FrenchKate

April 4: Decize, France, formerly known as Decetiae

After leaving Auxerre, the Canal du Nivernais cuts 108 miles through rural France to reach the Loire near little Decize, a small town (population <7,000) built on a rocky hill in the Loire. This was once an island, but at some point, most of the right arm was filled in and the land reclaimed. All that remains is a vestige, "la vieille Loire," and what looks to me like a very old bridge. Two rivers converge here; the Loire is joined by one of its tributary, the Aron, and a rocky hill overlooking the confluence has given Decize a strategic point from which to surveil river traffic.

Thus, the town punches above its weight and has some history. I mention one story from its past because the event has many parallels with events today.

 The island was known in Roman times as Decetiae, and in the Spring of the seventh year of the Gallic War (B.C.52)  Caesar summoned the senate of the Aedui to Decetia to resolve a serious political dispute. (B. G. 7.33). The leaders of the Aedui, a Gallic tribe that were valued allies of the Romans--Caesar "... had always fostered and honoured them by every possible means"--had come to beg Caesar to "help their people in a time of dire necessity." "It was their long-established custom to appoint only one magistrate each year to hold regal power" but two men were now holding office, both claiming to be legally appointed. One--Convictolitavis--was "an energetic and distinguished young man" --had been appointed by the priests (according to state custom when the succession of office has been broken.) The other was Cotus, an aristocrat "with considerable influence and powerful connections." In fact, his brother, Valetiacus, who held the supreme magistracy in the previous year, had declared Cotus to be the supreme magistrate after him. So "the nation was up in arms, the senate split and so were the people...If the wrangling went on any longer the two halves of the state would come to blows." [The envoys] "were relying ...on Caesar's concern and influence to prevent this happening."

"Despite believing that it would be to his disadvantage to move away from the war and the enemy, Caesar was well aware that disputes of this kind often lead to serious setbacks. He was unwilling that a nation of substance...should be reduced to armed violence." Caesar had other reasons to intervene. This Gallic dispute took place in the heat of Caesar's campaign against Vercingetorix (the battle of Alesia took place just six months later.) Caesar didn't want one of the sides to turn to Vercingetorix for reinforcements. 

So a divided tribe on the verge of civil war needed Caesar's attention. "According to the laws of the Aedui, the supreme magistrate was not permitted to set foot outside Aeduan territory. To avoid appearing to violate their rules and laws in any way, Caesar decided to march to their land in person. He summoned the entire senate and the two men on whom the dispute centered to meet him Decetia. Almost the entire people gathered there. ...Caesar forced Cotus to give up office, and gave orders that Convictolitavis... should hold power."  The laws of the Aedui did not permit two men from a single family to belong to the senate during their joint lifetime; it was definitely not legal for someone holding the position of supreme magistrate to appoint his brother as next supreme magistrate. So Caesar ruled according to the laws of the Aedui, and Cotus was out. Caesar urged the Aedui to "forget their disputes and differences" and "devote themselves to the campaign and look forward to receiving the rewards which they would earn from him once the conquest of Gaul was complete." 

So, disputed elections, corruption, a divided populace, the threat of warfare, and an external superior military force summoned to settle the dispute and establish the peace.

Will we ever learn?

I've taken my citations from Book 7, chapters 32 - 34 of Caesar's The Gallic War, translated by Carolyn Hammond, published by Oxford World Classics.

April 2: Canal du Nivernais

In September, 2018, we spent a weekend in Auxerre because Jeanne d'Arc had stopped here during her mad cross-country quest to reach the King of France in Chinon. We were on our Jeanne d'Arc tour, tracing her route.

In 1429, when she and her bodyguard left home in hostile Burgundian territory, they traveled by night to avoid the enemy; when they reached Auxerre, they entered French territory. Jeanne d'Arc was able to participate publicly in a mass in the Cathedral of Saint-Etienne. A statue in the Cathedral--erected in the nationalistic fervor of 1920--commemorates her stop.

