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Posts from the ‘Paris’ Category

going to the chapel at saint-étienne-du-mont

. . . I walked on in the rain. I walked down past the Lycée Henri Quatre and the ancient church of St.-Étienne-du-Mont and the windswept Place du Panthéon and cut in for shelter to the right and finally came out on the lee side of the Boulevard St.-Michel and worked on down it past the Cluny and the Boulevard St.-Germain until I came to a good café that I knew on the Place St.-Michel.  —Ernest Hemingway,  A Moveable Feast: The Restored Edition.

I have been going to church lately.  I have not chosen to go on a Sunday.  It has been in the morning during the week, before lunch, or sometimes after lunch and I am walking after having eaten well.

When tourists visit Paris for the first time, they will visit a church.  Often, it will be Notre-Dame de Paris or Sacré-Coeur on the hill in Montmartre or both.

When I enter a cathedral, I look specifically for particular features: the stained glass windows, the chaire, the confessional booths, the nave, the organ, and the chapels.  I admire the architectural features as well, but the afore-mentioned features—several of them—are often more accessible; they can be appreciated up close.

Notice that I wrote “cathedral” instead of “church.”  Notre-Dame de Paris and Sacré-Coeur are examples of Roman Catholic cathedrals.

Churches with the function of “cathedral” are usually specific to those Christian denominations with an episcopal hierarchy, such as the Roman Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox, and some Lutheran and Methodist churches.

I discovered the cathedral Saint-Etienne-du-Mont some years ago.  I had often seen it while walking by the Panthéon on my way to rue Mouffetard or to a favorite bistro à vin, Les Pipos.  I learned that the cathedral had a cemetery with some notable persons buried there, among them Jean-Paul Marat, the French Revolution rabble rouser and pamphleteer.  (Today, he would be celebrated for his savage tweets.)

I went to the cathedral in order to walk the cemetery.  However, I learned that it has not existed for a long time, and many who had been buried there were long gone, including Marat.  During the search for Marat, I noticed the cathedral.

While I think of a cathedral, Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, for example, as a tourist destination, it is a place of worship.  It is the seat of a bishop, who leads a diocese.  It is therefore a crucial place of worship for Catholics, who gather there to attend daily Masses or to participate in the main liturgical celebrations of the Christian calendar.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.)

Often the center of the cathedral will have three aisles, one through the center, or nave, the primary area of public observance of the Mass, and aisles to the left and right which allow access to the small chapels.  The outside aisles are separated from the nave by pillars.  One can have a sense of walking through an arcade.

But wait, there’s more!

prisoner n° 280–the widow capet–& her défenseur officieux

Lock her up!  Lock her up!  Lock her up!  —Attorney General Jeff Sessions & conservative high students during a speech

Off with his head! Off with his head! Off with his head!  —Queen of Hearts

“How many did they say?” “I do not understand you.” “—At the last post. How many to the Guillotine to-day?” “Fifty-two.” “I said so! A brave number! My fellow-citizen here would have it forty-two; ten more heads are worth having. The Guillotine goes handsomely. I love it. Hi forward. Whoop!”—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

On the way to the guillotine, she collapsed in the tumbrel and cried “You are going to hurt me! Why?!” Terrified, she screamed for mercy and begged the indifferent crowd for help. Her last words to the executioner were: “One more moment, Mr. Executioner, I beg you!”  –Madame du Barry, on 8 December 1793.

Claude François Chauveau-Lagarde.  That was his name, Marie-Antoinette’s lawyer.  He tried to save her from the guillotine.  He nearly lost his head, too.

He is my neighbor.  Around the corner from my apartment and on the other side of the wall of the cimetière de Montparnasse, he rests in Division 1.  The street near Chemin Circulaire in the cemetery, where he is buried, is named allée Chauveau-Lagarde.  His marker says simply, “CI-GIT CHAUVEAU-LAGARDE AVOCAT DE LA REINE AU PROCES DE 1793.’

At a crucial, dramatic moment during the French Revolution, he was asked to defend several men and women who were charged for high crimes before the Revolutionary Tribunal and faced execution by guillotine.  He had a title, which did not exist before the Revolution, of défenseur officieux, or public defender.

