Tour de audio de Épernay: Senderos de champán y tesoros atemporales

Straight ahead, you’ll spot a grand stone church with a dazzling rose window and a dramatic, pointed tower stretching up-look for its tall central spire reaching high above all the rooftops! Welcome to the Church of Notre-Dame d’Épernay! Imagine standing here in the early 1900s, as the sound of hammers echoes through the air, craftsmen building these thick stone walls and elegant arches. But then, during World War I, German bombs came raining down, and this church nearly got a new set of holes more complicated than the rose windows! It took years of hard work and hope to repair the damage, and by 1925, it stood tall again-just like the resilient people of Épernay. Step close and you’ll notice the church is shaped like a Latin cross, with a tower at the crossing topped by a polygonal spire. That spire? It soars 77 meters into the sky-so high, I bet even the birds need directions to find their nests up there! Inside, sunlight glows through magical stained glass from the 16th century, painting colored patterns on ancient stone. The air sometimes rings with music from a historic organ, crafted by Cavaillé-Coll and Mutin, once gifted by Paul Chandon de Briailles, a man who probably wished every church could sound as grand as his champagne tasted. And for a final mysterious twist: in the church lies the tombstone of Marshal Pierre Strozzi, a lord of Épernay-his secrets gently resting beneath your feet as you stand in the shadow of this noble, resilient landmark.

If you look straight ahead, you’ll spot the Pont d’Épernay stretching across the Marne-a graceful stone bridge with wide arches and a little house perched at one end, almost as if a gatekeeper is welcoming you across the river. Now, let’s take a step back in time together. Imagine standing here in 1567, watching stonemasons stacking giant blocks to form this very bridge. Back then, bridges weren’t just for crossing-they were lifelines, and sometimes battlegrounds. In the late 16th century, after the siege of Épernay, the bridge needed to be patched up, like a tired old sock after a long adventure. And just when it thought life would get easier, here came 1814-sudden clatter, soldiers on the run, and the bridge was cut right in the middle during the wild days of the Napoleonic wars. Then, the city rolled up its sleeves and said, “Let’s build it better.” Between 1820 and 1823, new arches rose over the Marne, and wider sidewalks were added. You can almost hear the echo of footsteps, from merchants with barrels of bubbly to children bursting with laughter. But the bridge wasn’t done meeting trouble-World War II came along, and in 1944 it was cut yet again before rising, stubborn as ever, from the rubble. Today, this bridge isn’t just stones and mortar; it’s a monument to Épernay’s resilience, listed as a historic landmark. As you stand here, picture centuries of stories floating just above the water-some sparkling, some stormy, but all part of Épernay’s remarkable journey.

To spot the Château Perrier, look directly in front of you for a grand, ornate mansion with red brick and white stone stripes, tall arched windows, and a statue of a hunter on horseback proudly standing in the central courtyard. Ah, welcome to the magnificent Château Perrier! Take a moment to drink in-pun intended-the sight of this palace of polychrome elegance, one of France’s earliest examples of the neo-Louis XIII style. Picture this: it’s the 1850s. The air smells faintly of cut stone and newly uncorked dreams, as Charles Nicolas Perrier, the son of the founder of Perrier-Jouët Champagne, decides to go big-really big-with a château that basically says “I have arrived, and yes, please do admire my bricks.” The walls are a checkerboard of red brick and creamy white stone, and the roof throws its slatey peaks heavenward. You’re standing outside a slice of 19th-century ambition-four different façades, each with its own personality, yet woven together with a splash of color and bursts of sculpted stone. Let’s take you back to the grand beginnings. The construction began in 1852, starting with a dig-the champagne caves went in first, naturally, so even if the roof wasn’t ready, the bubbles would be! The main house followed swiftly, and by 1854, the date still inscribed above the attic window, the bricklayers finally put down their trowels. Three more years and about a million francs later, the place was ready-a sparkling jewel along the avenue: close to the new Paris-Strasbourg railway, and front row on the royal road for showing off to visitors. Talk about location, location, location. Now, the château wasn’t just a pretty face. Step a bit closer in your mind-you might hear, way back in the day, the clip-clop of horses and laughter at garden parties. That’s right, Charles Perrier was living the high life. His estate included lush gardens, bubbling fountains, even an orangerie and hothouses filled with tropical orchids, pineapples-28 varieties, if you can believe it!