So when we reached Auxerre my attention was focused on medieval history and Jeanne d'Arc. So I was surprised to discover, on the first night of our stay, that our pleasant dinner was taking place on the bank of what we later learned was the Canal du Nivernais. 

This 108-mile canal--started in 1786, and finally opened in 1841--was originally used to haul wood from the Morvan to Paris. It more or less parallels the river Yonne. The railroad put the canal out of business in the mid-19th century, but today it has been reborn as a popular recreational waterway, strictly for pleasure boats because it is too narrow for modern commercial boats. A bike lane runs along its banks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 13, 2022: Lycée Jacques Amyot

It was two years ago today that my husband, sister and I decided to shelter at home for the two or three weeks needed to slow down the spread of coronovirus, and here we are, two years later, still mostly at home. Just under a million Americans have died--roughly .3% of the US population, vaccines and wearing masks have become political flash points, and an omicron variant is emerging in Europe. What a mess! I scarcely leave the house--though I hope I will go out more as the weather warms up--and one thing that has changed in the past two years is that I can no longer think of good reasons to go out. Travel to France? Not yet. Shopping? meh. Concerts? Theatre? Art museums? Restaurants? Maybe some day, but not yet. Strange, strange, strange. I assume that we are statistical, one household among millions of others, and I wonder what happens to a culture when millions of people choose to disengage. 

But back to rue du lycée Jacques Amyot in Auxerre...I may not be planning to travel to France in the foreseeable future, but I can still scour the internet. I have mentioned the mansions at 2 and 11, but the star of the rue is definitely the eponymous school, Lycée du Jacques Amyot. 

Wikipedia--and a little brochure I picked up when we visited Auxerre in 2018--provide some useful background about the school. Founded as a "college" in 1584 by Jacques Amyot, Bishop of Auxerre (a humanist who translated the works of Plutarch), it was run by the Jesuits until the Jesuits were kicked out of France in 1762. For a few years, it was run by the Benedictines from the Abbey of Saint-Germain., then, in 1777, it became a royal military school at Louis XIV's command. After the Revolution, in 1802, it became a boy's school supervised by the municipality of Auxerre. The name, Lycée Jacques Amyot, was given in 1936 when it became Auxerre's first high school. Most of the buildings--certainly those visible from rue de Lycée Jacques Amyot--date to the second half of the  17th century. It has been listed as a historic monument since 1994.

Interesting factoid: According to L'Express, n 2015, Lycée Jacques Amyot ranked 6th out of 9 at the departmental level in terms of teaching quality, and 1,579th at the national level. The ranking is based on three criteria: the baccalaureate success rate, the proportion of first year students who obtain the baccalaureate having completed the last two years of their schooling in the establishment, and the added value (calculated from the social origin of the pupils, their age and their results for the national patent certificate.) I don't know if that is good.middling or poor, honestly. 

The first image here is a watercolor by a French artist, Céline Chollet, and I want to give her full credit. She specializes in ancient architecture and wonderful interiors, and I like her work.

The second image is one that I took when we were there in 2018. Much of the building is under restoration, so I had to peek in where I could.

The third and fourth photos are from wikipedia commons, quite frequently found on the internet.

 

Feb 25: Fountain Goudouli, Place Wilson, Toulouse

Back to fountains in Toulouse...this marble fountain honors an Occitan poet, Pèire Godolin (his name becomes Pierre Goudouli in French) who lived in Toulouse from his birth in 1580 to his death in 1649. Carved by a French sculptor, Alexandre Falguière (himself born in Toulouse in 1831), the fountain was installed in 1898 in the middle of a pleasant park in Place Wilson.

Godolin's life mirrors the troubled times in which he lived--the latter years of the wars of religion and the period when the Bourbons strengthened their hold over the kingdom. 

He wrote in and defended Occitan, the ancient language of poetry and troubadours, during the period when--Cardinal Richelieu having dictated that French would be the  language of official documents--Occitan began to its long decline to obscurity. Though it would continue to be the everyday language for much of rural southern France until the early 20th century, today only about 100,000 people in France--mostly elderly--still speak it.

