Showing posts with label Boulogne-sur-Mer (62). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boulogne-sur-Mer (62). Show all posts

4 July 2019

The 2019 Jardin éphémère, Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

And this year in Boulogne-sur-Mer, the theme of the 13th Jardin éphémère is superstition, although by no means all of the examples are obvious. Fortunately, almost all are given explanations, with the single exception of a woman's left leg treading on a turd: too obvious to explain? I think not: the Mairie was probably worried about parents objecting to the word 'Merde !' being used – yes, even the French can be sensitive about the use of strong language. Remember how Alfred Jarry used 'Merdre !' as a euphemism in Ubu Roi? But that was in 1896, and things haven't moved on since then? Apparently not. The overwhelming impression I came away with was of education: Boulogne's Jardins éphémères are something really special.

The Mairie, proudly displaying the number of superstition.

In the Far East bamboo is used for many things: food, tools, housing, scaffolding, etc. Strongly resistant, it is a symbol of longevity, strength and happiness.

Thirteen at a table. Judas was the thirteenth man at the Last Supper. In paintings, a thirteenth plate is often in yellow, with a bag of money representing the price Judas received for his treason.

The four-leaf clover, said to ward off ghosts and evil, and to bring wealth.

The birch tree, with its silvery-white trunk, represents purity. In Russia a small broom made with birch branches and plunged into a bath was said to purify the skin.

The eagle (or imperial) fern, called so because it has the shape of an eagle and is used in heraldic symbols. Fixed to house doors, it is said to be an effective amulet against outside evils. In the Gironde, the fern is placed on house thresholds to keep witches away.

A black cat was said to be the companion of witches and the devil. Black cats were the victims of terrible tortures and persecutions in the 18th century. Even today it is said to be unlucky to cross the path of a black cat (especially from the left).

'Touch wood' ('Toucher du bois') is of course a common expression, even used by the non-superstitious, relating to good fortune. But for many centuries, the positive qualities of wood have been thought to protect people from evil.

Spilling salt on the table is from the same biblical event as before, coming from the Last Supper, in which Judas knocked down a salt pot. It now signifies the announcement of a quarrel, misfortune or a warning of misfortune to come. The antidote is to throw the spilt grains over your left shoulder. (There are also crossed knives here!

Walking under a ladder is said to bring bad luck. For Christians the ladder is symbolic, as one was used for the cruxifiction. In the Middle ages it was associated with death by hanging: a ladder was used to attach the rope to the gallows. Also, because of the shape of a ladder against a wall, it was considered a profanation of the Trinity.


A female foot treads on a turd. The French often don't say 'Bonne chance !' ('Good luck!) as it might bring bad luck: instead, they say 'Merde !' (Shit!). Note that the foot is the left one, as treading on a turd with your left foot is said to bring luck.

Hazel ('le noisetier') is the tree of harmony for the Greeks, fertility for the Germans and knowledge for the Irish.

The rowan ('le sorbier') is noted for its preservative qualities against dangers. In Connecticut a rowan tree was planted near a tomb to prevent the dead from returning to haunt a family, and in Scotland shepherds used a rowan broom to keep their flocks away from evil.

Putting bread upside down is a superstition dating from the Middle Ages and still extant. It originates from the time when the baker placed the condemned man's bread upside down for him to recognise easily: it was thus associated with misfortune.

Sailors of the Marine Nationale in the mid-19th century used to wear bâchis, or hats with a red pompon. Touching the pompom was believed to bring good luck.

Ivy ('le lierre') is linked to lasting emtional ties such as friendship and love. Young women in Pas-de-Calais included an ivy leaf in their love letters in the belief that it would make them marry soon. Ivy on houses in Nordic countries were good luck charms. Heavily pregnant women avoided contact with ivy, fearing a miscarriage: ivy and parsley were used in abortions.

Cradles were not passed from one baby to another because it was believed that a younger baby would catch all the older baby's illnesses. Empty cradles were never swung as it was thought that evil spirits would take refuge there.

At one time, in homage to a dead person, men would place their hat on the bed, and from this practice came the belief that it was an ill omen to put a hat on a bed.

The Romans believed there were evil spirits in mirrors. Breaking one freed the demons and brought seven years bad luck.

A horseshoe, of course, is a lucky charm, and also a symbol of strength and fertility. It wards off evil spirits.

To early Christians the shiny leaves of the box tree ('le buis') appeared to have been watered by Christ's tears. It was also seen as sacred to the Greeks and the Gauls. The presence of a single branch in a house sheltered the inhabitants from evil spells and storms.

