this situation and hopefully people can continue to educate themselves and realize that they need to behave responsibly both for their own health and for the well being of those around them. I appreciate the authorities in Oklahoma who were helpful with the testing process and everyone from the @utahjazz who have been so supportive. I am going to keep following the advice of our medical staff and hope that we can all come together and be there for each other and our neighbors who need our help

A post shared by Donovan Mitchell (@spidadmitchell) on Mar 12, 2020 at 10:20am PDT

Days before Rudy was diagnosed with the virus, he was caught on camera rubbing his hands all over the microphones. Peep the clip below:

Rudy Gobert of the Utah Jazz thought the NBA precautions were a joke — so he touched everything in the room.

He tested positive for coronavirus today & now the whole NBA is shut down. pic.twitter.com/Gdcw3WZYjj

— An0maly (@LegendaryEnergy) March 12, 2020

Rudy Gobert didn’t travel to another country in the last couple weeks.

He got coronavirus from someone else around him.

Which means probably a lot of people have it around him.

A Europe travel ban won’t stop the pandemic in America. It’s already here.

— Grant Liffmann (@GrantLiffmann) March 12, 2020

Folks online feel like it’s Rudy catching the virus is his karma for mocking the virus. However, reporters in the room see the situation differently. One reporter said he felt Rudy's gesture was in support of the media:

On the Rudy Gobert microphone incident: at the time, I actually took it as a measure of support for the media. We were being told to keep 6-8 feet away from them on the assumption that we might infect a player. I thought it was Rudy thumbing his nose at the separation between us.

— Andy Larsen (@andyblarsen) March 12, 2020

It was obviously reckless, but heck, nearly everyone I know has made a coronavirus distance joke at some point this week.

— Andy Larsen (@andyblarsen) March 12, 2020

It's scary to think how the virus could have spread throughout the NBA these last few days. Peep the chart below:

All 30 NBA teams can be connected in just the last 5 days.

The NBA made the right decision to suspend this season. pic.twitter.com/jUy3X5zwTj

— StatMuse (@statmuse) March 12, 2020

At least five NBA teams have reportedly been told to self-quarantine due to the coronavirus outbreak, according to ESPN’s Brian Windhorst and Tim Bontemps. The Toronto Raptors, Detroit Pistons, Boston Celtics, New York Knicks, and the Cleveland Cavaliers are the five teams who played the Utah Jazz within the past 10 days.

And don't forget the referees who have worked Jazz games over the past week and gone on to officiate other games. Yikes.

One reporter who was in the room with Rudy during his conference - Sarah Todd - has been vocal on Twitter regarding how the league has been handling them after news of the virus. She tweeted that no no officials came to speak with them in the beginning and they could have just walked out of the arena if they wanted to instead of self quarantining themselves. Eventually, league officials came to have them tested.

Peep her tweets below (read from the bottom up)

Several NBA players have reacted to the news, including LeBron James, Steph Curry and more:

Man we cancelling sporting events, school, office work, etc etc. What we really need to cancel is 2020!. Damn it’s been a rough 3 months. God bless and stay safe

— LeBron James (@KingJames) March 12, 2020

2020 aint it. Don't know what to compare this situation to…just gotta buckle up and take care of yourself and those around you. Basketball will be back at some point but right now, protect yourself and stay safe out there!

— Stephen Curry (@StephenCurry30) March 12, 2020

Man... This stuff crazy... Praying for EVERYBODY in this tough time

— Trae Young (@TheTraeYoung) March 12, 2020

Space Jam all over again

— Isaiah Thomas (@isaiahthomas) March 12, 2020

Lol what a fitting way to end the season... #CouldBeTheCasaAzulTalking

— Spencer Dinwiddie (@SDinwiddie_25) March 12, 2020

wow bro wow

— Ja Morant (@JaMorant) March 12, 2020

Such a weird night but I am truly thankful for each and every person during this 22yr journey. If this is really it, I thank everyone for your love and support for all these years. B E Z

— Vince Carter (@mrvincecarter15) March 12, 2020

So much going on in 2020 already. Feels like a different world..

