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ONCE more I shall urge you to bear with me writing in the first person voice, for this strange story cannot be told otherwise.
I was a bit surprised when I received an email from Eric Bêcheur, a Parisian who says after returning home following seven years in Pakistan, he has never missed an issue of Dawn on the internet.
“I’ve noticed you tell tales about people and places in France that are little known abroad. I’d like to reveal something to you that even the Parisians are generally unaware. But we must meet,” wrote Eric.
I went to meet Eric at a cafe in Les Halles area, the historical commercial zone of the city. I found him to be a dapper man in his mid-40s, his hair neatly combed, his shirt properly ironed, his dark suit and tie spotless, and his leather shoes shining.
Noticing my surprised expression he smiled good-humouredly and said: “Yes, I know I am inelegant, out of fashion in today’s world. You can be sure they’ll never invite me to a TV talk show.”
Following our brief introductory conversation over coffee, Eric suddenly said: “Let’s go outside. I want to show you something.”
It was a short walk to a narrow, cobbled corridor called passage de la Reine de Hongrie. We were hardly midway when we came upon an iron barrier that blocked our path.
“When Les Halles constructed in 1770, it was not really a street but only a quick connection between rue [street] Montmartre and rue Montorgueil,” said Eric.
“Why was it named after the queen of Hungary?” I asked impatiently.
“Nevertheless, it was a busy, bustling place with many shops, including that of a perfume maker who invented alcohol-based scents,” continued Eric without bothering to answer my question.
“There was a shopkeeper in the area who was known to everyone as ‘Rose of May’.
“One day an aristocratic lady, who was very close to Queen Marie-Antoinette, came to Les Halles to buy perfumes.
“It was inevitable that she would run into Rose of May. She admired her beauty like everyone else, but she also noticed something else about her. She whispered this secret into the queen’s ear on her next visit to the Versailles Palace.
“Upon hearing the secret Marie-Antoinette became excited and wanted to meet Rose of May. But there was no question of the queen of France going to Les Halles to meet a shopkeeper.
“She discussed this with her husband, King Louis XVI. The monarch, an amiable man, was happy to solve the dilemma for his queen.
“He invited the perfumer and other shopkeepers to dinner at the palace. When Marie-Antoinette saw Rose of May she was struck by her resemblance to her own mother.
“My God, she is the spitting image of Her Majesty the queen of Hungary!” she exclaimed.
“On return, the shopkeepers bestowed Rose of May with a new sobriquet — ‘Queen of Hungary’.
“Her colleagues placed two metal plaques, on which was engraved rue de la Reine de Hongrie, at both ends of the corridor.
“But this poor queen only enjoyed a brief reign as in 1789 came the revolution. During the revolt the hotheads went to Les Halles and arrested her.
“Why punish a woman just because she looks like the mother of Marie-Antoinette?” argued the defence lawyer during her trial. But this objection was overruled and the accused was guillotined along with Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette.
“The revolutionaries also pulled down the metal plaques and painted the corridor’s two walls with ‘rue Egalité’ in giant, blood-red letters.
“By 1806 France had eventually gotten over its revolutionary delirium and Equality Street restored its original name. The word ‘rue’ was changed to ‘passage’ a century later when the iron barrier you see before you was erected in 1914.”
“But you didn’t tell me the real name of the queen of Hungary!”
Eric smiled: “The unfortunate shopkeeper was called Julie Bêcheur.”
—The writer is a journalist based in Paris.
Published in Dawn, January 4th, 2015
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