A
Lesson in Optimism, or Why the Angel Smiles
La
Champagne and le Champagne: a single letter distinguishes
the province and its product, the nurturing land
and its ebullient offspring. It was in the late
1600s, at the abbey of Hautvillers (a charming spot
you can still visit today) that a Benedictine monk
named Dom Pierre Pérignon invented the sparkling
wine known as Champagne, using grape juice from
vineyards that Celtic Gauls may have planted before
the birth of Christ. If we had to choose just one
product to symbolize France—and the lively
effervescence of French wit—it would surely
be le Champagne. And if a single region were to
sum up the history and traditions of this complex
country, no part of France could do it better than
la Champagne.
The Roman legions that marched into Gaul around
50 BC brought with them the building blocks of a
highly advanced civilization. They introduced their
architecture, agricultural methods, even their taste
for thermal spas. More than other regions of Gaul,
Champagne prospered under the pax romana. Inevitably,
the province's wealth excited envy among its neighbors.
Wave after wave of Germanic invaders had to be repelled:
Vandals, Alamans, Huns.... The latter, under the
terrible Attila, were beaten back in 451 at the
Battle of Châlons (today's Châlons-sur-Marne).
Champagne was the scene of crucial events in French
history. Here Clovis, king of the Franks, was baptized
in Reims by Bishop Remi (later Saint Remi) in 496.
Clovis's conversion to Christianity was a political
act of supreme importance: it marked the birth of
the French state. Across the ages, 25 French kings
and emperors were anointed at Reims. Over centuries
and at the cost of much bloodshed, France gradually
came under control of a single, central authority.
That process of nation-building began 1500 years
ago, with the baptism of the Frankish king.
The sublime cathedral of Reims is illuminated by
the pure and radiant expression of its famous Smiling
Angel, a masterpiece of French Gothic sculpture.
The vertiginous spires, glowing stained glass and
lacy stonework of Champagne's cathedrals (Soissons,
Laon, Troyes, and Châlons-sur-Marne in addition
to Reims) are testaments not only to an enduring
Christian faith, but also to a common will to assert
France's unique place in the world, through its
art, its technical mastery, its political, military,
and financial might—in other words, all the
elements required to build a modern state. This
resolve, initiated by kings and bishops, relayed
to the common people by their priests, flowed through
the land, giving rise to churches, abbeys, and monasteries:
signs of the spiritual continuity and political
cohesion that ultimately extended to all of France.
Painfully, painstakingly, the French nation was
constructed on this alliance of Catholic spirituality
and monarchical policy, mocked by free-thinkers
as the union of the “saber and the censer,”
the Army and the Church. The alliance ignited the
fratricidal Wars of Religion and provoked the cruel
persecutions of religious dissenters from Cathars
and Templars to Huguenots and Camisards. These conflicts
of belief ripped apart the nation's social and economic
fabric; they fueled violent anti-clerical reactions
as well, especially during the Revolution. Now that
its national unity is unquestioned, the alliance
is no longer necessary to France's survival. The
twentieth century saw the official separation of
Church and State, the end of the tumultuous marriage
that began with Clovis and endured for fifteen centuries.
Breaking the Soissons Vase
Reflections like these come to mind as we contemplate
the gallery of kings on the façade of Notre-Dame
de Reims or as we wander in the nearby basilica
of Saint-Remi; as we admire the spectacular stained
glass of Troyes's cathedral or the intricate rood
screen in the church of Sainte-Madeleine; as we
visit Châlons-sur-Marne's cathedral and the
basilica of Notre-Dame-de-l'Épine. Along
the way, we also spot headless statues of saints:
victims of rebels lashing out blindly against the
symbols of Church authority.
Clovis's first capital was Soissons, northwest of
Reims. In their very first history book, every French
child learns the story of the Soissons Vase. Clovis,
one day, ordered a soldier to give him a vase taken
as booty from a church. The soldier broke the vase
rather than return it. A year later, spying the
disobedient soldier, Clovis split open his head
saying: “There! I've done to you what you
did to the Soissons Vase.” Nothing more is
known of that vessel, but visitors to Soissons can
view the ancient abbey of Saint-Jean-des-Vignes
and an imposing Gothic cathedral (look inside for
Rubens's Adoration of the Shepherds).
Laon, a fortress town moored on an isolated hill
that dominates a billowing ocean of wheat fields,
claims one of France's earliest Gothic cathedrals.
This many-towered sanctuary is the jewel of Laon's
beautifully preserved upper town, a rare ensemble
of intact medieval streets and structures. Throughout
the Middle Ages and beyond, Champagne showed uncommonly
strong spiritual aspirations, and the monastic movement
flourished. One of the most celebrated abbeys (of
which only a small part survives) is the Cistercian
monastery of Clairvaux, founded by the abbot Bernard—the
future Saint Bernard—in 1115. As one travels
through this deeply religious region, it is easier
to understand the pivotal role that France, “eldest
daughter of the church,” with its saints,
popes, and crusaders, has played in the history
of Catholicism.
Like the rest of France, Champagne suffered abominably
during the Hundred Years' War. At Troyes, in 1420,
Queen Isabelle disinherited the Dauphin and handed
over the French Crown to England's Henry V. From
the North, Henry marched triumphant into Champagne.
But it was also from Champagne that the reconquest
began nine years later, when Joan of Arc had the
Dauphin crowned at Reims. Pillaged, burned, ravaged:
despite the mayhem, Champagne's rich resources were
never totally exhausted. Since the tenth century,
the region had been wisely administered and enriched
by the Counts of Champagne—counts in name,
but closer to sovereigns in power.