— Jamal Crawford (@JCrossover) March 12, 2020

If you’re gonna take precaution, if any. Take all precautions

— Lou Williams (@TeamLou23) March 12, 2020

In the midst of everything. LETS CELEBRATE VINCE CARTER!!!! We don’t know what the future holds buts let’s give him his flowers and applause tonight!!!! Well done champ

— Lou Williams (@TeamLou23) March 12, 2020

Wow

— Zach LaVine (@ZachLaVine) March 12, 2020

pic.twitter.com/3T3VRF3R7S

— Fred Hoiberg (@CoachHoiberg) March 12, 2020

Also...

Fred Hoiberg who is coaching the game while fighting an illness just left the court with several minutes remaining in the game. Hope he’s ok. pic.twitter.com/hBwjl9dQ31

— Chris Hassel (@Hassel_Chris) March 12, 2020

Nebraska coach Fred Hoiberg didn't look too good on the sidelines and ended up being taken to the hospital after the Cornhuskers' season-ending loss last night.

After being released, he hopped on Twitter and said he would not have been on the bench if he knew his presence could expose others to illness. He was diagnosed with influenza following Nebraska's 89-64 loss to Indiana, noting he had been cleared to coach the game.

pic.twitter.com/3T3VRF3R7S

— Fred Hoiberg (@CoachHoiberg) March 12, 2020

It was also just announced this afternoon that Major League Baseball is expected to suspend operations, including spring training. According to CBS Sports:

"The start of the regular season will also likely be delayed. The decision comes after the league's owners discussed plans on a conference call Thursday afternoon and just days after MLB had been reportedly investigating potential contingency plans, including playing games outside of their scheduled markets and playing them in front of empty stadiums."

Wow.

The National Hockey League is following suit, and is postponing their regular season until further notice.

The NHL pauses the 2019-20 season. pic.twitter.com/bCi776ZFqX

— NHL (@NHL) March 12, 2020

The CDC has some simple recommendations to help prevent yourself from contracting the COVID-19 virus:

Clean your hands often

Wash your hands often with soap and water for at least 20 seconds especially after you have been in a public place, or after blowing your nose, coughing, or sneezing.

If soap and water are not readily available, use a hand sanitizer that contains at least 60% alcohol. Cover all surfaces of your hands and rub them together until they feel dry.

Avoid touching your eyes, nose, and mouth with unwashed hands.

Avoid close contact

Avoid close contact with people who are sick

Put distance between yourself and other people if COVID-19 is spreading in your community. This is especially important for people who are at higher risk of getting very sick.

Stay home if you’re sick

Stay home if you are sick, except to get medical care. Learn what to do if you are sick.

Cover coughs and sneezes

Cover your mouth and nose with a tissue when you cough or sneeze or use the inside of your elbow.

Throw used tissues in the trash.

Immediately wash your hands with soap and water for at least 20 seconds. If soap and water are not readily available, clean your hands with a hand sanitizer that contains at least 60% alcohol.

Wear a facemask *if you are sick*

If you are sick: You should wear a facemask when you are around other people (e.g., sharing a room or vehicle) and before you enter a healthcare provider’s office. If you are not able to wear a facemask (for example, because it causes trouble breathing), then you should do your best to cover your coughs and sneezes, and people who are caring for you should wear a facemask if they enter your room. Learn what to do if you are sick.

If you are NOT sick: You do not need to wear a facemask unless you are caring for someone who is sick (and they are not able to wear a facemask). Facemasks may be in short supply and they should be saved for caregivers.

Clean and disinfect

Clean AND disinfect frequently touched surfaces daily. This includes tables, doorknobs, light switches, countertops, handles, desks, phones, keyboards, toilets, faucets, and sinks.

If surfaces are dirty, clean them: Use detergent or soap and water prior to disinfection.

Be safe everyone.

