Word: henried
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...commemoration of bygones, but on the contrary crowded with hopes for the future. It was tangibly marked by an ambitious program in which the Cleveland Orchestra under Conductor Nikolai Grigorovitch Sokolov and a company of players were to present as symphonic dramas Charles Martin Loeffler's Pagan Poem, Henri Rabaud's Procession Nocturne and Werner Janssen's New Year's Eve in New York...
...Henri's father, whom he always disliked and later spoke of usually as "the bastard," was a royalist who escaped the fury of the French Revolution only because he was a citizen of out-of-the-way Grenoble. There Henri was born in 1783, and naturally grew up as a republican, to pique his father. He was difficult, even as a child. When told to kiss the plump cheek of a grown-up female relative, he bit it. His mother's death, when he was 5, plunged him into despair and atheism. His only childhood friend...
...Milan, Henri entered the lists of love and was badly thrown; for a time he was under doctor's care. "He took little part in the fighting, though he distinguished himself at Castelfranco." When the campaign finished, he sent in his papers. Back in Paris once more, he fell in love with an actress. They went together to Marseilles, where Henri had a job in a wholesale grocery, and were happy for some time. Then Melanie got an engagement in Paris and they parted. In Napoleon's 1806 campaign against Prussia, Henri was once again with the army...
This cynic admired one man: Napoleon. In the disastrous campaign against Russia, Henri followed him, this time as a member of the Emperor's staff. With the abdication of Napoleon, Henri took refuge in Italy, turned to literature. His first book, under the pseudonym Louis Alexandre Cesar Bombet, was proved to be a plagiarism from one Carpani. From Henri's point of view, however his version was merely a brilliant condensation of a dull book. He was looked on with suspicion by the Austrian authorities in Italy, who thought he might be a Carbonaro, and finally was expelled...
Heavyset, square-faced, unhandsome, awkward, Henri Beyle had many mistresses, but in his whole life loved only one woman besides his mother: Mathilde Visconti. She was faithful to her husband, and would have none of Henri. Proud of his English, he could not make himself understood in London when he wanted to buy a jar of jam. His books were not successful; the publisher of one of them wrote to him: "The book must be sacred-nobody seemed even to dare to touch it." His friends were not sure of him: his remarks, written and printed, might have been irony...