For all its love of military pomp, France has a pretty sad record when it comes to warfare. That doesn’t keep the French from aggrandizing the monumental egos of its past, particularly Napoleon and Charles de Gaulle. Both are immortalized, after a fashion, at Les Invalides.
In 1670, Louis XIV decided to found L’Hotel des Invalides to house the disabled soldiers from his various wars. Its first residents settled in 1674 in the complex which included barracks, a convent, a hospital, and a workshop. By the end of the XVIIth century, it housed 4,000. The chapels were started in 1676. The architect had a problem. The king wanted to worship “with” his soldiers, but protocol prohibited him from entering through the same doorway and from praying in the same physical space. As only the French could do, the architect (Jules Hardouin-Mansart, if you’re interested) designed dual chapels, back to back. The gold dome you see in the picture above is the roof of the king’s elaborate chapel, with the soldiers’ chapel between it and the front entrance of the complex.
The soldiers’ chapel is quite nice, in an austere, military fashion. The king’s chapel is on the other side of the far end. It is not entirely closed off; there are openings above so that the king could hear the services in the troops’ side. Neither, of course, could see the other.
As you can imagine, the king’s side was a little more gaudy. But, he was with them in spirit, right?!
Les Invalides houses the Musee de L’Armee, covering France’s entire military history. We didn’t get to 75% of it, there was just too much. I guess the less success you have, the more you trumpet. Anyway, we did get to the terrific displays of armor and 13th-17th century weapons. After you admire the nifty upper windows framed in stone armor, you go in the main entrance, pay your fees, and enter into a large courtyard. The center doorway in white is the entrance into the troops’ chapel, and the king’s dome looms behind. This courtyard
houses a battery of 60 French classical bronze cannons that are the jewels of the artillery collection. These date from 1666, and were used in sieges against fortified towns during the wars of Louis XIV.
Designed by the Keller brothers, each of these was adorned with engravings and reliefs and had a name, like this one:
Next stop were the halls devoted to the ancient armor and arms of the 13th-17th centuries. I don’t know about function, but the French clearly were masters of style. They even made children’s armor for the royal offspring. The relief work is from the breastplate of a suit of armor. As for eaglebeak . . . ???
The hand weapons show the exquisite design art that only the French could pull off. I loved it, but I suspect they weren’t winning any quick draw competitions with those pistols.
The serious stuff was much more somber, but just as impressive. This place actually is an armory, and holds hundreds and hundreds of suits of armor in endless displays. I particularly liked the snake carving wrapping around the cannon. Couldn’t convince Loni to try the shot-out-of-a-cannon routine with that monster mortar.
Time to move on to the Eglise du Dome, the royal chapel. At the time it was built (1677-1706), the interior decorations glorified Louis XIV, the monarchy in general, and the French armies. Under the French Revolution, it became a military pantheon at the instigation of Napoleon, with the installation in 1800-02 of tombs of various military leaders. Nappy, no doubt, was thinking ahead to his own immortality. Sure enough, in 1840 King Louis-Philippe I ordered Nappy’s remains to be returned from his final exile on the island of St. Helena, and for a tomb to be erected under the Dome.
The work was completed in 1861. The king’s chapel is the gold on the left, the dome is above the circle where the people are looking down
onto Nappy’s modest final resting place. Jumbo the elephant could be interred in that thing.
Around the sarcophagus are twelve “victory” statues symbolizing his military campaigns. Where’s the one celebrating the Russian campaign, hmmm? Waterloo? How about some homage to the hundreds of thousands who died in his vainglorious catastrophes? Paris is the capital of revisionist history.
Speaking of vanity, Les Invalides also is home to the Historial Charles de Gaulle. It’s tempting to dismiss de Gaulle as just a vain windbag, but that wouldn’t be just. Despite his imperious manners, he was a genuine war hero and forward thinker, but suffered at the hands of the idiots who were in charge of the French military. Back in WWI, de Gaulle fought bravely, was wounded multiple times, captured by the Germans and held in POW camps, attempted escapes five times, and generally acquitted himself with genuine honor. After the war, he rose to the rank of Colonel, and served on the National Defense Council, but there he stalled, running afoul of the hidebound military elite. The clowns in charge of the Light Brigade couldn’t hold a candle to this bunch of incompetents. De Gaulle was an outspoken advocate of building up France’s mobile mechanized warfare – tanks, etc. – so much so that he was nicknamed, after the U.S.’s General Motors, “Colonel Motors.” He was an early clarion against Hitler’s rise and Germany’s rearmament and France’s inadequate readiness. All for naught. He was ridiculed by his superiors, and repeatedly denied promotion. When WWII broke out, he was made a temporary brigadier general and given command of a tank brigade, with which he won one of the few French victories over German forces. He became part of the government just before the Maginot line was overrun (as he had warned) and the Germans marched on Paris. He fled to England and assumed (in all the senses of the word) the role of leader of the Free French forces which, considering France’s total capitulation, weren’t much. Churchill found him insufferable and Roosevelt didn’t trust him (thought he wanted to become emperor after the war). He was named President after hostilities ceased, resigned within a year (1946), but came back a decade later and served as President for a dozen years. The Historial is an homage to his life and career, mostly done through photos and newsreels. His face is everywhere.
When we were in Paris for Bastille Day weekend in 1966, we went to see the grand parade along the Champs Elysees. They had the usual marching formations, bands, flyovers, etc., but the highlight was Le Grand Charles, riding in an open convertible, acknowledging his adoring public. Somewhere I have a blurry photo of him zipping by. Three years later, following riots, strikes, and student protests, he resigned. He died a year later, in 1970. A complex guy, to say the least.
Oh, yeah. The Big Asparagus. That moniker was hung on him as a youth in school, with his lanky resemblance to that tall stalk. His detractors used it to the end of his life.
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