Owls symbolised night and death to the Egyptians, and it was also a messenger of death to the Romans. Up to the end of the 19th century an owl, when captured, was immediately crucified on barn doors.

Garlic is a magic vegetable with many beneficial (particularly medicinal) qualities. The workers on the Great Pyramid ate it regularly to improve their immune system, and in India they put several cloves of garlic in front of the door of their house to frighten evil spirits. In Rumania garlic is the enemy of vampires.

The superstition surrounding the bad luck that carnations ('les oeillets') bring was particularly widespread in the theatrical world, where directors hoping to re-employ a female actor would send roses: sending carnations meant she would not be re-employed for other roles: the flower signalled bad luck in their career. By extension, sending carnations to a woman indicates bad luck.

Lily of the Valley ('le muguet') is a lucky charm, and to give this flower on 1 May is the norm: but never before, as that indicates bad luck.

Charlie Hebdo in Saint Martin, Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

A tribute to Charlie Hebdo, no doubt made in the year of the assassinations (2015): 'Nous sommes tous Charlie.'


13 October 2018

Jean de La Fontaine in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

Jean de La Fontaine (1621–95).

2018 brought the twelfth 'edition' of the jardin éphémère, dedicated this year to the Fables of La Fontaine. Eight illustrations of his Fables are on display  in the old town in Boulogne-Sur-Mer, just in front of the mairie. 2018 marks the 350th anniversary of the first edition of the Fables (1668). The illustrations are also inspired by the engravings of Jean-Baptiste Oudry (1686–1755). The Fables are in verse, often modelled on Aesop's Fables, and are often criticisms of the court of Louis XIV, with animals usually serving the allegorical function.


'Le corbeau et le renard'. Here, the fox sees the large chunk of cheese in the crow's bill, and tells the animal how fine he looks. Unable to resist squawking about the compliments, and crow of course drops the cheese and the fox snatches it. The moral is a lesson to the crow as well as the reader: don't listen to flatterers or you'll regret it.



'La Grenouille qui veut se faire aussi grosse que le bœuf'. So the frog is envious of the ox and tries to puff itself up to be as big, but in the process explodes. The moral: don't try to do things that aren't in your nature, be content with your limitations.

'Le rat et le lion'. A rat escapes from the ground and the lion spares him. Then the lion is caught in a trap and struggles madly and roars in its attempts to escape. The rat slowly gnaws into the rope to free the lion. The moral: well, there are two here: be as obliging as you can to everyone; and don't go at everything like a bull at a gate, just be patient.

'Le pot de terre et le pot de fer'. The iron pot asks the earthenware pot to go out walking with him, but the earthenware pot is frightened because he might smash. The iron pot eventually persuades him that he'll protect him, so they go out and the earthware pot gets smashed to bits. The moral: keep to the company of your equals or you'll suffer the same fate as the weaker pot.

'Le rat de ville et le rat des champs'. The town rat invites the country rat to a meal in town, where ortolans (a kind of bunting once considered a delicacy in France) are on the menu with all the trimmings of a royal feast. But they're interrupted and have to hide for a while. They return when the coast's clear, but the country rat has had enough and invites the town rat to his place the next day where (the moral) things are very quiet, no interruptions, and no fears as in as in an urban environment, and you can be yourself without all the fancy stuff.

'Le renard et les raisins'. This looks a little like 'Le corbeau et le renard', and it is and it isn't. The fox is starving and sees the bunches of grapes on the tree, but there's no way he can get at them. In the end he decides that they're not ripe enough, too green, not fit for the likes of him. The moral: there's a bit of pre-Freudian rationalisation here, as you shouldn't complain about what it's not possible for you to have. (This is the shortest of La Fontaine's 240 Fables.)

'Le renard et la cigogne'. The fox invites the stork to dinner, but only serves it on a plate, which the stork can't manage to eat a crumb of, so the fox eats it all up. Then the strork invites the fox to dinner, which smells delicious. However, the stork serves it in a long-necked jug, meaning the fox has to go home hungry. The moral: expect to receive as much as you give – in other words, if you deceive people they'll in turn deceive you.

'Le chêne et le sureau'. The oak tree, being very important, is tremendously haughty, and pities the humble reed. Whereas the reed gets tossed about all over the place with the slightest wind, the oak tree stands firm. The oak tree monopolises the conversatsion, the reed says little but is content with its flexibility. There comes a storm and the oak tree is uprooted, dead. But the reed lives on. The moral: death is the great leveller, and a little humility doesn't go amiss.

