'The Gods Will Have Blood' distinguishes itself from other novels of French Revolution I've read by its fantastic level of cynicism. France's writing reveals the bitter ironies of the Terror, marshalling a fascinating cast of characters. At the centre of the narrative is Gamelin, an idealistic young artist who lives in an attic with his mother. He becomes part of the Revolutionary Tribunal and, as he sees it, fights to preserve the Revolution by sending traitors to their death. The major figures of the time, notably Robespierre, cast a strong shadow over the book, but rarely intrude directly. Indeed, it is often demonstrated that characters are concerned with the daily matter of earning a living or seducing a conquest, not politics. The closeness and contrast between mundane life and sudden, shocking condemnation to death is repeatedly, powerfully demonstrated. The arbitrary nature of Terror is a major theme.

I feel compelled to compare this novel with 'Les Misérables', which is deeply idealistic and in places idealises the sacrifice of life for abstract principles. (Naturally it bears noting that events in Les Mis begin more than twenty years after the Terror, which took place from 1793-4.) Although this is something of an overgeneralisation, Hugo tends to characterise social problems as institutional, requiring reform of structures. France appears uninterested in such analysis, rather he dwells on the personal level of struggle to survive. The characters in 'The Gods Have Blood' seem less aware of the institutions binding their actions than those of 'Les Mis'. On the other hand, France's characters are more human and less absolute. Their morals are definitely looser, too, which both rings true and adds piquancy. I loved the female characters energy and lack of tedious saintliness.

Many small moments in 'The Gods Will Have Blood' stand out as striking. Julie's fondness for dressing up in men's clothing. The artists' gallivant out to the countryside, seemingly idyllic until one member of the party jokingly calls the other by the name of a recently disgraced politician. The angry tirades of Athénaïs the baby-faced prostitute. The death of Citizen Trubert, who absent-mindedly said he was very well whilst coughing up blood. The prisoners playing at 'Revolutionary Tribunal', not only rehearsing their likely fate on Earth but also their punishments in Hell.

My favourite moment, though, is probably when the atheist epicurean Brotteaux invites a homeless priest to stay with him. Brotteaux refuses the priest's thanks, protesting that his kindness stems from, 'that egotism which inspires all men's acts of generosity and self-sacrifice' and also because, 'I've nothing better to do'. The friendly discussion between the two apparent philosophical opposites is fascinating. There and elsewhere, France rather subversively presents a determinedly cynical man who believes in nothing as seemingly the wisest character in the book. This is very interesting contrast to Hugo, whose avowedly cynical character Grantaire is described as a weak drunkard, who only achieves greatness by embracing death for an ideal (love, if not liberty). Whilst Brotteaux by no means benefits from his clear-eyed view of the Terror, France definitely paints him as admirable. He and Gamelin are contrasted powerfully by way of their thoughts and actions, although their eventual fates are identical.

I think that France has captured a perspective on the final phase of the French Revolution that I've not read before. 'The Gods Will Have Blood' is a brilliantly written novel, although the introduction claims it loses quite a bit in translation. I might try and get hold of a copy in French. For quite a short book, it feels very substantial. It'll stay in my mind, of that I'm sure. ( )

2.5 stars
France writes about Paris in the time of the revolution, 1792-5. Gamelin is a starving artist trying to support himself and his mother when a bourgeois woman calls in a favor and has him made a magistrate. She is thinking he will defend her if she is turned in for speculation. In those days, everyone was turning in everyone else for any little thing: being atheist, being an emigre, writing letters to England, to Spain, oh, just about anything could get your head chopped off. We'll, turns out she's wrong: Gamelin takes to his job like a fish to water, and soon convicts everyone who comes up before him and his fellow jurists. His thirst for blood has overtaken him and destroyed his once innocent life. ( )

Here's what I wrote in 2008 about this read: "Novel highlighting the Reign of Terror following the French Revolution. Recalling slightly with the help of online reviews, but doesn't standout as particularly memorable." ( )

"I am steeped in blood so that you may be happy"
By sally tarbox on 19 Sept. 2013
Format: Paperback
Chilling tale of one Evariste Gamelin, a poor artist in revolutionary Paris. On the one hand he shows humanity: caring for his old mother, willing to give up his bread allowance to a starving woman, and jealously devoted to the lovely Elodie.
But his blind following of the Republic soon becomes apparent:
'We must put our trust in Robespierre; he is incorruptible. Above all we must trust in Marat. He is the one who really loves the people...he's not only incorruptible; he is without fear. He alone is capable of saving the Republic in its peril.'
Against this dangerously naive youth, we meet his older neighbour, Brotteaux, a former aristocrat, now living in a garret and making puppets - but, despite his atheism, a good natured man, willing to risk his life for others.
As Evariste rises up the ladder he becomes a magistrate, with power over the lives of many, even people well known to him...

