THE SAINTE CHAPELLE OF PARIS AND THE CROWN OF THORNS.
In the very heart of Paris, to the northwest of Notre Dame, and as if a flower detached from her garland, or a graceful sapling from the majestic parent tree, sprang up, more than six centuries ago, the Sainte Chapelle.
It almost seems as if Heaven had extended a special protection to the sanctuary raised to enshrine the precious relics of the Passion of our Lord; for although injured and despoiled by evil hands in the time of the First Revolution, it was subsequently restored to all the splendor of its pristine beauty; and again, when the conflagrations kindled by the Commune were raging around it, the Sainte Chapelle, with its fearless flêche, its protecting angel, and its golden crown, stood unharmed in the very midst of the flames, and so remained when they had died out, amid the heaps of ashes and the crumbling ruins left around its unscathed walls.
Since the time of St. Louis France has possessed the crown of thorns of our Lord Jesus Christ, and there is great interest in tracing the vicissitudes through which this priceless treasure has passed, and in learning the circumstances under which the saintly monarch obtained it. In the year 1204 the French and the Venetians, having captured Constantinople, established
there as emperor Baldwin, Count of Flanders. On the division of the booty this prince requested for his share the sacred crown of our Saviour, which was found among the treasure of the emperors of the East, offering, if it were adjudged to him, to give to the Doge of Venice a large portion of the true cross in exchange.
His successor, Baldwin II., finding his empire, in the year 1238, threatened by the Greeks on the one side, and on the other by the Bulgarians, came into the West to seek aid and protection against his enemies. Whilst at the court of France, whither he had gone to entreat the assistance of St. Louis, tidings reached him that the nobles whom he had left at Constantinople, finding their resources completely exhausted, were on the point of pledging the holy crown to the Venetians for a sum of money. The young emperor, strongly disapproving of this measure, offered as a free gift to St. Louis the precious relic which the lords of Byzantium were wishing to sell. “For,” said he, “I greatly desire to bestow it upon you, my cousin, who are my lord and benefactor, as well as upon the realm of France, my country.”
St. Louis eagerly accepted such a gift as this, and immediately, at the same time that Baldwin despatched
one of his officers with letters-patent commanding that the holy crown should be sent to him, the French monarch sent two of the Friars Preachers, named James and Andrew, to receive it in his name. Journeys in those days, however, were by no means expeditious, and on the arrival of the messengers at Constantinople they found the sacred relic gone from the treasury, and pledged to the Venetians for 13,075 hyperperia, or about £157,000 sterling. It had been deposited by their chamberlain, Pancratius Caverson, in the church of Panta Craton, that of his nation at Byzantium. On receiving the emperor’s orders the Latin lords rearranged the matter with the Venetians, and it was agreed that, if within a reasonably short time the latter did not receive the reimbursement of the sum they had paid, the sacred crown should become their undoubted property. Meanwhile, it was to be carried to Venice, accompanied by the envoys of the King of France, one of whom, Father Andrew, had formerly been guardian of the convent of his order at Constantinople, and, having on several occasions seen the crown, knew its appearance perfectly well. It was this circumstance which had determined St. Louis to send him as one of his messengers.
Every possible precaution was taken to secure the identification of the holy crown, which was enclosed in three chests, the first of gold, the second of silver, on which the Venetian lords affixed their seals, the third of wood, which was sealed by the French nobles.
The season, being Christmas, was unfavorable for the voyage by sea, but the envoys had no hesitation in embarking, secure in the conviction
that the crown of Jesus would be their protection in the tempest and the perils of the wintry seas. Nor was their trust disappointed. They escaped unharmed from other dangers also; for the galleys of Vataces, the Greek pretender to the imperial throne, having started in pursuit of their vessel, were unable to overtake or even to discover them, and they reached Venice in safety.
The holy crown was at once borne to St. Mark’s, and there placed among the treasures in the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, where reposed the body of the Evangelist, between the two columns of alabaster which are said to have been brought from the Temple of Solomon. At the same time one of the Dominican Fathers set out for France to acquaint St. Louis with the terms agreed upon.
These were approved of by the king, who directed the French merchants to repay the Venetians the sum they had advanced. The sacred relic was then delivered into the hands of the French envoys, who, after assuring themselves that the seals were intact, started homewards with their treasure on the road to France. No sooner had the king heard of the arrival of the holy crown at Troyes, in Champagne, than he immediately set out, with the queen-mother, Blanche of Castile, the princes his brothers, and several of the chief prelates and nobles, to receive and accompany it to the capital. The meeting took place at Villeneuve l’Archevêque, five leagues from Sens, on the 10th of August, 1239. The seals were then broken, and in the midst of an indescribable emotion the sacred relic was displayed.
The king and his brother, the Comte d’Artois, both barefooted and wearing a simple tunic of wool,
taking it upon their shoulders, bore it in great pomp to the metropolitan church of Sens, where it remained exposed for the veneration of the faithful until the following day, when the march towards Paris was resumed, and they reached the capital in eight days’ time. A platform had been raised at St. Antoine des Champs, where the crown was placed; and when everyone had contemplated it with an inexpressible joy, the king and his brother, taking it, as before, upon their shoulders, carried it in procession to the palace chapel, at that time dedicated to St. Nicholas, where it was deposited.
