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Sainte-Hermine #1
The Whites and the Blues
Dans la trilogie romanesque des Sainte-Hermine, Les Blancs et les Bleus précède, selon la stricte chronologie historique, Les Compagnons de Jéhu et Le Chevalier de Sainte-Hermine – le grand roman de Dumas perdu et retrouvé en 2005… cent trente-six ans après sa première parution en feuilleton dans la presse. (Il est vrai que Dumas, fin raconteur, s’est arrangé pour qu’on puisse lire les trois récits, indifféremment, dans l’ordre ou dans le désordre.) Suivant cette fois la grande histoire pas à pas, le romancier nous fait vivre, de la fin de 1793 à l’été de 1799, sur fond de rivalité sanglante entre royalistes (les Blancs) et républicains (les Bleus), l’irrésistible ascension d’un jeune officier corse qui tour à tour s’illustre au siège de Toulon ; puis se laisse oublier jusqu’à douter de sa fortune, avant que la Convention thermidorienne ne le charge de mater les royalistes de retour en force à Paris (13 vendémiaire 95) ; puis sauve la République en dépêchant d’Italie le fidèle Augereau auprès d’un Directoire chancelant, déjà tout près de rendre les clés aux Bourbons ; puis part pour l’Égypte et s’en revient sans trop tarder pour passer aux choses sérieuses…
680 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1867
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323 people want to read
About the author
Alexandre Dumas
6,980 books12.4k followersThis note regards Alexandre Dumas, père, the father of Alexandre Dumas, fils (son). For the son, see Alexandre Dumas fils.
Alexandre Dumas père, born Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, was a towering figure of 19th-century French literature whose historical novels and adventure tales earned global renown. Best known for The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and other swashbuckling epics, Dumas crafted stories filled with daring heroes, dramatic twists, and vivid historical backdrops. His works, often serialized and immensely popular with the public, helped shape the modern adventure genre and remain enduring staples of world literature.
Dumas was the son of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, a celebrated general in Revolutionary France and the highest-ranking man of African descent in a European army at the time. His father’s early death left the family in poverty, but Dumas’s upbringing was nonetheless marked by strong personal ambition and a deep admiration for his father’s achievements. He moved to Paris as a young man and began his literary career writing for the theatre, quickly rising to prominence in the Romantic movement with successful plays like Henri III et sa cour and Antony.
In the 1840s, Dumas turned increasingly toward prose fiction, particularly serialized novels, which reached vast audiences through French newspapers. His collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a skilled plotter and historian, proved fruitful. While Maquet drafted outlines and conducted research, Dumas infused the narratives with flair, dialogue, and color. The result was a string of literary triumphs, including The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both published in 1844. These novels exemplified Dumas’s flair for suspenseful pacing, memorable characters, and grand themes of justice, loyalty, and revenge.
The D’Artagnan Romances—The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, and The Vicomte of Bragelonne—cemented his fame. They follow the adventures of the titular Gascon hero and his comrades Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, blending historical fact and fiction into richly imagined narratives. The Count of Monte Cristo offered a darker, more introspective tale of betrayal and retribution, with intricate plotting and a deeply philosophical core.
Dumas was also active in journalism and theater. He founded the Théâtre Historique in Paris, which staged dramatizations of his own novels. A prolific and energetic writer, he is estimated to have written or co-written over 100,000 pages of fiction, plays, memoirs, travel books, and essays. He also had a strong interest in food and published a massive culinary encyclopedia, Le Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine, filled with recipes, anecdotes, and reflections on gastronomy.
Despite his enormous success, Dumas was frequently plagued by financial troubles. He led a lavish lifestyle, building the ornate Château de Monte-Cristo near Paris, employing large staffs, and supporting many friends and relatives. His generosity and appetite for life often outpaced his income, leading to mounting debts. Still, his creative drive rarely waned.
Dumas’s mixed-race background was a source of both pride and tension in his life. He was outspoken about his heritage and used his platform to address race and injustice. In his novel Georges, he explored issues of colonialism and identity through a Creole protagonist. Though he encountered racism, he refused to be silenced, famously replying to a racial insult by pointing to his ancestry and achievements with dignity and wit.
Later in life, Dumas continued writing and traveling, spending time in Belgium, Italy, and Russia. He supported nationalist causes, particularly Italian unification, and even founded a newspaper to advocate for Giuseppe Garibaldi. Though his popularity waned somewhat in his final years, his literary legacy grew steadily. He wrote in a style that was accessible, entertaining, and emotionally reso
Alexandre Dumas père, born Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, was a towering figure of 19th-century French literature whose historical novels and adventure tales earned global renown. Best known for The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and other swashbuckling epics, Dumas crafted stories filled with daring heroes, dramatic twists, and vivid historical backdrops. His works, often serialized and immensely popular with the public, helped shape the modern adventure genre and remain enduring staples of world literature.
Dumas was the son of Thomas-Alexandre Dumas, a celebrated general in Revolutionary France and the highest-ranking man of African descent in a European army at the time. His father’s early death left the family in poverty, but Dumas’s upbringing was nonetheless marked by strong personal ambition and a deep admiration for his father’s achievements. He moved to Paris as a young man and began his literary career writing for the theatre, quickly rising to prominence in the Romantic movement with successful plays like Henri III et sa cour and Antony.