Although written a hundred years ago, and set 250 years back, this is very much a relevant work; Gamelin made me think of Nazis who were reportedly kind fathers; of radicalized Muslim youths who had once been loving sons. As he tells Elodie:
'Scoundrels who betray their fatherland are multiplying unceasingly...And when we have sacrificed them on the altar of the fatherland, more of them appear, and more and more...So you must see there is no other course for me but to renounce love, joy, all the sweetness of life, even life itself.'
The crazy world where months are re-named and dancing dolls declared anti-revolutionary (putting their seller's life at risk) is very similar to what we see in some extremist lands today.
And it massively informed me about the Revolution, which we tend to portray simply as starving peasants rightfully rising up against a corrupt royal family. The different factions and the changes of direction under the Terror, when even the leaders weren't safe is all brought out. (Although I would encourage the reader to familiarise themselves with basic facts about the Revolution before reading - I got rather confused at times.) ( )

Story of the descent into the darkness of The Terror. Nice easy short read, with a history lesson thrown in. Well worth the effort. ( )

The Gods are A-thirst, aka The Gods Will have Blood, is a French Revolutionary drama about the horror that can follow blind commitment to ideology. In the initial scenes a young, zealous artist is criticizing the beautiful needlework of his would-be sweetheart for lacking sufficient classical republican fervor, after quarreling with her father. Instead of telling the jerk to get lost, she obligingly picks all the threads out and starts over and then arranges a rendezvous. Of course, if young people loved wisely there would be no story. This poor girl has the misfortune to love a fellow who is so uncompromising in his beliefs that his hands are soon soaked in the blood of pretty much everybody who doesn't agree with him including his family. Must be the artistic temperament. The portrayal, not so much of the history of the revolution, but the temperament and beliefs of the people who lived and died through it, was well done.

I took issue with this particular translation which was likely done in the 1940s. Even then some of the word choices were archaic and stilted. Maybe the translator thought he couldn't find suitable words in English, but there were many French phrases of a complexity that would cause difficulty for someone who wasn't fluent. Citoyen, you are so ci-devant. Look for a more modern translation. ( )

I recall a variation on the title (The Gods are Athirst) from back during my original Scarlet Pimpernel-inspired F-Rev marathon, but still can't place the actual novel. I don't think I read this one the first time around, but then the story is hardly memorable. Chauvelin-esque anti-hero Evariste Gamelin is swept up in the fervour of Robespierre's Terror, betraying those closest to him in the search for an ideal revolution. And he condemned these charming, pitiful creatures to the guillotine, convinced that he was proving his honesty, his manliness, his sense of what was right, showing wisdom, impartiality and devotion to the Republic.'

While I would recommend France's take on the Revolution over Dicken's, or Hilary Mantel (fewer words, for one), I'm still a lifelong fan of Baroness Orczy for smuggling historical fact into entertaining fiction (and yes, she also did her research, she was just a bit more creative with her application of the truth!) ( )

3.5 - 4 stars

What happens when we let an idea, an ideal of what humanity ought to be, perhaps even a good one of what it could be, consume us? What happens when the idea becomes more important than the people it is meant to represent? What happens when this idea becomes a god to be worshipped blindly and that god thirsts for human blood in the name of necessity and perfection? Well, the answer is pretty self-evident I guess.