Besides all the precautions taken to render any substitution impossible, we may add that Baldwin, on being required to examine and identify the relic, declared its authenticity in a document written on parchment, which was in existence until the Revolution of 1793, signed with his own hand in Greek characters, traced in cinnabar, and having his own seal, of lead covered with gold, affixed. On one side of this seal the emperor was represented enthroned, with the inscription: “Balduinus Imperator Romaniæ semper Augustus.” On the other he was on horseback, with the inscription in Greek letters: “Baudoin, Empereur, Comte de Flandre.” It must also be borne in mind that the Venetians, before lending so considerable a sum for such a pledge, would be certain to satisfy themselves beyond all doubt as to its authenticity, and that, even had he been so minded, Baldwin could not in this matter have imposed upon the credulity of St. Louis, as some modern writers have asserted, but that he did really receive that which the whole Christian world regarded as the crown of thorns of our Lord
Jesus Christ. Still, some additional proof may be required, and for this we must go back to an earlier period. We must also consider the nature of this crown; for many churches affirm, and with good reasons, that they possess thorns or fragments of the same, and yet these portions frequently do not resemble that which is at Paris.
In the first place, it is certain that a century and a half before the reign of St. Louis, at the time of the First Crusade, all the world admitted that a very large portion of the crown was preserved at Constantinople, in the chapel of the Greek emperors. When Alexis Comnenus wished to induce the Christian princes to go to his assistance, he spoke to them of the very precious relics which they would help to save, amongst which he especially designated the crown of thorns.
Also, in the time of Charlemagne, all the West had the certainty that Constantinople possessed this treasure, of which a considerable part was equally known to be at Jerusalem. Towards the year 800, according to Aimoin, the Patriarch of Jerusalem had detached some of the thorns, which he sent to Charlemagne, who deposited them at Aix-la-Chapelle with one of the nails of the true cross, and it was these relics which were afterwards given by Charles le Chauve to the Abbey of St. Denis.
The existence of the crown is a fact constantly alluded to in the sixth century, by St. Gregory of Tours amongst others; and about the year 409 St. Paulinus of Nola knew of its preservation. He writes: “The thorns with which the Saviour was crowned, and the other relics of his Passion, recall to us the living remembrance of his presence.”
No written testimonies of an earlier date remain, but these appear to be fully sufficient, as they are the expression of an oral tradition well known to every one. As for the idea that such a relic as this could have been invented in those ages of conscience and of faith, it is wholly inadmissible.
The crown was not found with the cross and nails on Mount Calvary, nor is it probable that it was there buried with them, but that, when Joseph of Arimathea took down the body of Jesus from the cross, he would have preserved it apart. That no mention of this remains to us is easily accounted for by the silence and the exceeding precautions necessary so long as the persecutions by Jews and pagans continued. During this time the relics of the Passion which had been in the custody of the Blessed Virgin, or by her entrusted to others, could not, for reasons of safety, have been distributed to the various churches, but were honorably preserved in private dwellings, to be brought forth and publicly acknowledged when peace was granted to the church by the conversion of Constantine. Then it was that St. Helena sought with pious eagerness for every memorial that could be found of the Crucifixion, and distributed them chiefly among the churches of Jerusalem, Constantinople, and Rome.[5]
An apparent difficulty still remains, which obliges us to inquire into the nature and form of the sacred crown, with respect to which ancient authors differ from one another, some asserting that it was formed of reed (juncus palustris),
about which, however, there are no points of any great sharpness; while others maintain it to have been made from the branches of a shrub belonging to the genus Rhamnus, several species of which, especially the Zizyphus Spina Christi, or the thorn of Christ, are furnished with exceedingly long, hard, and sharply-pointed thorns, exactly similar to those venerated in several churches, but bearing no resemblance whatever to the holy crown at Paris, which is, in fact, of reed.
How is this diversity to be accounted for? Thanks to the learned researches of M. Rohault de Fleury,[6] it is fully explained. The crown at Paris is a circle formed of small reeds bound together, and from which only a small number of particles have been taken. The opening is large enough to encircle the head and to fall rather low over the brow. But this circle is only the support or foundation, so to speak, of the painful crown of our Lord. The branches of those thorns of which we have been speaking were twined alternately within and without, and twisted across in such a manner as to form of these sharp spines not only a circlet but a cap, as it were, of torture, which covered the Redeemer’s head.
The year 1241 added new treasures to those already acquired by St. Louis. These were also from Constantinople, and sent as expressions of the homage paid by the Emperor Baldwin to the “Most Christian King.” These relics were accompanied by a parchment document to establish their authenticity, and which especially designated three remarkable portions of the true cross: the first and largest, Crucem Sanctam; the second, Magnam
partem Crucis; and the third, which was smaller, and known as the Cross of Victory, because it had been borne before the armies of Constantine and his successors, Aliam crucem mediocrem quam Crucem Triumphalem veteres appellabant. With these was sent also the point of the lance which had pierced our Saviour’s side, and which, from the beginning of the seventh century, had been kept in the chapel of the Martyrion, raised by Constantine on Mount Calvary over the very place of the Crucifixion. Heraclius, fearing lest the lance should fall into the hands of the Persians, sent it to Constantinople, from which the greater part of it was later taken to Antioch, where the Crusaders found it in 1097, but the point had been retained in the former city, and was sent from thence to Paris.