-café plants, and towering camellias. In fact, the garden was so impressive it won not just medals, but bragging rights across the region. Imagine gardeners fussing over orchids while the distant sound of a passing train blended with birdsong. But time doesn’t stand still, and neither did the château. After Charles and his wife Octavie passed, it was inherited by Henri Gallice, Octavie’s nephew-a man who loved horses and hunting. To prove it, he installed the iron statue of “le Veneur”-the hunter on horseback-right here where you’re standing, his silhouette dramatic against the grand mansion. Through war and peace, this mansion played host to all sorts of drama. Believe it or not, during the First World War, the elegant champagne cellars below your feet were transformed into a military hospital. Listen closely-can you almost hear the echo of boots and the fervent whispers of nurses as they cared for the wounded? Italian inscriptions from those years still linger as ghostly graffiti hidden in the walls. By World War II, the château hopped between nationalities like a diplomatic game of musical chairs-British headquarters, German stronghold, American base, sometimes all in the same decade! Then, in 1942, Épernay’s town council saw a new future for this palace and snapped it up for their municipal museum and library. The deal was official in 1943, and rooms that once echoed with champagne toasts and society gossip now held countless stories-first books and local treasures, later the sparkling history of champagne itself, and even prehistory. There was a little hiccup with the reopening after the latest renovations-thanks, COVID-but the Musée du vin de Champagne et d’Archéologie régionale finally opened its doors in May 2021. And what a trove you’ll find: artifacts from vineyard to cellar, the saga of bubbles, and echoes of Épernay’s storied past. Look up at those intricate carvings, the balustrades, the lush roofline. Think of the parties, the worry during war, and then…the gentle hush of a library. If these walls could pop open like a bottle of Perrier-Jouët, imagine all the stories that would fizz out! Now, as we get ready to head to our next stop, take one last look at this château-proof that even in a city famous for champagne, sometimes the bubbles have to compete with a really, really extraordinary house. Eager to learn more about the architecture, garden or the museum? Simply drop your inquiries in the chat section and I'll provide the details you need.

Right in front of you, look for the elegant building with a grand golden crest-Moët & Chandon’s façade is impossible to miss, especially as it sits proudly at the heart of Épernay’s Avenue de Champagne, glimmering with sophistication like a champagne bottle on a festive night. Now, take a moment and imagine it’s the year 1743. The streets of Épernay aren’t as busy as today, but there’s a certain energy in the air. Enter Claude Moët, a clever young wine merchant who had one mission: to fill Parisian glasses with the sparkling magic of this very region. He launches Moët et Cie right here, and Épernay’s fate is forever changed. His unrivaled champagne quickly sweeps into the salons of Paris, catching the eye of nobles, aristocrats, and even royalty. Just picture the constant as crate after crate of Moët sets off north to Paris, where King Louis XV himself is known for his taste in the latest craze-sparkling wine. Moët’s secret? It’s not just in the bubbles. It’s in their relentless ambition to refine, innovate, and delight. Soon the family tree grows: Claude’s son and then his grandson join in, building not just a business, but a legend. By 1833, the company takes on the name Moët & Chandon, thanks to Pierre-Gabriel Chandon joining the cause as a partner. This partnership brings new energy-and a dash of that old-fashioned French savoir-faire-to the House