EXTRAS:

1. Princess Cruises suspends voyages for two months after two coronavirus outbreaks. STORY

2. Viking Cruises suspends sailings through April 30th. STORY

Photos: Getty

A SERIOUS MATTER: YBF CELEBS PREPARING FOR CORONAVIRUS!

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/03/12/nba-season-suspended-players-told-to-self-quarantine-after-two-players-infected-with-coro

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blackkudos · 4 years

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August Wilson

August Wilson (April 27, 1945 – October 2, 2005) was an American playwright whose work included a series of ten plays, The Pittsburgh Cycle, for which he received two Pulitzer Prizes for Drama. Each work in the series is set in a different decade, and depicts comic and tragic aspects of the African-American experience in the 20th century.

Early life

Wilson was born Frederick August Kittel Jr. in the Hill District of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the fourth of six children. His father, Frederick August Kittel Sr., was a Sudeten German immigrant, who was a baker/pastry cook. His mother, Daisy Wilson, was an African-American woman from North Carolina who cleaned homes for a living. Wilson's anecdotal history reports that his maternal grandmother walked from North Carolina to Pennsylvania in search of a better life. Wilson's mother raised the children alone until he was five in a two-room apartment above a grocery store at 1727 Bedford Avenue; his father was mostly absent from his childhood. Wilson later wrote under his mother's surname. The economically depressed neighborhood where he was raised was inhabited predominantly by black Americans and Jewish and Italian immigrants. Life for Wilson and his other siblings was very tough because they were biracial. He struggled with finding a sense of belonging to a particular culture and didn't feel that he truly fit into African American culture or white culture until later in life. Wilson's mother divorced his father and married David Bedford in the 1950s, and the family moved from the Hill District to the then predominantly white working-class neighborhood of Hazelwood, where they encountered racial hostility; bricks were thrown through a window at their new home. They were soon forced out of their house and on to their next home. The Hill District went on to become the setting of numerous plays in the famous Pittsburgh Cycle. His experiences growing up there with a strong matriarch shaped the way his plays would be written.

In 1959, Wilson was one of 14 African-American students at Central Catholic High School, from which he dropped out after one year. He then attended Connelley Vocational High School, but found the curriculum unchallenging. He dropped out of Gladstone High School in the 10th grade in 1960 after his teacher accused him of plagiarizing a 20-page paper he wrote on Napoleon I of France. Wilson hid his decision from his mother because he did not want to disappoint her. At the age of 16 he began working menial jobs, where he met a wide variety of people on whom some of his later characters were based, such as Sam in The Janitor (1985)

Wilson's extensive use of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh resulted in its later "awarding" him an honorary high school diploma. Wilson, who said he had learned to read at the age of four, began reading black writers at the library when he was 12 and spent the remainder of his teen years educating himself through the books of Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, Langston Hughes, Arna Bontemps, and others.

Career

Frederick August Kittel Jr. changed his name to August Wilson to honor his mother after his father's death in 1965. That same year, he discovered the blues as sung by Bessie Smith, and he bought a stolen typewriter for $10, which he often pawned when money was tight. At 20, he decided he was a poet and submitted work to such magazines as Harper's. He began to write in bars, the local cigar store, and cafes—longhand on table napkins and on yellow notepads, absorbing the voices and characters around him. He liked to write on cafe napkins because, he said, it freed him up and made him less self-conscious as a writer. He would then gather the notes and type them up at home. Gifted with a talent for catching dialect and accents, Wilson had an "astonishing memory", which he put to full use during his career. He slowly learned not to censor the language he heard when incorporating it into his work.

Malcolm X's voice influenced Wilson's life and work (such as The Ground on Which I Stand, 1996). Both the Nation of Islam and the Black Power spoke to him regarding self-sufficiency, self-defense, and self-determination, and he appreciated the origin myths that Elijah Muhammad supported. In 1969 Wilson married Brenda Burton, a Muslim, and converted to Islam. He and Brenda had one daughter, Sakina Ansari-Wilson, and divorced in 1972.

