Bryce & Damon in Europe
by Pertinax Carrus
Chapter 9, Paris, Part III
Day 4
Saturday, June 19, began as usual with Bryce working out for an hour while Damon continued to sleep. How Damon managed to keep fit and strong despite his lack of regular exercise was something which Bryce did not understand, but greatly envied. Damon merely shrugged his shoulders and claimed good genes. After breakfast, they set out on a pilgrimage of their own.
They walked down the Avenue de Suffren, along the edge of the Champs de Mars and past the École Militaire to the Rue de Sèvres. There they visited the Church of St. Vincent de Paul, constructed between 1824 and 1844 on the site of the St. Lazare Prison, where Vincent lived and worked. Monsieur Vincent, as he was known, lived from 1581 to 1660, and had a life filled with adventures. Born to a family of peasant farmers in Gascony, he entered the priesthood in 1600, and served at Toulouse, in the south of France, until 1605. On the return from a trip to Marseilles, he was captured by Barbary pirates and sold into slavery at Tunis. There, he converted his owner, but escaped in 1607. He then went to Rome, where he studied for two years, before being sent back to France on a mission to King Henry IV. For a time, he was chaplain to Henry’s discarded first wife, Marguerite de Valois, who had turned from her earlier, rather scandalous life to one of concern for the poor. This clearly inspired Vincent, who continued work among the poor of Paris, even as he became tutor in the household of the Count de Gondi. In 1618 he met St. Francis de Sales, to their mutual benefit. The following year, he was appointed chaplain to the galley slaves, who were under the command of his patron, the Count. In 1625 Monsieur Vincent founded the Congregation of the Mission to work among rural peasants. In 1633 he joined with Ste. Louise de Marillac to found the Daughters of Charity. He continued his work among the poor, ransomed slaves from North Africa, and helped provide relief to victims of the civil war known as the Frondes (1648-53). At the Church of St. Vincent de Paul on the Rue de Sèvres, in the pediment of the portico, are figures representing a missionary, a galley slave, and Sisters of Charity ministering to poor children.
After leaving this church, Bryce said, “Monsieur Vincent is another hero with whom I identify. I told you back in Burgos there would be others. Besides, I didn’t want you to think we only had female saints or churches dedicated to Our Lady.”
“There has been a lot of emphasis on Mary,” Damon replied, as they walked down the Rue de Sèvres to the Rue du Bac. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. How typical is this?”
“We Catholics place a lot more emphasis on Our Lady than anyone else except the Orthodox. For some reason, Protestants don’t seem to like Mary, and kind of want to relegate her to the background. I think the devotion to the Mother of God has been healthy, as it provides a feminine tone to the Church’s devotions and outlook. I think it’s partly responsible for the strong concern for the poor and children which we’ve had since the Middle Ages, at least, and I think it’s arguable that the increased devotion to Our Lady is partly responsible also for the increased status of women in medieval Europe. Nothing that would satisfy a modern feminist, of course. Besides, I like a mother figure. I find it comforting,” Bryce stated.
“With your mother, I can see why you feel that way. I have to admit, I felt a strong attachment to Mary there at Lourdes. What’s next?” Damon asked.
“Another woman. Or rather, two of them. Here we are at the motherhouse, or headquarters of the Daughters of Charity, co-founded by Monsieur Vincent and Ste. Louise de Marillac in 1633. From the beginning they have carried on the work of their founders among the poor. By the way, they originally wore elaborate headgear, like the flying nun in the old television series we laughed about on reruns back home. Unfortunately, that was abandoned after the Second Vatican Council, with a lot else that was distinctive and historical,” Bryce informed his partner.