It was also in the palace of the Bucoleon at Byzantium that were for a long period preserved a portion of the purple robe, the reed, and the sponge of the Passion. Baldwin I., by means of certain concessions made to the other crusading princes, obtained that the chapel in this palace should remain undisturbed, and thus secured for himself the greater part of its treasures, which were so largely drawn upon by his successor for the benefit of St. Louis and of France.
On their arrival the king immediately prepared to erect an edifice that should be as worthy as possible to receive relics so precious; nor were there wanting at that time great artists well able to furnish the design. The middle of the thirteenth century was perhaps the best and purest period of religious architecture. Churches and cathedrals then arose the majesty of whose beauty has never been surpassed or even equalled.
For the execution of his work Louis chose his own architect, Pierre de Montereau, the most renowned master-worker in stone of the great school of Philippe Auguste, whom he charged to construct, in place of the chapel of St. Nicholas, which was old and ruinous, another which should be not so much a church as a delicate reliquary in stone, with open-worked carving like a filigree of gold, paved with enamel, and lighted by windows filled with richly-colored glass.
The artist was no less ready to enter into the ideas of the king than he was competent to realize them. A plan, wonderful in the beauty of its proportions and the gracefulness of its design, was soon ready and submitted to the monarch’s approval, who found it so excellent that his one desire was to see it carried out as expeditiously as possible.
The legendary spirit of the middle ages, which did not easily allow that a too perfect work could be the result of a man’s own thought and labor, has, as usual, embroidered facts with fancies, and attributed the conception of so exquisite a design to supernatural and magical means. It is not difficult to understand that the simple imagination of the people may have had some scope in the colossal construction of the ancient cathedrals, which required centuries for their completion, and which often left no name of the master who conceived the design or of those who executed it; but the Sainte Chapelle was not to have such dimensions as to require time and labor either very great or prolonged, and, moreover, he who cut this jewel would engrave on it his name.[7]
It is evident that the chief intention of the architect was to give to his work as spiritual a character as it is possible to impress upon matter, and to translate into stone the sursum corda of religious aspiration.
The first stone was laid by the king in the year 1245. The proportions of the plan are considered perfect by competent judges. It forms a lengthened parallelogram, terminated at the east end by an apse, and formed of two chapels, one above the other, without aisles or transepts. The edifice measures outside 36 metres 33 centimetres in length, by 17 in width; the exterior elevation from the ground of the lower chapel to the front gable is 42m. 50cm.; the spire[8] rises 33m. 25cm. above the roof. The interior elevation measures 6m. 60cm. in the lower chapel, and from 20m. to 50m. in the upper. The king’s desire for the speedy completion of the building was so great that, notwithstanding the conscientious care bestowed upon every detail, the work went on with such rapidity that in three years the whole was finished, and the fairy-like beauty of the edifice excited the most enthusiastic admiration, tempered, however, by serious apprehensions as to the stability of the fabric—apprehensions which raised a tempest of reproaches against the daring architect. Pierre de Montereau was himself for a time dismayed at the possible consequences of his boldness. How could he be certain that a church so slight, so delicate, and, in comparison with its area, so lofty, would
stand securely, almost in defiance of possibilities?
Sebastien Rouillard declares that scarcely was the Sainte Chapelle erected when it was seen to oscillate in the wind, and the spire to sway to and fro in the air when its bells were rung. Thus, Quasimodo or “Low” Sunday of the year of grace 1248, on which the church was consecrated, far from being a festival or triumph for the hapless architect, was to him a day of anguish. So effectually had he hidden himself that, though everywhere sought for, he could nowhere be found; and, to quote the words of Paul de St. Victor, “The very workmen had all fled, fearing that they might be taught the laws of equilibrium from the top of a gibbet. But time has proved that the seeming rashness of the mediæval master was well reasoned, and that this fair flower of his planting has the roots of an oak.”
The proportions had been so carefully drawn, and the laws of mathematics so exactly observed, the materials so well chosen and shaped with such precision, that the aerial structure could not fail to consolidate itself in settling firmly upon its foundation. “One cannot conceive,” writes M. Viollet-le-Duc, “how a work so wonderful in the multiplicity and variety of its details, its purity of execution, its richness of ornamentation, could have been executed in so short a time. From the base to the roof-ridge it is built entirely of hard freestone, every layer of which, cramped together by iron hooks run into the lead, is cut and placed with perfect exactness; the composition and carving of the sculpture likewise give evidence of the utmost care. Nowhere can one
find the least indication of negligence or hurry!”[9]
Nor was it the Sainte Chapelle alone that was completed by the end of these three years, but also the beautiful sacristy adjoining, which was in itself a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, with a touch of peculiar refinement about it suggestive of some influence from the East.
