Many history books collect dust on library shelves across the globe–and for good reason. Too many of these books instruct but fail to entertain or even engage readers. Simply put, there are many reasons books should be written, but moving up the academic ladder is one of the least noble. But there remain some exceptions, including Claude Manceron’s epic Age of the French Revolution series which serves as the antithesis to the dull and plodding academic histories that have increasingly taken over the discipline and clutter library shelves. 

At the start of Twilight of the Old Order, the first volume of his series, as he looked over his notes on hundreds of historical figures wondering if he can breathe some life into them, Manceron quoted God’s words to Ezekiel. “Son of man, can these bones live?” The answer is an unqualified yes as Manceron proved to be a historical necromancer, conjuring the dead, speaking with them and even restoring life to them. While he did not turn Louis XVI or Lavoisier into Lazarus, Manceron had a bit of the Witch of Endor in him. In his books, the dead speak about their lives to modern readers.  

Manceron’s life is worthy of a biography. Struck by polio during his childhood and confined to a wheelchair for his entire life, Manceron was deprived of most of the rudiments of formal schooling, but he still pursued an education. An avid reader and movie watcher, Manceron became a leading teacher and writer, even dabbling in politics as an advisor to his friend, Francois Mitterand, who served as president of France for almost a decade and a half. Manceron taught the handicapped and relied on his wife Anne to help him with his research. After decades of writing, his polio proved to be too much when he entered his 70s and Manceron had to retire. 

While he might have been forced to retire, Manceron’s writing career remains impressive. Besides writing some solid novels and biographies, Manceron’s legacy rests on his“Age of the French Revolution. Drawing some inspiration from the great 19th-century historian Jules Michelet, Manceron attempted to capture the tumultuous years that led to the revolution. While most of his focus was on France, Manceron had no problems taking the story to England, Italy and even the Americas as he offers a global look at the era. Manceron guided readers through the gilded halls of Versailles to the Vatican’s heated papal elections, to the bloody battlefields of the American Revolution, to dark printing houses in Paris, to the icy steppes of Russia in his magnificent portrait of a changing world. 

Above all, Manceron breathed life into the leading figures of the revolution–and plenty of tangential ones as well. In the powerful start of Twilight of the Old Order, Manceron laid down his cards, informing readers that he intended to tell the story of the revolution through a series of biographical sketches. This unconventional tactic proved extremely effective as Manceron shed some light on both well-known and obscure figures, showing their importance and offering intimate details ranging from the first signs of Clement XIV’s fatal illness to a young Lafayette’s annoyance and embarrassment that his new wife was actually in love with him. 

In retrospect, Manceron’s ambitions far outpaced reality. With plans to write at least ten volumes, Manceron only completed five before he had to abandon the project due to his increased pain after three and a half decades of work. All five books – Twilight of the Old Order, The Wind from America, Their Gracious Pleasure, Towards the Brink and Blood of the Bastille – have been published in English and can be ordered online. Manceron was only able to take his story to the fall of the Bastille, his series ending just as the drama of the actual French Revolution was about to commence. 

The series has some flaws, of course. Like his hero Michelet, Manceron was often overly critical when it came to Catholicism and its role on the public stage. Not surprisingly, considering his background in politics, Manceron was not the type who could remain detached looking down from Mount Parnassus with Clio, the muse of history. Manceron clearly had his favorites but, to his credit, he had no problem needling them when needed. No matter their politics and roles in the revolution, almost everyone covered by Manceron looks absurd at some point in the series. 

Yet even if unfinished and flawed, these books remain some of the finest histories written in the past century. Starting with the death of Louis XV in 1774, Manceron led readers through the lives of scores of historic figures. He showed how they lived, what they valued, who they loved, who they loathed and what guided them as they sped towards one of the most important events in human history. Readers learn new sides to familiar figures like Marie Antoinette, Benjamin Franklin and Talleyrand. They can shake their head at the stupidity of Louis XVI, smile as obscure rural economist Jean-Marie Roland de la Platière meets and falls in love with the much younger Marie-Jeanne Phlipon who–amazingly–reciprocates his feelings, gasp as balloons take to the skies above Paris for the first time, and cheer as Cornwallis surrenders to Washington at Yorktown. These scenes, these people stay with readers, something that can’t be said of most academic histories with writers motivated by the Holy Grail of tenure or moving up from an assistant professor to an associate professor. Unlike the scribbling bureaucrats infesting too many colleges and universities, Manceron actually wanted to tell a story and to shine more light on the past. 

Manceron died in 1999 and the Age of the French Revolution was far from being complete when he finally had to give up on it. That is a great loss as, despite his sympathy for the revolution, Manceron wasn’t the type to celebrate bloodshed. His wit, humanity and humaneness remain evident through the thousands of pages he wrote. 

Of course, there are far better books in English for readers wanting an introduction to the French Revolution. Christopher Hibbert’s The Days of the French Revolution comes to mind. Readers wanting a single in-depth look at the revolution from start to finish should check out Simon Schama’s magisterial Citizens, a doorstopper of a book clocking in at almost 1,000 pages. But Manceron offered something far different than an overview of events. In more than 2,600 pages stretched across five books, he guided readers through fifteen years from the death of Louis XV to the actual storming of the Bastille and showed the lives of the men and women who tried to guide events and shape politics, economics and culture. We learn about these people–whom Manceron dubbed the “men of liberty”–inside and out, and get to know them as much as possible despite the passing of almost two and a half centuries. 

Twilight of the Old Order was published in English for the first time in 1977. The second, third and fourth volumes were released in English in the late 1980s and early 1990s during the bicentennial of the French Revolution. Despite favorable reviews, they never seemed to sell well in America and were a common find at discount stores at outlet malls, which is where I first encountered them during the era of New Jack Swing, Crystal Pepsi and Dan Quayle. 

While they might have been a flop in America, Manceron’s books continue to instruct, entertain and inspire. These are easily some of the most vivid, exciting and memorable history books that I have ever come across. If you are looking for a basic overview of the French Revolution, look elsewhere. But if you are looking to live in the 1770s and 1780s and get to know the men and women who danced, schemed, marched and blundered into one of the most consequential events in human history, imbibe Claude Mancerson’s Age of the French Revolution, easily one of the most monumental works of nonfiction of the past half century and a shining example of the historian’s art.