Pezenas: “Oh How Fine It Is To Know A Thing Or Two”

In Europe there is almost always an interesting thing or two to know about even the smallest and least famous town or village.

The first recorded interesting thing about Pezenas is that in 980, the Vicomte de Beziers gave the town to his daughter Garsinde as a dowry, on her marriage to the Count of Carcassonne.

Hey – let’s start a revival of the name ‘Garsinde’ for baby girls!

And towns as wedding presents. Sure beats the clock my uncle gave to every single one of his nephews and nieces who tied the knot.

Two hundred and some years later, Pezenas along with the rest of Languedoc, suffered during the Albigensian crusade. When the ashes had settled, Simon de Montfort got possession of Pezenas. A short time later, he sold it (along with my town, Tourbes) to King Louis IX .

The Collegial Church of St. Jean was built in the 1312, with the bell tower being added in 1317, and a new chancel in 1519.

That accounts for its romanesque interior, an architectural style that persisted here, long after it had gone out of fashion elsewhere in France.

It is saved from austerity by the rococo pulpit.

The church was rebuilt between 1737 and 1746, after the bell tower collapsed. Designed by Jean Baptiste Franque, it has a notable organ by Jean Francois Lepine.

In the mid 16th century, a ‘gouvernement’ was established for Languedoc. A ‘gouvernement’ was a sort of military region with a military governor. Over time, the governors of the Languedoc gouvernement appropriated to themselves more and more administrative and executive powers. The French king voluntarily gave Languedoc the right to manage taxation, one of the few provinces of France which had that privilege.

The Estates General of Languedoc convened in Pézenas.

This stately building is the Consulate.

I thought from the name that this must have been some kind of an embassy and wondered what an embassy building was doing in the provincial backwater of Languedoc. It was not a consulate in the diplomatic sense of the word. It was the House of ‘Consuls’, the designation given to the representatives of the Estates General.

Pezenas prospered from its role as the seat of regional power, and many of the wealthy and influential built their lovely ‘hotels particulieres’ in Pezenas. The word ‘hotel’ in this phrase does not mean a business offering lodgings to the public. It refers to a private mansion.

The Hotel Flottes de Sebasan was built in the 15th century. The right hand facade was largely remodelled in the 18th century, adding a grand entrance door, Italian windows and wrought iron railings.

A sign proudly proclaims that Anne of Austria stayed here.

I love the fact that the exact date is shown. “Queen Anne slept here” indeed – for one night in April, 1660.

Anne of Austria was the wife of Louis XIII. She figured prominently in Dumas’ The Three Musketeers They rescued her from many an awkward situation. Dumas not so subtly planted the suggestion that Athos maybe fathered her son Louis XIV, the Sun King. It’s at least possible that someone other than Louis did, although pretty much all serious historians pooh pooh the idea.

After all, there’s nothing suspicious about a baby being born in a marriage which had been childless for 23 years, right?

Walking around this beautiful square, one almost expects to see D’Artagnan come swashbuckling through a door, summoning Athos, Porthos and Aramis to the Queen’s aid against the dastardly Cardinal Richelieu.

Pezenas and Languedoc suffered a blow when Languedoc rebelled in 1632 against Anne’s husband, Louis XIII. The revolt was led by the King’s own brother, Gaston, the Duc d’Orleans who also happened to occupy the post of Governor of Languedoc at the time. He was joined by the most powerful noble in the area, Duc Henri II de Montmorency. These events form the basis of almost a whole season of the British miniseries, The Three Musketeers: The Complete Miniseries

Duc Henri was taken prisoner and executed. Gaston was eventually pardoned, even though, on his way to the scaffold, de Montmorency revealed Gaston’s secret marriage earlier that year to a sister of the Duke of Lorraine, which Louis had specifically forbidden.

The two dukes were gone, but Pezenas endured.

It remained the seat of the Governors of Languedoc and the Estates General until the end of the 17th century.

“The greater the obstacle, the more joy in overcoming it.”

The quotations in this post and the title of the post all come from the writings of Moliere, the French playwright (and actor). Born in 1622 in Paris to a prosperous bourgeois family as Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, Moliere studied to become a lawyer, but threw that over to follow his passion.

Sounds familiar.

Moliere’s particular passion was the theatre, a disreputable choice. Actors were viewed as so inherently immoral that, by law, they were not even allowed to be buried in sacred ground at that time.

Around 1645 Poquelin changed his name to Moliere, likely to avoid embarrassing his well-to-do respectable father. His efforts to start a theatre troupe in Paris having resulted in nothing but imprisonment for debt, he decided to try his luck in the provinces.

