Paris: Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris

Monday 6 June 2011.

Today was our first day of scheduled touring. Unfortunately it was every bit as overcast and drizzly as yesterday. We donned our most comfortable shoes, made sure we had portable rain gear, and set off walking with our guides for a day of Paris sightseeing with a medieval twist. This day will be divided into three separate posts for our main destinations, to prevent information overload!

Destination #1:  Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris

Photo by Tammie Maloney

Cathédrale Notre Dame as we know it was not the first church built on this site. In 52 BCE, the Romans conquered the Parisii and settled the town of Lutetia, building a Temple of Jupiter to celebrate. They used stone blocks (discovered during a 1710 renovation of the crypt at Notre-Dame) to form a square pillar with a dedication from the "Boatmen of the Parisii territories" to Jupiter and the Roman Emperor Tiberius. This rediscovered pillar now resides in the Cluny Museum (which we'll visit later today).

In 528, King of the Franks Childebert I (one of the four sons of Clovis) built the first Christian church in Paris. It was initially dedicated to Saint Etienne but eventually became known as Notre-Dame. Archaeological excavations in the 20th century suggest that this Mérovingian house of worship was massive, with a five-aisle nave similar to that of the first Saint Peter’s in Rome. It was some 36 metres wide and at least 70 metres long. Its original foundations lie beneath the present-day cathedral. 

In 1163, Bishop of Paris Maurice de Sully demolished this Mérovingian basilica to Notre Dame, which had been much altered in the ensuing 650 years. He apparently felt it was not grand enough -- simply wouldn't do to serve as "the parish church of the kings of Europe."  Perhaps he felt the old-fashioned church needed to be updated in the new Gothic style.

I like to think he was also embarrassed that the cathedral of the city of Paris was inferior to Abbot Suger's magnificent Abbaye de St-Denis to the north of the city! Fortunately for us, Sully's competitive feelings eventually resulted in a masterpiece. He devoted his career and fortune to the construction of this cathedral.

Photo by John Phillips

The above view is from the Place du Parvis Notre-Dame. This was once truly the center of Paris, both literally and figuratively. The land around here was filled with other churches, chapels, businesses and residences, although all that was cleared when Sully began his 12th century building campaign.

The plaza was further enlarged during the Haussman era of Paris reconstruction. On the ground are the outlines of some of the old churches and streets that were demolished. There is also a brass star set into the ground right in front of the cathedral that was the "point zero" used to measure the distances of all roads leading to and from Paris.

Numerous architects worked on the site over the centuries, as modifications and repairs were completed. That's apparent to the naked eye, as one can see differing styles and even note the differing heights of the towers. The church is a limestone palimpsest, held together with the dried sweat of ten centuries worth of men who created and recreated a divine masterpiece.

This cathedral, like most churches, suffered during the Revolution. The building was re-dedicated to the Cult of Reason and later to the Cult of the Supreme Being. Lady Liberty replaced the Virgin Mary on several altars. And like other churches I'd visited, this cathedral even came to be used at one point as a food warehouse!

Most of the original early 13th century statuary and carvings were vandalized and destroyed by the mobs of the French Revolution, as the stone Kings of Judah who once fronted the building became representational stand-ins for the Kings of France. The Revolutionaries, frustrated by their inability to draw blood from stone, moved onto other large-scale acts of human destruction at the Place de la Concorde (but that's another story from another time).

It was the popularity of Victor Hugo's 1831 classic The Hunchback of Notre Dame that called attention to the sorry condition of the church and reminded people that it was one of France's national treasures. Restoration began in 1845, overseen by architects Jean-Baptiste-Antoine Lassus and the ubiquitous Eugene Viollet-le-Duc.