The upper and lower chapels corresponded with the two divisions of the palace. The lower one, which is less a crypt than a splendid church, with its sparkling windows, its paintings, its slender pillars with sculptured capitals, was destined for the officers and domestics of the royal household. Over the principal door was placed the image of the Blessed Virgin, which, according to a graceful legend, bent its head to Duns Scotus, in sign of thanks to that learned theologian, who had defended the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, and which ever afterwards retained this attitude. The upper chapel was reserved for the king and court, and the cell which was the oratory of St. Louis, may still be seen adjacent to the southern wall.
This church was his especial delight. He had it solemnly consecrated by two illustrious prelates on the same day; the lower chapel to the Blessed Virgin, by Philippe de Berruyer, Archbishop of Bourges, and the upper dedicated to our Lord’s Crown of Thorns, by Eudes de Châteauroux, Bishop of Tusculum and legate of the Holy See. The sacred treasures which the king had received from Constantinople were placed in reliquaries of marvellous richness, wrought in gold and enamel, adorned with
carbuncles and pearls. These again were enclosed in what was called La Grande Châsse, or “The Great Shrine,” which was in the form of an arch of bronze, gilt, and adorned with figures in the front. It was raised on a kind of Gothic pedestal behind the high altar, and closed with ten keys, each fitting a different lock, six of which secured the two exterior doors, and the four others an inner trellis-work or grating. The relics themselves were in frames or vases of gold and crystal. There the holy crown was placed, in the centre, between the largest portion of the true cross on the one side and the lance on the other. Thanks to the luxury of locks and to the six archers who every night kept guard within the Sainte Chapelle, its riches were safe from all possibility of robbery or fraud.
All these things could not be accomplished without enormous outlay. The cost of the Sainte Chapelle amounted to more than £800,000. The sums sent to the Emperor of Constantinople, and those spent upon the reliquaries, amounted to two millions; and when it was suggested to the king that this lavish expenditure, even upon holy things, was somewhat excessive, he replied: “Diex m’a donné tout ce que possède; ce que dépenserai pour lui et pour les nécessiteux sera tousiours le mieux placé.”[10]
He did not wait until the completion of the church before establishing there a college of seventeen ecclesiastics, amply endowed. The clergy of the Sainte Chapelle, in virtue of certain privileges and exemptions granted by Pope Innocent
IV., were under the immediate jurisdiction of the Holy See. The same pope, at the prayer of the king, enriched the relics with numerous indulgences, and at the same time granted to St. Louis and his successors the privilege of making the exposition of them every Shrove Tuesday. On this day, therefore, the court of the palace was filled, from the hour of seven in the morning, by the inhabitants of the twelve parishes of Paris, who there waited, as it was impossible for the chapel to contain the multitude. Then the king, taking the cross, elevated it, whilst the people sang Ecce Crux Domini; after which he exposed it before the central window of the apse in such a manner that through the open portal of the church the crowds could behold and venerate it from the court outside.
Those days were occasions of exceeding happiness to the saintly monarch, who, besides, took delight in everything connected with the sanctuary he had raised, whether in the pomp of its religious solemnities or in the solitude of the holy place. There he devoutly followed the divine Office, and there he was wont to pass long hours, alone, in prayer, kneeling in his oratory, or prostrate on the pavement near the altar. He had there created for himself something of that East towards which the thoughts and desires of his heart were ever turning, and around this glorified Calvary which he had raised to the honor of God he seemed to behold an ideal representation of the Holy Land. All the neighboring streets had taken the names of towns or villages of Palestine: Bethlehem, Nazareth, Jerusalem, etc. But the pious illusion did not satisfy a soul so in love with the cross as that of
St. Louis; his knightly heart bounded at the story of the misfortunes in the East, and on the 25th of May, 1270, he again enrolled himself among the Crusaders; his sons and barons did the same. He first directed his operations against Tunis in Africa, but before he reached that place he died near it, in August, 1270.
Great was the mourning in France when tidings came of the death of the king. The Sainte Chapelle seemed plunged, as it were, into widowhood, and the poet Rutebeuf, in his Regrets au Roy Loeys, has not forgotten the desolation which seemed to be shed over it:
“Chapèle de Paris, bien êres maintenue,
La mort, ce m’est advis, t’a fest desconvenue,
Du miex de tes amys, t’a laissé toute nue.
De la mort sont plaintifs et grant gent et menue.”[11]
A day of joy and renewed life, as it were, was, however, in store for the royal sanctuary, when the departed monarch received within its precincts the first homage of the Christian world as one of the glorious company whom the church had raised to her altars. Pope Benedict VIII., in accordance with the ardent prayers of the whole of France, had, in his bull of the 11th of August, 1297, declared the sanctity of Louis IX. The following year Philip le Bel convoked in the abbey church of St. Denis all the prelates, abbots, princes, and barons of the realm; the body of St. Louis was placed in a châsse or coffer of silver, and borne by the Archbishops of Rheims and Lyons to the Sainte Chapelle, where immense multitudes were assembled
to receive it, and where it remained three days exposed for the veneration of the faithful. Philip would fain have kept it there in future, but, fearing to violate the rights of the royal abbey of St. Denis, he restored it thither, excepting the head, which he caused to be enclosed in a bust of gold, and placed amongst the sacred treasures of the holy monarch’s favorite sanctuary.
