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A reflection by Ethel Allan Murphy

We have been reading and hearing of the great ship Richelieu, which has lately come into New York harbor under the benignant watch of the Statue of Liberty, bringing us once more, the thrill of intimate communion with that France to which we have long been bound by ties of intimate friendship.

There is in Louisville of a bit of France which gives one a similar sense of communion with that great country. She is Our Lady of the Port, 'Notre Dame du Port,' as she is named in the records of her church.

We went to see her Sunday afternoon. It was a bright, blustery day, crowded with restless premonitions of the changing seasons. A keen wind from the river woke vibrating, strong air currents, which reminded us of the sea. We strolled over on Rudd Avenue, in Portland, whose old houses and old trees were weighted with a sense of nostalgia for the old days, old days when they were 'the latest afterthought of time.'

Hard by was the picturesque little church of Our Lady, who structure still bears the original bricks that were made on the spot more than 100 years ago, and in whose vestibule is a bronze tablet commemorative of that ardent French missionary to Kentucky, Rev. Stephen Theodore Badin; who gave the ground for the original church, dedicated in 1841.

On the central gothic high altar stood Our Lady of Port. I have read in the interesting centennial book of the church that most of the founders of the parish came from France, including the original benefactor, Rev. Badin, the first pastor, Rev. Perche, later Archbishop of New Orleans, and others. The statue of Our Lady of Port, noted for its beauty, so says the book, was brought from France many years ago. When it was taken down for rehabilitation after the great flood of 1937, it was observed by many to have been carved out of a solid block of wood. As I looked at her there, high on the altar, so far in time and space over native France, I thought:

The tree from which she was carved once grew an affair land of France. The wins, the rains and the sun of France gave life to it. A man of France, wielding a chisel in the guiding hand of love, wrought, with devotion, the statue from the tree, and gave it 'a life beyond life.' Surely, the heart of France still beats in 'Notre Dame du Port' of Louisville. She is very beautiful, Our Lady of Port, in her blue mantle. Her feet from the head of the serpent, who coils, subdued, with the apple in his mouth, and below her is the crescent moon.

It is written, 'The woman's seed shall bruise the serpent's head.' As I looked up into her pure, serene, compassion and face, I felt a sense of the oneness of all humanity and faith, and though I am in another fold than that of her church, yet owning the same 'great shepherd of the sheep,' I said a prayer for France in her great hour of trial.

Note: This was written just after January 30, 1943. The 'Richelieu' was a French ship that was brought into the Brooklyn Navy Yard that year for repairs.