Another bait and switch! I'll give my little soliliquy on the Da Vinci Code tomorrow after our visit to the Louvre, and make a few people-watching comments as time goes on. Today, though, we're going to visit Auguste Rodin's house, and then experience vespers and mass at Notre Dame.
Beth has trapped a rhume (a cold, not some French rodent), so she is malade today. I left her resting in the room, and hoofed it quickly down to the Place St. Michel in the St. Germain de Pres quarter to meet Marguerite for our 3rd French lesson. We walked along the quai of the left bank, past the bouquinistes, the used book sellers who have little stalls on the quai, the walls that rise vertically from the Seine river to the streets above. We had a nice conversation, covering the weather, the river (the Seine is apparently a flueve, not a riviere), and the boats that escort tourists along the Seine. Then we went over reflexive verbs and passe compose, present, and futur proche, so all the charm of the Seine was lost like a cloud blotting out the sun.
When I returned to the hotel, Beth had rallied sufficiently to leave the hotel, so we sallied forth and headed for our first Metro ride of the trip. We've tried to walk everywhere in the hopeless delusion that we can keep from putting on the pounds from this lovely French food. We want to avoid becoming "enrobed," the French term for pudgy. Beth's cold kept us from marching all the way to les Invalides, the 18th century equivalent to the VA hospital, which is near the Eiffel Tower, all the way on the other side of central Paris from our hotel. So, we bought our tickets, jumped on the number 1 westbound to the Champs-Elysees, then transferred to the number 13 southbound to the Varenne stop.
Two blocks from the Metro station is the Hotel Biron and the Rodin museum. The hotel is not a hotel at all but a beautiful mansion owned by the city of Paris. The sculptor Auguste Rodin lived and worked in the house for the last 10 years of his life, in exchange for willing his entire collection of his own sculptures, as well as a number of works of other artists like Van Gogh and Renoir that he had in his private collection, to the city of Paris. As good a deal as it was for Rodin (living like a rock star), it would be like London letting the Rolling Stones live in 10 Downing Street (the prime minister's house) in exchange for all the royalties for all of their albums and concerts. The sculptures and paintings filling the house and grounds are basically priceless by now.
Rodin had a somewhat lukewarm reception by his late 19th century public. His forms were often thick and awkward, with large hands and feet, coarse features, and strange poses. But now, it is those very features that draw the eye to his sculptures, expressing the full range of emotions, ideas, and states of mind. Take the "Burgers of Calais" for instance: To the left is a picture of the life-sized sculpture of the 6 Burghers, the town leaders who surrender their own lives, and the keys to the city, to victorious King Edward. The sculpture depicts the point at which the gates of Calais have closed behind the men, and they are left to the will of the angry Edward. What follows is a translation of the chapter from "Tales of Froissart" that details the story. Take the time to read the small print, it's an exceptional story, written almost 600 years ago.Book I, ch. 145 (Johnes, v. 1, pp. 186-88). After the departure of the king of France, with his army, from the hill of Sangate, the Calesians saw clearly that all hopes of succour were at an end; which occasioned them so much sorrow and distress, that the hardiest could scarcely support it. They entreated, therefore, most earnestly, the lord John de Vienne, their governor, to mount upon the battlements, and make a sign that he wished to hold a parley. The king of England, upon hearing this, sent to him sir Walter Manny and lord Basset.
When they were come near, the lord de Vienne said to them, “Dear gentlemen, you who are very valiant knights, know that the king of France, whose subjects we are, has sent us hither to defend this town and castle from all harm and damage: this we have done to the best of our abilities. All hopes of help have now left us, so that we are most exceedingly straitened; and if the gallant king, your lord, have not pity upon us, we must perish with hunger. I therefore entreat, that you would beg of him to have compassion on us, and to have the goodness to allow us to depart in the state we are in, and that he will be satisfied with having possession of the town and castle, with all that is within them, as he will find therein riches enough to content him.”