In 1968, he co-founded the Black Horizon Theater in the Hill District of Pittsburgh along with his friend Rob Penny. Wilson's first play, Recycling, was performed for audiences in small theaters, schools and public housing community centers for 50 cents a ticket. Among these early efforts was Jitney, which he revised more than two decades later as part of his 10-play cycle on 20th-century Pittsburgh. He had no directing experience. He recalled: "Someone had looked around and said, 'Who's going to be the director?' I said, 'I will.' I said that because I knew my way around the library. So I went to look for a book on how to direct a play. I found one called The Fundamentals of Play Directing and checked it out."

In 1976 Vernell Lillie, who had founded the Kuntu Repertory Theatre at the University of Pittsburgh two years earlier, directed Wilson's The Homecoming. That same year Wilson saw Sizwe Banzi is Dead at the Pittsburgh Public Theater, his first professional play. Wilson, Penny, and poet Maisha Baton also started the Kuntu Writers Workshop to bring African-American writers together and to assist them in publication and production. Both organizations are still active.

In 1978 Wilson moved to Saint Paul, Minnesota, at the suggestion of his friend, director Claude Purdy, who helped him secure a job writing educational scripts for the Science Museum of Minnesota. In 1980 he received a fellowship for The Playwrights' Center in Minneapolis. He quit the Museum in 1981, but continued writing plays. For three years, he was a part-time cook for the Little Brothers of the Poor. Wilson had a long association with the Penumbra Theatre Company of St. Paul, which premiered some of his plays. He wrote Fullerton Street, which has been unproduced and unpublished, in 1980. It follows the Joe Louis/Billy Conn fight in 1940 and the loss of values attendant on the Great Migration to the urban North.

In 1987, St. Paul's mayor George Latimer named May 27 "August Wilson Day". He was honored because he is the only person from Minnesota to win a Pulitzer Prize.

In 1990 Wilson left St. Paul after getting divorced and moved to Seattle. There he developed a relationship with Seattle Repertory Theatre, which became the only theater in the country to produce his entire 10-play cycle and his one-man show How I Learned What I Learned.

Though he was a writer dedicated to writing for theater, a Hollywood studio proposed filming Wilson's play Fences. He insisted that a black director be hired for the film, saying: "I declined a white director not on the basis of race but on the basis of culture. White directors are not qualified for the job. The job requires someone who shares the specifics of the culture of black Americans." The film remained unmade until 2016, when Denzel Washington directed the film Fences, starring Washington and Viola Davis. It earned Wilson a posthumous Oscar nomination.

Wilson received many honorary degrees, including an honorary Doctor of Humanities from the University of Pittsburgh, where he served as a member of the university's board of trustees from 1992 until 1995.

Wilson maintained a strong voice in the progress and development of the (then) contemporary black theater, undoubtedly taking influences from the examples of his youth, such as those displayed during the Black Arts Movement. One of the most notable examples of Wilson's strong opinions and critiques of what was black theater's state in the 1990s, was the "On Cultural Power: The August Wilson/Robert Brustein Discussion" where Wilson argued for a completely black theater with all positions filled by blacks. Conversely, he argued that black actors should not play roles not specifically black (e.g. No black Hamlet). Brustein heatedly took an opposing view.

Post Black Arts Movement

While the work of August Wilson is not formally recognized within the literary canon of the Black Arts Movement, he was certainly a product of its mission, helping to co-found the Black Horizon Theatre in his hometown of Pittsburgh in 1968. Situated in Pittsburgh's Hill District, a historically and predominantly Black neighborhood, the Black Horizon Theatre became a cultural hub of Black creativity and community building. As a playwright of what is considered the Post-Black Arts Movement, August Wilson inherited the spirit of BAM, producing plays that celebrated the history and poetic sensibilities of Black people. His iconic Century Cycle successfully tracked and synthesized the experiences of Black America in the 20th Century, using each historical decade, from 1904 to 1997, to document the physical, emotional, mental, and political strivings of Black life in the wake of emancipation.

