Henri-Francois de Breteuil in front of his home, Chateau de Breteuil. Photo GLK

I’m fascinated, both personally and professionally, by the way individuals, place, culture, and history fit together and/or play off each other. Sometime this winter I’ll get around to writing about my encounter with Henri-Francois de Breteuil and the rewards of visiting his home, which is open to the public and gives a glimpse into the interplay of historical nobility and contemporary culture. But I’m in the U.S. this month, where aristocracy, past and present, scarcely enters my mind.

Until I was in Philadelphia the other day, that is. Walking through the historical city of the Founding Fathers, by Independence Hall and the Liberty Ball, I was shocked to see posters for an exhibition currently at the adjacent National Constitution Center entitled “Diana: A Celebration.”

The National Constitution Center, is, to quote its mission, “an independent, nonpartisan, nonprofit organization dedicated to increasing public understanding of the U.S. Constitution and the ideas and values it represents… [and] serves as a museum, an education center, and a forum for debate on constitutional issues.”

How Princess Diana serves that purpose is beyond me, and it’s clearly beyond the presidents, former and current, of the National Constitution Center itself since their explanation for the show is strikingly flimsy.

In October, when the show opened, the NCC’s then-President and CEO Linda E. Johnson, expressed the hope that this exhibit would “have broad appeal, which will allow the Center to expand its audience and, in turn, introduce more visitors to the remarkable stories of ‘We the People’ celebrated here every day.” In short, an acknowledgement that Diana has no relation to the Constitution but promises to bring in visitors willing to offer up a $23 entrance fee and fill their shopping carts of Diana trinkets to muscle up NCC’s coffers.

This fall a new NCC president and CEO, David Eisner, took over, and he was apparently equally clueless as to the link between the disturbed and tragic princess and the U.S. Constitution. “This stirring tribute to Princess Diana,” he claimed earlier this month, “is a way of exploring America’s historical relationship and fascination with aristocracy.”

National Constitution Center. Photo GLK

Bullshit! Whatever sympathy or regard or celebrity-awe one feels for Diana, celebrating her in no way explores America’s historical relationship with aristocracy but simply celebrates celebrity.

Back in France, anyone with an ear open to cult and culture of history hears debates about national treasures such as Versailles trying to balance the interests of historians and preservationists, the need to draw paying visitors, and the desire to keep Versailles “alive.” Last year, a wonderful occasion for such a debate was the decision of curators to display kitsch contemporary works by Jeff Koons, including an enormous, pink, balloon-like dog, against the exuberant prima-kitsch of 17th and 18th –century royal apartment. I didn’t care for the dog, and Versailles is less significant today than the U.S. Constitution, but it was a worthy debate.

Yet Diana at the NCC isn’t even debate material let alone a teaching moment or anything else warranting the show here. In fact, the premise of the show (I did not in fact go but read the press kit) makes a mockery of the public that the NCC is intended to serve, telling us: Let’s face it, you’re too stupid to understand anything about the Constitution so come over here where we can show you some teary and feel-good fluff: Diana’s wedding gown; dresses and gowns designed by Versace, Valentino, etc.; Elton John/Bernie Taupin’s song about yet another dead blonde; Diana’s eulogy from her brother; home movies of her childhood; brunch with Diana’s personal chef on Dec. 20; and did we mention that we have gift shop?

The U.S. Constitution in all that? Nada! But she was such a humanitarian, some will cry—or, as a man who had just spend $140 on Diana paraphernalia for his shrine back home said, “You just don’t like her.”

Perhaps, but more to the point I like the idea of discussing, understanding and appreciating Constitution. I’ve got nothing against a Diana show but why here? Call her a humanist rather than a humanitarian and her story may be worthy of debate regarding the Constitution, say that she wanted a ban on bearing arms rather than on landmines and you can get a good argument going, but celebrating Diana’s celebrity offers the public nothing but ignorance about the Constitution.

America’s historical relationship with aristocracy would be more appropriately explored through a show featuring Queen Elisabeth II, the Emperor of Japan, the Shah of Iran, the King of Thailand, or even the Count of Breteuil. We have nothing to learn from Diana regarding the Constitution except how low the NCC will stoop to draw visitors.

Nevertheless, my personal distaste for the premise of this show is on the wrong side of history. I came to that sad conclusion yesterday when reading the syndicated “Today In History” column in a local newspaper in New Jersey. Among the “highlights in history” for Dec. 9 was noted:
“In 1941: China declared war on Japan, Germany and Italy.”
“In 1990: Poles elected Solidarity labor union founder Lech Walesa president in free elections.”
“In 1992: Prince Charles and Princess Diana of Britain announced they were separating but had no plans for divorce.”
“In 2001: The United States disclosed a video in which Osama bin Laden said he was pleasantly surprised by the extent of damage from the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in New York, Washington and Pennsylvanis.”