Long and prosperous days were yet in store for the Sainte Chapelle, which reckons in its annals a series of great solemnities. Although its circumscribed space did not allow large numbers of people to assemble at a time within its precincts, it was very suitable for certain festivals of a family character, such as royal marriages and the coronation of queens, at which none but the principal prelates and nobles were present. Here it was that, in 1275, Mary of Brabant, daughter of Philip le Hardi, received the royal consecration, and that, in 1292, Henry VII., Emperor of Germany, in presence of the king, espoused Margaret of Brabant. In due time the daughter of this prince, Mary of Luxemburg, here became the wife of Charles le Bel, who had been married once before, and who, on the death of his second wife, not long afterwards took a third, Jeanne d’Evreux. Here also the too famous Isabel of Bavaria gave her hand to the unfortunate Charles VI. About a century previous a noble and touching ceremony had taken place within these walls, when the Emperor Charles IV., accompanied by his son Wenceslaus, King of the Romans, after having, together with the King of France, assisted at the first Vespers of the Epiphany, on the following day, at the High Mass, which was sung by the Archbishop of Rheims, these
three august personages, representing the Magi, bore their gifts to the altar, and there offered gold and frankincense and myrrh.
The Sainte Chapelle was always the place of meeting and departure of every expedition, public or private, to the Holy Land. Even at the period when the Crusades were no longer in favor, it was here that the last sparks of religious enthusiasm were kindled in their regard. In 1332 a noble assemblage was gathered in the upper chapel. There were present Philippe II. of Valois; John of Luxemburg, King of Bohemia; Philippe d’Evreux, King of Navarre; Eudes IV., Duke of Burgundy; and John III., the Good, Duke of Brittany; prelates, lords, and barons. The Patriarch of Jerusalem, Pierre de la Pallu, who was addressing the assembly, drew so heartrending a picture of the misfortunes of the Holy Land that all present arose as one man, and, with their faces turned to the altar and their right hands stretched out towards the sacred cross and crown of the Saviour, vowed to go to the rescue of the holy places. Alas! the days of Tancred and Godfrey de Bouillon were gone by, and this generous ardor was doomed to be paralyzed by circumstances more powerful than the courage of brave hearts.
The clergy appointed by St. Louis were more than sufficient for the service of the chapel, which for a long period retained its privileges and organization. Up to the time of the Revolution it was served by a treasurer, a chantre or (chief) “singer,” twelve canons, and thirteen clerks. The chantry had been founded in 1319 by le Long. The treasurer was a person of very considerable importance, wore the episcopal ring, and
officiated with the mitre. He was sometimes called the pope of the Sainte Chapelle. This office was borne by no less than five cardinals, as well as by many archbishops and other prelates.
There were certain ceremonies peculiar to the chapel. For example, on the Feast of Pentecost flakes of burning flax were let fall from the roof, in imitation of the tongues of fire, and a few moments afterwards a number of white doves were let fly in the church, which were also emblematic of the Holy Spirit. Lastly, at the Offertory one of the youngest children of the choir, clad in white garments, and with outspread golden wings, suddenly appeared hovering high above the altar, by the side of which he gradually descended, and approached the celebrant with a silver ewer for the ablutions. Again, on the festival of the Holy Innocents, and in their honor, the canons gave up their stalls to the choir-children, who, being made for a few hours superior to their masters, had the honor of chanting the divine Office and of carrying out all the ceremonial. These juvenile personages sat in state, wore the copes, and officiated with the utmost gravity and propriety. Nothing was wanting; even the cantoral baton was entrusted to the youthful hands of an improvised præcentor. This custom was observed with so much reverence and decorum that it continued in existence until as late as the year 1671.
The splendors of the Sainte Chapelle began to decline from the day that the kings abandoned the Ile du Palais to take up their abode on the northern bank of the Seine; and from the commencement of the sixteenth century it gradually fell almost into oblivion. The subsequent
events which have from time to time called attention towards it have nearly all been of a dark and distressing character. Scarcely had the Reformation, by its appearance in France, roused the evil passions which for long years plunged the land into all the miseries of civil war, when fanaticism here signalized itself by the commission of a fearful sacrilege. On the 25th of August, 1503, a scholar, twenty-two years of age, rushed into the chapel during the celebration of holy Mass, snatched the Host out of the hands of the priest, and crushed it to pieces in the court of the palace. He was arrested, judged, and condemned to be burnt. A solemn service of expiation was held in the church, and the pavement upon which the fragments of the sacred Host had fallen was carefully taken up and deposited in the treasury.
We mentioned before that the largest portion of the cross, as well as the smallest (the Crux Triumphalis), were preserved in the great shrine, together with the sacred crown; but the intermediate one, designated aliam magnam partem, being the portion exposed, from time to time, for the veneration of the faithful, was deposited in the sacristy. All at once, on the 10th of May, 1575, it was found that this piece had disappeared, together with the reliquary that contained it. Great was the general grief and consternation. No pains were spared in the search for it, and large rewards were offered to any persons who should discover any trace of the robbers: all in vain, although public prayers and processions were made to obtain the recovery of the lost relic.
But the guilty person was one whom no one thought of suspecting.