They entered the passage leading to the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal. Before focusing on that, Bryce drew Damon’s attention to the figure of St. Vincent de Paul, where he is shown with the flames of his burning desire to aid the poor, and with some of the children he rescued from the streets of Paris. To the left of the main altar is the reliquary of Ste. Louise de Marillac (1591-1660), who was born a bastard who never knew her mother in Picardy, a province about as far away from Gascony as possible and still be in France. Her father was of a prominent family, with connections in Paris, where Louise grew up. Refused admission to the Capuchin sisters, in 1617 Louise married Antoine Le Gras, secretary to Queen Marie de Medici. They had a son, but in 1621 Antoine fell ill and was bedridden, dying in 1625. Their son Michel grew up, married, and had children of his own. About that same time, she met Vincent de Paul, who became her spiritual advisor, and encouraged her to become active in his efforts to alleviate the plight of the poor. She told her first followers, “Love the poor and honor them as you would honor Christ himself.” With him, in 1633 she founded the religious sisters now officially known as the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, more commonly in the United States known as the Sisters of Charity. By the time Louise died in 1660, there were over forty houses of sisters performing this mission all over France. It was she who first developed the question What would Jesus do? as a guide to action, a phrase taken over in the 1990s by fundamentalists who would be scandalized by the chapel where the two guys stood. There, to the left of the main altar, were the remains of Ste. Louise enshrined in a glass casket. At the time of the death of Ste. Louise, her nine year old granddaughter was found weeping at her tomb. She asked some of the sisters if there were still Daughters of Charity now that her grandmother was dead. One of the sisters replied, “Until all the poor in the world are no longer poor, until all the hungry are fed, and all the naked clothed, until the sick and the dying, and the abandoned babies and the orphans and the outcasts and the lonely and the forsaken are all gathered into heaven, there will always be Daughters of Charity.”
The main altar is devoted to the Blessed Virgin under the title Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal. This title is connected to the experiences of Ste. Catherine Labouré (1806-1876). Catherine was the daughter of a peasant farmer from Burgundy, and was originally named Zoe, taking the name Catherine when she entered the Daughters of Charity as a young woman in 1830. Having lost her mother at age nine, she was extremely attached to Our Lady. Not long after her admission to the convent, she began having visions of Our Lady. In one of her visions, she saw Mary standing on the globe. Around the margins of this vision were the words, “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee” (in French, of course). The vision rotated, and on the rear was the initial M surmounted by a cross and the stylized symbols of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Although the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception had not yet been officially promulgated, the medal based on this vision, and called the Miraculous Medal, became very popular. Catherine spent the next 46 years working as a simple nursing sister. In 1933, as part of her beatification process, her body was exhumed, and found to be incorrupt. It rests today in a glass coffin to the right of the main altar, at the place where she received one of her visions. She wears the habit of the Daughters of Charity used until 1964.
From the Rue de Bac Bryce and Damon slowly made their way towards the Seine, discussing the lives and works of the three saints, Vincent de Paul, Louise de Marillac, and Catherine Labouré. At the chapel, Damon had acquired a Miraculous Medal. Bryce already had one from an earlier visit with his mother.
“There’s a lot more to this Catholic culture of yours than just going to church on Sunday and watching the Pope on television,” Damon said, making a joke of it, but stating a serious fact.
“If you take it seriously, it becomes a part of every aspect of your life,” Bryce replied. “I find it a great comfort and guide when I run into problems. And yes, like I said back at Burgos, I feel a real connection to these people, even though they have been dead for centuries, and come from another country.”
“You keep saying that you are this or that person. I think maybe I’d like to be Monsieur Vincent, but maybe I don’t qualify,” Damon hinted.
“Maybe we could share him. You got ahead of me as far as that soup kitchen back in Clifton is concerned,” Bryce suggested.
“I recall that Deacon Jeffers and the others who run the soup kitchen are part of something named for Vincent de Paul,” Damon commented.
“Yes. The Society of St. Vincent de Paul was not founded by him, but came out of the nineteenth century, but it was not only named for him, but was inspired by his example to aid the poor,” Bryce replied. “And I will forever be grateful that it was you, Boyfriend, who got me involved in that work. You might not be Catholic, but you have the right instincts.”