In the 1840s, Dumas turned increasingly toward prose fiction, particularly serialized novels, which reached vast audiences through French newspapers. His collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a skilled plotter and historian, proved fruitful. While Maquet drafted outlines and conducted research, Dumas infused the narratives with flair, dialogue, and color. The result was a string of literary triumphs, including The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, both published in 1844. These novels exemplified Dumas’s flair for suspenseful pacing, memorable characters, and grand themes of justice, loyalty, and revenge.
The D’Artagnan Romances—The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years After, and The Vicomte of Bragelonne—cemented his fame. They follow the adventures of the titular Gascon hero and his comrades Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, blending historical fact and fiction into richly imagined narratives. The Count of Monte Cristo offered a darker, more introspective tale of betrayal and retribution, with intricate plotting and a deeply philosophical core.
Dumas was also active in journalism and theater. He founded the Théâtre Historique in Paris, which staged dramatizations of his own novels. A prolific and energetic writer, he is estimated to have written or co-written over 100,000 pages of fiction, plays, memoirs, travel books, and essays. He also had a strong interest in food and published a massive culinary encyclopedia, Le Grand Dictionnaire de cuisine, filled with recipes, anecdotes, and reflections on gastronomy.
Despite his enormous success, Dumas was frequently plagued by financial troubles. He led a lavish lifestyle, building the ornate Château de Monte-Cristo near Paris, employing large staffs, and supporting many friends and relatives. His generosity and appetite for life often outpaced his income, leading to mounting debts. Still, his creative drive rarely waned.
Dumas’s mixed-race background was a source of both pride and tension in his life. He was outspoken about his heritage and used his platform to address race and injustice. In his novel Georges, he explored issues of colonialism and identity through a Creole protagonist. Though he encountered racism, he refused to be silenced, famously replying to a racial insult by pointing to his ancestry and achievements with dignity and wit.
Later in life, Dumas continued writing and traveling, spending time in Belgium, Italy, and Russia. He supported nationalist causes, particularly Italian unification, and even founded a newspaper to advocate for Giuseppe Garibaldi. Though his popularity waned somewhat in his final years, his literary legacy grew steadily. He wrote in a style that was accessible, entertaining, and emotionally reso
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October 5, 2017
_The Whites and the Blues_ is an interesting chimera of a book: it is a sequel that’s really a prequel (written after The Companions of Jehu, but relating events that occur before it); it is a composite of at least three main storylines (or four if you count the distinction that Dumas makes between the political turmoils of the 13th Vendémiaire and 18th Fructidor ) that are, if not quite distinct, definitely separated by time, place, and often the main characters involved; and is, as Dumas himself states, a work that is “…the most strictly historical of any that I have undertaken…a book in which romance is relegated to the second place.” Still, it was a book I enjoyed, though it is definitely not one to be counted amongst the top tier of his work.
We begin in Strasbourg at the height of the terror, when the Revolutionary tribunals could, and did, use the guillotine in the most heavy-handed manner possible, executing people not only for being royalists, but even for the slightest infringements of ‘correct’ revolutionary thought, or being a member of the wrong revolutionary party (a circumstance that could change from day to day). We meet young Charles (an interesting instance of Dumas using one of his friends, Charles Nodier, as a character in his story based on the latter’s reminiscences) as he arrives in the city at the behest of his father to study Greek with the famous scholar Euloge Schneider. Little does Charles know that Schneider is one of the most infamous of the local revolutionary leaders, known for his bloodthirsty and indiscriminate use of ‘Lady Guillotine’. Soon enough Charles finds himself embroiled in local politics partly through his befriending of young Eugene de Beauharnais, a young man trying to free his aristocrat father from the clutches of the revolutionary tribunal, and who is also destined to make a very famous step-father in the future.
This early part of the tale follows Charles as he moves first from under the shadow of Euloge Schneider to become the secretary of the famous General Jean-Charles Pichegru at his time of ascendancy and we see already the myriad maneuvers and machinations of plots, counter-plots, reprisals, and conspiracies that made up the daily life of revolutionary France. It is astounding to see the successes that the revolutionary army had at this time when one considers the instability of their government(s) and the back-stabbing nature of the many parties that vied for control of the revolution for their own ends. Of course when the price of failure, even the most understandable by the greatest general, resulted in the loss of one’s head it is easy to see how motivated they were to succeed. This is also the section in which we meet a noble young aristocrat, the current Count of Sainte-Hermine, who has been captured by Revolutionary forces and is being led to his execution. Though only a ‘bit’ character he is important as he is the brother of Morgan, whom readers of The Companions of Jehu will recall as one of the main protagonists, and whose fate is fuel for the fire that motivates all of the Sainte-Hermine scions.
