Julie Lyles Carr: Now Where Was I?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Now Where Was I?

Let's see.

abegnal 1 sq exNow, I had gotten home from Paris and partially unpacked and then we celebrated July 4th and then 1 of 8 got home from Paris and then we repacked and Mike and a couple of the boys stayed home and the rest of us (eight in total) headed for DFW for Dance Nationals and it was hotter, hotter, hotter than Mercury in Dallas and then there was dancing and dancing and dancing for five days and then we drove home last night and I've been trying to catch up on work and now it's late afternoon.
eloise1 exOkay.

Found my place again.

So let's go back to Paris for a bit, shall we?

There is a wonderful love story celebrated by the French, the true tale of the romance of some other star-crossed lovers.

Back in the 1100s in Paris, an incredibly intelligent and beautiful girl named Heloise was being raised by her uncle Fulbert, a priest. She was known for her ability in languages, speaking and writing in Hebrew, Latin and Greek. A tutor in the philosophies was brought in to continue her education.
His name was Pierre Abelard.

Heloise and Abelard fell in love over their books. They tried to hide their romance, even concealing the fact that they secretly married. Heloise bore Abelard a son, all the while concealing her love for Abelard from her uncle the priest.

But eventually Fulbert discovered the couple and in a fit of rage had Abelard castrated. Abelard became a monk after this violence and Heloise chose to take the veil as a nun.

The reason we even know anything of their love is that after they were each sequestered in their respective monastery and convent, they began to write to one another, pouring out their history and hearts in Latin, along with their thoughts on faith and the church.

The apartment where they conducted their secret marriage was restored in 1849, just around the corner from Notre Dame. Their likenesses adorn the intricate doors and legend says their remains were interred together, rejoined at last, at the crypt at the Pere-Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.

1 of 8 took me to the house and I snapped many a picture of the doors bearing their likenesses.


So there you have it, the French Romeo and Juliet. With a little vindictive uncle body modification to boot.

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