The Abbey of Saint-Denis is a historical
anomaly in its espousal of many masks polarizing
the relation between Church and State: from
its claim to being the elected resting place
of the third century martyr Dionysius, the
'Apostle to Gaul' who reputedly carried
his own head to the current site of Saint-Denis
after he was decapitated in Paris, to standing
as symbol for secular royalty as the resting
place of all but three Frankish monarchs
until the French Revolution in 1789. Despite
its varied historical importance, one of
the most exciting times at Saint-Denis occurred
under the administration of Abbot Suger,
from 1122-1151. The Abbey underwent significant
reconstruction and expansion during this
period, through which the Gothic art style
found its first full expression. While the
magnificent delights created in the Church
Abbey of Saint-Denis are innumerable, one
of Suger's most striking innovations was
the incorporation of stained glass windows
into the structure, which Louis Grodecki
attests are "the first known examples of
such compositions in the field of stained
glass; if earlier examples exist, we lack
documented evidence."1
In De Administratione--his account
of the rebuilding of the Abbey--Suger introduces
the "splendid variety of new windows" made
by the "exquisite hands of many masters
from different regions," emphasizing the
richly varied backgrounds and skills of
the artisans who worked at the twelfth century
reconstruction and expansion of Saint-Denis.
One set of windows, termed the 'anagogical
windows' by Erwin Panofsky, is particularly
extraordinary by virtue of the complex iconographic
program and expository verse inscriptions
of the five constitutive roundels. While
only one of the roundels remains today almost
completely unaltered, in De Administratione,
Suger provides the original verse inscriptions
for four of the roundels, and states that
the message of the stained glass windows
is "urging us onward from the material to
the immaterial".
In his extensive study of the stained glass
windows at Saint-Denis, Louis Grodecki concludes
his analysis of the sole authentic roundel
of the anagogical windows, known as the
Arca Foederis--the chest of the covenant--with
a moment of humbled deference to the mysteries
of this roundel. As he claims that an entire
volume could be dedicated to an analysis
of this enigmatic work made between 1140
and 1144, this study will accept his implicit
invitation to go beyond both his interpretations
of the iconographic program of the Arca
roundel, and those of his illustrious predecessors,
Émile Mâle and Erwin Panofsky. While speculative
analysis will not lead to a clear-cut empirical
'truth', the goal of this study is to distill
an alternate, integral insight into the
Arca roundel and its relation to
the Abbey as a compositional whole, as conceived
of by Suger, its orchestrator.
***
Plastic Analysis
At first glance, the iconographic program
of the Arca roundel (fig.1)
may seem simplistic, perhaps even naive.
Upon a background of sapphire blue glass,
the four winged figures representing the
Evangelists flank a gold tinged chest on
golden wheels, while God the Father stands
behind Christ crucified on a cross which
is anchored by the gold chest. All six figures
are crowned with halos: gold ones for the
Father and Son, and red ones for the four
Evangelists who each carry the gospel-book
they respectively authored. The relative
simplicity of the image is, however, most
misleading. Grodecki articulates the mysterious
undercurrent of the roundel as "a sort of
sacred hieroglyph where each element gains
prominence by virtue of its isolation."
While the dark blue glass emphasizes the
unsettling isolation of each figure, the
Evangelists' lines of vision towards the
Father, Son, and chest disclose this triad
as the center of action. The apparently
static nature of the figures is likewise
deceiving. While motion is not portrayed
in any direct way, the winged Evangelists
seem to be hovering as their wings beat
in an almost resistance free atmosphere.
The central triadic figural unit of Father,
Son, and chest also seems to be suspended
in midair, and while no apparent force sustains
it, an absolute levity is implied. In fact,
the entire piece seems to radiate with the
same elevated and controlled motion. All
the figures work together as a unit, and
this centralized whole seems to be floating
upwards, as if projected and attracted by
the same source. The seven figures in this
roundel compose a harmonious microcosm of
structured and mutually sustaining proportions.
Expository Inscriptions
By beginning with the plastic aspects of
the panel, Grodecki's justified criticism
of modern art historians for being "content
to cite, annotate, or analyze the text by
taking the windows themselves for secondary
datum to a historical and iconographic problem"
is averted. At the same time, a complete
analysis must consider the text inscriptions
in order to understand the symbiotic relationship
between text and image, which together clarify
the significance of the roundel. Suger even
proclaims his didactic aim in giving inscriptions
is "so that the [allegories] might be more
clearly understood." Furthermore, the expository
verse inscriptions of the roundels are not
commonly found in works pre-dating Suger,
and by becoming part of a bourgeoning iconography,
also gain historical significance.
In De Administratione, Suger relates
the inscriptions for the Arca
roundel as: "Foederis ex Arca Christi cruce
sistitur ara; / Foedere majori vult ibi
vita mori." Panofsky's translation reads:
"On the Ark of the Covenant is established
the altar with the Cross of Christ; / Here
Life wishes to die under a greater covenant."