Damon actually blushed.
The two young men walked along the left bank of the Seine, picking up a quick lunch along the way. They reached the bridge called the Pont St. Michel, where they crossed to the Île de la Cité and sought out the Conciergerie, which is a part of the larger complex called the Palais de Justice. It was here that the French royal family was imprisoned, along with many others, until being led out to the guillotine during the Terror. The young son of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette lived his last years here, dying in here at the age of ten under mysterious circumstances which gave rise to a number of claimants to the throne later in the nineteenth century. This is the site of the palace of the Merovingian kings, and later ones as well, but it was not to the palace that they wended their way, but to the royal chapel, called the Sainte Chapelle.
This jewel of Gothic architecture was created at the order of St. Louis IX in 1248 to house the relics of Our Lord’s passion, which he had recently purchased from the Latin Emperor of Constantinople, Baldwin II. Among the relics, the most important is undoubtedly the Crown of Thorns, but there were also the Image of Edessa (another cloth claiming to contain a miraculous image of the face of Jesus), and some thirty other items. Baldwin came into possession of these items because they had been part of the imperial treasures at Constantinople, removed there from Jerusalem and elsewhere after the Moslem conquests. When the participants in the Fourth Crusade captured Constantinople in 1204 and placed one of their number on the throne, these relics passed into western hands. But Baldwin II was in dire financial straits, and so pawned them to the Venetians. Although King Louis purchased the rights from Baldwin, he actually paid the Venetians 135,000 livres to redeem them from pawn. They were carried from Venice to Paris by two Dominican friars, but during the last stage of the journey were carried by the King himself, dressed in penitent’s garb and walking barefoot. To these relics Louis later added a fragment of the True Cross and the Holy Lance, which had pierced the side of Jesus on the cross. These holy items remained in the Sainte Chapelle until the French Revolution, when the collection was broken up and auctioned off, while the most important item, the Crown of Thorns, was deposited in the Bibliothèque Nationale. Many of the reliquaries in which the relics had been housed were melted down for the metal. In 1801, as part of the Concordat signed between the Papacy and the French Republic, the Crown of Thorns was restored to the Church, and since 1806 has rested in the Cathedral of Notre Dame.
Sainte Chapelle itself was confiscated by the revolutionary regime and used as a depository for archival materials. Some of the stained glass windows were removed to provide more light for clerks to work by. Under the Second Empire, the great restorer of medieval treasures, Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, carried out a thorough restoration which was hailed as exemplary when completed in 1855.
As Bryce and Damon entered the Sainte Chapelle, which is administered as a museum today, they were overwhelmed. The soaring vault, the blue ceiling dotted with gold fleurs-de-lys, the magnificent stained glass windows, the majority of which are original, and the elaborately carved stonework take one’s breath away by their beauty. The guys spent some time simply absorbing the atmosphere. Bryce had been there before, but was almost as impressed as was Damon on his first visit. Damon was inarticulate, simply breathing in the beauty.
After a long time, they left the Sainte Chapelle and made their way to the Cathedral of Notre Dame. They were unable to obtain a look at the Crown of Thorns, which is on display only on the first Friday of each month and on the Fridays in Lent, including especially Good Friday. The provenance of the Crown is pretty good from the early fifth century onwards. In 409 Paulinus of Nola mentions it as being kept in a basilica on Mount Zion in Jerusalem. In 570 Anthony the Martyr also mentions it, and about 575 Cassiodorus notes its presence in Jerusalem, as does Bernard the Monk as late as 870. When the Turks replaced the Arabs in control of Jerusalem, the relics were removed to Constantinople for safe keeping. There they fell into the hands of the Westerners after 1204, and were sold to St. Louis in 1239.
