Further Reflections on Paris

A few days ago I went to Napoleon’s tomb, which is housed in the prominent church or Dome of the Invalides. This building is very close to the French National Assembly (itself a stunning architectural gem), and right across from the ornate Alexander 3rd bridge—a bridge distinguished from others in the city by four large golden statues of flying horses which shine brightly all the time, whether during the day from the sun’s reflection, or during the night when illuminated by the street lights. The same bridge connects the Invalides with the grandiose Champs-Elysee quarter and the Eiffel Tower. Thus even before one enters the church with Napoleon’s tomb, or rather as one approaches it, already one is witness to some of the most magnificent public spaces in Paris (and perhaps the world). The church of the Invalides itself is a historical artifact; it was built in the late 17^th century, and both royalty and soldiers attended religious services there, especially before and after great battles. Prominently displayed in the interior of the church were the flags, or insignias, of various armies around Europe, and at its peak there were thousands of them. After the revolution, devout believers in the god of reason entered and seized the church, burned most of the flags, destroyed other priceless relics, and transformed the building into a temple of Mars (Roman god of war). Thankfully, Napoleon reversed this madness and returned the church to its original owners (the Roman Catholic Church), and restored some of the surviving flags and icons. 

Napoleon's tomb

The church with Napoleon’s tomb resembles the Pantheon of Paris, meaning it recreates and perhaps improves upon the most resplendent buildings of ancient Greece and Rome. It houses the remains of other prominent figures, including Vauban and several of Napoleon’s successors, but in a way that communicates a hierarchy of status between them and Napoleon. The formers’ tombs are placed by the interior walls of the building, while Napoleon’s is in the centre, below ground yet fully exposed to visitors and, during the day, illuminated by the sunlight which refracts through the church’s stain glassed windows. To reach it, one must descend a set of stairs, then walk through a corridor with various engravings, each of which depicts an important historical event. When reaching the tomb, one is struck by the immense size of the sarcophagus, and the way it is surrounded by large statues of feminine angels, wearing togas, affectionately and protectively gazing over Napoleon’s remains.

Alexander 3rd Bridge

The most interesting part of the tomb for me is the corridor that encircles the sarcophagus and the statues. It is divided into sections, and each contains a somewhat tendentious historiographical depiction of one of Napoleon’s accomplishments. For instance, the one pictured below says “Wherever he reigned, he left traces of enduring good works”, and on each side is a list of the major projects decreed by Napoleon—museums, bridges, canals, and arcs. The other walled engravings that surround the tomb, similarly, recount some lasting public/civil achievement—such as the creation of the Napoleonic code, or the reform of the education system, or the modernization of commerce. In each, Napoleon sits on a throne, wearing a toga and, on his head,  a crown or a laurel wreath. In some he is protected by praetorian guards and the Aquila (Roman eagle), and in others surrounded by ancient muses.

The tomb, in a sense, deifies Napoleon, which is rather strange when one remembers that the two major spirits of the French nation—Christianity and the Enlightenment—have universalist and egalitarian impulses.  But the worship of Napoleon makes sense when one considers that the tomb is clearly designed to present him as a kind of modern Augustus Caesar, the Roman Emperor who founded and modernized the empire and who was the author of ancient Rome’s golden age (or the Pax Romana, roughly the first two centuries AD). Augustus, like other great emperors, was worshiped by Romans, quite literally, after the Roman Senate decreed his divinity. Napoleon’s tomb reproduces that spirit through and through.

Moving on to more prosaic and immediate issues, while observing couples during my daily excursions in Paris, I noticed a few patterns. More than in other places, I saw many average-looking males with attractive females, and average-looking females with attractive males. I also saw many younger men with older women, particularly middle aged or close to middle aged men with women who are seniors or close to that phase; this suggests that French President Emmanuel Macron’s marriage to a woman 24 years older than him (he is 39, she is 63) is not unique. This has sparked my curiosity about the reasons for this pattern, but my limited knowledge of French sociology and culture prevent me from developing an informed explanation. I can therefore only conjecture, and I think that Parisians, more than others, place relatively more value on non-physical qualities in their romantic endeavours. Their city clearly shows that they highly value knowledge, history, cultural refinement, and spectacle/presentation. It is reasonable to presume, it seems, that they similarly value these things when meeting a potential romantic partner; it follows that if one scores highly on those criteria, their age and/or physical attraction may matter less.  Youth and beauty probably are important everywhere, but in Paris at least, it seems that both are less so. Strikingly, it seems that in Paris this is true for both sexes.

As I write this, my sojourn in Paris is coming to a close.  Most of my experiences have been very positive, although it is my first time in the city, and like the new convert or someone at the beginning of a love affair, I have been somewhat smitten, which means my emotions and aesthetic sense have prevailed over my rational faculties. Were I to stay longer, I'd probably be somewhat more critical.