Paris: Beneath the Surface

When most people take a trip to Paris, they check out the usual sights—Eiffel Tower, Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, along with a few more museums, gardens, and cathedrals. If they’re feeling adventurous, they may take the 30-minute train ride outside of Paris to see Versailles, or hop on the metro to Parc de la Villette and stroll down the canal. All I know is that I’ve never seen the Sewer Museum on any Paris tourism guides.

Of course, this didn’t stop us from venturing beneath the surface at the Musée des Égouts on Tuesday. Although the museum is not a prime tourist destination, I was surprisingly looking forward to the excursion. I had never imagined that someone could get so excited about sewers!

The sewers play an important role in Les Misérables, as they facilitate Jean Valjean’s escape from the failing barricade later on in the novel. Hugo spends a little under 20 pages diving into the intricacies of the Paris sewer system before detailing Jean Valjean’s rather graphic trek through said sewers.

Contrary to the weariness I experienced while reading some of Hugo’s other lengthy tangents, I was thoroughly entertained by the sewer chapters. I couldn’t help but picture Hugo doing loads of research on sewers, searching through maps and history books to aid his quest for sewer-related knowledge. It was quite funny to picture this, but at the same time, the message he conveyed through the exploration of the sewer system was very profound. He spoke on the progress we have made in terms of public waste management, and the general idea of progress is explored in the rest of the book.

In his chapters on progress, Hugo cites specific dates when large steps were made toward the improvement of the sewer system.

“In 1806 he lowered the floor of the Ponceau and, creating new routes everywhere, in 1809 he extended the sewers under Rue St-Denis to the Fontaine des Innocents, in 1810 under Rue Froid-Manteau and la Salpêtrière, in 1811 under Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Pères, Rue du Mail, Rue de l’Écharpe, Place Royale, and in 1812 under Rue de la Paix and Chaussée-d’Antin.”

— Les Misérables

At the Musée des Égouts, there was a fascinating timelapse video that showed a map of the sewers as the years went by. It was interesting to see the lines grow and diverge, becoming denser and denser over time. Having read Hugo’s history of the sewers, I had a rough understanding of how the system evolved prior to entering the museum, but the museum helped fill in the gaps. All I could think about was how much Hugo would have loved this museum—and how unfortunate it was that I found no references to Les Misérables down there!

Hugo also spent time describing the darkness of the sewers. They were a place of filth, a sort of criminal underworld. Reading this section reminded me of the River Styx, a key feature of Greek mythology. The Styx was said to separate the world of the living from the Underworld, which closely aligns with the text. Marius was barely hanging on to his life down there, and Jean Valjean’s quest to save him ended with exiting the sewers and returning him to the surface, aka the land of the living.

This connection to the Styx was reinforced by Jean Valjean’s walk through the sinkhole. When he was nearly at the point of collapse, with his head barely above the mud and water, Jean Valjean reached solid ground. The whole “Achilles’ heel” metaphor stems from the myth of Achilles, who was dipped in the Styx by his mother. He was fully submerged, except for his heel, which became the one spot on his body where he was vulnerable. One idea for this vulnerability is that humans cannot be fully invincible, as that would breed chaos. Throughout the novel, Jean Valjean survives so much and escapes so many difficult situations that I began to think of him as this invincible figure. I began to assume that no matter what obstacle he faced, he would somehow survive. It is important to remember that beneath the strength, he was still human. If we dig further into the idea of an Achilles heel and assume that Valjean’s walk through the sinkhole was a dip in the Styx, it actually makes sense that his face is his weak point. Try as he might to escape Javert, Javert almost always recognized Valjean by his face.