With nary a backward glance Dumas drops the character of Charles once this section is complete and the narrative moves to Paris where he recounts the various political turmoils of the 13th Vendémiaire and 18th Fructidor that coincide with the burgeoning rise of a young artillery officer named Buonaparte, or Bonaparte, to the highest ranks of military prestige. Here we meet the dashing counter-revolutionary Coster de Saint-Victor (something of a lost opportunity by Dumas as not much is made of him), as well as witness the rise of the fictional Morgan de Sainte-Hermine in the ranks of the Royalists and the historical Paul Barras in the ranks of the Revolutionaries. A romantic sub-plot between Coster and a famous courtesan, Aurelie de Saint-Amour (who is also entangled with the aforementioned Barras), sadly goes nowhere and we begin to see that Dumas’ competing desire to tell a ‘true history’ as well as a romance means that one side of the equation will have to suffer. From this point forward Dumas more or less consistently wears his ‘historian’ hat and allows the ‘romantic’ one to be relegated to a minor role.
The final section, ‘The Eighth Crusade’, tells of Napoleon’s conquests, and ultimate defeat, in Egypt (a defeat whose circumstances would eerily mirror the crippling one he would later suffer in Russia). Another character from The Companions of Jehu, Roland the dashing and death-seeking lieutenant of Napoleon (and Morgan's opposite number), gets to play a relatively large role here though he is still very much a minor character (and largely the one through whom any remaining romance elements of the plot are conveyed). Eugene de Beauharnais (now Bonaparte’s step-son since introducing him to his mother, the famous Josephine, in an earlier section) is one of the few characters from the first part of the story that re-appears, though always only in casual mentions and never as the prominent character I thought he might become. This final section was, to me, the slowest going and the one where Dumas most explicitly seems intent on writing something akin to a ‘pure’ history. There are still scattered elements of romance to be found, though they seem to largely be colouring for the primarily historical text. No main ‘hero’ arises from the narrative, aside from Napoleon himself, who in some ways still remains on the periphery of it, perhaps being a character too large (in Dumas’ mind) to be treated merely as a character in his story. Thus we mostly see him from the outside, a colossus whose decisions will shape the world (as they do the narrative), but into whose mind we never fully enter and who looms more as an external presence than a true protagonist.
All of this perhaps does not make it seem as though _The Whites and the Blues_ is a very well-constructed narrative, but I did quite enjoy it (perhaps largely due to my fascination with the period and curiosity to see how Dumas would handle the character of Napoleon) and would recommend it to anyone interested in the era, or devoted to Dumas’ works (it is certainly not the weakest of his books I have come across even if it is not his strongest). The colour and detail with which Dumas paints his history alone makes it a fun read. Indeed, the picture of Paris in the middle sections of the narrative, which showed France teetering between fully embracing the Revolution and returning to the arms of the Bourbon dynasty, presented a fascinating picture. I especially found the bizarre and almost hipster-like figures of the royalist ‘Incroyables’ (who nearly amounted to dandyish royalist street gangs), and their female counterparts the decadent and diva-like ‘Merveilleuses’ particularly intriguing. Still, I think this book does show that Dumas-the-romancer is ultimately a much more entertaining writer than Dumas-the-historian, and he is most successful when he either lets the romancer take the driver’s seat (as he does in the more famous The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo), or manages to strike a more harmonious balance between the two (as he does in the intriguing Memoirs of a Physician). All in all a good read and I still aim to complete my reading of the ‘Sainte-Hermine’ cycle with the final volume (the famously fairly recently discovered The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon) at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future.
We begin in Strasbourg at the height of the terror, when the Revolutionary tribunals could, and did, use the guillotine in the most heavy-handed manner possible, executing people not only for being royalists, but even for the slightest infringements of ‘correct’ revolutionary thought, or being a member of the wrong revolutionary party (a circumstance that could change from day to day). We meet young Charles (an interesting instance of Dumas using one of his friends, Charles Nodier, as a character in his story based on the latter’s reminiscences) as he arrives in the city at the behest of his father to study Greek with the famous scholar Euloge Schneider. Little does Charles know that Schneider is one of the most infamous of the local revolutionary leaders, known for his bloodthirsty and indiscriminate use of ‘Lady Guillotine’. Soon enough Charles finds himself embroiled in local politics partly through his befriending of young Eugene de Beauharnais, a young man trying to free his aristocrat father from the clutches of the revolutionary tribunal, and who is also destined to make a very famous step-father in the future.
This early part of the tale follows Charles as he moves first from under the shadow of Euloge Schneider to become the secretary of the famous General Jean-Charles Pichegru at his time of ascendancy and we see already the myriad maneuvers and machinations of plots, counter-plots, reprisals, and conspiracies that made up the daily life of revolutionary France. It is astounding to see the successes that the revolutionary army had at this time when one considers the instability of their government(s) and the back-stabbing nature of the many parties that vied for control of the revolution for their own ends. Of course when the price of failure, even the most understandable by the greatest general, resulted in the loss of one’s head it is easy to see how motivated they were to succeed. This is also the section in which we meet a noble young aristocrat, the current Count of Sainte-Hermine, who has been captured by Revolutionary forces and is being led to his execution. Though only a ‘bit’ character he is important as he is the brother of Morgan, whom readers of The Companions of Jehu will recall as one of the main protagonists, and whose fate is fuel for the fire that motivates all of the Sainte-Hermine scions.