Our guide said that in 1977 the heads of the Kings of Judah and hundreds of other sculptural stone fragments were uncovered in the Chaussée d’Antin district (near the Opera Garnier and Galleries Lafayette department store) during the course of routine construction work. The Musée de Cluny was immediately contacted and told "We've found the heads of the Kings of Judah!" But since it happened to be April 1st, the Cluny contact initially thought the call was a prank! The Cluny website doesn't mention this story but does describe how after the Revolution the statues were purchased by a builder for scrap, with the heads resold and then 'buried with respect' in 1796, until rediscovered in 1977. April Fools joke or not, it's a great story and an amazing archaeological discovery. (We'll see the heads when we visit the Cluny, our next stop on the tour).

Photo by John Phillips

The cathedral was given a thorough cleaning in the late 20th century that highlighted the beauty of the front portal carvings. We spent a lot of time looking at those. 

Saint Anne's portal is the oldest of the three entrances, installed in 1200. The tympanum features the Majestic Virgin with Child that was allegedly made some fifty years earlier, dating it to use in the original Mérovingien cathedral. 

There is an angel on each side of the throne. On the left is the Bishop of Paris. On the right is a king of France, whom I like to think of as Eleanor's first husband Louis VII.

If it was indeed sculpted in 1150, it's quite possible I may be right about the model!

 

The center portal represents the Last Judgement. It is the newest of the three portals, dating to the 1220s.  Christ is shown in the center on this trumeau, in a teaching pose. He is standing on a pedestal sculpted with the liberal arts: Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Astronomy. 

I prefer this medieval way of classifying knowledge and working toward a holistic understanding: STEAM instead of STEM! However limited medieval understanding might have been compared to the modern era, it was not for want of the method of study but rather for the limits of knowledge about the known world.

This trumeau was removed in 1771 to make room for the canopy used to cover the Holy Sacrament during processions.

We have Viollet-le-Duc to thank for its restoration in mid-19th century.

I get a kick out of medieval Last Judgement representations and this one was especially fun to look at. The devil has such a delicious leer, and his minions are perfectly sleazy. The Saved who are grouped behind Saint Michel are suitably sanctimonious, whereas the Damned have the most chagrined looks. They're not at all remorseful, mind you, only sorry they've been caught!

They'll be plenty sorry once they get to Hell, though. Because: 

I spy a bishop, a monk, and a king being terrorized up in there!

The Portal of the Virgin depicts the life and ascension of Mary; a coronation scene; and an astrological calendar. The nine full-size statues on either side of the door were destroyed in the Revolution and restored in the 19th century by the workshop of Viollet-le-Duc. If they look newer, that's why.

My two favorite Parisian patron saints are represented: Denis, second to the left from the door, Geneviève third on the right from the door. Here's crazy thrill-seeking Denis holding his head, while my girl Geneviève stands looking calm, cool,serene and lovely. That's no mean feat, considering she's got a demon and an angel warring over her shoulders.

Eleanor divorced Louis in 1152, and was thus long gone from Paris by the time the cathedral we know today was started. She most certainly would have visited the original Mérovingien church, since it was considered the city cathedral as far back as the 10th century. She would have likely viewed the tympanum on today's Saint Anne portal.

Remains of the original cathedral and of the medieval streets and houses surrounding it can be viewed if one visits the Crypt Archéologique, a large excavated area under the Parvis Notre-Dame square in front of he cathedral. It was unfortunately closed today; had I known it would be inaccessible, I'd have added it to yesterday's walk! (Note to all tour operators (and tourists): always check closing times in advance when planning your itineraries).  Here are a few photos from a subsequent visit:

Time to enter the cathedral through these amazing doors. I had to take a (blurry) picture of the ornamental iron fretwork as I passed:

Once inside, the contrast between the darkness of the nave and the light streaming in from the transept windows and the chandeliers was breath-taking.

Photo by John Phillips

One tradition I cherish is the lighting a candle in memory of loved ones, which I did immediately upon entering the cathedral.

Photo by Tammie Maloney

More interior photos:

We enjoyed our tour of the cathedral but I think our most exciting medieval moment came when fellow tour member and scholar Malcolm Craig succeeded in finding the plaque honoring Eleanor and Henry's fourth son, Geoffrey II Duke of Brittany and Earl of Richmond. 

