Le Déclin and a fall from grace

Flicking swiftly through hundreds of vintage Paris postcards at a fair recently, my finger was stopped dead by a singularly melancholic picture. Paris is a city that people boast of visiting, but here was a sculpture of two miserable looking figures entitled 'Le Déclin' (the decline), with behind them a thoroughly working-class city vista. Dating from the very beginning of the 20th century, it was as far as possible from the standard image of Paris, and therefore definitely worthy of investigation. 

Some information was given on the postcard, but several other mysteries remained. The sculpture was by the artist Clément Leopold Steiner, and was situated in the Square du Père Lachaise. The statue is not one that I had ever seen before, and I wasn't even sure where the Square du Père Lachaise was situated - understandable, given that it is today known as the Square Samuel de Champlain (a small park probably best known for being the site of Moreau-Vauthier's 'Le mur aux victimes des Révolutions').

Information on the motives and tastes of the postcard sender can often be found on the rear of the card, but here there was just a laconic 'bonjour'. Why was a postcard of this sculpture made, and why would anyone at the time choose to send such a picture to friends or family? The answer can perhaps be found in a brochure printed for the Societe national des beaux-arts exhibition at the Galerie des Machines on the Champ de Mars in 1898 where Steiner's sculpture was first presented.

"Le déclin, de Léopold Steiner, est bien, très bien. Ces deux vieillards simplement assis au soir de la vie, forment un groupe des plus remarquables dans la section de sculpture de la Société des Artistes français."
(Le déclin by Léopold Steiner, is good, very good. These two old people sitting simply in the twilight of their lives, make up a remarkable group in the sculpture section of the French artists' society.)

Clearly it was a sculpture that had artistic merit, and was of the tastes of the day. Sadly for Steiner, he didn't live to see a slow decline into graceful old age himself, and died in 1899 - the year after the presentation of the sculpture - aged only 46.

The sculpture was purchased by the city of Paris, and placed in a new garden directly opposite the Père Lachaise cemetery. The couple were perched at a height that enabled them to look directly over the wall and into a possible future place of rest (and away from the city of Paris), but whether this was a deliberate decision is not known!

The sculpture was seemingly quickly adopted by those in the vicinity of its new home, and looked at more closely it is easy to see why. The couple are not sad, but merely physically tired after a life of labour. They are obviously not wealthy, but contented that they have been able to grow old in each other's arms, something that would have been an aspiration for many people in this working class part of the city. It was positioned on the top of a series of steps, which people would sit on, as another charming postcard I found online shows.

In more recent times though, another mystery has arisen. By all accounts the sculpture was no longer standing in the garden, but where was it originally situated, and where is it now? The only way to find out was to visit the garden, postcard in hand, and investigate.

In my postcard, the only clue was the spire of the Notre Dame de la Croix church in Menilmontant, which is clearly visible in the background. All other visual clues have been demolished and replaced by taller buildings. Fortunately a more recent picture of the sculpture existed which gave me all the evidence I needed.

Somebody who had known the sculpture in better times was surprised and saddened to return to the garden around 15 years ago and find it painted and covered in grafitti. This photo was a rather sad and pathetic sight, but at least it showed me exactly where the sculpture had sat in the park.

 

In its place today is a rather spindly rose garden. Nearby is a bench, but the discarded cans of beer in the vicinity show that this is not somewhere that families come to relax, nor old couples in their twilight years.

The sculpture has therefore been removed, but where is it today and will it ever return or find a new home? To find out, I contacted the Marie du 20eme arrondissement who informed me that the statue had been removed in 2002 following a period of damage and deterioration. More importantly, they also told me that there were no plans to bring it back to the park. Today it sits - probably with many other damaged and discarded creations - in the city of Paris's art collection storage space in the suburb of Ivry. 

Looking at my postcard again I can see why else it attracted my attention. It's a simple image, but one that finally says much about Paris. The background is a city that has changed beyond recognition, but the picture also tells us about changing tastes and changing behaviours. It's a postcard with a story - albeit a rather unhappy one - and one worth saving from the dusty box of memories. 

The Past was Yours but the Future’s Mine

(Bd de Menilmontant, 75020)

Coming out of a cemetery it is entirely possible that you'll want to rub your eyes and start looking back to the future. Fortunately, at Père Lachaise you have just that possibility as positioned directly opposite the cemetery is a caravan belonging to a fortune teller.

The French have a very schizophrenic relationship with fortune telling. Beneath their very Cartesian exteriors, they have always been great consumers of horoscopes and other predictive services. François Mitterand famously used a astrologist when President, and Raymond Domenech, the French football coach, has picked or dropped players because of the icompatibility of their star signs. It is not unusual either to hear of the French police services bringing in mediums to help with investigations that have arrived at a dead end.

Should it be considered such a paradox though? After all, if you believe that life is without mystery and that all can be explained, should it not also be logical to believe that some people with a little extra insight can read our pre-plotted paths? However we choose to look at this phenomenon though, it’s clear that business is quite brisk for Altiz, the Père Lachaise ‘mage’.

It is a fantastic piece of opportunistic positioning too, comparable to the flower sellers that surround the cemetery. He would find trade at any cemetery, but Père Lachaise is particularly apt as it contains the tomb of Allan Kardec. Kardec was the founding father of spiritism in France, and his resting place competes with Jim Morrison as the most visited shrine in the cemetery.

From Kardec’s tomb, it is a short step to Altiz’s caravan, and he openly admits that he has profited from this proximity. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this service though is the fact that it is supported by the city of Paris. Altiz rents the space from the city council, who consider that he is a living example of a tradition with a long history in Paris, and which deserves to be preserved. A hundred years ago, such caravans would have been found throughout the city, but Altiz today is the last survivor outside of the fairground. Time may have moved on since then, but people will never stop wanting to see what is ahead of them.