Grave historians have nevertheless affirmed that the robber was none other than the king himself, Henry III., who, under the seal of secrecy, had, for a very large sum of money, given back this portion into the hands of the Venetians. A true cross, however, must be had for the solemn expositions customary at the Sainte Chapelle. In September of the same year Henry III. caused the great shrine to be opened, and cut from the Crucem Sanctam a piece which was thenceforth to take the place of that which was missing, and which he caused to be similarly shaped and arranged. A reliquary was also to be made like the former one, the decoration of which furnished the unblushing monarch with a fresh opportunity of enriching himself at the expense of the treasures of the Sainte Chapelle, from which he managed to abstract five splendid rubies of the value of 260,000 crowns, and which his successor, Henry IV., was unable to recover from the hands of the usurers to whom they had been pledged. About thirty years later the church narrowly escaped destruction by a fire which, owing to the carelessness of some workmen, broke out upon the roof; but although the timber-work was burnt and the sheets of lead that covered it melted, yet the lower roof resisted, and even the windows were uninjured. The beautiful spire was consumed, and replaced by one so poor and ill constructed that a century and a half later it was found necessary to take it down.
But where the fire had spared man destroyed. A devotion to the straight line led certain builders to commit, in 1776, an act of unjustifiable vandalism. The northern façade of the Palais de Justice was to
be lengthened; and as the exquisite sacristy which Pierre de Montereau had placed by the Sainte Chapelle, like a rosebud by the side of the expanded flower, was found to be within the line of the projected additions, these eighteenth-century architects hesitated not: the lovely fabric was swept away to make room for heavy and unsightly buildings which well-nigh hid the Sainte Chapelle and took from its windows half their light.
The days of the Revolution soon afterwards darkened over France. The National Assembly, at the same time that it declared the civil constitution of the clergy, suppressed all church and cathedral chapters, together with all monasteries and abbeys. The Sainte Chapelle was deprived of its priests and canons, and the municipality of Paris set seals upon the treasury until such time as it should choose to take possession. Louis XVI., who only too truly foresaw the fate that was in store for all these riches, resolved to save at least the holy relic, and sending for M. Gilbert de la Chapelle, one of his counsellors, in whom he could place full confidence, he charged him to transfer them from the treasury to some place where they would be secure.
On the 12th of March, 1791, therefore, the king’s counsellor, assisted by the Abbé Fénelon, had the seals removed in presence of the president of the Chamber of Accounts and other notable personages; took out the relics, and, after having presented them to the monarch, accompanied them himself to the royal abbey of St. Denis, where they were at once deposited in the treasury of the church. No one then foresaw that the sacrilegious hand of the Revolution
would reach not only thither, but to the very extremities of the land.
In 1793 a mocking and savage crowd forced itself into the Sainte Chapelle, and made speedy havoc of the accumulated riches of five centuries. Besides the great shrine and the bust containing the head of St. Louis, there were statues of massive gold and silver, crosses, chalices, monstrances, and reliquaries, of which the precious material was but of secondary value in comparison with their exquisite workmanship. There were delicate sculptures in ivory, richly-illuminated Missals and Office-books of which even the jewelled binding alone was of enormous value. Every tiling was hammered, twisted, broken, wrenched down, torn, or dragged to the mint to be melted into ingots. But, worse than this, the relics that had been taken to St. Denis were soon after to be snatched from their place of shelter. On the night of the 11th-12th of November in that dismal year this venerable cathedral was desecrated in its turn. We will not dwell upon the horrible saturnalia enacted there; but first of all the treasures of the sanctuary were carried off to Paris, with the innumerable relics they contained, and handed over to the Convention as “objects serving to the encouragement of superstition.”
What was to become of the true cross and of the holy crown in such hands as these? They who burnt the mortal remains of St. Denis and of St. Geneviève would not scruple to destroy the sacred memorials of the Passion. But they were to be saved. Happily, it was put into the heads of the Convention that, in the light of curiosities, some of these “objects” might serve to adorn museums
and similar collections, and they were therefore submitted to the examination of learned antiquarians. The Abbé Barthélemy, curator of the Bibliothèque Nationale, affirmed the crown to be of such great antiquity and rarity that no enlightened person would permit its destruction; and having obtained that it should be confided to him, preserved it with the utmost care in the National Library. M. Beauvoisin, a member of the commission, took the portion of the cross (Crucem magnam) and placed it in the hands of his mother. The nail was saved in the same manner, besides a considerable number of other very precious relics, which, in various places of concealment, awaited the return of better days.
But the hand of the spoiler had not yet finished its work upon the Sainte Chapelle. Not that, like many other ancient sanctuaries, it was wholly demolished, but its devastation was complete. The grand figure of our Lord on the principal pier of the upper chapel, the Virgin of Duns Scotus, the admirable bas-reliefs, the porch, the richly-sculptured tympanum and arches, the great statues of the apostles in the interior, the paintings and enamels which adorned the walls—not one of these escaped destruction at the hands of the iconoclasts of the Revolution, who left this once dazzling sanctuary not only bare but mutilated on every side. And as if this had not been ruin enough, the pitiless hardness of utilitarians put the finishing stroke to the havoc already made by anti-Christian fanaticism. The administrators of 1803 thought they could do nothing better than make of the Sainte Chapelle a store-room for the records of the Republic.