of Moët. Fast-forward to the 19th century. Moët is at the forefront, introducing the vintage concept in 1840, then releasing its first vintage champagne in 1842. The “Brut Imperial,” the bottle that’s now a global icon, launches in the 1860s. And then-drum roll, please-comes Dom Pérignon, that mysterious monk found on so many wish lists and rap lyrics. Though he never quite discovered how to make champagne himself, Dom Pierre Pérignon was a monk of endless curiosity-a bit like a mad scientist with grapes-and he inspired the first “prestige cuvée.” Every bottle of Dom Pérignon you see today comes from one special harvest year, making each vintage unique, luxurious, and slightly mysterious. You can practically hear the gentle through the centuries, marking every celebration since. But the story doesn't stop at drinking. Moët & Chandon is everywhere: splashed across pop songs, toasted by tennis stars like Roger Federer, showered over victorious Formula One drivers, mentioned in operas by Strauss, and casually sipped in glitzy hip hop lyrics-by Queen, Snoop Dogg, Mariah Carey, and more. They even held a royal warrant as a supplier to Queen Elizabeth II, so you know you’re in good company here. Over the years, these bubbles have gone global: into the Napa Valley with Domaine Chandon in the 1970s, across Argentina, Australia, even China and India. Each outpost brings its own flair but always sends a little piece of Épernay around the world. Enter Chandon, the ever-adventurous offshoot, popping up wherever the sun shines bright and the grapes grow sweet. By the 1980s, Moët & Chandon merges with Hennessy Cognac, then the mighty Louis Vuitton to form the luxurious powerhouse known as LVMH-a group so vast, it makes billionaires blush. Oh, and here’s a pro tip: Don’t forget to pronounce it “Mo-ET” with a crisp “t” at the end. It’s not just polite; it’s the proper nod to Claude Moët’s Dutch roots, and might even impress a local or two. But not every story is bubbly-there’s excitement and, yes, a little drama. Rare limited editions are festooned with Swarovski crystals, while elsewhere, a scandal (with a dash of danger) strikes when a tainted bottle shocks the wine world in 2022. So as you stand here, you’re not just at a stately building; you’re at the heartbeat of centuries of celebration, invention, and, honestly, a bit of rock ‘n’ roll. Raise an imaginary glass, listen for the distant fizz, and take in the charm. Just remember: in Épernay, champagne isn’t just a drink-it’s the story of the town, poured into every glass, sparkling with history and a pinch of mischief. Eager to learn more about the dom pérignon, domaine chandon or the sponsorships? Simply drop your inquiries in the chat section and I'll provide the details you need.

To spot the Portal of Saint-Martin, look just ahead for a grand, weathered stone archway with intricate carvings and columns, standing strikingly alone across a small patch of green, like the gateway to a secret garden. Now, let’s drift back in time together-picture Épernay in the year 1540. Imagine a team of stone carvers, dust flying, chiseling away as they build a grand side entrance for the local abbey church. Above the arch they place a proud statue of Saint Martin on horseback-a real medieval superhero! It’s said the sculptor was probably Pierre Jacques, though honestly, I think he might have just enjoyed seeing his work watched over by a saint. This arch stood cheerfully as the monks prayed and sang… until history went a bit sideways. In 1790, Épernay shook with change: the government abolished the old monastic vows, and suddenly monks became history themselves as they marched quietly out. Two years later, the grand old church behind this portal stopped echoing with hymns and started filling up with hay bales-it was used as a storage warehouse! Not exactly what the stone carvers had imagined. But our plucky portal endured. When the vaults of the church collapsed in 1824-imagine the crash!-they built a new church nearby. The Portal of Saint-Martin was battered, losing even its statue, and then moved and set into a bell tower, peering out onto Saint-Martin Street. But wait, there’s more moving! In 1909, as the old abbey was finally torn down, the portal was shifted one more time, set up right here in the leafy square you see, facing Place Hugues-Plomb like a grand old storyteller. Through revolutions, ruin, and relocations, this majestic portal survived, finally becoming one of France’s first historical monuments in 1840. So take a moment under this ancient arch and let your imagination walk you through centuries. Who knows-maybe the spirit of Saint Martin is still keeping an eye out, hoping his statue will someday come home! Now, onwards to our next adventure…