Godolin was also Catholic at a time and in a place when tensions between Catholics and Protestants were high. Though protestant Henri IV converted to Catholicism to become king in 1589, the loyalty of Catholic authors such as Godolin remained suspect. This would cause him some trouble later in his life when Godolin published a poem that was required to celebrate Henri IV's triumph over the rebels, but Godolin only celebrated spring and the return of peace.

Godolin's poetry was bawdy, full of double entendres and inventive word play (verbal tricks enabled by Occitan) and although the freedom of his style fell out of fashion over the course of the 17th century, it was highly influential. His works were regularly published (20 editions in his lifetime) and his writings inspired Molière and the author of Cyrano de Bergerac. During his best years, he had powerful patrons--Adrien Montluc, Baron Montesquieu, and Henri, Duc de Montmorency--who employed him to create poetry, plays, drinking songs, carols, and so on to enliven carnivals in Toulouse. Then Monluc and Montmorency were accused of plotting against the King: Montmorency was beheaded in the Capitole in 1631, and Montluc spent seven years imprisoned in the Bastille. Godolin spent the last years of his life in a Carmelite monastery.

A bust of Godolin was sculpted by Toulousain sculptor, Marc Arcis, around 1677 for the Salle des Illustres in the Capitole. Today it is part of the collection of the musée des Augustins. It looks to me as if Falguière used Arcis's representation (done thirty years after Godolin's death) as his model for the fountain.

Feb 24: Random thoughts on photography

This photo came up on my photo stream yesterday, and both my husband and I were stumped as to when and where it was taken. Though everything about this scene is so French--the classical building on the right, the lawn chairs, the streetlights, the plane trees, the loose gravel surface at our feet, the hint of construction at the rear--it could have been taken almost anywhere in France. Nothing makes it distinctive. There were distinctive things around us, but this particular photo missed them.

By searching, I was able to place the photo; it was taken on September 3rd, 2018, in Auxerre, France. We were standing inside a small place on rue de lycée Jacques Amyot in front of a school.

The second image--a screenshot from google maps--shows the same location from a slightly different angle a year later. Note the very distinctive bell-tower of the Cathedral Saint-Etienne in the distance. My photo managed to miss that completely!

Another distinctive landmark was across the street from us: a stone tower (called Tour des Prison) and crenellated walls constructed in 1320, remnants of the fortifications that once protected the monks of the abbey of Saint Germain.

The photo that was so French and so not distinctive at the same time seems to me to hint at some profound metaphor about not seeing what is right in front of you because the photographer was directing your attention to something else.

 

Feb 22: The flood of 1875, aftermath

I'll let the New York Times correspondent continue his report,  June 28, 1875:

"...the moment the disaster became irreparable the greatest courage and devotion were displayed...When the water reached the first story the work of saving life began; the solders of the garrison and the gendarmes making heroic efforts in this direction, and they were joined by the citizens of the other parts of the city. When trying to save a family crying for relief, the Marquis d'Hautpoul lost his life. He went out in a boat with a gendarme, but the force of the current whirled them against the buildings and boat was upset. The Marquis clung to the top of a lamp-post for a few moments, but this soon gave way, and he was drowned. The gendarme saved himself by clinging to a floating plank. Several soldiers were killed and wounded by the fall of buildings from which they were trying to get the inmates. Artillery wagons and caissons were taken from their wheels and used as boats...."

"At Toulouse the solders of the garrison are engaged in tearing down the buildings that have been undermined, but which remain standing, the operations being conducted with the greatest care to prevent accidents. At every instant the noise of falling buildings is heard, and from time to time the solders come out with a wagon load of newly-found bodies...."

"MacMahon on the Spot"

"According to the precedent established by Napoleon III, who was always one of the first to arrive at the scene of any great disaster, the Marshal President, accompanied by his staff and a number of officials, arrived at Toulouse at 2:30 on Saturday. He began at once distributing the 100,000 francs voted by the Chamber, but it did not go far. The Marshal gave this in anticipation of the vote, but stated that the Assembly would vote the sum that day, but that it was so manifestly insufficient that many appeals would have to be made to private generosity. He made a number of visits, and was everywhere received with great enthusiasm, but it was remarked that the cries were all Vive le Maréchal and Vive la République. It is singular to note that the official and semi-offcial organs of the Republic received this fact with many expressions of satisfaction."