With nary a backward glance Dumas drops the character of Charles once this section is complete and the narrative moves to Paris where he recounts the various political turmoils of the 13th Vendémiaire and 18th Fructidor that coincide with the burgeoning rise of a young artillery officer named Buonaparte, or Bonaparte, to the highest ranks of military prestige. Here we meet the dashing counter-revolutionary Coster de Saint-Victor (something of a lost opportunity by Dumas as not much is made of him), as well as witness the rise of the fictional Morgan de Sainte-Hermine in the ranks of the Royalists and the historical Paul Barras in the ranks of the Revolutionaries. A romantic sub-plot between Coster and a famous courtesan, Aurelie de Saint-Amour (who is also entangled with the aforementioned Barras), sadly goes nowhere and we begin to see that Dumas’ competing desire to tell a ‘true history’ as well as a romance means that one side of the equation will have to suffer. From this point forward Dumas more or less consistently wears his ‘historian’ hat and allows the ‘romantic’ one to be relegated to a minor role.
The final section, ‘The Eighth Crusade’, tells of Napoleon’s conquests, and ultimate defeat, in Egypt (a defeat whose circumstances would eerily mirror the crippling one he would later suffer in Russia). Another character from The Companions of Jehu, Roland the dashing and death-seeking lieutenant of Napoleon (and Morgan's opposite number), gets to play a relatively large role here though he is still very much a minor character (and largely the one through whom any remaining romance elements of the plot are conveyed). Eugene de Beauharnais (now Bonaparte’s step-son since introducing him to his mother, the famous Josephine, in an earlier section) is one of the few characters from the first part of the story that re-appears, though always only in casual mentions and never as the prominent character I thought he might become. This final section was, to me, the slowest going and the one where Dumas most explicitly seems intent on writing something akin to a ‘pure’ history. There are still scattered elements of romance to be found, though they seem to largely be colouring for the primarily historical text. No main ‘hero’ arises from the narrative, aside from Napoleon himself, who in some ways still remains on the periphery of it, perhaps being a character too large (in Dumas’ mind) to be treated merely as a character in his story. Thus we mostly see him from the outside, a colossus whose decisions will shape the world (as they do the narrative), but into whose mind we never fully enter and who looms more as an external presence than a true protagonist.
All of this perhaps does not make it seem as though _The Whites and the Blues_ is a very well-constructed narrative, but I did quite enjoy it (perhaps largely due to my fascination with the period and curiosity to see how Dumas would handle the character of Napoleon) and would recommend it to anyone interested in the era, or devoted to Dumas’ works (it is certainly not the weakest of his books I have come across even if it is not his strongest). The colour and detail with which Dumas paints his history alone makes it a fun read. Indeed, the picture of Paris in the middle sections of the narrative, which showed France teetering between fully embracing the Revolution and returning to the arms of the Bourbon dynasty, presented a fascinating picture. I especially found the bizarre and almost hipster-like figures of the royalist ‘Incroyables’ (who nearly amounted to dandyish royalist street gangs), and their female counterparts the decadent and diva-like ‘Merveilleuses’ particularly intriguing. Still, I think this book does show that Dumas-the-romancer is ultimately a much more entertaining writer than Dumas-the-historian, and he is most successful when he either lets the romancer take the driver’s seat (as he does in the more famous The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo), or manages to strike a more harmonious balance between the two (as he does in the intriguing Memoirs of a Physician). All in all a good read and I still aim to complete my reading of the ‘Sainte-Hermine’ cycle with the final volume (the famously fairly recently discovered The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon) at some point in the hopefully not-too-distant future.
May 20, 2021
Filling a significant gap in Dumas’ histories, The Whites and the Blues (aka The First Republic) spans the turbulent period from 1793 to 1799, with events picking up shortly after Marie Antoinette’s beheading (see The Knight of Maison-Rouge) and ending with Napoleon’s departure for France from Egypt (where The Companions of Jehu begins).
Ostensibly a prequel to Jehu (hence a part of the “Sainte-Hermine” trilogy), it reads much less as a single, coherent romance than as a series of loosely interconnected historical sketches, with substantial effort devoted to chronicling the period’s major events in detail, including 13th Vendémiaire, 18th Fructidor, and the Egyptian campaign.
Dumas’ own heroes, both old and new, make occasional appearances, but these scenes are merely the spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down, as Dumas himself impresses on us from time to time: “The book we are now writing is far from being a novel; in fact, it is not enough of a novel for certain readers. We have already said that it was written to run side by side with history.”
As an indication of how seriously Dumas undertook the role of historian rather than novelist, consider this: throughout his long career, he often valued a good story over historical exactitude, and yet here he convincingly debunks the myth of Bonaparte touching plague victims at Jaffa. Contrast this with Andrew Roberts’ (nearly hagiographic) biography of Napoleon which gives undue credence to the story of a random officer in the pay commissariat, whereas Dumas quotes at length (the vastly more sober and credible) Bourrienne, to show that the event never happened.