Geoffrey's untimely death in a joust occurred in 1186. He was close to his half-sister, Eleanor and Louis' daughter Marie of Champagne. She was reportedly present at the Requiem, and arranged Masses for the repose of his soul with whatever confraternity took care of such things. Malcolm finally found the marker in the ambulatory. 

We all stood around snapping photos of this memorial to a man who, had he lived, might well have been a wonderful king. He'd certainly have prevented the sad fates of his children, had history played out differently.

Although we did not visit the Notre-Dame treasury, it is notable for housing a reliquary that contains the reputed Crown of Thorns. This was the same crown that was offered to Saint Louis by the Latin Emperor of Constantinople in 1238 and eventually housed at the exquisite Sainte-Chapelle. Those were good years for the crown, as it was later threatened during the French Revolution and ended up being tossed around with State versus Church claiming possession. At least it survived! It was restored to the Church under the Concordat of 1801 and deposited at Notre-Dame, where it resides with a sliver of the True Cross and a nail from the Passion.

Some artifacts from the treasury of Notre Dame, from a later trip:

I find reliquaries to be amazing works of art (especially my favorite reliquary of all, the entire Sainte-Chapelle)! I am fascinated by the power of faith manifested in the veneration of vials of dried blood, bone, wood, and fabric scraps. An entire industry sprang up in the Christian world around the trade and manufacture of relics, capitalizing on man's desire to be closer to heaven. I think it truly doesn't matter in the end whether or not the relics are authentic artifacts. It was faith that made them powerful and offered comfort; believing made it so. 

I suppose that's the very nature of faith itself; belief is what keeps it alive, not carbon-dating. 

The rabbit's warren of streets surrounding Notre Dame beckoned, though we didn't have time to explore. Haussmann’s renovation of Paris in the Belle Epoque era has unmistakable charm, but that homogenizing building campaign destroyed so many ancient winding streets and buildings. In medieval times, access to the Cloître Notre-Dame was through four gates, all of which were closed at sunset. Entry was forbidden to anyone outside the community of canons -- especially to women! But the surrounding neighborhood was a vibrant one complete with shops and stalls, chapels and even cemeteries.

There are some architectural remains of this era. On near-by Rue de Ursins is the private chapel of Saint-Aignan,  where it is thought that the secret marriage of Peter Abélard and Héloïse d'Argenteuil took place (other sources claim it occurred at St-Julien-de-Pavre but I think the evidence that it took place at this private chapel which once belonged to Abélard's patron Etienne de Garlande is more compelling. See my post about that on my other blog: The Historical Dilettante).

Eleanor would certainly have known of the story of Abélard and Héloïse. Visiting this small chapel is reportedly difficult, and it was not on our agenda today. It is considered the second oldest building in Paris that dates to Eleanor's era; St-Germain-des-Pres is the oldest.

Also near-by along Le Quai aux Fleurs is a house on the reputed site where Canon Fulbert lived, he who was Héloïse's uncle and the man whose vengeance resulted in Abélard's misfortunes.

These little houses pictured below, squeezed in amongst newer ones, show the medieval charm of the area.

Photo by John Phillips

After a long morning, our little group stopped for a quick snack near-by, with a wonderful view!

Photo by Sherill Roberts

Au Revoir, Notre-Dame!

Our next stop: Musée de Cluny.

Paris: Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis

Saturday 4 June 2011

It was with a jangly mixture of excitement and nerves that I left my husband and kids and departed for this trip. I had decided to add one extra day at the beginning to do some private sight-seeing. My flight was uneventful and the worst thing that happened was that I managed to spray Sprite all over myself at the airport. My lemon-lime fresh scent was no doubt preferable to the V-8 smell that permeates an airline cabin three hours into an international flight. 