Anatole France’s [b:The Gods will Have Blood|346023|The Gods Will Have Blood|Anatole France|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1173925617s/346023.jpg|2069122] aka [b:The Gods are Athirst|6182948|The Gods Are Athirst/The Well of Saint Clare|Anatole France|http://www.goodreads.com/images/nocover-60x80.jpg|6363059] shows just such a crisis, when the Revolution in France, meant to topple the unjust regime of monarchy and aristocracy in the name of the downtrodden people, became transmuted into a literal Terror, where madam Guillotine reigned supreme and all were suspect. Even those in authority were not safe from the accusing glances and denunciations of all and sundry, and the heroes and champions of liberty of today were all too soon the martyrs and victims of tomorrow. At this time of turmoil we are introduced to the young painter Évariste Gamelin, living in poverty with his widowed mother in a garret in Paris, dreaming of possible fame as an artist and ardently committed to the revolutionary cause. His neighbour, the ci-devant nobleman and secular philosopher Maurice Brotteaux, now makes children’s puppets and reads his Lucretius, giving aid to his neighbours when he can and grumbling of the deceitful nature of the revolution and its adherents. Finally there is Élodie Blaise, the voluptuous daughter of a clever printseller who has thus far proven able to navigate the tempestuous seas of the revolution and still manage to make a profit amidst the poverty that surrounds him, who pursues the handsome young Gamelin with a desire that is almost bestial in its hunger.

We see Gamelin at first as a young man of great feeling and sensibility. Unable to bear the suffering of a young mother unable to feed her newborn child, he gives her half of his loaf, the last available at the baker’s and he goes hungry while he gives his old mother the other half. He is smitten with ardour for the beauteous Élodie, but approaches her with only the most trepidatious of steps. Soon, however, we see that Gamelin’s ardent sensibility is a double-edged sword, for it is that which has caused him to throw in his lot whole-heartedly with the Jacobins, willing to accept any sacrifice or demand made by them in the name of liberty, fraternity, and equality. Gamelin soon becomes a juror sitting in judgment of the many suspected traitors and conspirators that the Jacobins aver will be the downfall of all they have fought for. Some of these victims sacrificed in the name of the new government are former leaders and politicians like Danton and Desmoulins caught on the wrong side of the winds of politics, or generals unable to win the victories desired by the authorities against “the enemies of the people”. In the true spirit of ‘equality’ espoused by the powers that be, however, the vast majority of these victims are merely poor souls caught in the net of avarice and fear that permeates the city. Denounced by friends and neighbours they are bakers and prostitutes, soldiers and priests deemed dangerous by virtue of an ill-considered utterance or the chance of being on the wrong side of a hungry mob waiting for bread at a bakery.

These courts soon become nothing more than a death machine, accepting that all accused are guilty and sending them to their deaths by the dozen after mere single trials (with the needless excess of examining evidence and questioning the accused) become inefficient. The real tragedy of all of this is that this Terror was not simply the act of evil men, but of those of a normal, or even good character who were either too weak in the face of fear, too enamoured with the call of power, or too trusting in the aims of the Revolution to fight against it. Gamelin becomes a true believer. He adheres to the dictates of his party with a religious fervour and can placidly send to the guillotine all with whom he is presented for is it not the fault of these headstrong victims that such extreme measures are taken? It certainly cannot be that of the virtuous state that longs only for the regeneration of mankind.

Élodie soon becomes inordinately enamored of Gamelin. Added to his mere physical attractions are those of authority. This young man, who holds in his hands the power of life and death over all of Paris, becomes irresistible. Her dreams of love are mingled with those of blood, and at one point

…at the thought of the knife at her neck, all her flesh melted in an ecstasy of horror and voluptuous transport.

For his part Gamelin’s mind becomes fevered and burdened by the weight of the enormity of his actions and it is only in the languishing arms of Élodie that he can find repose. These two youths, each thirsting for more blood, though for decidedly different reasons, cannot truly rest and seem unable to understand the obvious reasons for their uneasiness and distress.

On the other side we see Brotteaux. A former aristocrat and man of pleasure who while he denies the truths preached on behalf of both God and man is contrariwise unable to accept the suffering of those he sees around him. Despite his professed creed of indifference we see him constantly aiding those in need in both small and large ways. Whether this is in the shape of the defrocked priest Pére Longuemare who regrets his own cowardice at the Revolution’s outset and admires the conviction of the atheistic philosopher with whom he has many a spirited argument, or the young prostitute Athenaïs who is by turns a lamb and a lion in the face of persecution, or even Gamelin’s mother, sitting hungry in the empty garret she shares with her son the avenger, Brotteaux puts himself out for the individuals he meets in disdain for the great mass of the people…nothing more than a mob that thirsts for death.

