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Updated: May 24, 2025
Bodies of yesterday were torn asunder again and the wounded who had lasted out the night shrank and writhed in the fiery hail of shrapnel. Fritz came over again. He is a courageous warrior, not afraid of his own skin, but is at best when fighting in numbers. A lone fight, back to the wall, is not his métier; he, if at all threatened, retreats. Rues Vertes fell.
"Why, it's the facts themselves, and the fine taste, and above all something qui ne court pas les rues, an approach to some experience of what a lady IS." The young man's acute reflexion appeared suddenly to flower into a vision of opportunity that swept everything else away. "Excuse my insisting on your time of life but you HAVE seen some?"
Hugo is often pompous, shallow, empty, unreal, but he is at least an artist, and when he thinks of the artist and forgets the prophet, as in "Les Chansons des Rues et des Bois," his juggling with the verse is magnificent, superb. But how to get the first line of the last stanza into five syllables I cannot think.
An hour before, marching elated in the knowledge of a few days' freedom from the haunting knowledge of Life's uncertainty now they were in for something they all pregnantly felt would involve them in a slaughter that might place Finis to the Battalion. The Cambrai survivors stared sadly into the closing gloom ... they had gone through Rues Vertes COULD their luck hold twice!
The vast mansions of the Princes of the blood and the Peers of France were clustered about the sides of the Place d'Armes and the streets immediately surrounding. One of these was the Hôtel de Noailles. Its range of buildings, for it surrounded a court, stood at the corner of the Rues de la Pompe et des Bons Enfans. Behind it were its gardens.
The words called out in her more show of emotion than the intelligence of her daughter's death. She broke in upon my speech: "I had! It was hers the last thing I had of hers and it was shot for wantonness! It died in my arms. The man who killed that dog rues it to this day. For that dumb beast's blood, his best-beloved stands accursed."
Rouen is disappearing like a dissolving view a few more slides in the magic lantern, a few more windows of plate-glass, a few more 'grandes rues' and the picture of old Rouen fades away. Let us hasten to the Place de la Pucelle, and examine the carving on the houses, and on the Hôtel Bourgthéroude, before the great Parisian conjuror waves his wand once more.
The Amphitheatre of Anatomy must occupy some attention, being a suite of anatomical schools only recently built, on a most commodious scale; it forms a corner of the Rues du Fer and Fossés St. Marcel. One thought in passing the ancient Cimetière de Ste.
The different branches are taught in the hospitals, by the physicians who are attached to these establishments. The Théâtre-des-Arts at the corner of the rues Grand-Pont and des Charrettes, was erected by Francis Gueroult, an architect of Rouen. The first stone was laid on the 18th june 1774, and the opening took place the 29th june 1776, on Saint-Peter's day and the fête of Corneille.
If you have ever been in Bourges, you may have seen the little Rue Sous- les-Ceps, the Cours du Bat d'Argent and de la Fleur-de-lys, the Rues de la Merede-Dieu, des Verts-Galants, Mausecret, du Moulin-le-Roi, the Quai Messire-Jacques, and other streets whose ancient names, preserved by a praiseworthy sentiment or instinctive conservatism, betoken an ancient city still inhabited by old-fashioned people, by which I mean people attached to the soil, strongly marked with the stamp of the provincial in manners as in language; people who understand all that a name is to a street its honor, its spouse if you will, from which it must not be divorced.
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