The Chapel As Reliquary
We went to Sainte Chapelle a little while back. This is Notre Dame's younger sister, in a way. Consecrated on 26 April 1243, located on the Île de la Cité at the center of Paris, not far from Notre Dame, it was built to house relics and serve as the private chapel of Louis IX, called the Pious (mostly because he built this chapel).
There are actually two chapels on two floors. At ground level, you enter into the lower chapel, which served as the parish church for the inhabitants of the palace next door, which no longer exists. (The Palais de Justice is there now.)
It's a pale colored stone building, very tall, full of gargoyles.
The lower chapel is badly overshadowed (in more ways than one!) by the upper chapel, which is a shame, as it is astonishing in its own right.
(This picture from Wikipedia, taken by Benh Lieu Song in 2007. My pics were too dark.)
What struck me, standing in the lower chapel, is that this was the experience that the Books of Hours intended to duplicate. And we know they knew about it; Sainte Chapelle can be seen in (for example) the May calendar page from the Tres Riches Heures of the Duc du Berry.
Here is a detail of one of the figures on a side wall ...
And here is a statue, presumably of St. Louis.
The lower chapel is full of richness and color; crowded with images and gilding and and and. It felt very ... devout to me.
After I had finished gaping at the lower chapel (I will never finish gaping at the lower chapel) we went upstairs.
On either side of the entrance is a narrow tower. One was marked Up, and the other, Down. (In several languages.) A guard was posted to keep you from going the wrong way. Which I assumed was ordinary French bureaucracy until I got into the tower and started up the very steep staircase. If there had been someone coming down, we would be there still.
The upper chapel is justly famous. You have probably seen pictures of it; here are a few more.
The windows start at about twice head height, and soar up to a ceiling that is just as carved, gilded, arched, fretted, and painted as the one below. It's not nearly as noticeable, however.
I am told that the windows illustrate the history of Christianity, from the Book of Genesis until St. Louis built the Chapelle. I didn't try to read them, however.
It's rather overwhelming.
Here's another statue, slightly lost in between two windows.
\
The altar is its own tiny replica of the chapel.
The man taking pictures in this photo was standing quite close to this little confection.
Even the floor tiles are elaborate:
Although we didn't see any of the individual reliquaries associated with this chapel, we had seen some at the Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages -- elaborate metal containers for a saint's body part. Many of the reliquaries were the same shape as the body part -- so for example, a leg in gold and precious gems housing the leg of St. Somebody. Often they had a clear gem set in such a way to provide a window for the pious viewer, so that he could see the actual item. (Picture from Wikipedia, by Sir Gawain.)
Does that window on the arm look familiar? I kept remembering this -- I almost felt as if I might see a giant eye peering in through the rose window.
(Please excuse the scaffolding on the right; the chapel is undergoing various renovations.)
Despite that, the upper chapel seems, at least to me, terribly secular. It was the private chapel of Louis IX and his family, and my overwhelming sense of it was as a reliquary for the individuals of the royal family, rather than for the Crown of Thorns and assorted other relics of the True Faith.
I am not sure if it's the overwhelming busyness, the endless distracting details, the amazing light, the elaborate altar, or what, but it's the lower chapel I'll go back to visit.
There are actually two chapels on two floors. At ground level, you enter into the lower chapel, which served as the parish church for the inhabitants of the palace next door, which no longer exists. (The Palais de Justice is there now.)
It's a pale colored stone building, very tall, full of gargoyles.
The lower chapel is badly overshadowed (in more ways than one!) by the upper chapel, which is a shame, as it is astonishing in its own right.
(This picture from Wikipedia, taken by Benh Lieu Song in 2007. My pics were too dark.)
What struck me, standing in the lower chapel, is that this was the experience that the Books of Hours intended to duplicate. And we know they knew about it; Sainte Chapelle can be seen in (for example) the May calendar page from the Tres Riches Heures of the Duc du Berry.
Here is a detail of one of the figures on a side wall ...
And here is a statue, presumably of St. Louis.
The lower chapel is full of richness and color; crowded with images and gilding and and and. It felt very ... devout to me.
After I had finished gaping at the lower chapel (I will never finish gaping at the lower chapel) we went upstairs.
On either side of the entrance is a narrow tower. One was marked Up, and the other, Down. (In several languages.) A guard was posted to keep you from going the wrong way. Which I assumed was ordinary French bureaucracy until I got into the tower and started up the very steep staircase. If there had been someone coming down, we would be there still.
The upper chapel is justly famous. You have probably seen pictures of it; here are a few more.
The windows start at about twice head height, and soar up to a ceiling that is just as carved, gilded, arched, fretted, and painted as the one below. It's not nearly as noticeable, however.
I am told that the windows illustrate the history of Christianity, from the Book of Genesis until St. Louis built the Chapelle. I didn't try to read them, however.
It's rather overwhelming.
Here's another statue, slightly lost in between two windows.
\
The altar is its own tiny replica of the chapel.
The man taking pictures in this photo was standing quite close to this little confection.
Even the floor tiles are elaborate:
Although we didn't see any of the individual reliquaries associated with this chapel, we had seen some at the Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages -- elaborate metal containers for a saint's body part. Many of the reliquaries were the same shape as the body part -- so for example, a leg in gold and precious gems housing the leg of St. Somebody. Often they had a clear gem set in such a way to provide a window for the pious viewer, so that he could see the actual item. (Picture from Wikipedia, by Sir Gawain.)
Does that window on the arm look familiar? I kept remembering this -- I almost felt as if I might see a giant eye peering in through the rose window.
(Please excuse the scaffolding on the right; the chapel is undergoing various renovations.)
Despite that, the upper chapel seems, at least to me, terribly secular. It was the private chapel of Louis IX and his family, and my overwhelming sense of it was as a reliquary for the individuals of the royal family, rather than for the Crown of Thorns and assorted other relics of the True Faith.
I am not sure if it's the overwhelming busyness, the endless distracting details, the amazing light, the elaborate altar, or what, but it's the lower chapel I'll go back to visit.