To this sir Walter Manny replied: “John, we are not ignorant of what the king our lord’s · intentions are; for he has told them to us: know then, that it is not his pleasure you should get off so; for he is resolved that you surrender yourselves solely to his will, to allow those whom he pleases their ransom, or to put them to death; for the Calesians have done him so much mischief, and have, by their obstinate defence, cost him so many lives and so much money, that he is mightily enraged.”
The lord de Vienne answered: “These conditions are too hard for us. We are but a small number of knights and squires, who have loyally served our lord and master, as you would have done, and have suffered much ill and disquiet; but we will endure more than any men ever did in a similar situation, before we consent that the smallest boy in the town should fare worse than the best. I therefore once more entreat you, out of compassion, to return to the king of England, and beg of him to have pity on us he will, I trust, grant you this favour: for I have such an opinion of his gallantry as to hope, that, through God’s mercy, he will alter his mind.”
The two lords returned to the king, and related what had passed. The king said he had no intentions of complying with the request, but should insist that they surrendered themselves unconditionally to his will.
Sir Walter replied: “My lord you may be to blame in this, as you will set us a very bad example; for if you order us to go to any of your castles, we shall not obey you so cheerfully, if you put these people to death; for they will retaliate upon us, in a similar case.” Many barons who were then present supported this opinion.
Upon which the king replied: “Gentlemen, I am not so obstinate as to hold my opinion alone against you all: sir Walter, you will inform the governor of Calais, that the only grace he must expect from me is, that six of the principal citizens of Calais march out of the town, with bare heads and feet, with ropes round their necks, and the keys of the town and castle in their hands. These six persons shall be at my absolute disposal, and the remainder of the inhabitants pardoned.”
Sir Walter returned to the lord de Vienne, who was waiting for him on the battlements, and told him all that he had been able to gain from the king. “I beg of you,” replied the governor, “that you would be so good as to remain here a little, while I go and relate all that has passed to the townsmen; for, as they have desired me to undertake this, it is but proper they should know the result of it.”
He went to the market-place, and caused the bell to be rung; upon which all the inhabitants, men and women, assembled in the townhall. He then related to them what he had said, and the answers he had received; and that he could not obtain any conditions more favourable, to which they must give a short and immediate answer. This information caused the greatest lamentations and despair; so that the hardest heart would have had compassion on them; even the lord de Vienne wept bitterly.
After a short time, the most wealthy citizen of the town, by name Eustace de St. Pierre, rose up and said: “Gentlemen, both high and low, it would be a very great pity to suffer so many people to die through famine, if any means could be found to prevent it; and it would be highly meritorious in the eyes of our Saviour, if such misery could be averted. I have such faith and trust in finding grace before God, if I die to save my townsmen, that I name myself as first of the six.” When Eustace had done speaking, they all rose up and almost worshipped him: many cast themselves at his feet with tears and groans Another citizen, very rich and respected, rose up and said, he would be the second to his companion, Eustace; his name was John Daire. After him, James Wisant, who was very rich in merchandise and lands, offered himself, as companion to his two cousins; as did Peter Wisant, his brother. Two others then named themselves, which completed the number demanded by the king of England.
The lord John de Vienne then mounted a small hackney, for it was with difficulty that he could walk, and conducted them to the gate. There was the greatest sorrow and lamentation all over the town; and in such manner were they attended to the gate, which the governor ordered to be opened, and then shut upon him and the six citizens, whom he led to the barriers, and said to sir Walter Manny, who was there waiting for him, “I deliver up to you, as governor of Calais, with the consent of the inhabitants, these six citizens; and I swear to you that they were, and are at this day, the most wealthy and respectable inhabitants of Calais. I beg of you, gentle sir, that you would have the goodness to beseech the king, that they may not be put to death.”