Both sides of the spectrum will of course come into contention. Is it any wonder who, in the short term at least, will win? I’m uncertain after reading this who was worse, the idealists who promulgated the ideas that led to these acts of terror and death, or the fickle mob that heeded them thoughtlessly and became the true god of the title that thirsted for blood. This was an excellent examination of the period of the Terror in France. The various levels of society and points of view, the varied stresses that pushed on individuals making them act both more and less than human, are all well presented. Mankind in all its complexity is on view here in a pitiable tale of idealism and evil, a cautionary tale of the need to see the trees that make up the forest. If we forget that even the mob is made up of individual people, then we are destined to be nothing more than a mere atom in its makeup, a fragment of the nameless masses that are swayed by history instead of human affection.

The story ends with ‘normalcy’ apparently reinstated, the people freed from the tyranny of one set of revolutionaries and granted an apparent respite from the hunger of the guillotine. This respite will be short-lived and it is ironically the materialist Brotteaux who becomes an unwitting prophet. In an utterance which will be used against him by the very people he warns he foresees a day when “…one of these warriors you make gods of swallows you all up like the stork in the fable who gobbles up the frogs.” The Revolution and the Terror were not the end of the upheavals France was to experience in these days. The cult of personality was also going to consume them in the name of a Corsican soldier with an iron will and a genius for war.
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Évariste Gamelin é ridículo, e se torna terrível.
A volúpia que Élodie sente ao pensar no cadafalso é fantástica.
Quanto à morte de Louis de Longuemare, de Marie-Athenaïs, de Jacques Maubel – o suposto amante de Élodie, penso no Marat/Sade, um dos melhores livros que já li, quando fala nos aristocratas que subiram ao cadafalso como se subissem ao trono – não é o cúmulo da depravação? ( )

Not a strong story, it centres on Gamelin, an artist of Puritan tendency, favouring a neo-classical style that fits with the overturn of the aristocratically Baroque. The first half of the book labours somewhat as we meet various characters and are offered discussions on revolutionary aesthetics (from the hero) and revolutionary fashions (from his less committed inamorata). It gathers pace when he gets appointed to a tribunal and has a chance to play a more active role condemning people, mainly innocent, to death. His revolutionary zeal is exercised by condemning everybody without exception. He gets the inevitable taste of his own medicine in the end, being in the train of the wrong party leader.
The best parts of the book are not the ones concerning this incorruptible, but about two of his victims, Brotteaux, an atheist ci-devant now plying a trade in puppets, and Pere Longuemar, a priest who is effectively on the run. They have lively conversations outdoing each other in human kindness and droll thoughts on life, death and the Terror.
The account of the Terror is pretty nasty: the systematic attack, not just on real enemies but on the innocent, presages the larger scale nightmares of more recent times. But it might be better to read in a non-fiction account. Here one does not know what is "true" and what is novelistic effect. The teenage tart, with a heart, for example, is warmly described, but a rather cliché trope. And would she really shout "Vive le Roi!", and would she really be guillotined for her scarcely understood utterance? Gamelin's appointment to the tribunal is also a touch odd: he's recommended by an acquaintance with strings to pull, so it seems almost a chance event, rather than the result of his ambition or striving, which would be more life-like. Perhaps this is also a literary device, to illustrate the transformation of theory/ideology into lethal practice
The book has been on my wish list since I was at school. Glad I've now caught up with it, if slightly disappointed. ( )

[Les Dieux Ont Soif] is a thematic book. A book about a revolution, a book about how times and aesthetic change because of a revolution. It is a book over how men and women change because of a revolution: what are their view of the past and their fears of the future.

It tells the story of an idealist painter who becomes the appointed jury member of a section revolutionary tribunal. It is a book about his transformation in this time of change that was Paris in 1793 when pressured by outside armies and inside ennemies, the Royalists of Vendee and the pro-British Toulon inhabitants, radical measures were taken to save the threatened "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" created in 1789 with the toppling of the king and two of its three orders or strata pre-revolutionary society: the nobility and the clergy.

It is a book over how the past is viewed with scorn by the tenants of the new aesthetic who recommend giving to the fire the chinese inspired commodes of their salons to replace them with David inspired furniture of purest Roman or antiquity inspired lines- a bit the same as with any change throughout the times from floral art nouveau to Art deco or from Art deco to purest neo industrial lines. Anatole France's language in the book follows this change and becomes less archaic at the end of the book than at its beginning when it adopts the philosophical dialogue shape of a Diderot or when describing an outing in the country side reminiscent of Watteau by Parisians who want to remember earlier more innocent pleasures of the old order. Even the love scenes between the painter and the heroin have visual qualities and are on purpose reminiscent of Fragonard's paintings now objects of derision.