 

Getting through Roissy Passport Control at 8:30 AM was a breeze; my luggage looked no worse for the wear; and I got a ride into Paris immediately. My driver spoke not a word of English and I was too tired to get creative with my phrasebook French so the ride was a quiet one....or as quiet as it could be with a French rap station to keep us company.  I groggily watched the outskirts of Paris transform into the glamorous city...sniggered at Madame walking a posh little dog resembling a leashed rat...tried to read shop signs...and then -- voilà! we were driving through Place de la Concorde! Obélisque de Louxor! L'église de la Madeleine behind me! Palais Bourbon straight ahead, La Tour Eiffel off to the right!  Everything was suffused with the most brilliant early morning light. I was suddenly wide awake and even more jangly with nerves and excitement. 

The cab made its way to the Rive Gauche and as the streets narrowed I looked for gates to Jardin du Luxembourg, which I knew was close to my hotel.  We finally pulled onto the right street but the driver got confused, passed the hotel, and kept going at what seemed to me to be a manic rate of speed. I cried out in English "Where are you going? Go back, go back!" and gesticulated wildly; I am sure my look of alarm conveyed what my words couldn't.  We eventually got Sorted.

I had arrived.

Trianon Rive Gauche, 1 bis et 3, rue de Vaugirard

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My room wasn't ready so early in the morning, but I was able to stow my bag and freshen up in the hotel powder room before embarking on my free day in Paris. I had grand plans for sightseeing but hadn't counted on being so physically tired. I don't know why this hadn't occurred to me; seems logical enough to take that into consideration and it was after all about 4 AM to my body. Nonetheless, I was determined to visit the royal necropolis at Basilique Saint-Denis, so off I set in search of a Metro station.  

Simple metal balustrade entrance

Art nouveau style entrance. Photos by Nicole Benkert

I wandered Boulevard Saint-Michel, stumbled down to the RER, and got directions to the proper stops. The hotel staff had directed me in a very round-about way and I knew the RER would be more direct, plus the stationmaster spoke just enough English and I had just enough pleading polite French to get my needs met. I do believe I lost track of time on the train, but eventually arrived at the St-Denis station. The area around the station was under construction and there were no helpful signs, so I wandered about some more trying to get my bearings, found a street map, and eventually got myself here:

Cathédrale royale de Saint-Denis

Before I toured the church I thought it best to get some lunch.  The neighborhood of St-Denis was primarily Algerian, and I noticed that none of the bistros I passed along the way had solo women customers. But I found a little cafe with women proprietors, took my lunch to a bench and enjoyed this view of the church while eating.  

It was a pleasant sunny Saturday to watch families and couples strolling by. I was tickled when a gentleman wished me 'Bon appétit!'  There's simply no cultural equivalent to such a greeting in the US; being hailed with "Hey lady, have a nice lunch!" doesn't cut it.

I later learned that my lunchroom was Le Jardin de Pierre-de-Montreuil and was actually sacred ground. The garden had been laid out in 1998 over what had been a burial area from the Merovingian era up to time of the French Revolution. In order to maintain the solemnity of the place, the architect designated the former burial areas for flower beds, watering systems, and lighting and drainage areas. He used patterns of plants and stones to reveal the circular layout of the now-vanished Valois Rotunda (the mausoleum that Catherine de Medici built for herself and Henri II) and the three churches that had been part of the complex. An aerial photo is below.

From: Saint-Denis: A Town in the Middle Ages.

I picked up an audio tour for the Basilica and spent the next two hours wandering around in exhausted awe, gazing at the amazing gisants and tombs of France's royal families. 

The first church on this spot is attributed to Saint Geneviève in the 5th century and was built upon the reputed burial spot of Saint Denis, Bishop of Paris from the second century. Denis walked 6 miles after being beheaded for his Christian faith (hardy fellow, that Denis). The Abbey of Saint-Denis has been associated with the French monarchy since the Merovingian era, and the first monarch buried at Saint-Denis was Dagobert in 638 AD.  