Maybe it was important to him to get these facts right (this is the period when his father was active). It’s certainly clear that, more than any other of his novels, the Whites and the Blues reads as his love letter to France and the Revolution:
“… a single people, in the name of liberty and happiness of all peoples, flung their glove in the face of all the world, — there was, I say, something grand, Homeric, sublime, which I feel myself powerless to describe; and yet it was to describe it that I undertook this book. It is not the least part of a poet’s griefs to feel the GRAND and yet, breathless, panting, dissatisfied with himself, to fall below that which he feels.”
Relatedly, Dumas took upon himself the Sisyphean task of raising up some of the great men of the era who were calumniated by his contemporaries. Stating that it wasn’t his task to rehabilitate their legacy, he nevertheless devoted several chapters to proving Pichegru, Barthélemy, Villot, and other unfortunates, worthy of our pity and respect, while never missing an opportunity to throw mud in the eyes of professional historians. Certainly he wanted to help people break free of their preconceived notions (reinforced by those same historians) and see the period and its actors in the same way he did.
I know I should be thankful for the opportunity to read additional adventures of Morgan’s and Roland’s, but these were all-too-clearly mere afterthoughts in Dumas’s grand scheme; background players as he showed off how thoroughly he did his homework. While I always appreciate how deeply Dumas integrates his tales with the very real context in which he sets them, the balance was far too skewed in this instance to do his creations justice.
Ostensibly a prequel to Jehu (hence a part of the “Sainte-Hermine” trilogy), it reads much less as a single, coherent romance than as a series of loosely interconnected historical sketches, with substantial effort devoted to chronicling the period’s major events in detail, including 13th Vendémiaire, 18th Fructidor, and the Egyptian campaign.
Dumas’ own heroes, both old and new, make occasional appearances, but these scenes are merely the spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down, as Dumas himself impresses on us from time to time: “The book we are now writing is far from being a novel; in fact, it is not enough of a novel for certain readers. We have already said that it was written to run side by side with history.”
As an indication of how seriously Dumas undertook the role of historian rather than novelist, consider this: throughout his long career, he often valued a good story over historical exactitude, and yet here he convincingly debunks the myth of Bonaparte touching plague victims at Jaffa. Contrast this with Andrew Roberts’ (nearly hagiographic) biography of Napoleon which gives undue credence to the story of a random officer in the pay commissariat, whereas Dumas quotes at length (the vastly more sober and credible) Bourrienne, to show that the event never happened.
Maybe it was important to him to get these facts right (this is the period when his father was active). It’s certainly clear that, more than any other of his novels, the Whites and the Blues reads as his love letter to France and the Revolution:
“… a single people, in the name of liberty and happiness of all peoples, flung their glove in the face of all the world, — there was, I say, something grand, Homeric, sublime, which I feel myself powerless to describe; and yet it was to describe it that I undertook this book. It is not the least part of a poet’s griefs to feel the GRAND and yet, breathless, panting, dissatisfied with himself, to fall below that which he feels.”
Relatedly, Dumas took upon himself the Sisyphean task of raising up some of the great men of the era who were calumniated by his contemporaries. Stating that it wasn’t his task to rehabilitate their legacy, he nevertheless devoted several chapters to proving Pichegru, Barthélemy, Villot, and other unfortunates, worthy of our pity and respect, while never missing an opportunity to throw mud in the eyes of professional historians. Certainly he wanted to help people break free of their preconceived notions (reinforced by those same historians) and see the period and its actors in the same way he did.
I know I should be thankful for the opportunity to read additional adventures of Morgan’s and Roland’s, but these were all-too-clearly mere afterthoughts in Dumas’s grand scheme; background players as he showed off how thoroughly he did his homework. While I always appreciate how deeply Dumas integrates his tales with the very real context in which he sets them, the balance was far too skewed in this instance to do his creations justice.
August 14, 2021
Le livre tient beaucoup plus de la chronique historique romancée que d'une fiction, et les trois parties qui le composent sont très inégales.
La première, sur les armées républicaines tenant tête aux Prussiens et aux nobles émigrés, est excellente (et clairement celle que j'ai préférée) parce qu'elle repose presque entièrement sur des scènes à échelle humaine, entre soldats ou entre habitants des villes traversées, et c'est dans ce genre de récits que Dumas est le meilleur : c'est tantôt hilarant, tantôt émouvant, tantôt horrible et tantôt sublime, précisément parce que ce sont les individus (et souvent les plus modestes) qui sont au coeur du récit.
Et c'est tout le problème de la seconde et de la troisième parties pour moi : elles oublient les individus pour les évènements, et même si on a droit à quelques portraits d'époque assez savoureux (mentions spéciales à Joséphine de Beauharnais et au tout jeune Bonaparte -avant qu'il ne devienne vraiment beaucoup trop Napoléon en Italie, puis en Égypte), les quelques véritables personnages que Dumas mets en scène pour nous donner un point d'encrage émotionnel au milieu de ces pages d'Histoire sont très loin d'être aussi attachants que ceux de la première partie. Vraiment, les jeunes aristos réacs fanatiques, j'ai eu du mal. La seule à laquelle j'ai vraiment pris intérêt c'est Diana de Fargas, qui pactise avec les Républicains sans jamais cacher qu'elle reste royaliste, dans le seul but de devenir un agent double et de se venger des Compagnons de Jéhu. Le personnage est sombre à souhait, extrêmement intéressant, et j'ai vraiment hâte de la voir péter les dents à Morgan dans la suite.
