Next to the Mairie (town hall) of the 2nd arrondissement, you'll find a fairly unobtrusive, run-of-the-mill Baroque church called Notre-Dame-des-Victoires.
It's not the most interesting of churches, even for enthusiasts. Constructed between 1629 and 1737 by Augustinian monks, the church offers fairly standard Baroque architecture, excepting the transept's spherical roof. And the only non-architectural feature deemed worthy of mention in the Wikipedia article on the church are the thousands of ex voto offerings plastered to its walls - basically a bunch of plaques expressing gratitude for the fulfillment of some prayer.
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But a stroll through the aisles reveals that the church has another claim to fame.
Uncharacteristically, one of the aisle arches is squared off by a wood piece (seen above), from which protrudes a bust.
The bust looked familiar enough to me that I made an effort to read the Latin text etched in stone on the underside of the wood piece.
My Latin isn't so good, but the only two words I needed to see were "mors" and "Lullius" to know that this plaque - and the bust above it - mark the grave of Giovanni-Baptista Lulli, aka Jean-Baptiste Lully, aka the man generally credited with inventing French opera. (If anyone can fully translate this epitaph, I'd be grateful.)
Lully (1632-87) came to France from Florence in the mid-17th century and soon became Louis XIV's unofficial "Minister of Music." He conducted the King's orchestra, composed and performed in ballets, collaborated with Molière, and became the second director of the Paris Opéra. Lully died when, after striking his foot with the massive staff then used to keep time during musical performances, he contracted gangrene and refused amputation. Nice.
I'm probably biased, but I feel like there should be more of a to-do around Lully's grave. After all, there are maps of the Paris graves of other celebrities (Jim Morrison owes a lot to Lully, right?). On the other hand, I liked finding this unassuming, nearly unmarked monument on my own. Hopefully this post won't spoil what currently seems like one of many well-kept secrets of the Second Arrondissement.
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small attempt of shakespearean translation found someplace :
ReplyDelete"Perfidious art thou, Death, and thy commands
Harsh and tyrannic, and too bold thy hands
Such are thy dreadful attributes; in vain,
Tho' press'd beneath thy yoke, would man complain
But when your dart, great Lulli to destroy,
You shook, and damp'd a king's and nation's joy
and robb'd too soon each fond enraptur'd ear
Of strains the earth shall never hear.
Complain we must, although to ills resign'd,
And mourn that fate is deaf, as well as blind"
Impressively googled, young Obi-wan. But you forgot to credit your source: http://tinyurl.com/23pok37
ReplyDeleteLooks like it's the work of a French poet (Jean Santeul) who mostly wrote in Latin. Nifty.
Poor Lully! I don't know the church but will definitely check it out next time I'm in Paris.
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