When Valjean exits the sinkhole, it is as if he has undergone some transformation. “He stood up, shivering, chilled, stinking, bowed beneath this dying man he was carrying, dripping all over with filth, his soul filled with a strange brightness” (1161). All of the words leading up to the part about  “a strange brightness” greatly contrast the end of the sentence. He is in the most miserable situation I can imagine, and yet he feels bright. This optimism speaks to Valjean’s resilience, which he has shown time and time again throughout the novel. Although his physical strength may not have been renewed, “his willpower was not [gone]” (1162). This bears some resemblance to the myth of Achilles, as Achilles gained a sense of confidence stemming from the invincibility the Styx granted him. While I’m sure Hugo did not intend to connect the “sewer sequence” to the River Styx, I still think it’s an interesting parallel to draw.

Overall, I loved getting to see a small section of the sewers, as it gave me a better idea of what Valjean would have been walking through. It did not smell as bad as I expected, which was a big win. Additionally, the museum just so happened to be across the river from the spot where we assume Valjean would have emerged from the sewers. So many great connections!

As my time in Paris comes to an end, so do my blogs. I have thoroughly enjoyed exploring the city through the lens of our two novels over the past month. I will be sure to pay closer attention to locations mentioned in books that I read in the future to see if I can map any of them!

Finding Faces in the Louvre

A trip to Paris would not be complete without a visit to the Louvre, so that’s where we headed off to this morning. Before going inside, I grabbed two pains au chocolat at the nearest boulangerie to fuel up for what I knew would be a long day of exploring the museum.

The bottom two floors (-1 and 0) were filled with sculptures, figurines, and other relics. I most enjoyed walking through the two main atria in the Richelieu wing, which had tons of incredible French sculptures. I tend to think of sculpture as a Greek and Roman specialty, so seeing so many different French statues in these rooms was fascinating.

Taking the stairs up to the first floor, I wandered through the old apartments of Napoleon III. These were incredibly opulent, similar to Versailles' use of gold and extravagant features. Many of the rooms had frescoes on the ceiling with biblical imagery, and large chandeliers helped provide light for the apartments.

The opposite wing was full of European (and a few American) paintings. The European rooms included many 19th-century French pieces, such as Liberty Leading the People and The Assassination of Marat. These paintings were all incredible, and they were done on very large canvasses, which added to my sense of awe. A common theme that I observed while exploring these rooms was that the pieces relied mostly on darker colors and hues. This was fitting because the majority of the paintings depicted battle scenes or death.

We were tasked with the fun job of finding characters from A Tale of Two Cities and Les Misérables in the paintings. In terms of my criteria, I tried to limit myself to paintings that were completed around the same period as when the two novels were set. This meant that I looked within the general interval of 1750-1850. I also went more off of the personality that I imagined the character might have rather than trying to match exact physical characteristics. As for which characters I specifically sought out, I mainly focused on Cosette, Marius, and Monsieur Gillenormand for Les Misérables. For A Tale of Two Cities, I looked for Lucie, Doctor Manette, and Charles Darnay. I wasn’t expecting to find characters like the Defarges because I assumed that many of the subjects artists would have chosen to depict would have been people from higher classes.

The first people I found were Marius and Cosette. In this painting, a man is sitting on a stone in a forest and a woman is resting on his leg. They both look to be at peace, and they seem to be in love. If we use our imaginations, the forest could be the garden at the Rue Plumet house. It is in this garden where Cosette and Marius meet every night to talk and admire each other for hours on end. If the man in the painting had more clothes on, then that would add to the plausibility of him being Marius.

I discovered Lucie Manette and little Lucie Darnay on a wall nearby. One of Lucie’s most defining characteristics is her hair, and unfortunately, the color was not accurate to Lucie’s in this painting; however, the personality that I could imagine this woman having seemed to match Lucie’s loving and delicate demeanor. The woman is a brunette rather than a blonde, and she is holding a lovely bouquet of flowers. She is also smiling softly and holding “Little Lucie’s” hand. I could envision Lucie gathering flowers to give to her father, Doctor Manette, when his mind was going back to his years in prison.

Speaking of Lucie’s father, there was a painting of an artist that seemed to mirror Doctor Manette’s personality. Doctor Manette is a little older, and he is a great physician who struggles with PTSD. The man in this painting had white hair, glasses, and he was holding a paint palette and brushes. If we were to swap the painting materials with either a stethoscope or shoemaking materials, we might have ourselves an Alexandre Manette. Honestly, I think it was mainly the glasses that made me think of Doctor Manette. I don’t remember him being described as wearing glasses, but it seems to fit him from my point of view.

