Sain et sauf—safe and sound
Saint-Lazare—both a prison and an infirmary for prostitutes with venereal disease; opened in 1836
Saint Martin’s Day—a saint’s day in November
Salope—slut; a term of contempt
La Salpêtrière—lunatic asylum famous for Charcot’s investigations of female hysteria
Sanguettes—local treat of the slaughtering season, made of the blood of the fowl
Sans-culotte—working-class revolutionary of 1789
Sortie—the launching of an attack
Sortie torrentielle—large-scale attack launched from Paris to ward off Prussian forces
Sou—small coin worth about half a penny
Soupe du jour—soup of the day
Souteneur—pimp
Suiveur—lecher who follows women in the street
Tabatière—rifle used by the Communards
Tolérance—tolerated house, meaning an upscale brothel
Tour—a guard tower
Tour d’abandon—place for women to abandon infants anonymously, located at the Hospice des Enfants Assistés
Tricoteuse—one of the women who sat knitting while watching the public executions at the guillotine during the French Revolution
Tripes à la mode de Caen—a famous dish made from the four stomachs of a cow, cider, Calvados, and vegetables
Tripière—the covered pot in which tripe is served; can be heated over a small brazier at the table
Triqueur—rag picker
Vieille réserve—old, specially reserved, the finest
Ville basse—lower area of the city of Auch, linked by narrow stone stepways, the poustrelles, and steeply winding streets
Vin ordinaire—table wine
Visite sanitaire—mandatory health check for prostitutes
Acknowledgments
This novel has had a long coming-of-age, and many friends and supporters contributed to its making. The photographs and paintings, diaries, court records, letters, journals, memoirs, and artifacts consulted, and the historical commentary on them, were found over the course of my many visits to the British Library and the Cambridge University Library; the Musée Carnavelet (where an original loaf of pain de Ferry is available for study), the Musée de l’Assistance Publique, and the Musée de la Préfecture de Police in Paris; and the Musée des Jacobins in Auch. Many booksellers, museum curators, and casual archivists and documentarians, especially in Paris and Auch, unknowingly placed exactly what was needed on a shelf or wall or in a case.
My admiration and appreciation goes out to the historians whose work grounded this story and inspired it again and again. Most especially, I owe a great debt to Alain Corbin and Jill Harsin for their in-depth studies of nineteenth-century prostitution in France; and to Rachel Fuchs, for her insightful writing about pregnancy, poverty, motherhood, and child abandonment during the period. To better understand the era’s upheavals, I relied particularly on the work of Alistair Horne, Gay L. Gullickson, John Milner, David H. Pinkney, and Rupert Christiansen. Elizabeth Anne McCauley wonderfully illuminated the history of photography in Paris. The work of many nineteenth-century writers sustained this project, especially that of Yves Guyot, who wrote vividly and courageously about (and against) the system of prostitution in his own day. Céleste Mogador has been this book’s great-godmother; I first found her in passing anecdotes and scattered, but always pithy, fragments of writing. Monique Fleury Nagem’s translation of Mogador’s memoirs (2001) was highly appreciated and most welcome. And no acknowledgment and certainly no novel can do justice to Eugen Weber’s landmark and fearsomely illuminating Peasants into Frenchmen.
I am extraordinarily grateful for early support from the Five College Women’s Studies Research Center, and deepest thanks go to Susan Petersen Kennedy and Clare Ferraro at the Penguin Group for allowing me to structure my time to take advantage of the center’s fellowship. Writing does not always fit easily or comfortably into a book editor’s life, and my publishing colleagues have been patient, forgiving, and kind. I have had the honor of working with many authors at the Penguin Group, and they have taught me a great deal—especially about grace under pressure and sustaining faith in one’s work despite the vicissitudes of life and the publishing environment. I draw constantly on their example and thank them from the bottom of my heart.
My gratitude goes to Susan Fox Rogers for her original introduction to the beauty of the Gers as well as its goose-women; to Arthur Levine-Ferrante, Ruth Ozeki Lounsbury, Ann Imbrie, and Carol Houck Smith for their creative support early in the novel’s development and our many wonderful conversations about writing. Ann Rosalind Jones has been my teacher in so many ways. Lisa Holton, Karen Magee, and Peggy Pyle have made “dinner parties” a sustaining force. Andrew DeSanti’s gifts over the years, not least of which is the example of his own tenacity, have encouraged me to persist. Betsy Lerner was an early ally and friend of this project; Rosemary Ahern’s knowing editorial hand led me out of the woods of several drafts of the manuscript; and Robin Straus took on the book with conviction and confidence.
At Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Adrienne Brodeur’s formidable advocacy, her sharp and fearless insights, her generosity, and her rigor have taught me a great deal about a job I thought I knew. For the manuscript’s final polish, wholehearted thanks to Susanna Brougham’s excellent eye, and to Lisa Glover. Also, my appreciation goes to Michaela Sullivan, Hannah Harlow, and Michelle Bonanno for the presention of the novel.
Above all, to my partner and amie-coeur in the truest sense, Gail Hornstein, gratitude for her sustaining and wide-ranging mind, her intrepid companionship, her listening heart, and her unflagging faith. Both Eugénie and I owe her more than I can ever express.
The Unruly Passions of Eugenie R. Page 44