Evensong at Chartres

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Chartres in medieval times was a pilgrimage site because it was believed that the bodies of early martyrs had been tossed into a deep well on the premises of what is now the Cathedral. Various churches were built on the site over the centuries. Around the year 876, the church was given a treasure: the “Sancta Camisa,” believed to be a tunic or shawl worn by Mary at the time she gave birth to Jesus. Over the succeeding centuries, this relic became an attraction for pilgrims in its own right. Was there any truth to the legend? Recent scientific studies have established that the fragile garment dates from the 1st century. It is now kept in a lovely side chapel of the Cathedral.

I always think the best way to see a great cathedral, or any church that is a tourist destination, is to attend a service. Even when I can’t understand much or any of the language spoken, it’s an opportunity to sit in quiet contemplation while listening to beautiful music and being immersed in a sublimely spiritual place.

When I recently visited Chartres, there were two services, almost back to back: a Mass and Evensong. I attended both. Mass is an ancient and beautiful ritual. Although it is not in my religious tradition, I have always felt entirely welcome attending Mass.

Evensong is almost equally old. At Chartres, many people from various religious traditions are there to study. They are invited to prepare and participate in the Evensong service, which is mostly chanted and sung. I could be wrong, but it seemed to me that Evensong participants did not necessarily have to be Catholic. About a dozen people, both men and women, filed in wearing pristine white robes.

At Chartres, believers and non-believers seem equally welcome to experience the peace and loveliness of a place that has been a spiritual haven for many centuries.

The American Colonel Who Saved a Cathedral

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The 12th-century Cathedral in Chartres, France draws the eye from many miles around. Its two towers are among the highest structures in that part of France, and they have beckoned pilgrims for many hundreds of years.

On August 16, 1944, American forces were approaching the city of Chartres on their way to help liberate Paris. They were under heavy fire, and commanders assumed the Germans must be spotting their approach from one of the cathedral’s towers. So an order was given to shell the Cathedral. An American Colonel, Welborn Griffith, questioned the order. He volunteered to go behind enemy lines to investigate. Only one enlisted man went along on this dangerous mission. After searching the Cathedral and climbing the towers, Colonel Griffith signaled that the church was clear of the enemy; the bombardment was cancelled and the town taken, but not without a fight.

Colonel Griffith was killed in the ensuing firefight in Leves, just on the outskirts of Chartres. Some of the locals saw him fall. They covered him with blankets, flowers, and with an American flag until his body could be taken away. The locals had pieced together the facts of his heroic action that saved their beloved Cathedral from destruction. In gratitude, they placed a plaque with his name on the spot where he fell.

However, the name on his dogtag confused them. His name was recorded as Griffith Welborn, not Welborn Griffith. For nearly 50 years, his family had no idea that he had saved one of the world’s most important and beautiful Cathedrals. Finally, in the 1990s, a local amateur historian discovered the mistake and contacted the Colonel’s descendants. Some of them traveled from the United States to Chartres, where during a ceremony honoring him, the strains of “The Star Spangled Banner” echoed through the magnificent Cathedral. Today, a park in Leves honors Colonel Griffith. He is featured in one of the explanatory displays within the Cathedral, which expresses profound gratitude to him and to the other Americans who served alongside him.

On this Memorial Day, when Americans solemnly honor their war dead, I think of heroes, both famous and obscure, who have given their lives for the cause of freedom.

Daily Life in a Chateau

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Occasionally, the private family quarters of a castle or chateau are open to tourists–for an extra fee, of course, and during very limited times. I never miss a chance to get behind the grand state rooms and see how real people might actually live.

I had such a chance a few years ago at Cheverny, one of the most beautiful chateaus in the Loire Valley of France. Many chateaus have been taken over by the French state, but some families have been able to hold onto theirs. Cheverny is one of them. Gone are the days when the agricultural lands around a chateau could pay for its upkeep. Nowadays, the money mostly comes from tourist dollars.

The family still lives at Cheverny, on the top floor, putting up with a constant stream of tourists walking through their ancestral home. After seeing some of their private rooms, I could see why it was worth the trouble to them. With so many ancient and beautiful properties turned into luxury hotels, golf clubs or exclusive spas, I admire noble old families who do whatever it takes to preserve their history and share it with others.

The private bedrooms at Cheverny were cozy and colorful, with views out over the gardens and grounds.

One room had the wedding dress of a family member on view–from the 80s, from the look of it.

Another room displayed the antique toys that generations of the noble family had played with.

The grand state rooms on the floors below still remain, and the family uses them when the tourists have cleared out. Still, I imagine the family is happy to climb the ancient stairs to their cozy private rooms at the end of the day.

Join me next time for more explorations in the art and history of Europe!