Work

Wilson stated that he was most influenced by "the four Bs": blues music, the Argentine writer and poet Jorge Luis Borges, the playwright Amiri Baraka and the painter Romare Bearden. He went on to add writers Ed Bullins and James Baldwin to the list. He noted:

From Borges, those wonderful gaucho stories from which I learned that you can be specific as to a time and place and culture and still have the work resonate with the universal themes of love, honor, duty, betrayal, etc. From Amiri Baraka, I learned that all art is political, although I don't write political plays. From Romare Bearden I learned that the fullness and richness of everyday life can be rendered without compromise or sentimentality.

He valued Bullins and Baldwin for their honest representations of everyday life.

I once wrote this short story called "The Best Blues Singer in the World", and it went like this—"The streets that Balboa walked were his own private ocean, and Balboa was drowning." End of story. That says it all. Nothing else to say. I've been rewriting that same story over and over again. All my plays are rewriting that same story.

The

Pittsburgh Cycle

Wilson's Pittsburgh Cycle, also often referred to as his Century Cycle, consists of ten plays—nine of which are set in Pittsburgh's Hill District (the other being set in Chicago), an African-American neighborhood that takes on a mythic literary significance like Thomas Hardy's Wessex, William Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha County, or Irish playwright Brian Friel's Ballybeg. The plays are each set in a different decade and aim to sketch the Black experience in the 20th century and "raise consciousness through theater" and echo "the poetry in the everyday language of black America". His writing of the Black experience always featured strong female characters and sometimes included elements of the supernatural. In his book, he wrote "My mother's a very strong, principled woman. My female characters . . . come in a large part from my mother" As for the elements of the supernatural, Wilson often featured some form of superstition or old tradition in plays that came down to supernatural roots. One of his plays well known for featuring this is The Piano Lesson. In the play, the piano is used and releases spirits of the ancestors. Wilson wanted to create such an event in the play that the audience was left to decide what was real or not. He was fascinated by the power of theater as a medium where a community at large could come together to bear witness to events and currents unfolding.

Wilson noted:

I think my plays offer (white Americans) a different way to look at black Americans," he told The Paris Review. "For instance, in Fences they see a garbageman, a person they don't really look at, although they see a garbageman every day. By looking at Troy's life, white people find out that the content of this black garbageman's life is affected by the same things – love, honor, beauty, betrayal, duty. Recognizing that these things are as much part of his life as theirs can affect how they think about and deal with black people in their lives.

Although the plays of the cycle are not strictly connected to the degree of a serial story, some characters appear (at various ages) in more than one of the cycle's plays. Children of characters in earlier plays may appear in later plays. The character most frequently mentioned in the cycle is Aunt Ester, a "washer of souls". She is reported to be 285 years old in Gem of the Ocean, which takes place in her home at 1839 Wylie Avenue, and 322 in Two Trains Running. She dies in 1985, during the events of King Hedley II. Much of the action of Radio Golf revolves around the plan to demolish and redevelop that house, some years after her death. Aunt Ester is a symbolic and recurring figure that represents the African American struggle. She is "not literally three centuries old but a succession of folk priestesses... [s]he embodies a weighty history of tragedy and triumph".The plays often include an apparently mentally impaired oracular character (different in each play)—for example, Hedley Sr. in Seven Guitars, Gabriel in Fences, Stool Pigeon in King Hedley II, or Hambone in Two Trains Running.

Chicago's Goodman Theatre was the first theater in the world to produce the entire 10-play cycle, spanning from 1986 to 2007. Two of the Goodman's productions—Seven Guitars and Gem of the Ocean—were world premieres.Israel Hicks produced the entire 10-play cycle from 1990 to 2009 for the Denver Center Theatre Company.Geva Theatre Center produced all 10 plays in decade order from 2007 to 2011 as August Wilson's American Century. The Huntington Theatre Company of Boston has produced all 10 plays, finishing in 2012. During Wilson's life he worked closely with The Huntington to produce the later plays. Pittsburgh Public Theater was the first theater company in Pittsburgh to produce the entire Century Cycle, including the world premiere of King Hedley II to open the O'Reilly Theater in Downtown Pittsburgh.