These inscriptions, as commentary on the
image, enhance the pedagogic function of
the roundel and illuminate the significance
through and beyond the material reality
of the Arca roundel. While the gold-gilt
inscriptions literally break the isolation
of the blue background to bring the figures
into a closer-knit grouping, the inscriptions
metaphorically render the symbolic import
of the roundel as a whole more clear.
Paul's Epistle to the Hebrews
According to Suger's inscription, the gold
chest with its arabesques, or "foliage"
as Grodecki calls the ornamentation, represents
the Ark of the Covenant introduced in Exodus
25:10-22, within which the tablets of the
Mosaic Law were to be housed. Although an
unfortunate restoration after 1848 replaced
a section on the left hand side of the box,
a sketch made by Fathers Cahier and Martin
(fig.2)
pre-dating the restoration shows the two
tablets of the Law, as well as the rod of
Aaron resting inside the originally open
Ark. However, since Exodus states that only
the commandments were housed in the Ark,
the presence of the rod of Aaron is puzzling.
By virtue of this discrepancy, Grodecki
cites Paul's Epistle to the Hebrews as the
scriptural source for this roundel:
The first covenant had a worldly sanctuary:
after the second veil, the tabernacle,
golden censer, ark of the covenant overlaid
round about with gold, wherein was the
golden pot that had manna, and Aaron's
rod that budded, and the tables of the
covenant.
While the manna bread is not shown in the
Ark, the compositional symmetry of the roundel
lends itself to the conjecture that the
left side of the Ark was open as well, where
the manna was visible opposite the rod of
Aaron. Christ crucified further relates
to Hebrews 9:12 as "his own blood he entered
in once into the holy place, having obtained
eternal redemption for us." However, Grodecki
maintains this interpretation to the exclusion
of any other substantial scriptural reference:
Suger's distyque is only a gloss over
the demonstration in the Epistle--as the
image of Christ crucified, offering himself
as victim as he hangs upon the Ark, is
only an illustration of this text.
According to Grodecki's one-dimensional
analysis of the roundel, Suger intended
merely to illustrate an allegory of Paul,
in keeping with the other roundels in the
anagogical windows.
In his commitment to considering iconography
over text, Grodecki emphasizes the scriptural
reference from Hebrews in order to affirm
his own view that the last inscription of
the roundel between the bottom wheels of
the ark, "Quadrige Aminadab", is of secondary
import. However, Grodecki's analysis is
in part a counter-action to the earlier
one-dimensional interpretations of Fathers
Cahier and Martin, and later, Émile Mâle
who base their entire analyses of the Arca
roundel on the Quadrige inscription. Despite
this singular approach, Mâle does highlight
the role of typology, or figuration, as
the method to better understand the contextual
meaning of the panel. As an enthusiast of
a typological link between the Old Testament,
and its significance in the light of the
New, Mâle states:
The first covenant of man with God is
only the symbol of another covenant that
must be definitive. The ark appears as
a pedestal for the cross.
Christ between the Church and the Synagogue
The basis for Mâle's analysis is the sole
other roundel whose iconography is unaltered
and is believed to be part of the anagogical
windows, in which Christ stands between
two female figures.(fig.3)
As an inscription reading "Sinagoga" (sic)
accompanies the figure on His left side
and "Eclesia" (sic) accompanies the figure
on the right side of Christ, these two figures
are identified as the Synagogue of Judaism
and the Church of Christianity. In the roundel,
Christ lifts a veil off the Synagogue, as
He crowns the Church, an action which Mâle
indicates as representative of the True
authority of the message of the Christian
Church as abrogating the authority of Judaism
as symbolized by the Synagogue. Mâle makes
the thematic association between these two
roundels and erroneously claims that the
Incarnation of Christ renders the Hebrew
Bible and Judaism 'void' while the Church
as founded on the New Testament is alone
legitimate.
Typology as Method of Interpretation
In fact, the typological significance of
this scene lies in its establishment of
the confluence between the Old Testament
and the New, by showing how the figures
in the Old are proleptic of, or intimate,
what would be fulfilled in Christ, as recorded
in the New. Above all, it is the idea of
figure and fulfilment that informs this
program--the law of the old is not abrogated,
but fulfilled. In this sense, Mâle's assessment
of the early Gothic column statues at Chartres
is applicable. Along the outer west facade
are released statues of personages from
the Old Testament in four stages:
The great divisions of a universal history
where everyone points to Jesus-Christ...Here
the Bible appears to us truly how it did
for the Middle Ages: a series of figures
of Jesus-Christ, by which the sense becomes
increasingly clear.
The pertinent part of his elucidation of
these sculptures is the role of history
of time as presenting figures for Christ
who would come latterly as the redeemer
to be the fulfillment of what was hinted
throughout all time.
