Troyes, Strength and Fragility

Folk, guitare et luth, chanson tendre, calme, voix recto-tono, ‑Drame, ‑Opera, ‑tremolo, ‑vibrato, ‑theatrical, ‑agressive, ‑shouting, ‑yelling, ‑sarcastic, ‑comedy

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With the aim of visiting the châteaux of the Loire,
I passed through Troyes with Danielle
to immerse myself in the medieval fragility
of the atmosphere of the Saint-Jean quarter.

Troyes, the cork of Champagne.
It is this quarter that still unfolds its medieval lanes:
the rue Champeaux,
the rue des Chats with its leaning houses
that nearly touch,
and the Goldsmith’s turret,
a stone sentinel of the fifteenth century.

The Place du Marché-au-Pain
recalls the bustling commercial life of the Middle Ages,
when Troyes, capital of the Counts of Champagne,
hosted the famous fairs.
The Hôtel de Mauroy, built in the sixteenth century,
still bears the memory of those opulent times.

In my thoughts, I imagine the royal wedding.
In fourteen twenty, in the church of Saint-Jean-au-Marché,
took place the marriage of Henry Five of England
and Catherine of Valois,
daughter of King Charles Six of France
and Isabeau of Bavaria.
This marriage, sealed by the Treaty of Troyes,
bound together the two crowns by force,
in a France weakened by the Hundred Years’ War.

It was in this same place,
fragile yet still standing,
that another major event,
though discreet, took place two centuries later.

Marguerite Bourgeoys,
a humble birth, an immense destiny.
On April seventeenth, sixteen twenty,
in this same church of Saint-Jean-au-Marché,
she was baptized on the day of her birth.
Nothing foretold that this child,
born into a France still scarred
by the wars of religion,
would become a pioneer in New France.

She left for Montreal in sixteen fifty-three,
opened the colony’s first school in sixteen fifty-eight,
welcomed the King’s Daughters,
and founded the Congregation of Notre Dame.
She gave the girls and women of the colony
education and tools
to build a new society.

I recall with emotion
the Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul of Troyes,
whose façade remained unfinished
and whose parts were broken over the centuries,
symbolizing this fragility of time.
Yet, by the light of torches during night visits,
it evokes the strength of faith and of history.

In Troyes, everything seems fragile:
the half-timbered houses that lean,
the worn stones of the churches,
the broken façade of the cathedral.

But within this fragility,
solid events have taken root.
And I think of our body,
a frail human edifice,
slowly withering with time.

A body charged with history,
with joys and with sorrows.
A fragile craft sailing
on the rivers, the streams, and the oceans of life,
carrying at the very center of all things
the love we hold for our family,
our loved ones, our children, and our friends.

This love leads us
to long to visit the world,
to gently embrace it,
cherish it,
and make it our own,
within the heart of a fleeting dream.

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With the aim of visiting the châteaux of the Loire, I passed through Troyes with Danielle to immerse myself in the medieval fragility of the atmosphere of the Saint-Jean quarter. Troyes, the cork of Champagne. It is this quarter that still unfolds its medieval lanes: the rue Champeaux, the rue des Chats with its leaning houses that nearly touch, and the Goldsmith’s turret, a stone sentinel of the fifteenth century. The Place du Marché-au-Pain recalls the bustling commercial life of the Middle Ages, when Troyes, capital of the Counts of Champagne, hosted the famous fairs. The Hôtel de Mauroy, built in the sixteenth century, still bears the memory of those opulent times. In my thoughts, I imagine the royal wedding. In fourteen twenty, in the church of Saint-Jean-au-Marché, took place the marriage of Henry Five of England and Catherine of Valois, daughter of King Charles Six of France and Isabeau of Bavaria. This marriage, sealed by the Treaty of Troyes, bound together the two crowns by force, in a France weakened by the Hundred Years’ War. It was in this same place, fragile yet still standing, that another major event, though discreet, took place two centuries later. Marguerite Bourgeoys, a humble birth, an immense destiny. On April seventeenth, sixteen twenty, in this same church of Saint-Jean-au-Marché, she was baptized on the day of her birth. Nothing foretold that this child, born into a France still scarred by the wars of religion, would become a pioneer in New France. She left for Montreal in sixteen fifty-three, opened the colony’s first school in sixteen fifty-eight, welcomed the King’s Daughters, and founded the Congregation of Notre Dame. She gave the girls and women of the colony education and tools to build a new society. I recall with emotion the Cathedral of Saint Peter and Saint Paul of Troyes, whose façade remained unfinished and whose parts were broken over the centuries, symbolizing this fragility of time. Yet, by the light of torches during night visits, it evokes the strength of faith and of history. In Troyes, everything seems fragile: the half-timbered houses that lean, the worn stones of the churches, the broken façade of the cathedral. But within this fragility, solid events have taken root. And I think of our body, a frail human edifice, slowly withering with time. A body charged with history, with joys and with sorrows. A fragile craft sailing on the rivers, the streams, and the oceans of life, carrying at the very center of all things the love we hold for our family, our loved ones, our children, and our friends. This love leads us to long to visit the world, to gently embrace it, cherish it, and make it our own, within the heart of a fleeting dream.

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