But the Crown of Thorns was by far not the only significant aspect of the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. Located on the eastern part of the Île de la Cité, the Cathedral of Notre Dame is one of the most well-known churches in the world. It is the iconic image of the Gothic church. On the site of an earlier church dedicated to St. Stephen Protomartyr, which dated to the fourth century, the present structure was begun under Bishop Maurice de Sully in 1163. The “de Sully” may be misleading, as Maurice was born of humble parents, with his name reflecting not noble status, but the village near Orleans where he was born. Construction of the cathedral continued apace for nearly a century, with the essential work being completed by 1260, although details continued to be worked on for another century. As time passed, the work became more elaborate and decorative, resulting in the magnificent rose windows in the north and south transepts and the façade. The cathedral incorporated the latest advances in architecture, exhibiting the new style, which was then called just that – the new style. In some places, it was called the French style. It was only with the revival of classicism during the Renaissance that everything medieval was denigrated, being called Gothic to mean barbaric. The term stuck, like so many others which began as put-downs.
During the period of French Classicism, the Gothic cathedral was seen almost as an embarrassment, and woefully neglected, with some stained glass simply broken up, and other unfortunate changes. But it got much worse during the French Revolution. Like all church property, Notre Dame was confiscated. It was declared to be a Temple of Reason at one point, with a actress of dubious reputation crowned as Goddess of Reason at the high altar. Extensive vandalism was carried out on various statues and windows. The figure of Mary was replaced with an allegorical Lady Liberty. These ceremonies were orchestrated by Jacques-Louis David. Then, the church was used as a warehouse.
Restored to the Church under the Concordat of 1801, it gradually began to regain its dignity. In 1845 an extensive renovation was begun under Eugène Viollet-le-Duc lasting twenty-five years, and giving us the church we know today, essentially.
Through most of its history, Notre Dame has been not only a center of worship, but also a center of music and the arts, with its organists gaining widespread fame, from Léonin of the ars antiqua corresponding to the period of construction to the careers of Louis Vierne and Pierre Cochereau in the twentieth century. The cathedral plays an important role in a number of literary works, including Victor Hugo’s Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831) and Henry Adams’ Mont Saint Michel and Chartres (1904).
Taking in the Sainte Chapelle and Notre Dame consumed much of the afternoon on that Saturday. Bryce and Damon spent about an hour after leaving the church just wandering about, as Paris was such a delightful place. They circumambulated the Île de la Cité, then crossed over to the right bank and explored further. Immediately to the north across the Pont Neuf they visited the church of St. Germain l’Auxerrois, then moved on northward, heading again toward Les Halles. They were not moving aimlessly, but had a target in mind. They were just taking their time getting there, as they were early for their dinner reservation. Passing through the fringe of the delightful area called Le Marais, they arrived at the Rue Marie Stuart, and the restaurant called Stuart Friendly. The thing which attracted Bryce as he made his plans was that, in inverse fashion, it advertised itself as gay but hetero friendly. The two young men were shown to seats on the outside at their request, as they loved the ability to watch people pass as they ate. There were few other diners this early, so they got the full attention of their waiter. The young man, who was named Luc, impishly asked whether they were gay or straight, and, when told they were partners, beamed, informing them he had only recently made a commitment to his partner. He advised them of several places to visit later in the evening. Bryce made it clear that they were not looking for places to hook up, but rather just someplace where they could express affection without being frowned upon, and where they could dance. The restaurant had a trendy atmosphere, serving a mostly French and Italian menu. This evening, both guys went Italian, and found the linguini outstanding.
On the advice of Luc the waiter, after their leisurely evening dinner Bryce and Damon made their way eastward to the Rue de Haudriettes and the dance club called Le Cud. This venue catered to young adults, providing just what the two wanted, a place to dance together and feel comfortable doing so. They had a marvelous time, dancing with each other, speaking with some of the other patrons, and enjoying a drink or two. They had such a good time, it was eleven o’clock before they knew it. Of course, they could have stayed much later, as the club was open all night, but they had plans for the next day, so they departed.