They shrewdly took advantage of the flow of trade
between Flanders and Italy and organized fairs in
Troyes, Provins, and Bar-sur-Aube. Merchants from
the north and south, and buyers from just about
everywhere thronged to these fairs for spices, fabrics,
furs, wines, and foodstuffs. Lombard bankers facilitated
the exchange of currencies among foreigners at these
ancestors of the Common Market.
A Red Rose for the King of England
Troyes's more recent claim to fame is as France's
hosiery capital, but competition from cheaper imported
wares has taking a toll on that industry. The city
has found a different commercial niche with factory
outlets: the low prices draw consumers to Troyes
just as the medieval trade fairs did! Art lovers
will find in Troyes a restored historic center chockablock
with half-timbered houses, the ancient churches
we noted above, and a surprising modern art museum
with pictures by Derain, Vlaminck and Van Dongen.
Provins, too, closer to Paris, preserves a fabulous
heritage from its medieval heyday, not least of
which is a very special rose garden. Thibault IV,
crusader and Count of Champagne, introduced roses
to France from the Middle East. Legend has it that
a member of England's House of Lancaster, who was
seigneur of the town, chose a red rose from Provins
as his emblem. In the famous War of the Roses, it
opposed the white rose of York.
The Seine, the Marne, the Aube, and the Meuse spring
to life in the Langres plateau which dominates southeastern
Champagne. The walled town of Langres, poised on
a rocky promontory and curiously untouched by time,
has changed little since the days of Diderot, the
eminent philosopher born there in 1713.
At the opposite end of the province, Champagne is
bordered by the densely wooded Ardennes, whose somber
dwellings contrast with the whiteness of lower Champagne's
limestone. The climate is harsher here and the terrain
more rugged. As it rushes toward Belgium and the
North Sea, the River Meuse has carved fantastic
landscapes out of the rock. This scenic and little-traveled
area is ideal for a relaxing holiday in the open
air. The Meuse nearly encircles the town of Revin
before crossing Sedan and Charleville-Mézières—birthplace
of the visionary poet, Arthur Rimbaud—before
flowing out of France at Givet.
In 1814 Champagne was the scene of Napoléon's
final battles, at Montmirail, Brienne, and Nogent-sur-Seine,
and the defeat that precipitated his abdication
at Fontainebleau. In 1871 his nephew, Emperor Napoléon
III, was routed by the Prussians at Sedan in the
Ardennes. Champagne witnessed two turning points
of the Great War, at the battles of the Marne: the
first, in 1914, saw France spring resolutely into
action; the second, in 1918 marked the Allies' ultimate
victory. Germany invaded France through the Ardennes
in 1940, and it was across Champagne that the Allies
pushed the Nazis back in 1944. Echoes of all the
conflicts and crises that France has endured still
resound in Champagne. While that history is reason
enough to make a pilgrimage to this province, there
are other reasons, too. Like Champagne, for instance.
The Route du Champagne lies within a triangle formed
by Reims, Châlons and Épernay and rambles
through the vineyards of the Montagne de Reims,
the Côte des Blancs and the Marne Valley.
Champagne buffs (and who isn't?) can stop for a
tour of Moët & Chandon's impressive cellars
or those of Mercier in Épernay. At Pommery's
remarkable cellars in Reims, you'll see a gigantic
75,000-liter cask carved by the Art Nouveau master,
Gallé, and underground galleries adorned
with statues. A constant, cool temperature, perfect
for holding Champagne, prevails in these crayères
(from craie, or chalky limestone), dug far back
in Gallo-Roman times. Equally spectacular are Taittinger's
and Ruinart's cellars. Champagne is the sparkling
expression of an elegant way of life, which is also
mirrored in the local cuisine (ah! those creamy
Champagne sauces). Soft, bloomy Chaource cheese
hails from Champagne, as does the triple-crème
cheese called Pierre-Robert. And it is said that
the king's soldiers lost a battle at Troyes for
having indulged too freely in that city's celebrated
andouillette sausages—instead of fighting,
with full bellies they fell into a satisfied sleep!
Since an excellent autoroute puts Paris within two
hours of Reims, it is a simple matter to savor those
specialties and more on their home turf. As you
sit, for example, at the splendiferous Château
des Crayères in Reims, and sip a flûte
of “Comtes de Champagne,” “Dom
Pérignon,” “Dom Ruinart”
(a colleague of Dom Pérignon's), Gosset (mayor
of Aÿ in 1584), Roederer (that the czars of
Russia liked so much) or Mumm, you can also drink
in the rich history of Champagne, and understand
why such firms as Taittinger, Moët & Chandon,
Ruinart, Gosset, Roederer or Mumm pay homage to
the men who built the region's wealth and glory,
by naming the finest Champagnes in their honor.
A tour of Champagne is a lesson in optimism. In
spite of the ordeals the region has survived, it
retains its gentle aspect and patiently rebuilds
its resources. An example: barely 50 years ago la
Champagne Pouilleuse, an arid, chalky district in
the center of the province, seemed doomed to permanent
poverty. Today that “flea-ridden” land
is one of France's richest grain-bearing regions,
thanks to improved farming technology. It's just
one more reason never to give up hope. And that,
perhaps, is why, on Reims cathedral, the Angel smiles
for all eternity.
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