If Diana’s separation from Charles with “no plans for divorce” can earn a place in the above list then maybe that Versace dress does have something to do with the Constitution. If anyone can tell me which article I’d much obliged.

Diana: A Celebration at the National Constitution Center, Oct. 2, 2009-Jan. 3, 2010, 525 Arch Street, Independence Mall, Philadelphia, PA. www.constitutioncenter.org.

The Sainte Chapelle in Paris, a royal chapel once attached to the palace of the kings of France, is well known as a jewel of 13th-century stained glass and Gothic architecture. Far less known yet deserving a place on the trails of the return traveler is the other Sainte Chapelle, the royal chapel at the Chateau de Vincennes, which reopened on May 13 after 9 years of restoration.

Vincennes is an easy 20-minute metro ride from the center of Paris. To get to there you need only take the metro to the end of the Château de Vincennes line (line 1), step outside, and cross the drawbridge across the moat.

This is the only medieval fortified castle remaining in the Paris region. Acrobatic workers were doing some maintenance on the drawbridge when I arrived on a gray spring day for the press opening of the chapel.

The Sainte Chapelle of Vincennes doesn’t have the explosive beauty of the chapel in Paris, but it is in fact a direct descendent of the royal chapel in Paris. Sainte Chapelle means holy chapel, a name typically used to designate a royal chapel built to house important relics.

Like the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, the sanctity of Vincennes’s chapel came from the fact that at one time or another both held articles sold to King Louis IX in 1237 said to be relics of Christ’s Passion: a piece of the Cross and the Crown of Thorns. (They’re now kept at Notre-Dame.)

Louis IX (1214-1270) ordered the construction of the Sainte Chapelle at his castle in Paris specifically to house, reflect, and honor the significance of those relics. He also set about transforming a royal hunting lodge at Vincennes, to the east of his capital, into a fortified castle and an important seat of his power.

Already the relics were being held at Vincennes while awaiting construction of the chapel in Paris. It was from Vincennes that the king bid farewell to his family before leading the Crusades of 1248 and 1270, the 7th and 8th Crusades. He died in Tunisia on that final crusade. By then he had transformed the royal castle at Vincennes into the second major royal abode after that on Ile de la Cité in the middle of Paris.

In 1379, Charles V (1338-1380) ordered the construction of the Sainte Chapelle at Vincennes. During an era whose history would eventually be dominated by The Hundred Years War, the project was part of an effort to solidify both his power and his castle in the face of threats to his in reign from nearby dukedoms, from within Paris itself, and from the English. The dungeon/keep, seen here, was completed by the time of death. Guided tours are given there.

As to the chapel, it was just getting started when Charles V died. Though initially pursued under his son’s reign, it advanced through fits and starts and it wasn’t completed until 1552, under Henri II. That explains the Hs that decorate the chapel’s vaulted ceiling, below left. The detail below right indicates that it was built as a French royal chapel.

On Dec. 26, 1999, winds whipping through the Paris region at 90 miles an hour broke though stained glass and destabilized vaults and damaged sculptural work inside and out, so the chapel required important restoration work. It reopened this week for the first time since then, though renovations will continue on the exterior and in some windows.

While Vincennes’s chapel doesn’t have the impressive stained glass of the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, its glass and stone form a peaceable, harmonic space inside beneath a gracious vaulted ceiling.

A temporary exhibit of Bulgarian icons, now accompanying the reopening of the chapel, prohibits a full view of that space and allows only partial glimpses of its inner harmony. But the icons themselves have their own static beauty, as the 10th-century ceramic icon of Saint Theodore, below left, and the 18th-century story-telling icon of Saint Panteleimon, the healer, below right.

In addition to its medieval portions (chapel, dungeon, moat) of the Castle of Vincennes, the former royal complex also has major remnants from its role as a 17th-century pleasure place. In the early 19th century Napoleon I ordered the complex converted into barracks for his army and then also an arsenal. The complex still belongs to the Army.

Admission to the complex is free, however, there is an admission fee for the chapel (with the exhibit of icons) and dungeon. Admission to the chapel during this exhibit, showing until Aug. 30, costs 8€. A joint ticket for the chapel/exhibit and the dungeon costs 12€. The chapel and the dungeon are open daily 10am-6pm except during the June 21 Music Festival. Click here for further practical information.

Other religion, other relics: While Vincennes’s Sainte Chapelle no longer has a religious function, a major religious structure elsewhere in the Vincennes Woods (Bois de Vincennes) is very much in operation. That’s the Grand Buddhist Pagoda, which on May 17 will receive the relics of the Buddha Sakyamouni that recently arrived from Thailand. The Grand Pagoda is located in the park a 15-minute walk from the Porte Dorée metro station (line 8).