There was one other place Luc had mentioned, called Freedj, located only a few blocks away on the Rue Ste Croix de la Brettonnerie, so they decided to stop in there before retiring. That proved to be a mistake, as they had hardly obtained drinks and were searching for a place to sit when they were accosted by a large man of a hairy appearance, who began interrogating them.
“What’s his beef?” Damon asked, as the man was speaking French, and quite rapidly, so even Bryce had trouble keeping up.
“I’m not sure, but I think this is another one, like the guy we encountered in the Latin Quarter, who is anti-American,” Bryce replied.
“What’s wrong with these guys? Can’t they leave politics aside for the weekend, even? Besides, this bozo doesn’t even know what our politics are,” Damon stated, trying to ignore the shouting man.
Bryce and Damon decided to leave, even though they had just purchased their drinks. But as they attempted to get around their interrogator, he refused to budge, and began pushing them, jabbing his finger into their chests, first one, then the other.
“You know what? I’m getting tired of this,” Damon said.
The man yelled, “Parlez français! Vous êtres en France! (Speak French! You’re in France!)”
Bryce and Damon looked at each other, and a signal passed between them. Bryce tossed his drink into the man’s face, which naturally distracted him. Damon took advantage of that to put into practice some of the street smarts he learned in the Chicago projects. He kicked the man in the balls. The two then rapidly circled around him and made their way to the exit before being accosted by anyone else.
They rapidly left the area where the Freedj was located, making their way to the Hôtel de Ville, or town hall, on the banks of the Seine. In order to get away from the area as quickly as possible, Bryce led them into the Paris subway at the Metro stop Hôtel de Ville. After consulting a map, they got on the next train headed in the direction Pont de Neuilly. At Concorde they transferred to a line taking them only one stop to Invalides, across the river, where they caught the line taking them to the stop at the Eiffel Tower. From there, it would be only a short walk back to their hotel.
As they sat on the train, and later as they walked, the guys talked about their unpleasant experience, comparing it to their experience in the Latin Quarter two days before.
“What’s with these people? Why are we being always picked on?” Damon demanded. “I don’t think I like the French much.”
“Don’t over react,” Bryce warned his partner. “It’s only been two incidents, and both were here in Paris. Big cities tend to be less friendly than smaller ones. People who can’t fit in in smaller places migrate to the big cities where they can act in anti-social ways. We had no trouble in other places.”
“Yes, we did. There was that place in Rouen ....” Damon began.
“We can’t hold that against them,” Bryce interrupted. “We did not know the kind of place that was. You can find sleazy places like that anywhere.”
“Okay, I guess you’re right about that. But still, twice in three days here in Paris is a bit much to take. And what’s the story with the politics? Who the hell cares about politics,” Damon cried in his frustration.
“You should. You’re a PolySci Major,” Bryce grinned.
“Fuck you!” his upset boyfriend replied.
“When we get back to the hotel. But not in public, please,” Bryce replied.
Damon grinned, his anger partly defused.
“Okay, but what is it with the politics, really? As I said before, these idiots don’t even know what our politics are. All they know is they decide we’re American, and they light into us. That’s not what I call friendly. In fact, it’s not even sane,” Damon insisted.
“What’s the word? Profiling. That’s it. We’re American, so automatically we’re supporters of every aspect of American foreign policy. I agree, that approach is unreasonable. Not much we can do about it, though. Evidently the French are a lot more emotional about their politics than we are, at least in Paris. Maybe we’d better just stick to the places we know are friendly in the future. We have three more days here before we leave France, so let’s play it safe,” Bryce advised.
“I agree,” Damon said, as they exited the Metro station and saw the Eiffel Tower all lit up. It was almost like coming home. They were quickly back at the Hotel Mercure. In their room, Damon grabbed Bryce. “I intend to cash in on that promise you made while we were on the subway.”
“What promise?” Bryce incautiously asked.
“I quote, ‘when we get back to the hotel.’ We’re back to the hotel,” Damon said, holding Bryce in his arms.
It was a good end to the day after all.