Next up from A Tale of Two Cities was Charles Darnay, who I found with an alternative version of “Little Lucie.” The man in the picture is shown with his daughter, according to the plaque. He’s wearing a fairly form outfit, indicating that he is probably a little wealthy. Overall, I felt that this man could be an option for Charles Darnay.

Going back to our Les Misérables characters, the person that I found the most options for was actually Monsieur Gillenormand, Marius’s grandfather. He fits the profile of most of the men who would sit for these paintings: wealthy, elderly. I can imagine him wearing a fancy outfit and being a little heavier. The painting that I felt most accurately depicted Monsieur Gillenormand was by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres. It shows an older man sitting in a chair, looking like he’s very bored (which is understandable given that he’s probably been posing like that for hours). The second most accurate picture was of an older man with a younger woman, but I only focused on him. Once again, this man is elderly with white hair, wearing nice clothes, and sitting down. He is also holding what seems to be a coin, which in relation to our novel could have something to do with his wealth and status.

Although Jean Valjean is one of the most important characters in Les Misérables, I struggled to find a man that could be him in the galleries. His hair is described as being stark white, and in terms of personality, I imagine him having a kind face despite his harsh past. He is also supposed to be extremely strong. Much to my dismay, I didn’t really find anyone that matched these descriptions.

I’ve heard it can take a whole week to truly explore all the Louvre has to offer, and after walking through that maze of rooms today, I think that seven days might be an underestimate. I was satisfied with all I saw during the four hours I spent there, but I definitely could have spent days exploring. It was fun to find visuals for some of these characters that we’ve spent so much time diving into. As we wrap up our program this upcoming week, I look forward to continuing to discuss these characters further.

Mapping Les Misérables

As someone who loves looking at maps, I’ve had a field day mapping locations from Dickens’ and Victor Hugo’s Paris over the past week. It fascinates me to compare old maps with our contemporary maps and see where they differ. The urbanization of Paris becomes especially prominent when we look through the years, and I find it interesting to see how this huge international city has evolved over the centuries.

The main maps that we are using for our mapping exercises include the 1778 and 1823 maps of Paris. I’ve been relying on Google Maps for my modern comparison, usually switching it to satellite imagery so that I’m able to get a better understanding of what building or space occupies each land area.

Over the weekend, we were tasked with locating the house that Cosette and Jean Valjean lived in on Rue Plumet. Hugo notes that the house was previously owned by a High Court judge, and it had a villa, a garden, and a big iron gate.

“Towards the middle of the last century, a High Court judge in the Paris parliament who was keeping a mistress on the sly – for in those days aristocrats were open about their mistresses and the bourgeoisie were secretive about theirs – had ‘a little house’ built in Faubourg St-Germain, on that deserted street Rue Blomet, now called Rue Plumet, not far from the spot then known as the Combat des Animaux.”

— Les Misérables

Hugo goes into so much detail about the layout and appearance of this house that we can assume it was based on a real house in that location. Although the passage of time has likely reshaped this house into something different today, we still walked down the Old Rue Plumet, now called Rue Oudinot. We actually did manage to find a large gate, but there was no garden in sight. Turning the corner, we found another tall black gate with lots of greenery around it.

On Monday, I studied the maps to find the street where Marius and his grandfather lived (Rue des Filles du Calvaire), as well as Jean Valjean's apartment on Rue de l’Homme-Armé. Finding both of these locations proved to be fairly straightforward.

“The lodgings in Rue de l’Homme-Armé were situated overlooking a back yard, on the second floor, and comprised two bedrooms, a dining room and adjoining kitchen, and a room under the eaves with a trestle-bed that was allotted to Toussaint.”