Mais bon, les meilleurs c'est quand même Faraud et Falou. Dudu, pourquoi tu m'as pas écrit tout le bouquin sur Faraud et Falou, sérieux. Heureusement qu'ils étaient de nouveaux là pendant la partie en Égypte pour la rendre un peu plus drôle, parce que sinon je crois vraiment que j'aurai fait un trou dans mon mur à force de me taper la tête dessus.
La première, sur les armées républicaines tenant tête aux Prussiens et aux nobles émigrés, est excellente (et clairement celle que j'ai préférée) parce qu'elle repose presque entièrement sur des scènes à échelle humaine, entre soldats ou entre habitants des villes traversées, et c'est dans ce genre de récits que Dumas est le meilleur : c'est tantôt hilarant, tantôt émouvant, tantôt horrible et tantôt sublime, précisément parce que ce sont les individus (et souvent les plus modestes) qui sont au coeur du récit.
Et c'est tout le problème de la seconde et de la troisième parties pour moi : elles oublient les individus pour les évènements, et même si on a droit à quelques portraits d'époque assez savoureux (mentions spéciales à Joséphine de Beauharnais et au tout jeune Bonaparte -avant qu'il ne devienne vraiment beaucoup trop Napoléon en Italie, puis en Égypte), les quelques véritables personnages que Dumas mets en scène pour nous donner un point d'encrage émotionnel au milieu de ces pages d'Histoire sont très loin d'être aussi attachants que ceux de la première partie. Vraiment, les jeunes aristos réacs fanatiques, j'ai eu du mal. La seule à laquelle j'ai vraiment pris intérêt c'est Diana de Fargas, qui pactise avec les Républicains sans jamais cacher qu'elle reste royaliste, dans le seul but de devenir un agent double et de se venger des Compagnons de Jéhu. Le personnage est sombre à souhait, extrêmement intéressant, et j'ai vraiment hâte de la voir péter les dents à Morgan dans la suite.
Mais bon, les meilleurs c'est quand même Faraud et Falou. Dudu, pourquoi tu m'as pas écrit tout le bouquin sur Faraud et Falou, sérieux. Heureusement qu'ils étaient de nouveaux là pendant la partie en Égypte pour la rendre un peu plus drôle, parce que sinon je crois vraiment que j'aurai fait un trou dans mon mur à force de me taper la tête dessus.
November 4, 2016
This book is the second of the Napoleon Novels, first being The Companions of Jehu. It is as much as a prequel as a sequel to that novel. Dumas is one of those novelist that can make the pages fly by. Battles, romance, treachery and fictional characters woven among historical characters make Dumas one of the best historical novelist of the eighteen hundreds.
November 4, 2021
Tome deux de la trilogie du chevalier de saint Hermine. Après « les compagnons de Jehu » mais avant sur le plan chronologique. Superbe évocation de la montée en puissance de Bonaparte malgré l’échec de Saint Jean d’Acre et de la lutte entre Cadoudal et les républicains. Un grand Dumas.
November 16, 2024
Purtroppo sono io che sono pretenziosa, me ne rendo conto, e cerco sempre la stessa emozione che mi dette quando lessi i suoi due capolavori indiscussi “I Tre Moschettieri” e “Il Conte di Montecristo”, cosa che però in quest’opera non sono riuscita a trovare.
Non dico che non mi sia piaciuto, tre stelle non è un giudizio pessimo, solo che mi piange il cuore non poter dare una valutazione piena. Questo ciclo tratta dell’ascesa di Napoleone e cosa è successo dopo l’ultimo capitolo del ciclo di Maria Antonietta. La storia s’era chiusa con la decapitazione della regina (non lo considero spoiler ma solo un fatto di cronaca ben noto) ed è ripartita qualche anno dopo in pieno regime repubblicano.
Come sa ben fare il nostro amato romanziere prende la nostra mano e ci accompagna per le pagine della storia facendoci incontrare personaggi reali ed immaginari, il tutto colorato dalla sua penna che ci dá l’impressione di essere nel mezzo dei fatti. La vicenda però si arena un po’ a mio giudizio: i nomi sono veramente molti, le azioni degli uomini descritte in queste pagine sono di più e forse per questo non è riuscito a tenermi incollata alle pagine ed addirittura mi ha fatto un po’ perdere la strada.
Forse Dumas, in questo primo capitolo della trilogia sull’ultima storia di Francia, ha voluto raccontare una parte un po’ complessa restando tanto ancorato ai fatti di storia, facendoci conoscere dei personaggi per poi abbandonarli (forse per il momento, chissà). Come in tutte le opere corali o con comunque moltissimi nomi sarebbe utile averne un elenco e delle comparsate principali, giusto per avere meglio le idee chiare (perché, almeno in questa edizione, se gli editori hanno perso tempo a inserire foto di quadri e statue potevano perdere 5 minuti in più a mettere un indice dei nomi).
