The Seine

by Elaine Sciolino

  ON APRIL 15, 2019, as urgent calls poured into the headquarters of the Paris police and the Sapeurs-Pompiers, the first reaction was disbelief. “There was stupefaction, total stupefaction,” said Captain Damien Quilhot, deputy commander of the Brigade Fluviale, the police force on the Seine. “Notre-Dame is the building we see every day from our patrol boats on the river. It was not possible that one day it could disappear.”

  When it was obvious that the fire was real, the Sapeurs-Pompiers faced a threat of unimaginable proportions. In 2018, Paris firefighters had conducted two practice exercises to evacuate Notre-Dame and rescue its treasures in the event of a fire. The firefighters knew the cathedral’s corridors, staircases, and hidden corners, as well as the locations of its relics and artwork. Once the flames were visible, the firefighters, together with the Paris police, cut off all land and water access around the cathedral. They turned the parvis into a command center, ringing the forecourt with dozens of giant fire trucks. They frantically pumped water high up onto the cathedral’s roof, with the help of aerial drones that pinpointed the sources of the flames and measured the heat intensity with thermal imaging.

  But nothing had prepared them for a fire of this magnitude. Both the water supply and the water pressure from the fire hydrants on land were much too weak to extinguish the fire. Not only that, but a break in the steady water flow could have caused the hoses to explode. “The fire on the roof was the equivalent of five hundred apartments or twenty tanker trucks burning,” said General Gallet. “We absolutely had to have another water source.”

  That source was the Seine. Two fire brigade boats equipped with special pumping equipment sped to the lower bank of the river near Notre-Dame. Colonel Paulin, a small fireboat, was permanently anchored in front of the Monnaie de Paris, the French Mint, on the Quai de Conti, just across the river; it arrived within minutes of the first emergency alert. But it was designed to put out fires in private boats and cars, and its pumping capacity was much too weak.

  The Île-de-France, an older but much more powerful floating fire station, was moored seven miles upstream at Joinville-le-Pont on the Marne River, which makes a giant loop before it joins the Seine. The thirty-six-foot-long vessel chopped through the water at record speed, passed through a lock, and arrived about thirty minutes later. As soon as it docked at the riverbank beneath the cathedral, firefighters on land attached four huge hoses to it. The boat’s two turbo-diesel motors began pumping and filtering water from the depths of the Seine, with the same force of a giant fire truck. The Île-de-France pumped nonstop until the flames were extinguished in the early hours of the morning. About five hundred firefighters had participated in the effort. None died; one was slightly injured.

  When the world awoke the next morning, the stone structure of Notre-Dame was standing tall. Its twin belfry towers on either side of the façade were intact. The multicolored rose windows, the great organ, the thirteen-ton bell with the perfect F-sharp timbre, and the cathedral’s other bells had survived. The crown of thorns said to have been worn by Jesus at the Crucifixion, a tunic worn by the sainted crusader Louis IX in the thirteenth century, and major art, religious, and cultural artifacts had been removed to safety. Investigators would need time to assess the extent of damage to the structure, but it had not fallen.

  IN THE MIDDLE AGES, the Seine contributed to the creation of Notre-Dame. Barges on the river and oxcarts on land brought thousands of tons of stone and other construction materials from faraway places in France to the building site. On the night of the great fire, the river was the cathedral’s salvation.

  In a conversation at the Sapeurs-Pompiers headquarters in northwest Paris, General Gallet acknowledged his special affinity for the Seine. A giant color photograph of the river after sunset, with bridges lighted and Notre-Dame and the Eiffel Tower anchoring the background, covers a wall of his office. He led me to a glass case containing ornamental firefighters’ helmets in shiny silver adorned with the seal of Paris: a boat floating on the waves of the Seine, along with the city’s motto, Fluctuat nec mergitur—“She is tossed on the waves but does not sink.” Now there was even more reason to venerate the river.

  “The water of the Seine is inexhaustible,” he said. “We could pump as much water as we needed. In the drama of that night, the cathedral and the river were connected; they were one.

  “The water of the Seine saved Notre-Dame.”

  France is officially a secular country, but Lieutenant-Colonel Gabriel Plus, the spokesman for the Sapeurs-Pompiers, talked of miracles: “One miracle is that there was no gas explosion; another miracle is that no one died, no one was seriously injured.”