It is key to note that Suger reveals his
intellectual sensibility to the typological
method as he ascribes a similar confluence
between the Old Testament figures and Christ
while describing the Golden Crucifix:
And barely within two years were we able
to have completed, through several goldsmiths
from Lorraine--at times five, at other
times seven--the pedestal adorned with
the Four Evangelists; and the pillars
upon which the sacred image stands, enabled
with exquisite workmanship, and on it
the history of the Savior, with the testimonies
of the allegories from the Old Testament...
Suger states that the Old Testament allegories
are testimonies to the history of the Savior,
in the sense that they establish and affirm,
in different ways, the narrative cycle which
would be completely fulfilled in Christ.
The figures of the Old Testament intimate
the coming of Christ.
Quadrige Aminadab
In the light of Old and New Testament confluences
expounded by Paul, the idea of figures being
proleptic of Christ applies well to the
Arca roundel when the last
inscription, "Quadrige Aminadab", is taken
into account. There is only one mention
of the triumphant chariot in the Bible,
as the Sunamite woman concludes her song
to her beloved, yet absent, prince in the
Song of Solomon. The King James Version
reads: "Or ever I was aware, / my soul made
me like the chariots of Ammin'adib." However,
as the Hebrew is difficult to translate,
the meaning varies. Grodecki's translation
"Je ne sais, mon âme est troublée à cause
de la char d'Aminadab," or "My soul is troubled
by the chariot of Aminadab", completely
changes the import of the line and seems
to be closer to the Latin translation Suger
would have read: "Nescivi, anima mea conturbavit
me propter quadrigas Aminadab." Despite
the obscurity of the line, the Quadrige
garnered the attention of the Church Fathers
whose traditional exegesis explains:
[The chariot of Aminadab] is the chariot
of the Christian Church; Aminadab is Christ...the
Sunamite, who is the symbol of the Synagogue,
is worried by the triumph of the Church.
As the Hebrew 'nadab' means 'prince' ('ami'
meaning 'my') the correlation between the
proper name of the figure of Aminadab and
Christ as the Heavenly Prince becomes more
clear. Thus Mâle states:
The ark surmounted by the cross is truly,
as the inscription states, the Quadrige
of Aminadab, the triumphant chariot of
the Song of Songs that the evangelists
must carry to the end of the world.
During the intellectual renaissance of
the twelfth century, the prominent theologian
Peter Abelard, best known for his collection
"Sic et Non" and his liaison with Heloise,
found sanctuary as a monk in St. Denis during
the years 1119-1126. Abelard, a possible
inspiration for Suger by virtue of his proximity,
also left a short analysis of the Quadrige
whose analogy correlates to the above passage:
Understand that the body of the chariot
is the envelope of divine writings /
By which the Word of God was transmitted
to the innumerable Church. /
The four wheels of the chariot are the
four Evangelists.
Through their Gospels, the Evangelists
bore witness to and transmitted the message
of the Christ. This symbolic association
between the Ark as receptacle, and the triumphant
chariot of the Church is likewise articulated
in the Arca roundel.
Relating the Old and the New Covenants
through Typology
The necessity of the Ark must be emphasized,
as it provides the foundation for the New
Covenant that was latterly fulfilled in
Christ. Without the Ark of the Covenant,
the New Covenant would not have been possible.
The Cross rests within the ark, as Grodecki
notes:
All of this of the utmost importance
for the interpretation of the subject:
the Ark was open and the cross was placed
not in front of but within the ark, in
the middle of the insignias of the Old
Law.
If the Cross is seen as growing out of
the Ark, it should be viewed as the arbor
vitae, the tree of life, which has found
fertile ground in the covenant established
between God and Moses and blossomed by the
benediction of Christ who seals the Covenant
of eternal life for all with His death.
The Old Law is not the pedestal upon which
the New Law was placed, as Mâle expressed,
but rather the foundation from which the
New Law was able to grow. Another window
in the Abbey, the Tree of Jesse, gives a
more literal expression to the metaphor
of the arbor vitae, as Christ's noble lineage
stems from the root of Jesse and the Line
of David in the Old Testament. The idea
of the roots of the New Covenant as being
in the Old Testament recalls Suger's insightful
determination--in relation to the rebuilding
of the church upon the sacred stones of
the old edifice which then laid the sturdy
foundation for the new construction--that
"The recollection of the past is the promise
of the future."
While this harmonizes with Grodecki's
view that the Arca roundel is a depiction
of Paul's message in Hebrews 9:1-15, Grodecki
insists that the inscription referring to
the Quadrige of Aminadab is merely a metaphorical
patristic reference to the triumphant chariot
of Christ as prince and the reign of the
Church that figures into the iconography
only by the inclusion of the wheels. In
other words, Grodecki does not see the figure
of Aminadab in the Song of Solomon as a
pre-figuration of Christ, with the living
historicity common to the Old Testament
figures when typologically interpreted.
