Alain Corbin

"Alain Corbin embarks on a journey that is part history and part metaphysics: recreating the life and world of a man about whom nothing is known except for his entries in the civil registries and historical knowledge about the times in which he lived. Risen from death and utter obscurity is Louis-Francois Pinagot, a forester and clog maker who lived during the heart of the nineteenth century - the age of Romanticism, of Hugo and Berlioz - from the Napoleonic Wars to the Third Republic.". "The result is a picture of the way people lived along the forest's edge during this tumultuous and eventful time in the history of France - and of the world. How did the residents of this unique community live and work together? How did life in the village differ from life in the forest? How did the church and various governments of France affect the everyday lives of these people, and of Pinagot in particular? With The Life of an Unknown, Alain Corbin presents a full record of a life, comprised of supposition, with room for each reader to insert his or her own imaginings onto the scene."--BOOK JACKET.

In the French Canton of Brienne in November 1799, local authorities were scandalized when a crowd of girls broke through the doors of the church and rang the bells in order to mark the festival of St. Catherine. Religious use of the bells was forbidden by law, but the villagers boldly insisted on their right to celebrate with peals the feast of a beloved saint. So begins Village Bells, Alain Corbin's exploration of the "auditory landscape" of nineteenth-century France, a story of lost sensory experiences and forgotten passions. In the nineteenth century, these instruments were symbols of their towns and objects of both ecclesiastic and civic pride. Bell-ringing served practical purposes of communication, marking both religious and secular time, as well as calling citizens to pray, assemble, take arms, or beware of danger. As Corbin shows, the bells also reflected the social, political, and religious struggles of the time. To control the bells was to control the symbolic order, rhythm, and loyalties of French village and country life. Using church archives and local documents, Corbin forges a unique history of the role of bells from the aftermath of the Revolution to the dawn of the twentieth century.

The Lure of the Sea is a brilliant account of how the pleasures of the seaside were discovered in the western world, written by one of the most creative historians in Europe today. Well illustrated and accessible, it charts the changes in the popular view of the shore and the rise of the coastal resort as a place of recreation and rest. Corbin argues that with few exceptions people living before the eighteenth century knew nothing of the attractions of the coast, the visual delight of the sea, the desire to brave the force of the waves or to feel the coolness of sand against the skin. The image of the ocean in the popular consciousness was coloured by Biblical and mythical recollections of sea monsters, voracious whales, and catastrophic floods. It was perceived as sinister and unchanging, a dark, unfathomable force inspiring horror rather than attraction. These associations of catastrophe and fear in the minds of Europeans intensified the repulsion they felt towards deserted and dismal shores. Corbin sets out to show how, with the Enlightenment, a profound change occurred in people's attitudes towards the sea. During the most important period, between 1750 and 1840, the discovery of the seaside as a place of pleasure and relaxation led to the rapid growth of British coastal towns such as Brighton, followed by other resorts in Europe, from Deauville to Marbella and the Greek Isles. With abundant references to the literature and visual arts of the period, Corbin describes the changing habits and fashions of visitors to these resorts, from the patients sent under doctors' orders to bathe in ice-cold sea water, to the women bathers of the nineteenth century who avoided indiscreet gazes by entering the waves through specially designed wagons. This major new work will be of interest to students and researchers in the history of early modern society, culture, literature, and art, and anyone interested in the changing ways in which the sea and the shore have been perceived in Western culture.

"In August 1870 in the isolated French village of Hautefaye, a gruesome murder was committed in broad daylight that aroused the indignation of the entire country. A young nobleman, falsely accused of shouting republican slogans, was savagely tortured for hours by a mob of peasants who later burned him alive. Rumors of cannibalism stirred public fascination and the details of the case were dramatically recounted in the popular press. While the crime was rife with political significance, the official inquiry focused on its brutality. Justice was swift: the mob's alleged ringleaders were guillotined at the scene of the crime the following winter. The Village of Cannibals is a fascinating inquiry into the social and political ingredients of an alchemy that transformed ordinary people into executioners in nineteenth -century France. Alain Corbin's chronicle of the killing reveals the political motivations of the murderers and the gulf between their actions and the sensibilities of the majority of French citizens who no longer tolerated violence as a viable form of political expression."--back cover

Dispelling the lurid stereotypes portrayed in fiction, Alain Corbin depicts prostitution in nineteenth-century France not as a vice, crime, or disease, but as a well-organized business. Corbin reveals how the brothel served the sex industry in the same way that the factory served manufacturing: it provided an institution for the efficient and profitable sale of services.

"La virilité serait vertu. Elle viserait le "parfait", fondant sur un idéal de domination masculine une des caractéristiques des sociétés occidentales. Une puissance a été inventée, de la force physique au courage moral, imposant ses codes, ses rituels, sa formation. Tradition plus complexe pourtant, elle ne saurait en rien figer la virilité dans une histoire immobile. Les qualités se recomposent avec le temps. La société marchande ne saurait avoir le même idéal viril que la société militaire. Le courtisan ne saurait avoir le même idéal viril que le chevalier. La cour et la ville inventent des modèles décalés. Ce sont ces différences et ces changements que retrace ce premier volume, de l'Antiquité jusqu'aux Lumières, introduisant de l'histoire dans ce qui semble ne pas en avoir. Tradition sévère aussi, la perfection serait toujours menacée de quelque insuffisance : la force ne peut ignorer la fragilité. Reste une rupture marquante avec les Lumières : celle visant la domination elle-même. Une virilité nouvelle s'y affirme. L'ancienne ascendance est condamnée, les pères peuvent apparaître en "tyrans", alors même que rien ne conteste encore la domination sur le féminin."--Page 4 of cover.