Right ahead of you, you’ll spot Place Hugues-Plomb by its large circular fountain with a sculpted figure on top, surrounded by leafy trees and historic buildings-the gentle splash of water is a giveaway if your eyes need help! Now, picture this: over two centuries ago, you wouldn’t be standing in a bustling square at all, but treading through the lush gardens of an ancient abbey. In 1790, the gardens vanished and the site became known as the Place de la Liberté-a fitting name for those revolutionary days. The edge of the square once hugged the grand Notre-Dame church, the old town hall, and even the city’s police station, all tucked inside the former abbey’s walls. Fast-forward, and you can imagine the sound of cobblestones being laid down in 1844, transforming muddy pathways into the elegant setting beneath your feet. But the square’s real star showed up in 1863-thanks to a generous citizen named Legée-Laherte, the very fountain gurgling before you became its centerpiece, and it’s been cooling sun-weary travellers ever since! The square nearly changed forever after a certain Mr. Hugues Plomb offered an eye-popping million francs to build a new city hall, but the First World War tossed all those plans upside-down. Today, you’re surrounded by stories-look around for the post office built in 1923, the historic Saint-Martin portal, and the Simone Veil library. You’re right in Épernay’s memory box, with every splash echoing a different tale!

Picture this: it’s the late 1800s, and Épernay is in full swing. The population is exploding-rising from just over 7,000 in 1851 to a bustling 18,000 by 1891. People are pouring into the southern quarters, conversations spilling out of cafés, and everyone is thirsty... not just for fizz, but for bigger spaces. Even the local church, Notre-Dame, can no longer handle the number of worshippers. Imagine the weekly shuffle, people squeezing for a spot at mass, the sound of shuffling feet mixing with whispered prayers. A solution pops up in the form of Paul Chandon de Briailles-yes, of the Moët & Chandon family, the fizz behind the fame. In 1893, Paul steps up with all the generosity of a champagne cork popping-he donates nearly 5,000 square meters of land, an area known as the Marais de Grandpierre, to build a new church for Épernay’s swelling south side. But Paul didn’t stop there. He and his sons, Gaston and Jean, commit to covering every last franc for constructing this church. Talk about putting your money where your bubbles are! Now here’s the twist: a church is no good if you can’t get to it. So, Paul Chandon donates another 100,000 francs-imagine that in today’s money-to build the avenue you’re standing on now. In 1895, the city council drew the first lines of this grand path and, in a fit of gratitude (and perhaps a hint of flattery), they named it after their benefactor-Avenue Paul-Chandon. But building wasn’t simple. Picture the workers setting up from 1898 to 1904, laboring to reroute and cover a section of the Cubry River. All this so churchgoers wouldn’t need to row their way to services! The generosity doesn’t stop there-a family tradition, it seems. In 1905, Paul’s son Raoul includes a whopping 100,000-franc bequest in his will for the city. In 1909, this gift is transformed into a promenade, aptly named the Square Raoul-Chandon, that encircles the proud new church at the end of your walk: the Église Saint-Pierre-Saint-Paul. As you stroll, take in the charming houses and surprises that dot the avenue, like the gorgeous brick-and-stone former Courrier du Nord-Est printing house at No. 1, or the Tuscan-style villa with its impressive tower at No. 43-more Mediterranean than Marne, and impossible to miss. So, as you walk down Avenue Paul-Chandon, you’re following in the footsteps-and perhaps the celebratory toasts-of Épernay’s most generous patrons, moving from the lively center city to the majestic church that Paul Chandon made possible. Kindness, ingenuity, and-let’s be honest-a good investment in real estate all come together here. Makes you wonder: if every street had this much character, would GPS navigation be a lot more fun?

