On our way to the cathedral, we stopped at the Eglise St. Martin, which was small and rather somber. We were the only ones there so it was perfectly quite. It gave off this sort of pervasive stillness that I found very calming. I’m not religious by any means, but I can understand how churches and cathedrals like these evoked such strong spirituality- they are stunning in their ingenuity and beauty. The church was built in the Romanesque style, so it wasn’t gaudy at all- the stone was dark grey and the few stained glass windows emitted very little light. It was rather austere, but beautiful nonetheless. We left St. Martin in search of the Cathedral and slowly meandered through Metz’s narrow streets. We stumbled upon the Eglise Notre-Dame, which was closed, but had a lovely, warm, yellow façade. I can’t really place the style, but I thought it was great.
We were idly walking across a square when, suddenly, the looming cathedral came into view. The cathedral certainly lived up to the rumors we had heard- it was huge! I suppose if you were to compare it to Notre Dame de Paris, la Cathédrale Sainte-Etienne de Metz probably isn’t that huge, but with my uneducated perspective, I found it very impressive. The interior was stunning, and it was only when standing in the nave that I really felt the overwhelming height of the ceilings. This cathedral is renowned for it’s stained glass windows, which date from various centuries across the structure’s history. The earliest were completed at the time of the cathedral’s construction while others are as recent as the 1950’s. Apparently St.-Etienne has more square meters of stained glass than any other church in France, which didn’t surprise me as I walked around the gently illuminated cathedral. The windows were really amazing, and I was particularly mesmerized by the more recent ones (done by Marc Chagall in the 1950s). I had seen Chagall’s paintings, which are vibrantly colored and emotionally evocative in their own right, but I had never seen the work he did in other media. The luminosity makes the gentle figures come to life- it’s breath-taking. I don’t think my feeble descriptions can do them justice, so you’ll just have to see for yourself. There was also a gorgeous set of windows done by Jacques Villon that flooded the chapel with the most brilliant warm light. Ah- it was amazing.
After a while, we left the cathedral and headed north to see what was exciting on the city’s îles. Metz is split on the west side by the river Moselle, and so there are several little islands that are accessible by fun little bridges. We walked across a bridge and found ourselves on this little island that housed the “Le Temple Neuf.” I really don’t know much about the structure, but I thought it was adorable! Architecturally speaking, it wasn’t particularly striking, but the doors and gates were purple, which I thought was exciting. Also, the temple is located on the furthest end of the little island, so the garden comes to a point with a great view. It was closed too, so we just sort of wandered around and I admired the swans in the river.We wandered further north still, accessing another little island that housed a really beautiful (and closed) church called St. Vincent. Once we’d seen our fill of the façade we walked a little ways to the remains of the Temple Evangélique de la Garnison. It was once a protestant church, first erected and used during the German annexation. Sadly, the only thing that remains is the tower- the rest was destroyed by a fire during the Second World War. Before seeking out some sustenance, we saw the Pont-des-Morts. It’s name – Bridge of the Dead- apparently derives from the Middle Ages when criminals condemned to death were thrown into the river to drown. The government financed the construction of this bridge from the sale of the deceased’s best article of clothing. (Weird, huh?)
We got some lunch at a Kebab place (which are really prevalent in France!) and then decided to look for the synagogue. Rebecca is interested in studying Judaism in Lorraine for Project Village, hence our interest in synagogues. It wasn’t too far, but when we arrived, we were disappointed to find that it too was closed (and barricaded, even). There were temporary fences around the entrance, and it looked totally vacant. Having visited the Lunéville, Nancy and Metz synagogues only to find them locked, poor Rebecca has started to wonder if Lorraine even has a Jewish population anymore. Hopefully the mystery will be solved soon enough.
We continued on, pausing at the Eglise St. Segolène before heading over to the Musée de la Cour d’Or. We didn’t know much about the museum, but we had nothing else to do, and so we figured why not educate ourselves a bit. The cashier had warned us that the museum spanned 3 km and 5 stories, and before entering he advised us to ask a guard should we become lost. We shrugged off the advice and entered the belly of the beast, unsuspecting of what was to come…
Well, it really isn’t that dramatic- we just got lost… horribly…for over an hour. The exhibitions progressed logically enough - Neolithic funneling into the Bronze Age or what have you. There were even signs pointing in the direction of the “sense de la visite.” Soon enough, though, there were two signs—two arrows in two different directions. Turns out we chose the wrong one. Somehow, we got off track after pre-Christian funerary tombs, and ended up in courtyard full of middle age religious sculpture. We decided to go back the way we came, and ended up going through the ceramic wares, scurrying past early housing and church construction, only to end up in the religious sculpture court again! This place was a frickin labyrinth! We had passed through centuries and centuries, only to end up in the Bronze Age again- it was like being lost in time. Even though we knew we had to go upstairs eventually, all the passages kept leading downward, and after a while I thought we’d never find our way out. I could just see it-- years later someone would find us, but it would be too late. Our bones would be just have to be put on display with the other 5th century skeletons we’d passed four times that day… Luckily, that was not the case. It was rather comical, and after a while we found our way upstairs and into the seventeenth century, and then into the art portion of the museum. Their collection wasn’t too vast, but I was impressed by the caliber of the paintings. I thought it was all pretty beautiful, but then again, you’re talking to an art history major, so I’m not the most objective source.
By the time we had resurfaced, it was late afternoon, and we decided to wander back in the direction of the Gare. We were looking for some historically significant building on the way to the Gare, when I noticed a store called “La Petite Russe” – or Little Russia. And with that, our search for the random building was forgotten. Rebecca spent last semester studying in Vladivostok in eastern Russia, so of course we went in. She was really excited, and it was neat to see all the interesting foods and various products. There were lots of sweets, but also strange pickled things and odd canned meats. Behind the counter were various alcohols, many of which bore images of Stalin or Communist symbols. I thought it was pretty interesting. Being practically fluent, Miss Rebecca spoke to the woman in Russian, and her mad skills scored us some free sweets! They were just little candies, but they were pretty delicious. Relishing in the success of having found a little piece of Russia in France, and went back to the train station where we drank cheap instant coffee and munched on some Russian spice cake until our train arrived.
Metz was a beautiful little city, and I think I’ll go back someday- even if only for the beautiful stained glass windows.
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