Grodecki rejects a typological basis for
the roundel, but he does so mistakenly believing
that typology in the twelfth century is
restricted to the opposition established
by Mâle between the reproved Synagogue and
the Church elect. Grodecki's aversion to
typology is primarily in reaction to Mâle's
incorrect assessment that the Old Testament
chariot is only a 'symbol' of the Truth
that would come with Christ.
Instead of the New Covenant abrogating
that of the Old, the typology underpinning
the iconography of the Arca roundel
establishes the confluence between the Old
and the New Covenants. The New Covenant
sealed with Christ's sacrificial death finds
its foundation in the Old Covenant represented
by the Ark--God's earthly counterpart to
his heavenly throne. The Incarnation of
Christ changes the relationship established
in the Old Covenant, for since He becomes
the direct link between heaven and earth,
symbolic mediations between man and the
Divine are no longer necessary. God the
Son has elicited an explicit reconciliation
between God and man, as He is both fully
divine and fully human.
The typology that Paul employs in Hebrews
is likewise confluent with the depiction
of the Ark as housing not only the tablets
of the Law, but also the rod of Aaron and
the pot of manna. The sign of the manna
bread is most clearly explicated by the
first roundel in the anagogical windows,
of which Suger's verse inscription remains.
Essentially, Paul grinds a mill to separate
the pure flour of the New Testament from
the bran of the Old Testament. Christ is
the pure necessary substance whose body,
which was given up for all, is remembered
in the daily life of the Christian through
the sacrament of the Eucharist. His new
commandment likewise distills the essence
of the Ten Commandments established between
Moses and God, as what Christ has given
is all that is essential to live life and
to gain eternal repose. The rod of Aaron,
which Grodecki indicates as 'blossoming',
is the sign that determines the high priest
from Numbers 17:5, as God says: "And it
shall come to pass, that the man's rod,
whom I shall choose, shall blossom." However,
with Christ's Incarnation, He who is High
Priest has rendered the temporal need for
a high priest obsolete. Christ has the ultimate
authority in these matters, as His word
is that of God.
Even by affirming Grodecki's assertion
that Hebrews is the scriptural reference,
typology is likewise affirmed. Thus while
Grodecki's interpretation of the Arca
roundel as founded on Hebrews 9:1-15 is
well substantiated, his methodology in affirming
this scriptural reference is rather one-sided
in his rejection of typology. The complex
iconography of the Arca roundel shows
that Suger did more than merely illustrate
Hebrews, which would be a merely inadvertent
use of typology. On the other hand, while
Mâle's commitment to the Quadrige inscription
emphasizes the role of typology in the Arca
roundel, he does not see the confluence
between the Old Testament and the New that
characterizes a typological analysis, as
he does not see the fulfilment, but only
the abrogation of the Old Covenant.
In both cases, the method of each historian
is faulty, despite sound scriptural references.
Thus the dual analyses of the Arca
roundel, by Grodecki and Mâle, actually
complement each other, and render the hieroglyph
more intelligible when considered together.
Yet, there are still three elements of the
iconography that have not found sufficient
explanation: the representation of the wheels,
the depiction of God the Father supporting
and offering Christ crucified, and the didactic
function of the medium of the stained glass.
***
Representation of the Wheels
In relation to the first question, the
Scriptures indicate that the Ark of the
Covenant was born by staves, or wooden poles:
"And he put staves into the rings by the
sides of the ark, to bear the ark. / And
he made the mercy seat of pure gold." Even
granting artistic license, representing
the Ark as being transported by attached
wheels is absurd and contrary to traditional
depictions of the Ark of the Covenant. One
traditional example is the ninth century
representation of the Ark at San Germigny-des-Prés
(fig.4)
that is maintained on the poles common to
the description in Exodus, while the two
cherubim flank the ends. By departure from
traditional representation and the incorporation
of the wheels, the Ark becomes the Quadrige,
as Grodecki describes:
At the four corners of the Ark, displayed
flatly, without any concern for perspective,
are four white wheels...These wheels,
which we will discuss in relation to the
sense of the scene, transform the Ark
into a triumphant chariot, the Quadrige
of Aminadab.
Thus stated, Grodecki makes his sole concession
to the function of the Quadrige inscription
in relation to the Arca roundel by
seeing the Ark as the chariot from the Song
of Solomon.
Even if this is the case, chariots are
invariably driven on the ground, which renders
the roundel's depiction of the Quadrige
as floating in the air even more mysterious.