Spero solo che il vata abbia voluto mettere le basi per gli altri due libri che verranno, facendomi innamorare di nuovo alla scrittura che ci ha abituati 🥰
Non dico che non mi sia piaciuto, tre stelle non è un giudizio pessimo, solo che mi piange il cuore non poter dare una valutazione piena. Questo ciclo tratta dell’ascesa di Napoleone e cosa è successo dopo l’ultimo capitolo del ciclo di Maria Antonietta. La storia s’era chiusa con la decapitazione della regina (non lo considero spoiler ma solo un fatto di cronaca ben noto) ed è ripartita qualche anno dopo in pieno regime repubblicano.
Come sa ben fare il nostro amato romanziere prende la nostra mano e ci accompagna per le pagine della storia facendoci incontrare personaggi reali ed immaginari, il tutto colorato dalla sua penna che ci dá l’impressione di essere nel mezzo dei fatti. La vicenda però si arena un po’ a mio giudizio: i nomi sono veramente molti, le azioni degli uomini descritte in queste pagine sono di più e forse per questo non è riuscito a tenermi incollata alle pagine ed addirittura mi ha fatto un po’ perdere la strada.
Forse Dumas, in questo primo capitolo della trilogia sull’ultima storia di Francia, ha voluto raccontare una parte un po’ complessa restando tanto ancorato ai fatti di storia, facendoci conoscere dei personaggi per poi abbandonarli (forse per il momento, chissà). Come in tutte le opere corali o con comunque moltissimi nomi sarebbe utile averne un elenco e delle comparsate principali, giusto per avere meglio le idee chiare (perché, almeno in questa edizione, se gli editori hanno perso tempo a inserire foto di quadri e statue potevano perdere 5 minuti in più a mettere un indice dei nomi).
Spero solo che il vata abbia voluto mettere le basi per gli altri due libri che verranno, facendomi innamorare di nuovo alla scrittura che ci ha abituati 🥰
April 7, 2025
I suppose history leaves a lot of unfinished plotlines, but I prefer when novelists don't. I mean. It's Dumas. He can do whatever he likes and I'll still read it.
August 16, 2021
On commence par se méfier : une trilogie de Dumas qui n'a pas la célébrité de celle des mousquetaires, ou des derniers Valois, dont un élément a été retrouvé, de surcroît, en 2005 (suspect !!) allait forcément être moins bonne... Et puis on se met à lire et la "magie Dumas" opère : un jeune homme descend de la malle-poste à Strasbourg, et toute une ambiance se met en place, l'anxiété de Strasbourg à l'approche des prussiens, les personnages qui sortent de l'ombre... Nous voici embarqués dans la France de la Terreur, avec le jeune Charles qui va rejoindre Pichegru, puis avec Bonaparte qui, de retour du siège victorieux de Toulon, vient soutenir la Convention menacée, ensuite sur les pas d'une jeune fille décidée à venger son frère membre d'une société secrète royaliste parce qu'il avait parlé, et enfin de nouveau Bonaparte dans la campagne d'Egypte... ce volume étant un "prequel" des "compagnons de Jehu" qui suit, les intrigues, essentiellement préparatoires, forment un ensemble ne répondant pas aux critères classiques de l'unité de lieu, de temps, et d'action, mais cela importe au fond assez peu. Tout cela déborde aussi de bons sentiments sans doute assez peu réalistes (les soldats qui refusent les gratifications financières ou qui se disputent l'honneur de marcher les premiers à l'ennemi), mais on sourit et pardonne, ravis d'être introduits dans l'intimité de Pichegru, de Bonaparte ou même de Joséphine quand elle va consulter Melle Lenormand. Dumas ne prend pas partis entre "les Blancs" et "les bleus", il souligne l'héroïsme, le courage et l'intelligence présents dans les deux camps.
August 12, 2024
Les Blancs et les Bleus est mon deuxième livre d'Alexandre Dumas après "Les trois mousquetaires" et je dois dire que j'ai ressenti l'écriture très différement.
Alors que "Les trois mousquetaires" ne racontent l'Histoire que de cinq ou six personnages tout au plus, Les Blancs et les Bleus est un livre qui parait bien plus long et qui raconte plusieurs histoires parallèlement mais connectées entre-elles par certains personnages communs.
C'est un livre d'une grande érudition, qui s'ancre dans le contexte historique bien particulier de la Terreur et du Conservatoire jusqu'aux prémices du premier Empire. Le roman nous fait voyager dans divers évènements historiques importants comme la chute de Robespierre, les campagnes d'Italie ou encore le siège de Jaffa. Le derniers tiers du livre raconte essentiellement les aventures du jeune général Bonaparte, ses batailles, ses victoires et ses défaites.
Les batailles sont très détaillées ce qui est agréable, il ne faut pas attendre de vraie réalité historique cependant, le livre est une sorte de roman national qui exalte Napoléon. Le livre ne manque cependant pas d'émotions, on s'inquiète beaucoup, on sourit souvent.