Among his ‘clients’ were several women who were major figures in their own right and at their deaths showed great courage, according to contemporary accounts.  For example, he was the advocate for Madame Élisabeth (sister of King Louis XVI), Charlotte Corday (assassin of Jean-Paul Marat), Marie-Antoinette (the last Queen of France), and Madame Roland (a supporter of the French Revolution and influential member of the Girondist faction).

I learned about Chauveau-Lagarde, un défenseur au tribunal révolutionnaire, for the first time, when I visited the Chapelle expiatoire in the Square Louis XVI and saw the exposition Chauveau-Lagarde avocat de Marie-Antoinette. But wait, there’s more!

un moment après être descendu du #28 bus

When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. You open your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then a restless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enough for you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one’s heart.  ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.  —Marcel Proust

Where I live in Paris, the bus routes are convenient.  I am in the south of Paris near the catacombs, Montparnasse Cemetery, and Denfert-Rochereau.  The bus lines from there, #38, #68, and #28, run north and south, more or less, and fan out to the northwest corner, to Place Clichy, or through the center to the Gare du Nord.  Those lines will take me to the Seine, or nearby,  where I can transfer to an east-west route, or vice-versa.  Within a short time I can be most any where in Paris.

Some days I will choose a bus, not knowing where I am going, and spontaneously get off and walk.  I might choose to get off near the Seine and transfer to another bus and then get off in a quartier where I have not lately explored.

Previously, I had suggested in a series of posts that one can have a wonderful tourist experience in Paris that does not require focussing one’s attention on the major tourist attractions.  What you need is a willingness to walk, or to take a bus, a resolve to choose a restaurant wisely, and to look around when you walk.  A wonderful day will happen.

One day I chose to take the #28 bus to the end of the line for no reason other than I had not done it, ever.  I looked at the stops for the bus route and its destination and noticed it wound its way toward the northwest corner and the west side of Paris.

However, the bus did not go all the way to the end.  It stopped near the Ecole Militaire where another bus #28 took you the final distance.  Once it stopped, I decided I wanted to walk.  I had changed my plans.  I considered crossing the Seine and heading to the Square Louis XVI, the place where King Louis VI and Marie Antoinette had once been buried.

After looking at the map on my phone for directions and then in my contact list of restaurants, I saw that the Restaurant Mollard was not far from the Square: a tourist destination (Square Louis XVI), a potentially good restaurant (Restaurant Mollard), and I was walking a good distance to get there.  All three criteria were present for a wonderful day.  (Click on any photo to see it larger and in more detail. Cliquez sur une vignette pour l’agrandir.)

But wait, there’s more!

on the doors, doors, and porte-cochères

I got back on the runway and took all of it and some of the hedge and gave the front door the heavy shoulder. This was foolish. About the only part of a California house you can’t put your foot through is the front door. All it did was hurt my shoulder and make me mad.  ― Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep.

Look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.  ― Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.

L’année dernière, j’ai emménagé dans une maison en Normandie dans laquelle, pour la première fois de ma vie, j’ai un bureau avec une porte fermée, une pièce à moi.  –Agnès Desarthe, La Chance de Leur Vie.

In 1967 I saw the Doors before they released their first album, The Doors.  They performed at a dance at the Masonic Temple in Portland.  I assumed it was a dance, because the hall had no chairs.  Few were dancing though.  Like spectators watching a theatrical production, we were more captivated by Jim Morrison’s singing and prancing on the stage.

I understand it was Morrison who suggested the name for the band.  He was inspired by Aldous Huxley’s book The Doors of Perception which was in turn a reference to a William Blake quotation, ”If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.”

A significant change to the architectural design of Paris buildings and homes occurred in the 1600’s during the reign of Louis XIV.

In the Seven Ages of ParisAlistair Horne writes, “Strict rules were laid down: private dwellings had to be built of stone, instead of the fire-prone timber frames and lath and plaster of earlier ages . . . . More ornate interiors were counterpointed by sober simplicity in exterior design. External modesty was also a feature of the grand hôtels particuliers of the epoch (and indeed of later ones), where extensive private gardens and displays of conspicuous consumption within lay concealed from public gaze behind a sombre porte-cochère [carriage entrance] which gave on to the street.”

But wait, there’s more!