In contrast, the other authentic anagogical
roundel, Christ between the Church and
the Synagogue (fig.3),
Christ is slightly elevated but nonetheless
rests his toes on the ground, while the
temporal, earthly institutions of the Church
and Synagogue are firmly planted on the
ground. Since the adjacent windows depicting
the "Life of Moses"(fig.5),
present all the figures as directly connected
to an earthly setting, the ethereal representation
of the Quadrige finds no parallel in the
other windows. The other possibility that
the sheer force of God suspends the chariot
in the air would not require the incorporation
of the wheels into the iconography. Even
if the iconography is intended to emphasize
Abelard's assertion that the four wheels
represent the four Evangelists by compositionally
linking them to the wheels in the roundel,
the wheels would maintain their allegorical
function if represented on the ground. In
sum, the presentation of the wheels as not-in-perspective
indicates a vertical mobility, instead of
the horizontal mobility of chariots.
Gnadenstuhl
The depiction of God the Father as both
supporting and offering God the Son--Christ
Crucified--also initially seems bizarre.
In the Arca roundel, God the Father,
as the top-most figure, alone looks directly
ahead, while His piercing gaze meets that
of the viewer. Mâle references this presentation
of God the Father supporting the Cross as
the first representation of the 'Mercy Seat',
'Throne of Grace' or Gnadenstuhl,
whose representation of the Trinity derives
from Paul's association linking the 'Mercy
Seat' referring to the Ark of the Covenant
in Exodus 37:6 and Christ crucified in Hebrews
9:4, whose act of mercy in His self-sacrifice
sealed the New Covenant for the redemption
of man. While this association is key to
understanding the typological continuity
established between the 'Foederis ex Arca',
Ark of the Covenant, and the 'Foedere Majori',
the Greater Covenant, in the Arca
roundel, the 'Mercy Seat' was not Suger's
invention, but was rather part of an established
iconography. Gertrud Schiller introduces
the Cross of Lothar, dating 980, as the
first example of the development of the
Gnadenstuhl. In this first stage,
the symbols for God the Father and the Holy
Spirit are incorporated into the image of
the Crucifixion.
The Gnadenstuhl gained more prominence
in the early twelfth century when renewed
interest in understanding the Holy Trinity
was sparked as part of the intellectual
renaissance where man began to re-affirm
the power of his faculty of reason. By engaging
reason, once again man worked towards comprehension
of the mystery of the Trinity through speculative
analysis, which likewise influenced artistic
representation. In the depiction of the
manuscript illumination at Cambrai dating
1120 (fig.6),
the Gnadenstuhl finds its first complete
expression: God seated on a grounded throne
resting his feet on a footstool, Christ
crucified on the Cross, and the Holy Spirit
as a dove connecting the two.
Thus while Mâle incorrectly cites Suger's
Arca roundel as the first, this depiction
of Father and Son with the complete Gnadenstuhl
predates the Arca roundel by 20 years.
Nonetheless, Mâle is correct in correlating
the Father and Son in the Arca roundel
and the conceptual principles underlying
the Gnadenstuhl. A depiction of the
Gnadenstuhl dating 1132 is the iconographic
intermediary between Cambrai and the Arca
roundel. In this depiction, a literal throne
is not part of the iconography, but a half-mandorla
surrounds God the Father. It is possible
that this transition to a more abstract
view of the Throne finds its completion
in the Arca roundel where the Throne
of God is the Chariot, as in the Song of
Songs where Christ is Aminadab, while the
Ark is the altar upon which lies the sacrifice
of Christ.
In Suger's representation, the Throne-as-Chariot
is not earth-bound, it is the 'Throne of
God' which is also the 'Mercy Seat'; Christ's
Throne is His Cross in the Chariot of the
Ark of the Covenant. However, the Gnadenstuhl
in the Arca roundel is apparently
incomplete as the Holy Spirit is not present
in any apparent symbolic form. Thus, with
the Arca, Suger breaks with the iconography
of the Gnadenstuhl, by abstracting
the form of the throne, while maintaining
its function by means of a triumphant chariot,
to which the inscription "Quadriga Aminadab"
is a witness.
Ezekiel's Vision of God
To posit a possible resolution to these
apparent incongruities, a third scriptural
inspiration for the Arca roundel
can be incorporated: Ezekiel's vision of
the Throne of God. To begin with, the symbolic
forms associated with the Evangelists are
derived originally from the Throne in Ezekiel.
This association clarifies the relationship
between the Evangelists and the wheels,
as the four cherubim associated with the
Throne of God in the Vision of Ezekiel are
also each associated with their own wheel:
And when the living creatures went, the
wheels went by them: and when the living
creatures were lift up from the earth,
the wheels were lift up.
Although the Evangelists are not directly
connected to the wheels in the Arca
roundel, they are related compositionally
and the relationship specified in Ezekiel
is established: the Evangelists as the 'living
creatures' in the form of the Tetramorph
have a like, if not direct, kinship with
the wheels. The Evangelists are disposed
as the bearers of the Throne of God in Ezekiel,
just as they metaphorically bear witness
to the message of God through their respective
Gospels.
