Sacré-Coeur
is a mirage as you wind your way toward it through Pigalle,
Montmartre unfolding all around. It darts around far corners
of narrow
streets that suddenly dead end, as if body-guarding the basilica,
protecting
it from anyone who does not have legitimate business there.
That business is
simple, merely demanding respect for the unequalled impact
of peace that
billows down the steps that lead away from Sacré-Coeur,
cascading over the
generous parvis and onto the lower streets and allies. Though
Sacré-Coeur is
related to mirage, the desert does not mimic Paris in any
way except perhaps
for the tranquil quality of silent sound that hovers over
sands and lingers
within the smooth and sweeping walls of this majestic basilica
perched high
upon the hill.
Distracted
by the exterior beauty of the Abesses metro station
with its adjacent carousel, cafés, bistros, restaurants,
and shops, you can
almost forget about the basilica because it is fully hidden
from that depth.
Then, if you find yourself walking down
one particular street, the funicular
catches you by surprise, promises to deliver you to the
front door of
Sacré-Coeur. You board, ascend, and arrive. Try
to separate tourists from
resident visitors and realize those distinctions have no
substance. You are
all drawn there at the same time for a purpose. For some,
it is enough to
let the senses comprehend the sweeping view of Paris, spread
out before them
like a finely laid table. But you-perhaps for other than
religious
reasons-pass through the doors of the basilica and wander
to an inner pew.
As you sit or kneel, your purpose is revealed.
It is to experience
the other-worldly voices of the choir, to have some sense
of what all those
ancient dynasties were after when they decided that angels
had voices full
of song. You are filled with substance that reminds you
of awe. As you
acclimate to the notion of becoming one with a source greater
than yourself,
the singing stops, replaced by the deepest void you have
ever known. Then a
priest enters and reads scripture in a monotone. You look
around, do one
full pass of the corridor surrounding the nave, let your
hands slide against
the smooth stones of the wall. You feel something you cannot
name. Then you
emerge out into a new light, dimmer than how you remember
it but burning
bright.
Missing the funicular bound away from
glory, you take the steps
and think it was fortunate that the hunchback and Esmeralda
had Notre Dame
as their sanctuary for a while. For everyone else, you
decide, the one and
only Sacred Heart is no secondary refuge.
Yours truly,
Elizabeth
Barchas :
Gargoyle Carved Into the Sacre Coeur
Dominating the Paris landscape with its
stunning white basilica, the Sacre Coeur is a must-see
for any visitor
to Paris. Inside are striking stained glass windows and
a brilliant mosaic, but outside, climbing the dome to find
panoramic views stretching to the city limits, it’s
easy to stumble upon whimsical and beautiful architectural
touches, like the gargoyle that looks over Montmarte.
The
creature carved into the Sacre Coeur inspires the imagination
with its open mouth, as though it’s almost possible
to hear it cry. While appreciating its beauty, it’s
also useful to appreciate the story of how gargoyles
were derived. In the middle ages, legend has it that
a fierce,
fiery dragon lived in a cave on the river Seine and demanded
annual sacrifices of maidens and seamen from the residents
of Rouen. Finally, St. Romanus saved the city by placating
the dragon with a cross, and then mounted the creature’s
head and neck on a wall, which has served as a template
for gargoyles ever since.
Derived from the French word “gargouille,” which
means throat, gargoyles were originally used in gothic
cathedrals to appeal to illiterate churchgoers who
responded to visual representations of biblical stories.
In the
beginning they served the practical purpose of directing
water away
from the building, but by the time the first stone
was laid for the Sacre Coeur in 1875, pipes and gutters
were
more common, so gargoyles (or grotesques, as non-water-carrying
carvings are called) remained for artistic, spiritual,
and symbolic reasons. The gargoyle on the Sacre Coeur
is not particularly extravagant, but its simplicity
gives more freedom to the imagination. Jutting out of
the side
of the dome, which rises almost 200 meters above sea
level,
it overlooks the rooftops of Paris and the bohemian
neighborhood of Montmarte, where visitors can meander
among Picasso’s
studio, Van Gogh’s apartment, and the Moulin
Rouge within blocks of the cathedral.
Carved out of
Chateau-Landon
stone, which bleaches with age and thus gives the
basilica its striking whiteness, the gargoyle hints at
spirituality,
history, and legend. After visiting the Sacre Coeur
it’s
hard to forget the gorgeous interior of the basilica
and the striking views from the top of the dome. But
it’s
also impossible to forget the gargoyle, which remains
in memory long afterwards with its unique, simple features
and haunting open-mouth cry.
|
