Postcards from St Maurice: Visit to Laon

[Evan writes:]

On Sunday, four of us took the TER (regional) train to Laon, to revisit my favourite cathedral. Our trip began by taking the métro from Charenton-Écoles to the stop at Strassbourg-St Denis, where we intended to switch either to the No. 4 or No. 5 line.

Cleverly, both lines were closed for repairs. Bad start. So I talked with a taxi driver who had just parked, but he insisted it was only a short walk and wouldn't take us (I think he felt it was time for his morning coffee). Fortunately, the four of us are brisk walkers, so we walked the remaining 21 minutes to Gare du Nord to buy train tickets from a machine to Laon and back. The train trip was perhaps 90 minutes or so one-way. It being a Sunday morning, we had an entire car to ourselves, so it was a most pleasant ride.

In Laon, we started looking for the place to catch the navette/cable car that takes people up the hill. I finally asked a gentleman, who informed me that it was not running on Sundays! Oh dear, this meant that we had to take the pilgrims' walk, all 300+ steps, plus several long and steep grades without steps. Off we went, thinking that if only we were Catholics, this labour might at least save a bit of time in Purgatory. As it is, it was simply a long slog, no points collected.

The views were rewarding and (equally important at this point in life) gave me opportunity to pause and let my heart catch up.

But it was a bit discouraging to walk uphill, looking down on the tracks for the cable car which should have been operating, and think that for a mere Euro or two, one could have made the trip in comparative luxury.

When we got to the top, we finally entered the medieval city of Laon, untouched by the two wars (no industry worth bombing, though the Germans had used the cathedral for non-ecclesiastical purposes).

We were greeted by one of the pilgrimage streets being enhanced with thousands of blueish strips of plastic which glistened in the bright light. The French enjoy this type of decoration.

One street featured hundreds of colourful umbrellas.

Finally, the cathedral itself. Sadly, I find that I didn't take a shot which shows the oxen up in the two towers, looking out over the rich farmland far below. This was in thanks for all the labour they performed while pulling each and every stone and timber beam up the big hill to the building site.

We couldn't wait to see the cathedral from the inside, so we briefly postponed lunch and walked in. We were pleased that Mass was still being said (and nearly over), so we got to hear a bit of singing (dreadful, truth be told--the organist and soloist were on the same page but not the same beat, and almost on the same pitch). We got to hear a bit of the organ, but could not evaluate its potential since the music was so modest, even for the recessional. There was no choir, just the altar boys and padre.

We walked a bit in the cathedral and started taking in its dimensions and grandeur.

Hunger soon won the day and we realized it was surely time for lunch. So we left the cathedral momentarily and looked for a place to eat. The restaurant facing the front of the cathedral had some tables left, well under the umbrellas protecting one from the sunshine, so we settled in for a lovely noon meal of local treats.

My dish was a special sausage made of rabbit and gentle spices, accompanied by a caramelized apple.

Smoked salmon was good, even though not from Canada's west coast.

Janice had a cheese melted in a lite pastry.

Tom has been intrigued with French burgers. The beef is absolutely lean, no fat whatsoever, but the cheese provides a bit of fat and the buns are excellent. The fries were perfect, possibly done by air instead of being fried in deep fat.

Bonnie and I both concluded the meal with a café gourmand, an espresso with three tiny samples of desserts, one of which must be chocolate (it seems). In fact, I suspect that some French people drink coffee as an excuse to have a piece of chocolate on the side. It is a perfect combination. [To our friends reading this in the hospital, my sincere apologies since I know you are existing on hospital cuisine these days.]

Meanwhile, some tents had been set up in front of the cathedral and a few old fashioned games were on display. Tossing games (points if you tossed a coin into a hole on a board), a 5-in-a-row game, etc. All were pre-electronic, and children enjoyed them.

Back inside the cathedral, I started wandering around, photographing whatever hit my fancy. These are but a few of the shots I took. Floor tiles fascinate me, and they seem to wear well, especially in the small side chapels.

The sense of height, of well-articulated levels of height, and of larger spaces being subdivided into smaller spaces, each with its visual purpose--it all intrigues me if only I take a bit of time to think it through.

I often wonder if I might have enjoyed being a monk, since I certainly enjoy singing and the comfort of liturgy. But that little bit about celibacy, and the complete obedience to the abbot do not interest me. Nevertheless, I like to imagine, from the safety of my wandering mind . . . if even just the men in the Vancouver Cantata Singers could sing chant here, it was be such a great experience in these acoustics.

The ribbed vaulting in Laon was advanced for its time, delicate and yet truly structural. This cathedral became a model for other such structures.

The pulpit had interesting carvings in relief.

Then, the most wonderful thing happened. It was finally time for us to take a tour of the tribune, that mysterious second floor above the side aisles. We were led by a guide who spoke in very rapid memorized French, but her voice carried, so we could follow much of what she was saying. That said, I had already read most of the information on local posters, and I just wanted to get upstairs. We finally did.

I don't know what this wonderful area was used for origionally. These days, it stores tombstones which used to be on the cathedral's floor but are now so worn you cannot read the names. I know that sometimes musicians would play/sing from above, but do not know if this was the case at Laon. In any case, in medieval times, the monks would have had their assigned stall seats between the altar and the nave, where the laity gathered. The tribune's floor apparently helps to bind the structure together, making it more sound structurally, but I'm not sure why. As you can see, there were originally no railings for safety purposes.

We were not allowed to climb up to the next level, the triforium, for good reasons. There are no railings, the walkway is just deep enough for the shoulders of a smaller medieval worker, and indeed, this decorative walkway was intended only for stout-hearted workmen, both in the 1200s and now, enabling them to gain access to the various doorways to the roof, etc. I dream of a complete tour of those hidden passages, but know it will never happen.

We were allowed to go only where there were securely anchored railings. I was disappointed that these did not extend to either end of the cathedral, because I really wanted to take a perfectly-symmetrical photo of the cathedral from one end or the other.

Finally the tour was over and we carefully descended a well-lit tightly winding stone stairway back to the main level.

The two rose windows are beautiful, with their rich medieval reds and blues so typical of the day. The east window tells of the incarnation and the west of the final judgment. Everything has been thought through carefully.

One chapel was decorated with many marble plaques having simply-stated expressions of gratitude and thanks to the Virgin for remembering them, helping them, etc. More recently, less wealthy pilgrims have penciled similar notes of thanks, less permanent, but equally heart-felt. I was pleased that the cathedral's officials are not removing these special graffiti.

Housecleaning is forever a chore, and this is all the more the case in cathedrals. Since I hate housecleaning, I have no idea why I sometimes notice the occasional need for a duster. Spiders, ever diligent and hopeful, spin webs even in cathedrals. Perhaps they are giving of their art and creativity to the cathedral's beauty?