Furthermore, the Chariot carried by the
Tetramorph is significant as it is the Throne
of God in Ezekiel's vision:
And above the firmament that was over
their heads was the likeness of a throne,
as the appearance of a sapphire stone:
and upon the likeness of the throne was
the likeness as the appearance of a man
above upon it.
Instead of a ground-based throne as in
other complete depictions of the Gnadenstuhl,
the Throne of God in both the Vision of
Ezekiel and the iconography of Suger are
ethereal and do not seem to be subject to
the weight of gravity. The association between
the Chariot and the Throne is here clarified
in full.
More interesting is the connection between
the Spirit and this Throne of God, for the
source of all movement is the Spirit, not
the work of the Evangelists themselves:
"And they went every one straight forward:
whither the spirit was to go, they went;
and they turned not when they went." As
in the Arca roundel, the cherubim,
as symbols of the Evangelists do not turn
directionally because they have no need
for physical sight to navigate. The Spirit
imbues and directs them and guides their
path. As "the spirit of the living creature
was in the wheels," this Spirit could be
associated with the Holy Spirit that alights
the wheels and the creatures beside them
to lift the Throne of God. The Spirit that
imbues the wheels in Ezekiel is the missing
Holy Spirit in the Arca roundel.
Therefore, it would be redundant to symbolically
represent the Holy Spirit as a dove, if
the Spirit is actually imbuing all the elements
in the roundel itself just as the Spirit
imbues the Throne of God in Ezekiel. The
lack of a literal depiction of the Holy
Spirit does not detract from the trinitarian
idea of the Gnadenstuhl, or airborne
'Mercy Seat', but rather gives it a more
sophisticated conceptual form.
Medium of Stained Glass & Light Metaphysics
To enter into the parallels suggestive
of Ezekiel and the medium of stained glass
itself, the symbolism of the sun and the
moon can be introduced. Earlier depictions
of the Crucifixion (fig.7)
are accompanied by the sun and moon, which
Saint Augustine interprets as the light
from the sun of Christ in the New Testament
illluminating the moon symbolizing the Old
Testament. However, Schiller states: "During
the twelfth century the sun and moon ceased
to be personified in the Crucifixion image."
Thus, while the literal symbols of sun and
moon are dismissed, the medium of stained
glass itself fulfils an analogous pedagogic
function. Now, it is the direct light from
the natural sun that illuminates the Arca
roundel, without which the images of the
roundel would remain unintelligible. Christ
is the light of the World, and as He symbolizes
the sun, "here in the Crucifixion image
the symbolism of cosmic sovereignty has
been transformed into an eschatological
symbolism of light."
More specifically, the stained glass as
an analogue for the covenant recalls the
Vision of Ezekiel on both the spiritual-intellectual
and the sensory levels. To parallel the
appearance of "the likeness of the living
creatures, their appearance was like burning
coals of fire, and like the appearance of
lamps," the light penetrating the stained
glass gives a similar effect of fiery luminescence.
This brightness likewise shares attributes
with Ezekiel, where he describes his sensory
vision:
As the appearance of the bow that is
in the cloud in the day of rain, so was
the appearance of the brightness round
about. This was the appearance of the
likeness of the glory of the Lord.
As Mâle describes "the pieces of red, blue,
green and violet glass" , the entire color
spectrum in the rainbow is found in the
stained glass pieces that compose the Arca
roundel.
Furthermore, while describing the main
altar, Suger directly references the precious
stones that compose the Throne of God in
the Vision of Ezekiel to draw comparaisons
between the inexplicable beauty of God's
throne and the derivative, yet powerful,
beauty of the Abbey's main altar, which
are both constituted by the same eight gems.
By extension, through the many colored fragments
of glass, the Throne of God in the Arca
roundel becomes a likeness to God's throne
in Ezekiel composed of innumerable gems,
both of which shine with as many colors.
Thus Suger's attempt to translate the immaterial
splendor of God's throne into an ephemeral
likeness that hints at the eternal, ethereal
beauty of the other indicates his overall
aspiration to see the Arca roundel
as the underlying microcosm of the macrocosm
of the Abbey, which in turn represents the
cosmos as a whole. Metonymically, the Abbey
is to radiate its splendor as a temporal
likeness to God's throne and His whole creation
whereas this idea is at its most concentrated
form in the Arca roundel. The Throne
of God, made of precious materials whose
splendor surpasses common human comprehension,
is rendered partially intelligible by its
transitory likeness through the didactic
inscriptions that Suger carefully gives
to point the viewer in the right path.