The monastery at St-Denis had become a major power-broker by the time a 13 year old Eleanor of Aquitaine married young Louis and came to Paris as his queen in 1137. St-Denis was under the administration of the venerable Abbot Suger, a politically astute religious statesman, historian, and scholar who wielded considerable influence with the monarchs he served (Louis VI and VII). Eleanor's Louis trusted Suger enough to make him regent of the realm during Louis' absence for the Second Crusade.  In fact, Louis VII was educated at cathedral schools, and spent much time in his youth at St-Denis with Abbot Suger. As a younger son Louis was raised to follow an ecclesiastical path, and he unexpectedly became heir to the throne of France upon the accidental death of his older brother. By training and temperament, Louis was probably far better suited for life as a priest than as a monarch -- as Eleanor would learn.  

About the time Eleanor married Louis, Abbot Suger had begun rebuilding St-Denis. His vision was so innovative that it is said that Suger alone is responsible for creating Gothic architecture by incorporating pointed arches, ribbed vaulting, flying buttresses and stained-glass into one building.

That's an exaggeration, but the influence of Suger's church on sacred architecture cannot be underestimated. I have to admit that even my Romanesque heart was lifted by the airiness and light in Suger's creation. Truth must be told, however: it is unlikely that Abbot Suger was the actual architect of St-Denis, although the cathedral certainly transmits his vision. He was, however, its staunchest patron.  

St-Denis became the French royal necropolis and was the scene of many coronations. Forty-two kings, 32 queens, 63 princes and princesses and 10 nobles were laid to rest at St-Denis.

Eternal life. (Photo from Wikipedia Commons)

In repose.

I was particularly drawn to the tombs of Catherine de Medici and Henri II, having visited so many Loire chateau and even Diane de Poitiers' mausoleum at Anet on my first trip to France some twenty years ago. It seemed right to tarry a while in respect for Catherine at St-Denis (even though I am admittedly more drawn to her rival, Diane). I thought it remarkable and rather brave of Catherine to have herself portrayed in this manner in her transi, appearing aged and naked in death, when she had been so vulnerable and defensive throughout her lifetime.

Inscribed on the western facade of the main entrance to St-Denis, Suger had written:  

All you who seek to honor these doors, marvel not at the gold and expense but at the craftsmanship of the work. The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights to the true light, where Christ is the true door. The golden door defines how it is imminent in these things. The dull mind rises to the truth through material things, and is resurrected from its former submersion when the light is seen.

The facade was originally topped with two towers (only one remains) and the portal carvings have long since either been destroyed or heavily reconstructed to the point of having lost their original imagery. In fact, restoration in the 18th century removed a series of statue-columns representing the kings and queen of the Old Testament. Many of these are currently on display at the Cluny Museum in Paris (which we'll visit later). 

Suger opposed the dissolution of the marriage of Eleanor and Louis while he lived and exercised considerable church authority against it. Their divorce had to wait until Suger died in 1152.

Another reconstruction campaign at St-Denis occurred in the 13th century at the instigation of young Louis IX (later canonized and known as Saint Louis....more about him tomorrow) and his mother Blanche of Castile (aka the White Queen), who were granddaughter and great-grandson of Eleanor.

Eleanor herself would have recognized only the barest outlines of the cathedral we see today, but she certainly would have visited the compound of St-Denis during her time as Queen of France. It would have been a journey of several hours from Paris. 

Saint Denis himself lost popularity as a rallying patron for France during the late Middle Ages and the Hundred Years War. Not only were his countrymen no longer crying "Montjoie saint Denis" to announce his patronage, but his namesake church suffered as well. The cathedral was plundered many times during the next several centuries. It suffered its final indignity when the monk's community was disbanded during the French Revolution and the building re-purposed as a storehouse for wheat and flour.

During the Revolution the royal graves were desecrated by a mob and the remains exhumed, brutally tossed about, and then dumped into a common pit with quicklime to hasten decomposition. In 1805 Napoleon I ordered the restoration of the building, and Louis XVIII later exhumed the royal remains from their common grave and placed them in a vault in the Basilica’s crypt.

I stood for a while deep below the church, gazing at the wall of the royal vault and reading plaques commemorating the names of those whose remains were reburied at St-Denis. I felt the weight of history all above and around me. 