It is also a book about justice and how it is administered. But Anatole France's vision is so much more subtile than the countless books who describe the French revolution of 1789 with blood dripping in the streets.

The fear of the razor of the guillotine is palpable but never gory. It also shows the eternal theme of how ideals of Equality upon which revolutionary justice is created can be perverted when it starts with a concern for individual rights as reflected in the confusing trial of a defeated General and when under the pressures created by the deteriorating situation at the border and the invasion of the armies of Austria and Prussia who want to restore the monarchy, a mass justice of exception groups cases of 50 counter-revolutionaries in one expedited procedure.

This book clearly transcends its time and places and the period it describes becomes universal. ( )

A symbolic but historical morality tale about the all-too-common perversion of the revolutionary spirit. ( )

Rating: 3.625* of five

The Book Report: The journey through the Terror of the French Revolution made by artist Évariste Gamelin, aspiring bourgeois to Jacobin true believer to his inevitable fall after the Coup de Thermidor. One man's life journey explores the entire *amazing* and enthralling course of the defining break between the Old World Order and the New.

My Review: This book was a Book Circle read. Frederick Davies translated this work very ably, in that the prose is supple and muscular. The book is inexorably gripping...to start is to need to finish...and the historical developments, so well-known to M. France, are explored fully without being windy and drawn out.

I love the French Revolution as a fictional backdrop. How can you heighten suspense more than set a book against the backdrop of a murderous rampage that changed the world? Can't say that for most massacres. The history of the French Revolution is equally enthralling to me. I read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica article on it, fascinated and riveted, while I was recovering from mumps one spring in the 1960s. Been hooked ever since.

I detested Évariste Gamelin. Start to finish, he ticked me off, made me ill, caused my blood pressure to spike to unsafe levels, and my shouting at the book (ineffective, sad to say) drove the dog to sleep on Puppy-mommy's bed. Getting that engaged with a book is a Good Thing. It means I've invested my feelings in the experience. This book is 100 years old this year. The events chronicled took place 220 years ago. It's as vibrant and exciting today as ever.

Recommended for all lovers of history. Read it, and weep. ( )

Ideological and political fanaticism were an important issue to the terror regime during the French Revolution, as Anatole France reveals in this story of a close-minded character.

Anatole France does a stunning job in The Gods Will Have Blood showing the slow disintegration of the French Revolution into the Reign of Terror. Spanning the years 1792 to 1794, beginning after the Jacobins have effectively seized control, France attempts to understand the revolution through the effect it has on the people living it. His fictional protagonist Gamelin personifies the Jekyll and Hyde nature of the revolution itself. He begins as an idealistic republican. Although he has cut himself off from other people by his austere manner, he none the less truly believes in helping his fellow man. But like the revolution itself, Gamelin slowly forsakes his compassion for brutal repression. France does a masterful job as always of not just showing each side to the story, but also showing how everyone was complicit in what happened. No one escapes responsibility for the outcome. Gamelin’s transformation from compassionate artist to sanguinary magistrate is the most overt, but not the only accusation thrown by France. Citizeness Rochemaure embodies the machinations of aristocracy in her trying to play both sides for her own profit, the greed of the merchant class shown by Jean Blaise’ profiteering, and the blood lust just under the surface of the populace as bluntly shown in Elodie’s blood fueled sex drive. The same Parisian crowds, who gaily celebrated as Marie Antoinette was guillotined, show equal glee for the execution of Robespierre.
Many scholars have written of the similarities between the French Revolution and the Russian Revolution. But none have done it as pointedly as Anatole France. The Gods Will Have Blood was published in 1912, predating the Russian Revolution by 5 years, yet the parallel is so apparent, that you can’t help but make the connection at almost every turn. This book could have been written by John Reed in 1917. France also shows how a society can allow something like the Terror to happen. One can easily see a connection to Nazi Germany in how a society can overlook at best, and at worst fully participate in abject horrors.
Classic literature can often seem dated, but this could have been written yesterday. France’s prose is immediate and universal, he amuses us and at the same time makes us think very pointedly about society and our role in it.
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