Ile d'Aix and La Rochelle

What in the world is Julius Caesar doing in this obscure place in France? That you might have mistaken Napoléon for Caesar is understandable; the laurels about his crown might have deceived you, but that was intentional. Oh yes, the glory of Rome, the great French Empire, and (mon dieu!) the Thousand Year Reich seem to be part and parcel of the same historical memory, but they are not. Come now, something more than simple megalomania is operating here. It is not the banality of evil, as Hannah Arendt termed the Nazi juggernaut that operated here. At the Ile d'Aix, the locus of Napoléon's last French residence, a quiet museum testifies that the accidental subject of Beethoven's Third Symphony (Eroica) was perhaps worthy of all the accolades registered in his name. After Waterloo, a specific memory of this man who had reinvented not only himself, but also the entire course of western history, was relegated to this ecologically fascinating island.

The erstwhile Emperor [of the World] Napoléon didn't notice the myriad varieties of plants around him, or the exciting possibilities of La Rochelle next door (though those on the Caledonian Star did so!). For him, an empire was over. Though he had lost, Napoléon left a considerable legacy - the metric system, a system of codified law, and of rational public administration. A belief that merit (rather than inheritance) should rule in France and across the globe remained, as did, of course, a memory of what the philosopher GWF Hegel called "world-historical" heroism.

And for us, on to La Rochelle, that hotbed of protesting religious dissidents of the seventeenth century, the Hugenots. What a proud city it was when the crown laid siege to it! The city walls encircled an urban zone that looked out to the world, not toward the vanities of Paris and Versailles. They defended the local autonomy of a city that, like Geneva, proudly ruled itself through its own elected city council. All of that is still there, for the irrepressible urban esprit has long survived the pretensions of Louis XIV and his minions, creating a vibrant, human-scale city with a wonderfully unique architecture and character.