  I grew up Catholic, and I would never dare to contradict those who believe that God answered their prayers in saving Notre-Dame from the flames. But I have also come to believe in the spiritual as well as the physical power of the Seine. I often tell the story of how even before the ancient Romans arrived and conquered Gaul, its source had been the site of a temple and a place of pilgrimage dedicated to Sequana, a healing goddess. Sequana was the original name of the Seine, and her waters were said to contain the power to make miracles. Pilgrims came from hundreds of miles away to pray, be healed, give thanks, and deposit offerings in her waters.

  Notre-Dame will be rebuilt, different perhaps, but its primal place in French life and its symbolic meaning for the world will remain intact. It will be reborn as a vibrant place of music, ritual, and prayer for believers and a beautiful museum for all.

  The holy waters of the river that once bore the name Sequana saved the greatest cathedral in the world. I want to believe that the spirit of the goddess Sequana herself lives on.

  Acknowledgments

  EVERY TIME I WRITE a book, one of the first questions I get asked is “What made you decide to write it?”

  In this case, the idea came during a long conversation with a friend several years ago. He asked me what had given me joy and comfort when I first moved to Paris as a young journalist so many years ago.

  “The Seine,” I replied.

  I decided the time had finally come to explore a river I loved but knew only superficially. During much of my time living in France, I wandered along only part of its eight-mile stretch in Paris. In writing this book, I traveled from the source of the Seine in deep Burgundy, to the estuary where its waters meet the sea, and to cities, towns, tributaries, islands, ports, and bridges in between. The result is a deeply personal book shaped by my impressions of life on the river. I have told the stories that resonated with me and shared encounters with people whose lives touched me.

  I get by in my book-writing life with a lot of help from a lot of friends. I treasure our conversations—our partage, that elusive concept that means “sharing,” and one of my favorite words in the French language. Paul Golob asked the question that set me on this journey. Barbara Ireland, a former New York Times editor and friend who can do just about anything with the written word, helped me structure, shape, and polish the manuscript, over and over. Joyce Seltzer, a former senior editor at Harvard University Press, whom I’ve known and loved since graduate school, weighed in with brilliant ideas along the way. Bertrand Vannier, a fellow journalist and friend since we covered Iran’s 1979 revolution together, read the manuscript with his keen French analytical eye, as he has done before. My former Newsweek colleague Steve Strasser and my former Princeton student Rachel Stone also read and critiqued the manuscript. My art historian friend Lin Widmann helped with crucial, last-minute copyediting. Jean-Claude Ribaut contributed his vast knowledge of French history, gastronomy, architecture, and culture. Elizabeth Stribling, president of the French Heritage Society, joined me in my adventures along the way. Once again, Amy and Peter Bernstein offered sound strategic advice.

  Gary Zuercher shared his luminous black-and-white photographs of the bridges of Paris at night, collected in his 2015 book The Glow of Paris. Mort Rosenblum welcomed me to his floating home on the Seine. Pascal Blondeau, the photographer and perfo
rmance artist, wrote a song for me—all about the joys and sorrows of the river. He has promised to sing it one day.

  I’m also indebted to other friends: Stephen Heyman, Stephen Barclay, Richard Overstreet, Paris Huxley, Donna Smith Vinter, Sanaë Lemoine, Darius Khondji, Susan Fraker, Julia Husson, Andrew Joscelyne, Carol Giacomo, Guy Savoy, Maureen Dowd, Bernette Baer Plump, Marie-Christine Vannier, Susan Benner, Yves-André Istel, and Kathleen Begala, all rock-solid pillars of support.

  Despite the burden of their scholarly research and teaching schedules, Professor David Bell of Princeton University and Professor Elisabeth Ladenson of Columbia University meticulously read the manuscript. David shared his wisdom about centuries of French history, and Elisabeth filled in gaps and told me stories about nineteenth-century French literature.

