Oddlets from France.

Marcel Proust wrote most of his novel in a cork-lined bedroom he fumigated five times a day with a hallucinogenic nightshade powder.

The man who signed a urinal and hung it in a gallery quit modern art for competitive chess, and then married an heiress who lasted seven months.

One night in October 1537, a French army surgeon ran out of the boiling oil he was supposed to pour into gunshot wounds, and improvised a dressing of egg yolk, rose oil, and turpentine.

In 1831, a jilted composer sketched a two-minute plan involving a lady's maid disguise, a pair of double-barrelled pistols, and two vials of poison in case the pistols failed.

What do you feed an alligator you keep in a Paris apartment above a bedroom draped in black velvet?

What do you do when the blackboard you've been chalking equations onto turns out to be a moving cab?

How did a blonde Frenchman convince 1700s London he was from Formosa?

The man whose equations run every JPEG, MP3, and MRI scan came back from Egypt convinced heat was the secret to staying alive — and wore several overcoats indoors, in summer, until it killed him.

What do you do when you're convinced Napoleon's army is about to kill your pen pal mid-proof?

How does a woman who spent her whole life trying to vanish into the Sahara end up killed by it in the one way no one saw coming?

What does a man do for twenty-five years after walking offstage at the Paris Conservatoire in disgust?

His ceilings were 1.65 metres high, which suited him perfectly. Every guest he ever received had to crouch.