Feb 21: The flood of 1875

On June 23, 1875, after two weeks of rain, the the Garonne river (that runs through the middle of Toulouse) rose 27 feet in a matter of hours, surged over its banks, and washed away bridges, towns, buildings and lives along its course. The devastation was unimaginable: 209  lives and 1400 buildings were  lost in Saint-Cyprien alone,  and 25,000 people were left homeless..

The disaster had international coverage. The correspondent for the New York Times wrote:

"When I last wrote we were just receiving our first dispatches from the Midi, and no one had any idea of the extent of the great disaster that has fallen upon the country. We now know that the present inundations are  unparalleled, and that they far exceed those of 1855-6, of which we have heard so much. How many lives have been lost in this instance it is impossible to say at this time....since many missing people may have fled to the country for refuge, but near 1,000 bodies have been recovered up to this time. The stench arising from the ruined quarter of Saint Cyprien at Toulouse leads to the supposition that many bodies are yet lying beneath the stones of the fallen buildings.The towns and villages situated upon the immediate banks of the Garonne and Tarn have been nearly destroyed. Five miles from Toulouse is the village of Fenouiliat, which contained a population of between 800 and 900, and was composed of some 400 buildings of all sorts; but only three houses remain of all that was once Fenouillat. The whole town was swept away in a night. Comparatively speaking, the loos of life was small, the population moving out en masse at the approach of the flood, and taking refuge upon the neighboring heights. Scores of small hamlets were destroyed in a few hours' time, not a trace of them being left except a mass of fallen stones. The water carried away everything else....At Toulouse the whole quarter of Saint-Cyprien was overflowed in a few hours, and the water rose with such rapidity that those who failed to flee at once were speedily imprisoned in their houses....The Saint-Cyprien quarter of Toulouse had a population of about twenty thousand. Five hundred houses fell at once, and as many more are so nearly in ruins that orders have been given to have them pulled down. It is thought the the number of dead in this quarter will exceed 500, 215 bodies having been drawn from the ruins up to yesterday morning, and others are discovered every moment."

The Dépêche du midi, the local newspaper, sold a map of Toulouse to raise money (.75 ff) for the victims of the flood. Areas tinted blue show areas where flooding occurred. Red indicates destroyed buildings. A closeup shows that nearly all the buildings around what would become Place Olivier (Place du Chairedon ) were destroyed (including,I believe,the building housing the Frères  Olivier enterprise.)

 

Feb 9: the Fountain at Place Saint-Scarbes, Toulouse

When you leave Place Saint-Étienne, take rue Pierre de Fermat (named for the amateur mathematician (1607 - 1665) who lived in Toulouse). This exits just south of the Griffoul fountain. You'll walk down a narrow street lined with the homes of 17th and 18th century nobles--it is still a posh neighborhood--and in about 100 yards you will reach place Sainte-Scarbes.

There's a fountain here as well, but unlike the previous fountains--at Place Rouaix, Trinité and Saint-Étienne--this fountain is new. It replaced a fountain designed by architect André Vernette that had been installed in 1989, the aesthetics of which displeased the neighbors. It was too high, too out of scale, the color was ugly. They didn't like the materials used (concrete and fiberglass) or the style. It looked like something Mussolini would build! The offending fountain was removed in 2003 and replaced in 2006 by what we see now (at a cost of €250,000.)

Today's fountain is a white marble, stone and resin copy of an 18th century statue found in the musee des Augustins: Diana the huntress stands on a plinth above a basin of water that spills into a second basin below.

I managed to find a photo of the earlier fountain. It does look a little like something fascists would fancy--stark and modernistic yet having reference to the classical past.