— Les Misérables

Near the end of the novel when Jean Valjean is living alone, he walks to Marius and Cosette’s house daily. The happy couple lives with Marius’s grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormand, on Rue des Filles du Calvaire. Valjean is described as exiting his house on the St. Croix de la Bretonnerie side, then walking past Blancs Manteaux up to Rue Culture St. Catherine. He is said to turn left at Rue d’Écharpe onto Rue St. Louis. Valjean continues along this road until he nears the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, where he turns around to head back home. Although there are some gaps in Hugo’s route, we have enough information to trace a possible route that Valjean could have taken.

On Wednesday, we began our walk by finding the approximate location of Valjean’s house on Rue de l’Homme-Armé. We discovered that the modern name for this street is Rue des Archives, and we made our way up this street. We turned onto Rue des Blancs Manteaux, near what used to be the Blancs Manteaux monastery.

We stopped at the Victor Hugo museum in Place des Vosges along the way to try to gain a glimpse into Hugo’s life. I most enjoyed seeing the painting of Jean Valjean helping Cosette lift her water bucket, which was the scene in the book where Valjean met Cosette for the first time.  Seeing this reminder of their relationship made me realize how sad Valjean must have felt stumbling through these streets. He deeply missed Cosette, who for so many years had been his reason to keep going and do good in the world.

We did not finish the walk all the way to Monsieur Gillenormand’s house on Rue des Filles du Calvaire, because one of our group felt faint in the heat - but our failure to complete the walk was actually more true to Jean Valjean’s experience following this route. Marius, believing it best for Jean Valjean and his criminal past to stay far away from him and Cosette, had made Valjean feel alienated from the family. Valjean’s hopelessness caused his walks to become shorter and shorter until he no longer even left his bedroom. Similar to Jean Valjean, we did not walk all the way to the place where Marius and Cosette lived.

Transitioning from mapping residences to mapping the events that took place in the Latin Quarter, we started off by locating Café Musain. The café was used as a meeting place for the Friends of the ABC, the fictional student revolutionary group that met to discuss politics and life.

“They met in Paris in two places, near Les Halles in a tavern called the Corinthe, of which we shall hear more later, and near the Panthéon in a little café on Rue St-Michel called Café Musain, which has now been pulled down.”

— Les Misérables

Even though the café is located on Rue St-Michel, the Friends of the ABC were said to have met in a back room with a staircase that led to Rue des Grès. I found the little Rue des Grès right near the Luxembourg Gardens, another key book location.

In our afternoon bookpacking for this section of the novel, we strolled around the Latin Quarter before locating the site of the Café Musain. The Latin Quarter was really neat to explore. With university buildings, small restaurants, and narrow streets, I could imagine Marius walking around the area as a young man. He would have walked into the back room of Café Musain, listening in on the Friends of the ABC as they talk politics. There is no longer a café on the corner of the old Rue des Grés and Rue St-Michel, but we stopped at the nearest café for an afternoon snack.

Being able to map these locations and routes before we go out to explore has really helped immerse me in the bookpacking experience. Every mapping exercise is like a little scavenger hunt, and I can’t wait to continue walking the streets of Paris, tracing the steps taken by characters in Les Misérables.

French Opulence

Bonjour! I’ve had an incredible time exploring Paris over the past week, embracing the delicious food, rich culture, and stunning architecture. There is truly nothing better than flâneuring around the city, following your nose to a boulangerie, and successfully ordering a croissant in broken French. The French are really onto something with these pastries!

Aside from eating mouth-watering food, we’ve spent our morning seminars discussing the causes and events of the French Revolution, and after exploring Versailles yesterday, I fully sympathize with the revolutionaries.

Although the characters did not visit Versailles in A Tale of Two Cities, it represents a key cause of the revolution: class divides. The incredible opulence of the palace and surrounding gardens is enough to make anyone realize how unfair life must have been for everyone who was not at the very top of French society.

Walking through the town on the way to the château, there was nothing in particular that jumped out at me. It seemed like an ordinary and quiet country town. However, turning the corner onto Ave. de Paris, I found myself awestruck at the pure size of the Château de Versailles. It loomed over the town on its hill, and the golden gates glistened in the mid-morning sunlight.