Ironically for my Eleanor obsession, her former husband Louis is one of the few monarchs not originally buried at St-Denis,and thus he does not have a gisant representation there. Louis got the last laugh on everyone, though. Having originally been buried at the Cisterian Abbaye de Barbeau he founded at Fontaine-le-Port in the Île-de-France, his was one of the very few French monarchical tombs that escaped desecration by Revolutionaries. Louis was re-interred with dignity in 1817 at St-Denis.

At the time of this visit, the last royal ceremony in France in more than a century had occurred at the Basilica in 2004 when a formal funeral was held for the child Louis XVII. Young Louis died of tuberculosis in prison and his heart was removed secretly the next day by the chief surgeon. It was placed in a crystal vase, passed along over the centuries, and resided at the Basilica since 1975. By comparing its DNA with that from strands Marie Antoinette's hair, it was established that this truly was the heart of the son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. That finding forever laid to rest rumors that the child had survived imprisonment. The heart was placed in this display under a medallion portrait of the child.

A second French royal ceremony for this century is anticipated when the skull of Henri IV, authenticated in time for the 400th anniversary of his assassination, will someday be laid to final rest at St-Denis: LINK to ARTICLE. 

The famous (or infamous, depending on your opinion of his work) architect Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc took charge of the restoration of St-Denis in the 19th century. I'm assuming the metal supports to the buttresses as seen below were added during that time. But considering that the original vaults of Suger's choir collapsed and were replaced within a hundred years, this has always been a high maintenance building!

I am so glad I made the effort to visit the Basillica, since the history represented there would underpin everything that I planned to see on this trip. It was a fine starting place for a tour focused on elements of medieval history. 

My photos of this visit are minimal due to camera problems, but some wonderful photos can be found on this site originating from the University of Pittsburgh (hometown shout-out!) at LINK.  You can also learn more about the Basilica in preparation for your own visit by checking out this website: Seine-Saint-Denis, Paris off the beaten track.

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I managed to navigate my way back to the Rive Gauche without incident, although I did nod off briefly and awoke startled to find myself sitting in a nearly empty stopped train in the Gare du Nord. I realized at that point that I was too tired to continue sight-seeing, so scratched my plans to visit Le Madeleine and Palais Garnier. One can only do so much. I made my tired way back up Boulevard St-Michel but had to stop along the way to admire Fontaine Saint-Michel at the Place Saint-Michel, which marks a border between 5th and 6th arrondissements. Created during the French Second Empire by a team of sculptors, Mike and the Devil were done by Francisque-Joseph Duret and the rock was created by Félix Saupin. That's right, the rock had its own sculptor. I like how the Devil is glaring at the pigeon flying by Mike's knee in this picture:

I particularly liked the winged dragon by Henri Alfred Jacquemart. He's cute, in a spewing dragon kind of way.

Checked into the hotel and was pleased to learn that I'd been given a room on the top floor with a lovely view...except the tiny little elevator only went to the floor below. Alas, I had to lug my suitcase up a flight of stairs. It was a miserably and uncharacteristically hot early June day in Paris, and after my long trip to St-Denis I was quite worn out. Below are the flowers sent by my beloved husband and children, which I was thrilled to find waiting for me in my hotel room once I finally got checked in. This photo says "LOVE" and "Paris" to me.

I felt much better after a shower and brief rest so decided to venture forth once more. I desperately needed to replace my camera's memory card, as I'd mistakenly brought along the wrong size. I was directed by the hotel staff to a FNAC electronics store around the corner on Boulevard St-Germain.

Unfortunately due to my fatigue and French-plus-electronics fail, this turned into a Quest. I came to know everyone at this FNAC on St Germaine quite well and they were very kind to me in my extremity.

By this point I was nothing less than completely knackered. I abandoned my goal of having a nice dinner in Paris on a Saturday night in favor of grabbing something from the nearest Monoprix and collapsing in a heap back in the hotel room.

Monoprix on Blvd St-Michel; photo from Google Earth

Quel dommage!