16 March 2018

Ernest Deseille in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

'ERNEST DESEILLE
HISTORIEN DU BOULONNAIS,
POÈTE ET JOURNALISTE,
EST NÉ DANS CETTE MAISON
LE 14 MAI 1835'

Ernest Deseille (1835–89) was Boulogne-sur-Mer's archivist, and wrote a large number of publications, amongst which are the poem Un exploit de Roland, ou Pourquoi le diable a-t-il des cornes ?  (1860), a glossary of Boulogne sailors' patois (1978), and a 118-page book on the Egyptologist Auguste Mariette (see above), which he called 'Auguste Mariette: Souvenir sur l'Inauguration de la sa statue'. After his death, his widow left a gift to Boulogne-sur-Mer of over ten thousand books and manuscripts.

Guillaume Duchenne in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)


Guillaume-Benjamin Duchenne (1806–75) – commonly known as Duchenne de Boulogne – was a neurological doctor born in Boulogne-sur-Mer who died in Paris. He was interested in photographing expressions created under the application of electricity to the brain, of which a few expressions are reproduced below: the origins of the uses of electricity to stun (or delete) people's memories under ECT (electro-convulsive therapy) or EST (electric shock therapy) in American English are quite clearly documented. I just wonder how much Duchenne can be blamed for this abuse of patients with mental problems. His main works: Essai sur la brûlure (1833); De l'Électrisation localisée et de son application à la physiologie, à la pathologie et à la thérapeutique (1855); Mécanisme de la physionomie humaine, ou Analyse électro-physiologique de l'expression des passions applicable à la pratique des arts plastiques (1862); and Physiologie des mouvements démontrée à l'aide de l'expérimentation électrique et de l'observation clinique, et applicable à l'étude des paralysies et des déformations (1867).


Edward Jenner in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

As I'm always wary of saying anything on scientific issues – people tend to be swift to add a comment on any mistake I make – I shall steal most of my material from Wikipedia, so any mistakes can be blamed on the anonymous contributors there. Edward Jenner (1749–1823) was an English physician and scientist who pioneered the smallpox vaccine. The words 'vaccine' and 'vaccination' stem from Variolae vaccinae, the expression Jenner used for cowpox: in 1796 he described the protective effect of cowpox against smallpox. Jenner is often called the father of immunology, and his work is said to have 'saved more lives than the work of any other human: in his time smallpox killed around ten per cent of the population, reaching up to twenty percent in towns and cities where infection spread more easily. His publications include: An Inquiry into the Causes and Effects of the Variolæ Vaccinæ (1798); Further Observations on the Variolæ Vaccinæ, or Cow-Pox (1799); A Continuation of Facts and Observations relative to the Variolæ Vaccinæ (1800); The Origin of the Vaccine Inoculation (1801). Like several statues, this one is at the side of the Haute-Ville in Boulogne-sur-Mer.

15 March 2018

Francis Tattegrain and Alaniz in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

The painting by Francis Tattegrain (1852–1915), La Ramasseuse d'épaves, viewable in the Château-Musée in Boulogne-sur-mer, depicts a young woman, a member of the working classes in rags, carrying wood that she has salvaged from a shipwreck. Tattegrain, along with Eugène Boudin, Henri Le Sidaner, Frits Thaulow, and others, were named 'L'Ecole d'Étaples', this area attracting many French and foreign artists inspired by the light and the beauty of La baie de Canche in particular. In turn inspired by Tattegrain, this street art is by the Argentinian Alaniz.

Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)

Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve (1804–69) was born at 16 rue du pot d'étain, Boulogne-sur-Mer, a month after his father's death, and was brought up by his mother Augustine and his maternal aunt. He went to school in Boulogne, which he left to continue his studies in Paris. Sainte-Beuve was a poet and novelist, but is most noted for his work as a literary critic, particularly in his belief that the work of a writer is a reflection of his life. Proust was a stong critic of Sainte-Beuve's ideas, his Contre Sainte-Beuve being published posthumously in 1954. The building where the plaque on his birthplace stands is now pretty non-descript, although when Harold Nicolson phographed it for his biography of Sanite-Beuve (published 1957) it was Hôtel Restaurant Sainte-Beuve.

Sainte-Beuve's grave in the Cimetière du Montparnasse.

14 March 2018

Émile Lemaître, Boulogne-sur-Mer, Pas-de-Calais (62)


'ÉMILE LEMAÎTRE
JOURNALISTE
HISTORIEN
PHILANTHROPE
LES CITOYENS RECONNAISSANTS
1859-1933'

Émile  Lemaître arrived in Boulogne-sur-Mer in 1884 and was editor of L'Indépendant, then (more importantly) the paper Le Boulonnais. He was also the founding director of La Correspondance de la résistance laïque (1896-1904).