I have been unable to identify what was in the place when the fountain was installed in 1989. Maybe nothing grand though Place Sainte-Scarbes has carried this name since at least the 13th century. During the Albigensian crusade the citizens of Toulouse were recorded as battling Simon de Montfort in this place.

Legend has it that Place Sainte-Scarbes once held an elm tree and an oratory dedicated to the Virgin Mary. Local historian, Jules Chalande, speculated that the name, Sainte-Scarbes, derived from a custom of laying sheaves of wheat (carbes) at the oratory (sainte). These were gone by the 16th century.

Towards the end of the 16th century, two sisters--Soupects and Nantouillet, were murdered in Place Sainte-Scarbes, and the local residents erected a cross  supported on four pillars in remembrance. Who knows how long that lasted?

 

 

 

Feb 7: Fontaine de Griffoul, Place Saint-Etienne, Toulouse

If, when you leave place Rouaix, you go east instead of west--away from Place de la Trinité--you will cross rue Alsace-Lorraine and follow rue Croix-Baragnon--dense with posh shops--to shortly arrive at Place Saint Etienne and a third memorable fountain, the fontaine de Griffoul, the oldest public fountain in Toulouse.

The Cathedral of Saint-Etienne presides over the Place. This place was once the site of the pillory where wrongdoers could be publicly shamed; the water was brought here by the same aqueduct that carried water to the fontaine Rouaix from a nearby hill. For many years, this was the only fountain in Toulouse, relied upon by many citizens.

Originally, water was just emptied into an octogonal marble basin (constructed in 1584) which was set three steps down from street level. This arrangement protected the women who came to get water here.

Then in 1593, the fountain was improved to the plans of city architect, Antoine Bachelier. A second smaller basin from the cloister of Saint-Etienne was added, supported on columns from the church of Saint Pierre-des-Cuisines. In the middle of this basin was a red marble obelisk, resting on a plinth decorated with bronze manneken pis--little boys who appeared to be relieving themselves. Water flowed from the urinating little boys to the upper basin, then spilled into the lower basin through mascaron heads. 

Pure renaissance style.

The fountain was a headache. It dried up in summer, and, unlike the citizens of Brussels who relish the "belgitude" and folk humor of their manneken-pis, many Toulousains found them shocking. 

After acts of vandalism and the theft of one of the statues, the manneken-pis were modified in 1649, then again in the early 18th century, and yet again, in 19th century. Finally, acceptably modest, the water flows from a fish held in manneken's hand.

In 1825, the fountain was connected to the new chateau d'eau in order to receive water from the Garonne (the same urban project that provided water to the fontaine de la Trinité.)

I took the first photo in 2007. The other images come from wikipedia.

Feb 6, 2022: The Trinity fountain in Toulouse

A second very ornamental fountain is found in Place de la Trinité, about 100 yards west of Place Rouaix. Three bronze sirens support a large basin with their wings, and the water tumbles down into a lower basin roughly 15 feet in diameter.

Place de la Trinité was originally a crossroads but its history dates back to the Roman Tolosa when it was at the heart of the city, near the Forum (now Place Esquirol.) The rue des Filatiers which still defines its western side was, in the Roman era, the cardo maximus--the north-south road found in every Roman city--and it intersected with the decumanus maximus--the east-west main road--not fifty feet from today's place de la Trinité.

The place de la Trinité takes its name from the monks Trinitaire who settled on this site in 1359. Their former monastery was built outside the walls of the city, and, during the Hundred Years War, the armies of the English Black Prince destroyed it (although he did not attack the formidable walls of Toulouse. The order of the monks Trinitaire was dissolved in 1790 during the Revolution.

During the first quarter of the 19th century, the triangular place that we know today was created by demolishing a mill--part of the monastery of the monks Trinitaire--that was on the site. The  fountain was installed in 1826 as part of a major urban project to provide clean drinking water to the citizens of Toulouse. 

The first image is a view of the fountain from wikipedia.

The second, also from wikipedia, is an old postcard.

The last photo is one I took on a frosty day in January, 2007. The water to the fountain was not turned off as the temperature dropped overnight, and the water froze, a fantastic effect.