J'ai fait l'erreur de prendre trop de temps à lire ce livre et surtout à faire une pause pendant la lecture. Ce qui m'a fait en partie décrocher c'est la quantité astronomique de personnages et de noms mentionnés au détour d'une page et que ne réapparaissent parfois jamais. La densité historique est impressionnante mais c'est au prix de la simplicité de lecture.
Alors que "Les trois mousquetaires" ne racontent l'Histoire que de cinq ou six personnages tout au plus, Les Blancs et les Bleus est un livre qui parait bien plus long et qui raconte plusieurs histoires parallèlement mais connectées entre-elles par certains personnages communs.
C'est un livre d'une grande érudition, qui s'ancre dans le contexte historique bien particulier de la Terreur et du Conservatoire jusqu'aux prémices du premier Empire. Le roman nous fait voyager dans divers évènements historiques importants comme la chute de Robespierre, les campagnes d'Italie ou encore le siège de Jaffa. Le derniers tiers du livre raconte essentiellement les aventures du jeune général Bonaparte, ses batailles, ses victoires et ses défaites.
Les batailles sont très détaillées ce qui est agréable, il ne faut pas attendre de vraie réalité historique cependant, le livre est une sorte de roman national qui exalte Napoléon. Le livre ne manque cependant pas d'émotions, on s'inquiète beaucoup, on sourit souvent.
J'ai fait l'erreur de prendre trop de temps à lire ce livre et surtout à faire une pause pendant la lecture. Ce qui m'a fait en partie décrocher c'est la quantité astronomique de personnages et de noms mentionnés au détour d'une page et que ne réapparaissent parfois jamais. La densité historique est impressionnante mais c'est au prix de la simplicité de lecture.
December 27, 2021
L'un des rares romans de Dumas dans lequel l'Histoire ne sert pas seulement de cadre, mais qui est le centre de l'intrigue.
October 2, 2025
The story, while entertaining, seemed ultimately disjointed
February 10, 2015
The Whites and the Blues is the first book of so called Saint-Hermine -trilogy. Although it is written after the second book The Companions of Jehu. Concluding book is the famous lost novel Last Cavalier (also called The Knight of Saint-Hermine).
The Whites and The Blues is not very easy book to read. Main problem is that it is more like a real history book than a novel. I was constantly checking Wikipedia to keep track on the events. While the history portions were quite interesting, the best parts were those that were fiction. Those parts felt almost as good as the Musketeer series.
The other big problem is that there is not a clear main character. In the beginning of the book one might think that Charles Nodier is the central figure but after the first third he disappears. Then there are members of the secret organisation The Company Jehu. Their leader Morgan seems to be key figure but there are not many chapters that he's in. Maybe the second book (The Companions of Jehu) will make Morgan a little more central.
One could argue that Napoleon is the main character of the book and that is very good argument. Although Napoleon does not make an appearance until the halfway of the novel his presence is constantly in the air. And the last part about Napoleon's campaign in Egypt gives him very much spotlight.
There are also many plot threads that are not resolved. These are mainly focusing the members of Company of Jehu. Maybe those threads are concluded in the next book.
Although this is hard book to read and not very intriguing I recommend it to all those who are interested in Dumas' works. And maybe The Whites and the Blues works best as a prologue to other two books of the trilogy.
The Whites and The Blues is not very easy book to read. Main problem is that it is more like a real history book than a novel. I was constantly checking Wikipedia to keep track on the events. While the history portions were quite interesting, the best parts were those that were fiction. Those parts felt almost as good as the Musketeer series.
The other big problem is that there is not a clear main character. In the beginning of the book one might think that Charles Nodier is the central figure but after the first third he disappears. Then there are members of the secret organisation The Company Jehu. Their leader Morgan seems to be key figure but there are not many chapters that he's in. Maybe the second book (The Companions of Jehu) will make Morgan a little more central.
One could argue that Napoleon is the main character of the book and that is very good argument. Although Napoleon does not make an appearance until the halfway of the novel his presence is constantly in the air. And the last part about Napoleon's campaign in Egypt gives him very much spotlight.
There are also many plot threads that are not resolved. These are mainly focusing the members of Company of Jehu. Maybe those threads are concluded in the next book.
Although this is hard book to read and not very intriguing I recommend it to all those who are interested in Dumas' works. And maybe The Whites and the Blues works best as a prologue to other two books of the trilogy.
January 1, 2008
Disappointing. I love Dumas but this long novel has few of the things I love about him. The characters kind of come and go, are there for a few chapters and then never appear again. It's almost impossible to follow the action, unless you are very familiar with one of the most confusing periods of French history, The Terror after the Revolution. He says several times himself that he is not really writing a novel, and not really writing a history, he's kind of filling in the blanks of history with historical details he picked up from people who lived at the time he is writing about. I was looking forward particularly to reading about Bonaparte in Egypt, but learned very little. It just goes from one battle to another, with very little narrative cushion to make it interesting.
May 22, 2015
Произведение представляет собой смесь художественного романа, документальной хроники и чересчур подробного учебника по истории. Автор суматошно перескакивает от одних событий к другим, забывая завершать начатые сюжетные линии. Временами переходит на изложение событий в настоящем времени, очевидно, стремясь придать им излишний динамизм. В целом, книга читается достаточно тяжело.
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