Fontainebleau: Diana’s Garden

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The Kings of France spent most of their time hunting with their packs of hounds, so the image of Diana the Huntress appears everywhere. This fountain, in the gardens at Fontainebleau, features Diana, handsome stags, and several peeing dogs. The dogs look rather sad, or maybe just worn out from the day’s hunt. They sit on their pedestal, peeing in unison into the pool beneath them.

Whose idea was this fountain? It was built by Henri IV in 1602. He was an unpopular king during his reign, because he was entangled in the religious wars of his time. In fact, he was finally assassinated, after surviving at least 12 attempts. Once he was dead, his reputation improved greatly and he came to be known as “Good King Henri” because he really tried to improve the welfare of his people.

This particular fountain used to be in a private garden reserved for royalty. Reportedly Henri went to some trouble to get the bronze hounds–they were formerly in the Louvre, and he requisitioned them for this fountain. Then there was the matter of plumbing. The result gives us an idea of what royalty four centuries ago considered whimsical. I can’t help thinking this fountain is a bit cheesy, like something from a catalog found in an airplane pocket.

Today, the forests of Fontainebleau are open to all. Millions of French people flock there for hiking, rock climbing and generally escaping from nearby Paris. A much smaller number visit the Chateau, one of the largest and most historic in France.

A visit to the Chateau is tiring for the tourist. The day I was there recently, there were no audioguides available, and many whole sections were closed, with no explanation. Every caption was written only in French. I could not find a single English-speaking person on staff. I bought a little guidebook and made do. Still, I’d go again and hope for a more user-friendly experience. Fontainebleau preserves part of the colorful history of each century it has been a seat of the Kings of France. Every King left his mark, and the Emperor Napoleon most of all. And Fontainebleau is much less crowded than Versailles.

Join me next time for more explorations in the art and history of Europe!

A Meal Lost in the Translation

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The photo above shows what happens when I think I understand the language, but I really don’t. My high-school and college French goes only so far. In larger cities, most establishments that deal with tourists have someone who can speak English. In smaller towns in France, it almost seems a point of pride with the locals that they only speak French.

It is not easy to be a vegetarian in Europe, and the language barrier does not make it any easier. One day last fall in the Alsatian town of Colmar, just on the border between Germany and France, I tried to order a vegetarian version of the local favorite: tarte flambee. It’s more or less a pizza, with little or no tomato sauce. I read the entire menu and questioned the waitress as best I could. I settled on a tarte which I thought would be covered with Muenster cheese. The tarte arrived and I sat staring at it in shock. It was covered with what looked like about half a pound of shaved ham–very fine ham, but I don’t eat ham.

When I called the waitress back, the entire small restaurant fell silent. Forks hung in midair as locals stared in disbelief at the woman who didn’t want any meat. “Madame,” the waitress exclaimed, “C’est Muenster!” Meekly, I pushed all the “Muenster-Ham” toward the center and ate around the edges.

All over Europe, it seems that more and more people speak English. I think it is a school requirement in some countries. France seems to be the exception. Granted, the French have a proud cultural heritage they want to protect. I also suspect they don’t want to speak English because they figure that English-speaking visitors will correct their pronunciation or grammar. They are certainly quick enough to correct my French.

I am far from fluent, but I pride myself on getting by. One of my proudest moments as a tourist was the time a French-speaking person in Paris asked me for directions and seemed to understand my answer. At least he went off in direction I pointed. I just have to make sure I never give anyone menu advice.

Join me next time for more adventures exploring art, history and daily life in Europe!

Louis XIV: A Very Thirsty King

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Louis XIV by Rigaud, Public Domain

When Louis XIV, aka the Sun King, decided to build the palace to end all palaces at Versailles, he was as interested in the grounds as in the palace itself. He envisioned a paradise of gardens, 50 fountains, many interconnected canals and little wooded glens. All this took a tremendous amount of water–which the landscape of Versailles did not have. But he was the King, and ALL the water in the land was his by right. So he set his engineers to work changing the course of every river he could get his hands on.

Versailles, Copyleft Free Art License

It was impossible to operate all or even very many of the fountains at the same time, even as they were being built. Workers developed a system of tracking the king and warning other workers with whistles, so that whenever the king strolled into view of a particular fountain, water could gush forth.

By 1685, Louis had exhausted all the nearby sources of water. By this time, he had taken up with Madame de Maintenon–whose Chateau happened to sit directly on the River Eure. Never one to do things by halves, Louis ordered his engineers to divert the water 50 miles from Maintenon to Versailles. And he wanted the job done in grand fashion, as the Caesars had done it. So a viaduct was begun. During the year 1685, 10,000 troops were pressed into service for the grand building project. In 1686, 20,000 troops were hard at work. Unfortunately, Louis had embarked on one of his many wars, and it was hard to justify using 1/10 of his entire military force to water his gardens. He was short of cash, too. The project was abandoned, still 18 miles short of Versailles.