Then were the walls riddled with hooks and nails, along the arcades and in the defoliated capitals. Up to a given height a portion of the rich glazing of the windows was torn down round the whole compass of the building, and the space walled up with lath and plaster, along which was fixed a range of cupboards, shelves, and cases with compartments. Dulaure, in his Description of Paris, highly applauds these proceedings, and considers that the place had rather gained than lost by being turned into a store for waste paper. “The Sainte Chapelle,” he says, “is now consecrated to public utility. It contains archives, of which the different portions are arranged in admirable order. The cupboards in which they are placed occupy a great part of the height of the building, and present by their object and their decoration a happy mixture of the useful and the agreeable. O Prudhomme! thou art eternal.”[12]
And yet this poor flower, so rudely broken by the tempest, had tried to lift her head, as it were, and recover something of the past, when the dawn of a brighter day shed some of its first rays on her.
In the year 1800, while Notre Dame, still given up to schismatic ministers, was utterly deserted, two courageous priests, the Abbé Borderies, since Bishop of Versailles, and the Abbé Lalande, afterwards Bishop of Rodez, first gathered together the faithful within the walls of the Sainte Chapelle for holy Mass, and also for catechisings which were long afterwards remembered. In 1802 these good priests held there a ceremony which for years past had been unknown in France—the First Communion of a large number
of children and young persons, whom they had carefully watched over and prepared. This earliest ray of light after the darkness soon shone upon all the sanctuaries of the land.
When the churches were opened again, priests were needed for them, and of these there remained, alas! but too few. The Sainte Chapelle had to be left without any, and it was then put to the use we have described. A few years later, when an endeavor was about to be made to have it employed for its original purposes, it was found to require so much repairing that the question arose whether it would not be advisable to pull it down rather than attempt to restore it. Happily, neither course was then taken. The architects of the Empire and of the Restoration were alike incapable of touching unless irremediably to spoil so delicate a mediæval gem. Its state was, however, so ruinous that after the Revolution it was impossible to think of replacing the sacred relics in a building no longer capable of affording them a safe shelter; they were therefore, in 1804, at the request of Cardinal Belloy, Archbishop of Paris, given into the hands of the vicar-general of the diocese, the Abbé d’Astros, by M. de Portalis, then Minister of Public Worship. The holy crown, of which the identity was established beyond all doubt, was at first carried to the archbishop’s palace, where it remained two years, during which time a fitting reliquary was prepared for its reception, and on the 10th of August it was transferred to Notre Dame and solemnly exposed for veneration.
Beyond the removal of a few small particles, it had not undergone the least alteration, nor had it certainly been broken into three
parts, as has been stated. M. Rohault de Fleury, who was permitted to examine it minutely, could not discover the least trace of any fracture. It is now enclosed in a reliquary of copper gilt, measuring 3 feet 2 inches in height and 1 foot in width, of which the rectangular pedestal rests on lions’ claws, while upon it kneel two angels, supporting between them a globe on which is inscribed Vicit Leo de Tribu Juda. The background is of lapis lazuli veined with gold. In the flat mouldings about the base are various inscriptions relating to the principal facts in the history of the holy crown. The globe, which is made to open in the middle, encloses a reliquary of crystal within another of silver, in the form of a ring, and it is within this circular tube of ten inches and a half in diameter that the precious relic is enshrined.
Another crystal reliquary contains the portion of the Crucem magnam which had replaced that which disappeared from the sacristy in 1575. This remarkable fragment is no less than eight inches in length. The nail of the Passion which was formerly in the great shrine is also at Notre Dame.
In addition to several other relics which were part of the treasure of the Sainte Chapelle, there are also various articles that belonged to St. Louis, and amongst others the discipline, which is accompanied by a very ancient inscription, as follows: “Flagellum ex catenulis ferreis confectum qua SS. rex Ludovicus corpus suum in servitutem redigebat.” William of Nangis mentions this discipline, with which Louis IX. caused himself to be scourged by his confessor every Friday. The ivory case in which it was kept contains a piece of parchment whereon
is written in Gothic letters: “Cestes escourgestes de fer furent à M. Loys, roy de France.”[13] The sacred relics of the Passion are exposed at Notre Dame on all Fridays in Lent. In their crystal reliquaries, which are suspended from a cross of cedar-wood, they are placed on a framework covered with red hangings, which occupies the central space at the entrance of the choir, and is separated from the nave by a temporary railing. The nail is placed within the holy crown, and above them is the portion of the true cross.
We must return, for a few parting words, to the Sainte Chapelle, which for more than thirty years remained in a state of ever-increasing dilapidation and decay, until, in 1837, M. Duban was charged to commence repairing it by strengthening the fabric, and soon afterwards two other architects were associated with him in the work of careful and complete restoration which it was intended should be effected. It is enough to mention the names of MM. Lassus and Viollet-le-Duc to show how wise a choice had been made, these gentlemen having not only a thorough and scientific knowledge of mediæval architecture, an appreciation of its beauty and a sympathy with its spirit, but also that power of patient investigation, coupled with an accurate instinct, which would accomplish the reconstruction of a building from the study of a fragment, just as Cuvier, from a fossil bone, would delineate the entire form of an extinct animal.