In the years after Wilson's death the 10-play cycle has been referred to as The August Wilson Century Cycle and as The American Century Cycle.

Two years before his death in 2005, August Wilson wrote and performed an unpublished one-man play entitled How I Learned What I Learned about the power of art and the power of possibility. This was produced at New York's Signature Theatre and directed by Todd Kreidler, Wilson's friend and protégé. How I Learned explores his days as a struggling young writer in Pittsburgh's Hill District and how the neighborhood and its people inspired his cycle of plays about the African-American experience.

Personal life

Wilson was married three times. His first marriage was to Brenda Burton from 1969 to 1972. They had one daughter, Sakina Ansari, born 1970. In 1981 he married Judy Oliver, a social worker; they divorced in 1990. He married again in 1994 and was survived by his third wife, costume designer Constanza Romero, whom he met on the set of The Piano Lesson. They had a daughter, Azula Carmen Wilson. Wilson was also survived by siblings Freda Ellis, Linda Jean Kittel, Donna Conley, Barbara Jean Wilson, Edwin Kittel and Richard Kittel.

Legacy

In Pittsburgh, there is an August Wilson Center for African American Culture.

On October 16, 2005, fourteen days after Wilson's death, the Virginia Theatre in New York City's Broadway Theater District was renamed the August Wilson Theatre. It is the first Broadway theatre to bear the name of an African-American. The theatre has run many shows, one of the most famous being Jersey Boys and now Mean Girls. It is a highly respectable and well known theatre so the honor of bearing his name is very great.

In Seattle, Washington, along the south side of the Seattle Repertory Theatre, the vacated Republican Street between Warren Avenue N. and 2nd Avenue N. on the Seattle Center grounds has been renamed August Wilson Way.

In September 2016, an existing community park near his childhood home was renovated and renamed August Wilson Park.

Honors and awards

1985: New York Drama Critics' Circle Award for Best American Play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

1986: Whiting Award for Drama

1987: Pulitzer Prize for Drama – Fences

1987: Tony Award for Best Play – Fences

1987: Outer Critics Circle Award – Fences

1987: Artist of the Year by Chicago Tribune

1988: Literary Lion Award from the New York Public Library

1988: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Joe Turner's Come and Gone

1990: Governor's Awards for Excellence in the Arts and Distinguished Pennsylvania Artists

1990: Drama Desk Award for Outstanding New Play – The Piano Lesson

1990: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – The Piano Lesson

1990: Pulitzer Prize for Drama – The Piano Lesson

1991: Black Filmmakers Hall of Fame award

1991: St. Louis Literary Award from the Saint Louis University Library Associates

1992: American Theatre Critics' Association Award – Two Trains Running

1992: New York Drama Critics Circle Citation for Best American Play – Two Trains Running

1992: Clarence Muse Award

1996: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Seven Guitars

1999: National Humanities Medal

2000: New York Drama Critics Circle Award for Best Play – Jitney

2000: Outer Critics Circle Award for Outstanding Off-Broadway Play – Jitney

2002: Olivier Award for Best new Play – Jitney

2004: The 10th Annual Heinz Award in Arts and Humanities

2004: The U.S. Comedy Arts Festival Freedom of Speech Award

2005: Make Shift Award at the U.S. Confederation of Play Writers

2006: American Theatre Hall of Fame.

2017: Tony Award for Best Revival of a Play – Jitney

Plays

Recycle (1973)

Black Bart and the Sacred Hills (1977)

Fullerton Street (1980)

Jitney (1982)

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (1984)

Joe Turner's Come and Gone (1984)

Fences (1987)

The Homecoming (1989)

The Coldest Day of the Year (1989)

The Piano Lesson (1990)

Two Trains Running (1991)

Seven Guitars (1995)

King Hedley II (1999)

How I Learned What I Learned (2002)

Gem of the Ocean (2003)

Radio Golf (2005)

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