Pseudo-Dionysian light-metaphysics
This light symbolism derives from Pseudo-Dionysius'
influence on Suger's philo-theology, an
influence which Panofsky confirms by Suger's
quoting of Ezekiel. By the twelfth century,
the identity of Pseudo-Dionysius the nameless
6th century Syrian who wrote the theological
treatises had at this time melded with the
one of St. Denys (Denis/Dionysius) patron
saint of France and the 1st century convert
in Acts 17:34. Despite these confusions,
Panofsky states that the Christian philosophy
of pseudo-Dionysius was a blessing itself
for Suger, as:
[This theology] permitted him to greet
material beauty as a vehicle of spiritual
beatitude instead of forcing him to flee
from it as though from a temptation; and
to conceive of the moral as well as the
physical universe, not as a monochrome
in black and white but as a harmony of
many colors.
According to this analysis, the splendor
of artistic arrangements of jewels and gold
is but a learning tool of neo-Platonist
pseudo-Dionysian metaphysics. Suger says:
When--out of my delight in the beauty
of the house of God--the loveliness of
the many-colored gems has called me away
from external cares, and worthy meditation
has induced me to reflect, transferring
that which is material to that which is
immaterial, on the diversity of the sacred
virtues: then it seems to me that I see
myself dwelling, as it were, in some strange
region of the universe which neither exists
entirely in the slime of the earth nor
entirely in the purity of Heaven; and
that, by the grace of God, I can be transported
from this inferior to that higher world
in an anagogical manner.
If God is light as St. John, Pseudo-Dionysius
and Suger believe, gems displayed in the
everchanging light shows of the stained
glass windows spark the ardor of love between
man and God. Since God is Light, the light
that is refracted through the gems and the
stained glass is but a kaleidescopic disassemblage
of God's body which, by anagogical association,
presages the eventual reunion of all believers
in the light and grace of the triune God.
While Suger's conception of anagogy is
more literal and pragmatic, these traits
work within the philo-theology of pseudo-Dionysius
whose mysticism saw the union between mortal
man and immaterial divine as temporally
possible, thus rendering the object of upward
and 'forward-looking' as something immanently
achievable. Thus there is substance to Grodecki's
claim that the "word 'anagogy' signifies
for Suger not a coherent method of exegesis,
which relate the sacred texts to the 'joys
of heaven and eternal life' but a means
of 'elevating the spirit from the material
world to the immaterial'." Suger's conception
of anagogy is, however, consistent with
Henri de Lubac's definition of the medieval
view of anagogy as where "from the flesh
and temporal things, we pass to the spiritual
and eternal."
Stained glass windows as a medium--which
is all the more poignant in light of the
iconography of the Arca roundel--serve
the function of Pseudo-Dionysian light metaphysics
while literally and pedagogically substantiating
faith as defined by Paul in Hebrews 11:1
as "the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things unseen." Whenever the
natural light of the sun penetrates the
anagogical windows, it sets the Arca
roundel ablaze and hints at the substance
of things hoped for in this sparkling vision
of God. By playing on the idea of 'seeing',
the natural light that presently alights
the image of God's glory through this depiction
of His 'Mercy Seat', or Gnadenstuhl,
intimates the eternal light and life of
God that is the eschatos, or ultimate
goal, of all attentive, faithful viewers.
Foedere Majori
Returning to Suger's verse inscriptions
of the Arca roundel, this eschatos
coincides with the third and last element
possibly rooted in Ezekiel: "On the Ark
of the Covenant is established the altar
with the Cross of Christ; / Here Life wishes
to die under a greater covenant." It is
clear that a 'greater covenant' precedes
and supersedes that of the contract between
God and Moses. This covenant of covenants
was made by God the Father with Abraham
and it was sealed by God the Son with His
own flesh. This covenant is intimated in
Ezekiel as well. Instead of the Mosaic covenant's
trans-generational promise between God and
His chosen people in Genesis and Exodus,
in Ezekiel God calls for individual repentance
and each generation, in light of new insights,
is called to take responsibility for themselves
and forsake the sins of its ancestors. In
return, God promises:
I will make a covenant of peace with
them; it shall be an everlasting covenant
with them: and I will place them, and
multiply them, and will set my sanctuary
in the midst of them for evermore.
This greater covenant that is intimated
in Ezekiel finds in Christian exegesis its
vehicle for fruition in Christ, provided
that the new commandment is likewise obeyed:
That ye love one another; as I have loved
you, that ye also love one another. / By
this shall all men know that ye are my disciples,
if ye have love one to another.
Christ's ultimate act of love of God and
neighbor is His salvific death on the cross
as sacrifice for the redemption of all men.
By incorporating the Vision of Ezekiel,
the Arca roundel is endowed with
a new surcharge of significance. However,
as Christ has died and risen, it is not
just the prophets, like Ezekiel, who are
privy to this vision of God's glory, but
all men are called and able to do the same
by reading the signs of this roundel. The
new age of man after Christ is left to await
the ultimate fulfillment, their eschatos,
where the immaterial blessings of God will
be had by all believers for eternal life.