“I cannot answer for what the king will do with them,” replied sir Walter, “but you may depend that I will do all in my power to save them.” The barriers were opened, when these six citizens advanced towards the pavilion of the king, and the lord de Vienne re-entered the town.
When sir Walter Manny had presented these six citizens to the king, they fell upon their knees, and, with uplifted hands, said, “Most gallant king, see before you six citizens of Calais, who have been capital merchants, and who bring you the keys of the castle and of the town. We surrender ourselves to your absolute will and pleasure, in order to save the remainder of the inhabitants of Calais, who have suffered much distress and misery. Condescend, therefore, out of your nobleness of mind, to have mercy and compassion upon us”
All the barons, knights, and squires, that were assembled there in great numbers, wept at this sight. The king eyed them with angry looks, (for he hated much the people of Calais, for the great losses he had formerly suffered from them at sea,) and ordered their heads to be stricken off. All present entreated the king, that he would be more merciful to them, but he would not listen to them.
Then sir Walter Manny said, “Ah, gentle king, let me beseech you to restrain your anger: you have the reputation of great nobleness of soul, do not therefore tarnish it by such an act as this, nor allow any one to speak in a disgraceful manner of you. In this instance, all the world will say you have acted cruelly, if you put to death six such respectable persons, who, of their own free will, have surrendered themselves to your mercy, in order to save their fellow-citizens.”
Upon this, the, king gave a wink, saying, “Be it so,” and ordered the headsman to be sent for; for that the Calesians had done him so much damage, it was proper they should suffer for it.
The queen of Eng land, who at that time was very big with child, fell on her knees, and with tears said, “Ah, gentle sir, since I have crossed the sea with great danger to see you, I have never asked you one favour: now, I most humbly ask as a gift, for the sake of the Son of the blessed Mary, and for your love to me, that you will be merciful to these six men.”
The king looked at her for some time in silence, and then said; “Ah, lady, I wish you had been anywhere else than here: you have entreated in such a manner that I cannot refuse you; I therefore give them to you, to do as you please with them.” The queen conducted the six citizens to her apartments, and had the halters taken from round their necks, after which she new clothed them, and served them with a plentiful dinner: she then presented each with six nobles, and had them escorted out of the camp in safety.
If, after looking at Rodin's Burghers and reading their story, your eyes haven't at least misted over a little, you either read too quickly or have a heart of stone. I read that story in the museum with the burghers in full view, and wept for them along with Sir Walter and the people of Calais. Beth and I decided that we needed to know more about Edward's queen, Philippa, who could turn away his anger and bring about a merciful end to the story. If you want to read more about Rodin and the Burghers, here's a link, hopefully it works for you:
http://www.metmuseum.org/explore/publications/pdfs/burghers/divided/storyBurghers.pdf#search=%22The%20burghers%20of%20calais%22
After further transports of emotion and thought, thanks to Mssr Rodin, we took the Metro back to Ile de la Cite, the larger Seine island that holds Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle. We made it to Notre Dame just in time for the vespers, an experience not to be missed if you are musical. The grand organ, the beautiful bel canto singing, and the incredible grandeur of the cathedral is beyond description. We had slipped into the back rows a little after vespers began, so in the few minutes between the vespers and mass, we moved to the front third of the pews. We were still at least 30 rows back from the altar.
The mass was in latin and French, so we missed the point of the homily, but the readings were from Isaiah 35:4-7 ("then will the eyes of the blind be opened"), James 2:1-5 (my brothers, show no partiality), and Mark 7:31-37 (Jesus heals the deaf and mute man). The whole service exalted the glory and majesty of God. We left knowing that God's presence was there with us even if we didn't understand all of the words.
Dinner was at La Flore de l'Ile, a cafe just across the little bridge on Ile St. Louis. Back at the hotel Beth relaxed, I wrote this blog, and now it's time for bed. Tomorrow it's back to work for most Parisians, as the little phrase goes: metro, boulot, do-do (subway, work, beddy-bye)...
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