In 1650 the members of the Languedoc Estates General in Pézenas were in need of entertainment. Moliere’s acting troupe, the Illustre Théâtre, was hired to provide it. This engagement marked a turning point in Moliere’s career, bringing a source of badly needed income. After all, even writers must eat.

“I feed on good soup, not good language.”

Moliere was well aware of the effect of commercial considerations on writing.

“Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then for money.”

Personally, I’m still waiting for the money part.

The engagement in Pezenas ensured a good income for many months. Moliere’s offerings must have been well received, for the Estates called on the company to perform twice more, in 1653 and 1655. This may have been at the behest of Moliere’s new patron.

In 1653, Moliere met Armand de Bourbon, Prince of Conti, then Governor of Languedoc and the most prominent resident of Pezenas. Conti became a friend and influential supporter. For a while it seemed Moliere would settle down in Pezenas, writing and putting on comic plays for his pleasure loving patron. However, within a fairly short period of time, it became public knowledge that Conti had contracted syphilis from a mistress.

“It is the public scandal that offends. To sin in secret is no sin at all.”

The Prince transformed into an intolerant religious fanatic, turned his back on such evil pursuits as the theatre, and quickly became a vocal enemy of Moliere, who believed that:

“As the purpose of comedy is to correct the vices of men, I see no reason why anyone should be exempt.”

The Catholic church and many nobles did not share that view.

Moliere decided to try Paris again, where Louis XIV was now king. Both Louis and his brother, the Duc d’Orleans (a new one, not Gaston who rebelled against Louis XIV’s father), did indeed support Moliere, who produced plays and ballets, some in collaboration with the most influential French composer of the time, Jean-Baptiste Lully. Lully also composed operas.

“Of all the noises known to man, opera is the most expensive.”

‘Nuff said.

Moliere’s belief that no institution was exempt from the ‘correction’ of comedy wisely did not extend to the institution of monarchy. This may explain why the King and his royal brother shielded him to some extent from the wrath of the Church. In 1664, after the opening of “Tartuffe“, the Archbishop of Paris issued an edict threatening excommunication for anyone who watched, performed in, or read the play. Moliere’s former patron in Pezenas, the Prince de Conti, was at the head of the pack baying for his blood. “Tartuffe” was banned, but Moliere himself was not punished.

Moliere continued to act, as well as to write, even though he was suffering from pulmonary tuberculosis. In 1673, while playing the lead role in (ironically) “La Malade Imaginaire” he was seized by a coughing fit onstage and hemorrhaged blood. Nevertheless, he famously insisted on finishing the performance.

He did not say, “The show must go on,” but I bet he wished he had.

He died a few hours later, without receiving the last rites. Two priests refused the call when they learned who the sufferer was. A third arrived too late.

“We die only once, and for such a long time.”

The superstition that green brings bad luck to actors is said by some sources to originate from the colour of the clothing Moliere was wearing at the time of his death.

The King, moved by a plea from Moliere’s widow, made an exception to the law against actors’ mortal remains being placed to rest in hallowed ground. He allowed Molière’s body to be buried by night in the part of the parish cemetery reserved for unbaptised babies. Moliere was eventually moved to Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris.

Meanwhile, Pezenas continued to flourish into the late 18th century. Elegant wrought iron balconies were added to buildings.

Architectural flourishes such as bell towers and ‘mascarons’ – grotesque or comic human faces – adorned the previously austere facades of earlier constructions, such as the Consulate.

They appeared over the Consulate doorways.

The Consulate windows had them, along with the tiny wrought iron balconies.

After the French Revolution, when the Estates General for Languedoc were dissolved, Pezenas sank back into obscurity.

Molière’s association with Pezenas was forgotten for over two hundred years.

In 1885, someone unearthed a receipt for payment for one of his troupe’s performances here, signed by Moliere. That spurred interest, and in 1897 a monument was erected.

The sculpture stands in a Pezenas park named after Moliere. It is the work of Jean Antoine Injalbert, whose work also adorns the Pont Mirabeau and the Petit Palais in Paris.

The Comedie Francaise (which was formed after Moliere’s death by the union of the successor to Moliere’s troupe ‘Illustre Theatre” with another), has performed in Pezenas three times in homage to the great man.

There is now also a Hotel Moliere here.

Moliere deserves his fame, and I’m glad that Pezenas can share in it. Who doesn’t love the guy who wrote:

“A lover tries to stand well with the pet dog of the house.”

Pezenas has remained a sleepy, charming town whose population of around 8,000 in 2012 exceeded that of its population in 1793, by only about 1000 people.