To spot the Church of Saint-Pierre-Saint-Paul in Épernay, look for a striking pale stone church with a tall, ornate central tower capped by a rounded dome and flanked by two smaller turret-like domes, standing proudly at the edge of a tree-lined square. Ah, you’ve found it-the grand finale of our tour, the Church of Saint-Pierre-Saint-Paul! Now, let’s step out of the present for a moment and stroll back to the late 1800s, a time when Épernay was bursting at the seams. Imagine the city suddenly doubling in size, like one too many corks popping off bottles of champagne. The old Notre-Dame church was stuffed full, and locals were petitioning, “Please-give us more room for prayers, and maybe a bit less elbowing during Sunday service!” Enter Paul Chandon de Briailles. Picture him as the town’s fairy godfather, though instead of a magic wand, he offered a hefty plot of land known as the “Marais de Grandpierre.” Not only did he donate the ground, but together with his sons, Gaston and Jean, he also footed the bill for this gleaming new church, ensuring Épernay’s southern quarters felt just as heavenly as the north. Ground was broken on May 12th, 1895--but fate had a twist: Paul himself passed away a month later. Yet, his legacy would soon tower above the city for generations. Walk closer and let your eyes wander-the architecture is a delicious blend. The rounded domes and intricate mosaics tell you it’s romano-byzantine at heart, but those arched windows and stonework details? That’s your dash of Romanesque and Gothic coming through. The exterior’s built from solid brick and finely carved stone, and the plan is clever-a Latin cross, with two rounded chapels hugging the entrance, all under sweeping, slate roofs. If you peek up at that main tower, notice the lantern perched up top-it’s not just pretty, it also guides eyes and spirits upward. If you step inside, sunlight will pour through a kaleidoscope of stained glass, splashing color across the granite and limestone columns. These are no ordinary pillars-they’re topped by leafy, ornate capitals so lively you almost expect a squirrel to scamper by. The choir, a feast for your eyes, glows with red mosaics: bunches of grapes and wheat, a proud pelican, a serene lamb, and, of course, Saints Peter and Paul themselves-two legends watching over Épernay. There’s a bit of drama here, as the mosaics, attributed to Henri Rapin, didn’t appear until 1929, decades after the first plans. Talk about a delayed renovation! Ah, but let’s not forget the music. Look up at the loft by the entrance-you’ll spot the famous organ, crafted by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll and later finished by Charles Mutin. This showstopper hasn’t changed since 1898, and it once charmed none other than Paul Chandon himself. The musicians’ perch is lined with fun details: you’ll see a tiny stone carving of architect Édouard Deperthes, compass in hand. Across from him, his colleague Henri Piquart is forever immortalized, perhaps critiquing the acoustics. As for treasures, the church is loaded. The limestone main altar has copper details and faces of the Evangelists peeking from its corners. Around the choir and side chapels, wrought ironwork twirls into the Chandon family’s crest. There’s a pair of bronze statues of Peter and Paul, each almost as tall as a person, sitting royally-works of Blondeau, Sénart & Co.-so precious they’re now historical monuments. Don’t miss the touching older piece: a painted wooden crucifix from the 16th century, looking somber but stubborn, like it’s weathered one too many storms and still refuses to leave. Now, just imagine the kaleidoscopic windows as beams of evening light stream through-these stained-glass marvels were crafted between 1897 and 1904. If you look closely, you’ll spot stories of saints, heroes, and miracles: Joan of Arc crowning Charles VII, Saint Remi baptizing Clovis, or Saint Vincent consoling prisoners. The artistry doesn’t stop with saints-donors’ coats of arms hide in the glass, a Chapel’s “thank you” in technicolor. Now, as birds flutter above and the last sunbeams catch the slate domes, remember, you’re standing before a church more than bricks and glass. It’s a living story, a place where the rush of Épernay’s growth, the generosity of a family, and the hopes of thousands are etched into every stone. Thank you for joining me through the wonders of Épernay! And remember, the best stories are those we pass on-so go ahead, tell someone you met a church with as many secrets as a champagne cellar.