The Memsahib and meself are sujourning for a week in the City of Light. Having never been here together we are doing the touristy thing, visiting the museums, eating at restaurants and attending concerts. Last night's shorty took place at the Sainte-Chapelle, the astonishing royal chapel and sumptuous reliquary on the Île de la Cité that once glorified God and the Kings of France -and not necessarily in that order.
The general disposition of the musicians of Les Solistes Français, under the direction of Paul Rouger, made theirs a pleasant and energetic outfit. They clearly enjoyed playing together and this came over specifically in the performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons.
That there were only 7 of them and that they sounded more than their number also testifies to the quality of their musicianship as it did to the incredible acoustic qualities of the medieval jewel of a church. They may at times have been a little rough around the edges, but made up for it through their enthusiasm and sheer joie de vivre.They get about a bit all over France performing over 120 concerts each year which, if they all last but an hour, is lovely work if you can get it. They also personally flogged their CDs on a table outside the venue: vive les entrepreneurs!
The extent of stained glass alone (600m2) make this gothic wedding cake a jeweled marvel. Each panel in each window is unique. It would prove a vain attempt not to use superlatives in reference to La Sainte-Chapelle because it does appear to be the very finest medieval building I have seen.
The glass gives a biblical narrative from Genesis to Revelation, looking back to the confirmation of divine presence in the past and prophetically insinuating the affirmation of that presence in les Capétian's titular veracity -Dieu clairement approuvée de Louis!
The miracle of architectural vertical emphasis is accentuated by the employment of very slender columns that appear to defy gravity and is further emphasised by the high deep blue ceiling decorated with a myriad of golden stars which on closer examination are revealed to be fleur-de-lis.
There are very few square inches of the rich interior not covered in gilding or painted stucco. There are two dominant themes: the fleur-de-lis on azure background (representing the French monarchy) and of the Towers of Castile on royal red (representing the heritage of Blanche of Castile -Louis IX mother). Strictly speaking, these may have been an invention of the restorers, but the whole effect is of a stupendous symbol of French medieval monarchy and all that it stood for.
There are 12 large pedimented statues represent the presence and blessings of the disciples. Many are replacements of those lost during the Revolution. Indeed, apart from two fires and a flood, the majority of the damage done to the this building was happily meted out during the iconoclastic excesses of the violent Révolution française -a third of the glass had to be replaced. It was obvious to the mob that this shrine represented the power and status of the kings: the irony of it is that the damaged church was restored in the mid-19th century using public money.
The initial investment in the construction of Sainte-Chapelle was astonishing. Consecrated on the 26th April 1248, the French crown invested 40,000 livres in the building's fabric and decoration alone. But that was a mere snip in comparison to the further 135,000 livres on the purchase of the relics (the crown of thorns, a fragment of the true cross and many other precious relics including nappies of the infant Jesus) from emperor Baldwin II of Byzantium who had pawned them to Venetian intermediaries. Yet another 100,000 livres was spent on an elaborate silver chest into which these fabulous relics were housed and at Easter time the chapel was opened to the public who could queue up to pay homage to these relics. (1 livre = 1 pound of silver)
Such an investment was a sure-fire way to promote the king of France from a local bigwig to the champion of christendom, from an aspiring wannabee to the centre of the european religious world. The only French king entitled 'saint', he tried to fulfil the duties of the model christian king; forgiving whenever he could, protecting christendom wherever he could, burning Jewish libraries wherever he could, crusading against the heretical cathars in southern France whenever he could. He even attempted to go on a proper crusade twice -once in his 30s on the 7th Crusade when he attacked Egypt (and spectacularly lost, having to pay a ransom of 40,000 livres) and once in his 50s on the 8th Crusade when he attacked Tunis (and spectacularly lost, got a severe dose of the trots and died). We visited his tomb at the spectacularly empty Cathedral de Saint Louis overlooking the city of Tunis. Such was his reputation that quite a number of places around the world are named after him, such as the obious Missourian and Michigan cities and many other places across the world.
The Revolution changed everything in France. As we are told, the downtrodden won and asserted their liberté, the unequal demanded égalité and knew that there had to be a certain fraterneté in order to work it all out. I can't help but reflect how the rois de France in their magisterial assumptions must have engendered such antagonism resolved only in the cutting off of the wicked serpent's head.
We (and I mean us living now in the western world and not those poor buggers currently living under dictatorships) have inherited a social order comprising individual liberty without our having to revolt against powers that be, equality without our having to seize, loot and burn palaces and a certain fraternity of that oh-well-we're-all-in-the-shit-and-should-just-bloody-well-get-on-with-it feeling. So well-won are these privileges that I cannot begin to imagine even demanding a revolution, erecting barricades or storming bastilles. In comparison, the social revolution of the United Kingdom that enabled this tranquility to occur took place slowly without bloodshed in the inter-war years and, mercifully, without the need to be led by a bare-breasted Marianne brandishing both musket and flag. As a result, our monarchs still have their heads and we have acquired our freedoms: vive le manque d'une révolution!
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