We began our tour in the main château. Intricately carved statues lined long halls, and thick tapestries hung on the walls. Looking up, I marveled at the stunning frescoes that covered the ceilings in many of the rooms, most notably in the royal chapel.

To think that this residence was home to so few kings amazes me. While the nobility walked these gilded halls, the lower classes struggled to afford a stale piece of black bread. Dickens explored the ignorance of the aristocrats through the Marquis. The Marquis ran over a child without a second thought, throwing down a coin as an offering for the life he had just taken. Just as Versailles sits above the town on its little hill, the upper class thought themselves to be on a whole other level.

In order to immerse ourselves in the full opulence of Versailles, we stopped for some hot chocolate at Angelina. This was by far the richest and thickest hot chocolate I had ever had, and it paired perfectly with a dollop of Chantilly cream (which I learned was one of Marie Antoinette’s favorite toppings).

After our break, we continued our tour by exploring the sprawling gardens. Looking at a map of Versailles, the main château barely takes up any space. It is mainly dominated by the vast classical gardens. I struggled to wrap my head around the fact that this palace was actually someone’s home rather than an incredible tourist site. With around 2,300 rooms and 800 hectares of gardens, someone could probably spend months exploring Versailles.

Our first glimpse of France in A Tale of Two Cities is of the people desperately drinking spilled wine in front of Defarge’s wine shop. As I strolled through the gardens, I kept this image in mind. The desperation and poverty that Dickens conveyed through this sequence were starkly contrasted by the opulence of the gardens alone.

After walking for about two miles in the gardens, I finally came across the estate of Trianon. It consists of three main areas—the Grand Trianon, Petit Trianon, and Queen’s Hamlet. When someone stopped me to ask which one of the many surrounding châteaux belonged to Marie Antoinette, I paused before answering uncertainly: “I think all of them.”

Of course, pointing the finger at Marie Antoinette is similar to hating Madame Defarge. They were both products of their upbringing, with Marie Antoinette being brought into this society and Madame Defarge being shaped by her family’s tragic past. Marie Antoinette is often seen as a prime example of the opulence of the upper class, but she is just one of the many nobles who prospered at the expense of the lower classes. It truly is no wonder the tension between the upper and lower classes boiled up to the point of revolution.

Jumping to the modern day, it is mind-boggling that monarchies still exist today. While I understand that the class divide in these countries is not nearly as wide as the class divide in revolutionary France, it is still odd to consider that a person can hold so much power over a country simply based on their ancestry. Versailles is not unique in its opulence—plenty of other palaces around the world are still occupied by the nobility. This leads me to question whether all monarchies are headed towards their end as our world continues to modernize.

As we have learned through Les Misérables, the abolishment of the monarchy in France did not necessarily put an end to all the issues the country was facing. A new order still had to be established. We will be diving into Les Misérables this week, and it will be interesting to explore the outcomes of the revolution, what came next, and how successful it was in breaking down class divides. À bientôt!

Juxtaposition

London gave us a warm welcome. Maybe a little too warm, as the 100+ degree temperatures on our first two days of exploration made me realize how much I took for granted two essential things that England seems to be in short supply of: water fountains and air conditioning.

Despite the high temperatures, we powered on, making our way through London’s political and legal centers. For Charles Dickens, we started where he ended. His body lies in Westminister Abbey, marked with a simple dark stone. We took a tour, partially motivated by the idea of seeing the abbey and also drawn in by the promise of air conditioning. It was absolutely incredible, with beautiful stained glass windows and intricate carvings.

I was fascinated by the fact that Dickens is buried mere meters away from the very political figures that essentially ran the country he commented on. At the beginning of the second book of A Tale of Two Cities, Dickens takes some time to describe Tellson’s Bank. He paints it as a small, stuffy, unattractive place, and he uses this description to provide insight into England in the year 1780. Based on my observations from this past week, his critique of England’s old-fashioned ways remains true to this day; however, remnants of the old are not-so-smoothly blended with reflections of our modern era.

