Mon Panache

Because I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow, I thought I better begin this blogging…thing. I’ve never been one to publish all the details of my life on the internet for all to see, but I thought blogging whilst in France could 1) keep people updated about what I’m doing and 2) be a journal that I can look back on when I’m 80 years old. Two birds with one stone. So this may not be high quality literature, but who cares?

The title of this pithy periodical comes from a duelist and dramatist we learned about in French class—Cyrano de Bergerac. Though he lived in the 17^th century, his life has been blown out of proportion by fiction writers (the 19^th century play by Edmond Rostand is one of my sister’s favorites). In the last scene in the play, Cyrano lies dying from a head wound after finally admitting his love for Roxane:

ROXANE: Cyrano!

CYRANO: 

 Let be!  Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!

  You strip from me the laurel and the rose!

  Take all!  Despite you there is yet one thing

  I hold against you all, and when, to-night,

  I enter Christ's fair courts, and, lowly bowed,

  Sweep with doffed casque the heavens' threshold blue,

  One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch,

  I bear away despite you.

ROXANE: 'Tis?. . .

CYRANO: My panache.

(The curtain falls) 

At the end of his life, all Cyrano has left is his “panache,” literally “plume.” 

The French king Henry IV was famous for putting a white plume in his helmet 

and charging into battle crying “"Ralliez-vous à mon panache blanc!" (“Follow my white plume!”)

 Before the play, the word “panache” had negative connotations. But thanks to Cyrano’s 

dashing swordplay and wit, the word now means flamboyant manner and 

reckless courage—traits epitomized by the French people. 

Hopefully, after spending 2 ½ months in France, I’ll understand 

what makes these stylish, confident, elegant people the way they are. 

And, on the off chance, I may learn some biology too…