  I take joy in surrounding myself with young people, and I learn so much from them. I discovered long ago that putting a hot, multicourse lunch on the kitchen table every weekday at one p.m. is a strategic way to get a conversation going about French habits and customs. Bérengère Sim, a gifted young journalist, worked by my side for more than a year. We bonded with river captains and river police, toured locks and water treatment facilities, and went swimming in the Seine. Laura Kennedy, a talented researcher and probably the most positive person I’ve ever met, brought joy to the office every day. Sophie Stuber, as a graduate student at Sciences Po, picked up where Laura left off, bringing the editing process to closure. Joanna Beaufoy shared her deep knowledge of French literature and music, recording songs of the Seine for me. David Broad of Left of Frame Pictures documented life on the Seine in video and photographs.

  Heather Milke, Iris Samuels, Anna Windemuth, Nora Gosselin, Assia Labbas, Alice Stockwell, Maëlys Bablon, Elizabeth Rosen, Nellie Peyton, Olivia Grochmal, Alex Hurst, Felix Hoffmann, and Jamie Lee Jones joined the team at various stages, carrying out both routine and arcane research assignments. We ate well, too.

  This is the second time I have had the good fortune to be published by W. W. Norton & Company. Jill Bialosky, my editor and an accomplished poet and author in her own right, immediately embraced the idea for a multifaceted book about Paris and France, as she did for The Only Street in Paris. Meredith McGinnis, director of marketing; Louise Brockett, director of publicity; Elizabeth Shreve, the founder and managing partner of Shreve Williams Public Relations; and Jill worked together to make the book a success. Drew Elizabeth Weitman, Jill’s assistant, pushed the editorial process toward completion. Beth Steidle oversaw production, and Ingsu Liu art directed the cover. Once again, Bonnie Thompson was a rigorous copy editor who eliminated errors and imprecisions and handled the manuscript with care.

  Andrew Wylie, a force of nature and my literary agent, and Jeffrey Posternak, his deputy, were active and patient partners through the ups and downs that go with creating a book. Andrew seldom sleeps, never wastes time on meals, and always responds to emails and calls in record time. Jeff—always good-natured, always fair-minded—can get just about anything done. We’ve been working together for more than twenty years, and they’ve always come through.

  Princeton University hosted me for the second time as a Ferris Professor of Journalism in the humanities council, this time in 2017, which gave me access to the tremendous resources of the university and its libraries. A special thanks to Kathleen Crown, Joe Stephens, Margo Bresnen, and Princeton’s army of librarians.

  Thanks to Dena Kaye, journalist and philanthropist, I received a generous grant from the Danny Kaye and Sylvia Fine Kaye Foundation to fund reproduction rights for photographic and artistic images. Artist Carol Gillott, creator of the ParisBreakfast blog, designed a delightful illustrated map of the river. The gifted publicist Dee Dee Debartlo spread the word about the book as she did last time around.

  I’m deeply grateful to the people who live on, work on, study, and love the Seine; they taught me so much. Allow me to name a few: Marie Landron, director of the MuséoSeine and a living encyclopedia of the river, patiently answered questions—both serious and frivolous—about the Seine’s history. Guy Pessiot, a scholar and a storyteller, and his friend Jacques Tanguy shared their bottomless knowledge of Rouen and showed me around town. Sandrine Berjot, commandant of the Paris Brigade Fluviale, and her team welcomed me several times to police headquarters on the river. Sophie Casadebaig, director of the Musée Archaéologique de Dijon, allowed the priceless ancient Sequana bronze statue to be taken out of its protective case for the first time in decades so I could photograph it. Antoine Hoareau taught me all about the source of the Seine in deep Burgundy. Juliette Jestaz, curator of prints and manuscripts at the Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris, located obscure historical documents about the Seine with passion and determination. Nicolas Le Goff, author of two books on the little-known corners of Paris, took me on a tour of some of the city’s hidden treasures. Miguel Biard and Arlette Renau, his mother, broke with tradition by inviting me, a landlubber, into the little-understood world of barge life.

  After the great Notre-Dame fire of April 5, 2019, General Jean-Claude Gallet, commander of the firefighting brigade of Paris, and Lieutenant Colonel Gabriel Plus, the brigade’s chief spokesman, welcomed me to their headquarters. As the book was going to print, they told me the dramatic story of how the fire spread quickly and finally was extinguished, revealing new details and correcting errors along the way.