On a surface level, ornate palaces and buildings line the streets, intermixed with modern architectural feats like the Gherkin. Walking down the streets feels like walking through centuries of construction and reconstruction. Lloyd’s Bank, which has been around for hundreds of years, is housed in a building that closely resembles the hi-tech style of the Centre Pompidou in Paris: All the guts of the building are on the outside, and the entire building is done in exposed steel.

We spent our second day in “legal” London. Walking past the Old Bailey, I could imagine the many trials that took place there, including the fictional trial of Charles Darnay. Jerry Cruncher would have walked in to deliver the note to Mr. Lorry, and Lucie and Dr. Manette would have sat inside as witnesses to the Darnay’s alleged crimes. Once again, it was quite interesting to see such an old establishment in a buzzing international metropolis. This is a place where people used to be sent to Tyburn to be hanged if found guilty, and now they’re being tried for modern crimes.

From there, we made our way to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, which is officially my new favorite restaurant name. Not exactly my favorite restaurant, but the inside was incredible to see. The hard wooden benches, antique paintings, and creaky wooden floors helped me envision Charles Dickens coming here back in the day. Although I did not take a picture with the plaque marking the space that was supposedly his favorite seat in the pub, I was able to photograph the original copy of A Tale of Two Cities enclosed in a glass case. It was even turned to page 54, the exact page where Sydney Carton and Darnay go for a drink at a pub. According to the path Dickens describes them taking from the Old Bailey to the pub, the Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese is predicted to be the pub in question.

With Wednesday came overcast skies and a drizzle of rain. I was glad to finally have a slice of what I expect when I think about London weather. Ducking into a side street on our walk, we looked at an old inn where coaches would have stopped to transport passengers. Seeing this old inn helped me envision what Mr Lorry’s journey by coach might have been like. In true London fashion, the juxtaposition between the old and the new could be seen there. A brightly colored sign describing upcoming events for this summer stands in front of this 17th-century inn.

Later on in the day, we made our way over to St. Paul’s Cathedral, the current site of Temple Bar. It was an odd sight to stumble upon Temple Bar—a historic structure that once stood on the Strand—wedged between two random buildings. I could just barely get a glimpse into the room atop the archway, which used to be a bookkeeping room for a bank. This suggests that Dickens might have used the bank that occupied this space as inspiration for Tellson’s. After all, his vivid descriptions indicate a high level of detail that appears based on truth.

On Thursday, we truly dove into Dickens as an author. We started off at Jarndyce, an antique bookstore specializing in 19th-century texts. I was shocked to see that these precious first editions and rare books were not locked up, but rather exposed to curious hands. Being able to flip through an original copy of A Tale of Two Cities felt like touching history. As we all took pictures with our modern phones, I was once again reminded of how sharply the old and the new are contrasted here.

We continued on to the Charles Dickens Museum on 48 Doughty Street. More of a house rather than a museum, I loved walking through the halls where he walked and passing the desk where he worked on his novels.

Prior to watching Les Mis at the theater, we walked around Soho Square and located what is believed to have been the inspiration for the Manette house. We also discovered that the alleyway behind it is now aptly named Manette Street. Walking by, I could hear the footsteps of those who walked around us, similar to the many footsteps heard in the novel.

Stepping into Dennis Severs’ House on Friday afternoon, I got a final glimpse of modernity mixing with history. Everything in the house looked so recent yet so old. The duvet on the bed was untidy, as if someone had just woken up and left the room. All the food at the table was real, and someone had taken two bites out of the piece of toast. Finding our way back out of the house through the candlelight, we exited onto the street and back into the modern world.

As we begin to explore Paris in a few days, I’m curious to see if there will be such a significant contrast between the old and the new. Will skyscrapers cast shadows over 17th and 18th-century architecture? Will modern companies occupy ornate and historical buildings? I look forward to finding the answers to these questions as we dig deeper into A Tale of Two Cities next week.