The Sainte Chapelle was built in three years, but its restoration occupied nearly twenty-five. Every breach and rent was studied with an attentive eye and closed by an
experienced hand. Nothing was left to imagination or caprice. Here the original foliage must be restored to the broken capital; there the modern paint and whitewash must be carefully removed to discover what remained beneath of the ancient paintings, and supply with accurate similarity of coloring and design the numerous portions that had been disfigured or destroyed. Fragments of the ancient statues and stained glass were carefully sought for in private gardens and in heaps of rubbish, and in some cases it was found practicable to reconstruct an entire statue from the pieces discovered here and there at different times; otherwise, from the indications afforded by a portion, a copy of the original was produced.
This long and painstaking labor, which alone could ensure the restoration of the Sainte Chapelle to its former condition, has been crowned with complete success. Nothing is wanting. Exteriorly the buttresses and pinnacles rise as heretofore, with their flowered finials and double crowns; that of royalty being dominated by the crown of Christ. The bas-reliefs and statues are in their places; the roofs have recovered their finely-cut crests of leaden open-work; the golden angel stands as of old over the summit of the apse; and springing above all, from amid the group of saintly figures at its base, loftily rises the light and slender spire, its open stone-work chiselled like a piece of jewelry.
The lower chapel, standing on a level with the ground, is entered by the western porch, to the pier of which the Virgin of Duns Scotus has returned. It is lighted by seven large openings, and also by the seven narrower windows of the
apse. The low-arched roofs rest upon fourteen very graceful though not lofty pillars with richly-foliated capitals and polygonal bases. Arcades, supported by light columns, surround the walls, which are entirely covered by paintings. The roof is adorned by fleurs-de-lis upon an azure ground.
Quitting the lower chapel by a narrow and winding staircase, which still awaits its restoration, you arrive beneath the porch of the upper one, and, entering, suddenly find yourself in an atmosphere of rainbow-tinted light. The characteristics of this beautiful sanctuary which at once strike you are those of lightness, loftiness, and splendor. A few feet from the floor the walls disappear, and slender, five-columned pillars spring upwards to the roof, supporting the rounded mouldings by which it is intersected. The space between these pillars is occupied by four great windows in the nave, while in the apse the seven narrower ones are carried to the roof. Half-figures of angels bearing crowns and censers issue from the junction of the arches, and against the pillars stand the majestic forms of the twelve Apostles, in colored draperies adorned with gold, each of them bearing a cruciform disc in his hand. It was these discs which received the holy unction at the hands of the Bishop of Tusculum when the building was consecrated.
The walls beneath the windows are adorned by richly gilt and sculptured arcades filled with paintings. No two of the capitals are alike, and the foliage is copied, not from conventional, but from natural and indigenous, examples.
The windows are all of the time of St. Louis, with the exception
of the lower compartments, which were renewed by MM. Steinheil and Lusson, and the western rose-window, which was reconstructed under Charles VIII. The ancient windows are very remarkable, not only for the richness of their coloring, but for the multitudes of little figures with which they are peopled. Subjects from the Old Testament occupy seven large compartments in the nave and four windows in the apse, the remaining ones being devoted to subjects from the Gospels and the history of the sacred relics. The translation of the crown and of the cross affords no less than sixty-seven subjects, in several of which St. Louis, his brother, and Queen Blanche appear; and notwithstanding the imperfection of the drawing, these representations very probably possess some resemblance to the features or bearing of the originals. In the
window containing the prophecies of Isaias the prophet is depicted in the act of admonishing Mahomet, whose name is inscribed at length underneath his effigy.
The altar, which was destroyed, has not yet been replaced. That of the thirteenth century had in bas-relief on the retable the figures of our Lord on the cross, with the Blessed Virgin and St. John standing beneath, painted, on a gold ground. A cross hung over it, at the top of which was balanced the figure of an angel with outspread wings, bearing in his hands a Gothic ciborium, in which was enclosed the Blessed Sacrament. And why not still? Why is the mansion made once more so fair when the divine Guest dwells no longer there? When the magistracy assembles to resume its sittings, Mass is said. One Mass a year said in the Sainte Chapelle!
[5] A branch from the crown of thorns was presented to the church at Treves. Two of the thorns also are in that of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme at Rome.
[6] Mémoire sur les Instruments de la Passion.
[7] Until the Revolution the tomb of Pierre de Montereau still existed in the abbey church of St. Germain des Près, where he had built an exquisitely beautiful chapel to the Blessed Virgin, and where he was buried, at the age of fifty-four.
[8] The present spire was erected by M. Lassus, who has faithfully followed the character of the rest of the building.
[9] Dictionnaire Archéologique.
[10] God has given me all that I possess; that which I shall spend for him and for the needy will be always the best invested.
“Chapel of Paris, erst so well maintained,
Death, as I am advised, has robbed thee
Of thy best friend, and left thee desolate
Great folk and small, all make complaint at death.”
[12] See Paul de St. Victor, Sainte Chapelle.
[13] These escourgettes of iron belonged to Monsieur Louis, King of France.