  Some writers need to get away from family to work. I need constant contact with mine. My older daughter Alessandra Plump, who was born with a generous spirit and a sense of humor, kept me laughing. My younger daughter Gabriela Plump was my visual inspiration; she photographed the river over and over, in all its sparkling light, in summer, winter, morning, and night, and painstakingly edited photos afterwards. My mother-in-law Sondra Brown offered love and hospitality during my stays in New York. My son-in-law Mathew Brailsford became an enthusiastic member of the team when he and Alessandra married in 2018.

  Most important was my husband, Andrew Plump. His curiosity is insatiable, his energy boundless. He helped formulate the structure of the book and read the text over and over with lawyerly precision, as he has done every time I have veered away from journalism into book-writing. On weekends and holidays, he traveled with me up and down the length of the Seine, many of its stretches more than once, shooting photographs and videos along the way. We make a great team. He has a great sense of direction; I have a horrible sense of direction. He loves to drive; I hate to drive. He is the best traveling companion ever—on the road and in life. This book is for him.

  Bibliography

  AUTHOR’S NOTE: In the absence of footnotes or endnotes, all sources used in writing this book are listed in the Bibliography. All quotations cited are taken from these sources. If a source has been omitted inadvertently, it will be added in a subsequent edition. Concerning translations, for the sake of clarity and style, in some cases I have translated the passages into English myself and cited the original French texts. I hope I have done them justice. In other cases, I have relied upon, and cited, existing English translations of the French texts.

  BOOKS

  Ackroyd, Peter. Thames: Sacred River. New York: Vintage Books, 2008.

  Alexandre, Arnaud, Stéphanie Boura, and Beatrice de Andia. La Seine et Paris. Paris:

  Action Artistique de la Ville de Paris, 2000.

  Apollinaire, Guillaume. Le flâneur des deux rives. Paris: Gallimard, 1994.

  Arthus-Bertrand, Yann. La Seine vue du ciel. Triel-sur-Seine: Éditions Italiques, 2009.

  Association pour la Promotion des Arts. Paris sous le ciel de la peinture. Paris: Association pour la Promotion des Arts, 2000.

  Astier, Ingrid. Quai des enfers. Paris: Folio, 2012.

  Atelier Parisien d’Urbanisme. Paris, Métropole sur Seine. Paris: Les Éditions Textuel, 2010.

  Atkinson, Rick. The Guns at Last Light: The War in Western Europe, 1944–1945. New York: Henry Holt, 2013.

  Backouche, Isabelle. La trace du fleuve: La Seine
et Paris (1750–1850). Paris: Éditions EHESS, 2016.

  Balzac, Honoré de. The Selected Works of Honoré de Balzac. Translated by Clara Bell.

  Ashland, OH: Baker & Taylor Publisher Services, 2013.

  ———. The Wild Ass’s Skin. Translated by Herbert J. Hunt. London: Penguin Classics, 1977.

  Banse, Laure, and Patrick Lebourgeois. La vie au fil de la Seine. Rouen: Éditions des Falaises, 2013.

  Berton, Pierre. Niagara: A History of the Falls. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1992.

  Beaudouin, François. Paris/Seine: Ville fluviale: Son histoire des origines à nos jours. Paris: Éditions de La Martinière, 1993.

  Beaune, Colette, Olivier Bouzy, Jean-Marc Goglin, et al. Historial Jeanne d’Arc: De l’histoire au mythe. Rouen: Beaux-Arts Éditions, 2015.

  Bernac, Pierre. Francis Poulenc et ses mélodies. Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 2014.

  Bernier, François. Voyages de François Bernier . . . contenant la description des états du Grand Mogol, de l’Hindoustan. 2 vols. Amsterdam: Paul Marret, 1699.

  Bertrand, Patrick, and Jacques Dubois. Les hommes qui ont inventé Le Havre: Un port et une ville 1517–2017. Rouen: Éditions des Falaises, 2017.

  Besse, Françoise, and Jérôme Godeau. Tableaux parisiens: Du moyen-age à nos jours, six siècles de peinture en capitale. Paris: Parigramme, 2005.

  Binh, N. T., and Franck Garbarz. Paris au cinéma: La vie rêvée de la capitale de Méliès à Amélie Poulain. Paris: Parigramme, 2005.

  Bourguinat, Elisabeth. Les rues de Paris au XVIIIe siècle: Le regard de Louis Sébastien Mercier. Paris: Paris Musées, 1999.