During my backpacking days in the early 80s, I developed a fondness for the bustle of European train stations, the excitement of currency change, the stock-broker-like fascination for the names up on the big board, the grandchild-like fascination with the old ladies in southern Europe who would watch your luggage for a small fee as you explored the city or went searching for a place to bed down, and the mild-to-pronounced seediness of the station neighborhood.

Each major station was different in that it represented that city or region or country yet clearly was connected with other places, people, and culture. Not only was the train station of Berlin or Paris or Belgrade or Rome specific in its own right, but the atmosphere of each lent itself to imagining stations, and all that went with them, elsewhere: Brussels, Amsterdam, Vienna, Rome, Prague, etc. Everywhere I went the grand station announced: You have arrived—and tomorrow you can be someplace totally different.

The early 80s was, in a sense, the tail end of post-war train travel, particularly in France where the arrival of the first line of the TGV, the high-speed train, opened between Paris and Lyon in 1981. Extensions and new lines from Paris would follow: south to Nice, Montpellier, Bordeux; west to Brittany, north to the Chunnel, and, since 2007, east to Champagne, Lorraine, Alsace, and Germany.

Paris is unique in Europe in that it sustains four train stations for long-distance regional and international traffic—Nord North, Est/East, Lyon, and Montparnasse—and two for less distant regional traffic—St. Lazare and Austerlitz.

With each new tentacle of the TGV the corresponding train station in Paris has been renovated and modernized. The renovation of Gare de l’Est, the East Station, is the most recent of these.

Hall within west entrance of Gare de l'Est. Photo GLK.

Over the past week I’ve made periodic stops at Gare de l’Est to get a feel for the place. I’ve been there in the morning, in the afternoon (to interview the shop owner), during early evening rush hour, and during late evening downtime. The station is a 15-minute walk from my apartment. My initial intention was to go there once to write an article about a boutique in the station that sells products from the Lorraine region. But then I also decided to mention a shop outside the station, a caterer that sells Alsatian fare. And that turned into the broader investigation about Alsace and Lorraine in Paris that resulted into the article I posted yesterday in this sites Paris/Boutiques section.

Thursday night, leaving friends in the 18th arrondissement who had invited me over for dessert and digestif (one of those city invitations you get when you call a friend at 10pm and find out that he’s in the middle of dinner with another friend), I decided to walk home. It was 1:30am. It was a relatively mild evening, it had stopped raining, I had my coat on, and I had research to do.

On my way home I walk by Gare du Nord and checked out what brasseries were still busy at that hour and how safe the area felt at 2am (quite, it seemed to me that night). From there I wandered around the streets surrounding Gare de l’Est.

Once at home I realized that there was more to write about than I’d put in my boutique article. Among other things, I hadn’t mentioned a famous 40-foot long painting at Gare de l’Est (photo above). So I went back today for more research, which I’ll soon write up for an article in the Paris/Explorations section.

Like other stations, Gare de l’Est and its surroundings have surrendered to progress the excitement, seediness, and currency exchange of French train stations as I remember them from the early 80s. What it has now is history, and a smooth ride to Lorraine and Alsace, and, for me, an easy walk home.

East entrance to Gare de l'Est. Photo GLK.

The other day I invited my mother to come with me to visit the Philadelphia Art Museum and the city’s Rodin Museum. She was ironing at the time, preparing her bags for winter in Florida.

“How much do those museums cost these days?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m the press.”
“Why are you depressed?” she asked.

I said, “I’m THE press.”
She said, “That’s not good, you shouldn’t be depressed.”
“THE… PRESS.”

My mother set aside her iron.
“Is it because of your website?” she said. “You just have get word out that it’s there. When people see it they’re sure to love it.”

“You don’t understand. I’m the press. I’m a travel writer.”
“I know, and you’re very good at it. So it shouldn’t get you down.”
“I’m THE… PRESS.”
“By why? Is it because no one’s traveling to France due to the bad economy. You just have to ride it out and keep doing what you enjoy. So many people would love to have your freedom.”

“I’m still THE… PRESS.”
“Well you shouldn’t be! You have so much going for you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

This continued for several minutes until I showed my mother my press pass.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said. “You would tell me if you were really depressed though, wouldn’t you?”

I’m not so sure now. Still, another year has come to an end and I don’t have any plans for New Year’s Eve. So I think I’ll just stay at home and be the press.

I’ve always confused Van Dyck with Titian and Velasquez and El Greco. Good thing the wow! of the Van Dyck exhibit isn’t understanding the artist’s place in art history or even being able to distinguish him from the others but the wonder of looking into the eyes of the people he painted. Hated the paintings of English aristocracy, their faces and poses made skin crawl, but got drawn into many of the others. Loved the painting below, a double portrait with two brothers. It’s the contrast and similarity of the two that I find so striking, the ironic regard of the one, the fleeing yet intense gaze of the other.

Lucas and Cornelis de Wael, 1627, Antoon Van Dyck. Pinacoteca Capitolina, Rome.

 Now how do I write an article about that?