Today the viaduct is a romantic ruin that only adds to the charm of the Chateau de Maintenon.

The River Eure runs undisturbed, and the Chateau’s gardens are well watered. Louis XIV had to do without, for once in his long life.

Join me next time for more explorations in the art and history of Europe!

Chateau de Maintenon

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My new second-favorite chateau is one I had never even heard of until my recent trip to France. (My favorite chateau is the incomparable Chenonceau, which was built spanning a river in the Loire Valley). The story of how a penniless woman, born in a prison, came to be the second wife of the Sun King is strange but true. Chateau de Maintenon is close to the cathedral city of Chartres, and I came across a brochure about it in the Chartres tourist office.

Madame de Maintenon, Public Domain

The woman who eventually became Madame de Maintenon was Francoise d’Aubigne, born in the prison where her ne’er-do-well father was incarcerated in 1635. She married an invalid older man, an aristocrat who brought her into the highest social circles before obligingly dying and leaving her with a sizable royal pension. After awhile, though, Louis XIV suspended the pension and she was left high and dry. One of her friends was the current favorite mistress of the King, the Marquise de Montespan. Francoise became the caretaker of the King’s many illegitimate children with his favorite mistress, about 8 as far as anybody knows. Francoise was discreet and did her job well. The King rewarded her with a pile of money, which she used to buy the Chateau in the town of Maintenon.

Eventually the King tired of the ill-tempered Montespan, and took up with Francoise, giving her the title Marquise of Maintenon. The King’s wife died. He was in his early forties, beginning to feel like an old man, and beginning to be concerned about his sins. He married the Marquise sometime in 1685-1686. She remained at his side for 30 years, his most trusted confidant for the rest of his long life. The marriage was officially secret, but courtiers had to accept the low-born Marquise de Maintenon as a permanent fixture, like it or not. It was a seventeenth-century version of an old story: the rich man marries the nanny. (In this case, the nanny was actually a few years older than the King, and considered overly pious in the French court. But Louis appreciated her qualities).

Today the chateau and its gardens are lovely and as inviting as they must have been when the King used the Chateau as a homey escape from the crowds at Versailles. The Marquise was given rooms adjoining the King’s at Versailles and in all the other royal residences, so she rarely had time to visit her own beloved chateau once she was married. For the rest of her life, though, she had flowers and foods grown on her estate delivered to her.

Join me next time for more explorations in the fascinating art and history of Europe!

Parisian Elegance

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The Musee des Arts Decoratifs (Museum of Decorative Arts) in Paris is actually in the Louvre complex. It doesn’t get the traffic enjoyed by the Mona Lisa, but anyone looking for a visual feast will be happy in its galleries. Among many other things, there is the reconstructed apartment of the fashion designer Jeanne Lanvin in Paris.

Jeanne began her career as an apprentice milliner, then trained as a dressmaker. She married a count at age 28, which brought her into higher social circles. Their only daughter, Marguerite, eventually took over the fashion business her mother had founded.

Jeanne began by making exquisite clothes for her daughter, which her friends wanted for their own children. Soon she was making dresses for their mothers, and she was on her way. In no time, she had her own boutique on the world’s penultimate fashion street, the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore.

Jeanne’s most famous creation was the iconic perfume “Arpege,” which was inspired by her daughter’s piano practice. “Arpege” is French for “arpeggio.” The bottle features a charming graphic of a mother and daughter.

The apartment, from the 1920s, is designed down to the square inch, all in the blue and gold featured on the signature perfume bottles. I can only imagine the rarefied life lived there.

Le Renard

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The most fun I ever had speaking French was the time I had a fairly long conversation with a Parisian woman who was walking a particularly lovely little dog. He looked exactly like a fox, my favorite animal. Foxes patrol just outside my house, hunting and also trying to get a rise out of my cats. The cats stare out in wonder at this unassuming animal that looks like a dog, but does not carry a ball or slobber on the window glass.

I wanted to know what breed the elegant little Parisian dog was. After much petting and exclaiming over the adorable creature, the woman managed to explain to me that he was “particulier.” I concluded this meant that he was one of a kind, what I might call a mutt. I would not be able to procure a dog just like him unless I got really lucky at my local animal shelter.

I’ve heard of people trying to tame foxes, but I know wild animals belong in the wild. My indoor foxes live on tabletops!

April in the Netherlands

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Considering that the tulip season runs for only about 8 weeks, and that each tulip bulb blooms for only a week at most, I can see that gardeners and florists have been busy keeping the cities and countryside beautiful.

Gardens are in bloom everywhere.

Museums, like the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem ,have traditional arrangements of tulips, like this one which only a very wealthy family would have enjoyed in the past. Each precious bloom has its own place in a towering Delft vase, a luxurious work of art in itself.

Other arrangements are more modern. All are spectacular!