The Trinitarian image of the Gnadenstuhl
as the ethereal 'Throne of Grace', or 'Mercy
Seat', further directs man towards a vision
of the Final Judgment as related in the
book of Revelation. However, the incorporation
of Ezekiel in Suger's iconographic program
of the Arca roundel, bears the promise
of hope and joy for the future. Instead
of fearing the judgment and wrath brought
upon those who did not keep His covenant,
as in Ezekiel, the believer can rejoice
and know that he will reap his rewards from
God, whose act of love spreads to all men.
The marking of the Tau in the Vision of
Ezekiel, as depicted in another roundel
of the 'Marking of the Signum Tau', has
been circumvented by the death of Christ
on the Cross, so all may be marked solely
by faith in order to gain eternal life.
In his invocation to Saint Denis on the
golden altar front, Abbot Suger elucidates
the grand agenda of the Abbey as not constituting
an end in the completion of the earthly
edifice:
Great Denis, open the door of Paradise
And protect Suger through thy pious guardianship.
Mayest thou, who hast built a new dwelling
for thyself through us,
Cause us to be received in the dwelling
of Heaven,
And to be sated at the heavenly table
instead of at the present one.
That which is signified pleases more than
that which signifies.
For Suger, the Abbey was the portal through
which, by the grace of Denis and of God,
the habitants would attain the heavenly
edifice at the Table of Christ. Suger instructs
that the work of the Abbey of St. Denis
"should brighten the minds" with this self-same
light of God, to enter "to the true Light
where Christ is the true door." By seeing
and living in the light of Christ, those
who understand this mystery do so by starting
with the material reality of the Abbey to
rise to the True immaterial reality of God.
This process, therefore, necessitates not
only the transcendent reality of Christ
and the Trinity which intimates man's final
resting place when he is restored in unity
with God, but also the literal, material
reality of the Abbey through which man can
gradually rise to contemplation of things
sublime. Just as the Ark of the Covenant
is a necessary foundation for the advent
of the new law of grace, so can man only
rise to the immaterial by first contemplating
its material likeness or figure, affirming
the belief that "the dull mind rises to
truth through that which is material / And,
in seeing this light, is resurrected from
its former submission."
The Abbey as macrocosm and the Arca
roundel as microcosm are the signs of heavenly
harmony and truth on Earth--intimations
more directly of the future French glory
to come, and it is by means of the signified
of eternal life that the temporal signs
of the Abbey gain political significance.
By successfully erecting and adorning this
edifice, in three years and three months
no less, Suger sees God's approval: the
reconstruction of Saint-Denis is God's handiwork
where human hands by grace are able to glorify
Him in the soaring reality of the Abbey
and the luminosity of the Arca roundel.
Grover Zinn affirms their success by saying:
[The church] that glorious structure
reflected both Suger's accomplishments
and those of the French crown, as well
as the more subtle glory of the True Light
manifest in the lesser lamps of this world.
***
Although the iconography of the Arca
roundel was not directly copied after St.
Denis, it is evident that the program attributed
to Suger is markedly individual in terms
of iconographic arrangement, presentation
of figures, and above all by heightened
thematic sophistication. By linking the
Old law and the New, both the legal structure
of the Mosaic code and the transcendent
emphasis on spiritual rebirth are jointly
presented. During the twelfth century, Suger's
complex and insightful iconographic program,
in conjunction with the literary inscriptions
and incorporation of light metaphysics,
finds justification for its seemingly spontaneous
appearance. Further conjecture can be made
as to the roots of the interplay between
artistic and didactic functions in the birth
of Gothic art--a new art that transcends
the merely moralistic, where art becomes
an aesthetic enterprise. With the Arca
roundel, and the rest of the stained glass
at St.-Denis the aesthetic does not outshine
the pedagogic function; it articulates it
and gives it new life. Just as Christ comes
as the light to redeem the world in a truly
mystically beautiful way, so too does art
garner the ability to instruct through delight
of the faculty of sight, which invariably
encourages, not dissuades, the individual
to penetrate with the inner eye of the intellect
to discern beauty and harmony both in object
and in thought. As Suger speaks of his 'anagogical
way', beautiful art is a means by which
the mind can begin with the material things
of experience, and rise, step by step, to
a contemplation of the immaterial grandeur
that is True Beauty. While the aesthetic
of the artwork is commensurate to the reception
of the average viewer, the salient observer
will understand art not as an end in itself,
but as a means by which to arrive at a recognition
of the truly beautiful--for as Suger says:
"Significata magis significante placent",
"the Signified is more delightful than the
Signs."
Works cited:
Vulgatum. Biblia Sacra.
Gerson, Paula. Editor. Abbot Suger
and Saint-Denis: A Symposium. The Metropolitan
Museum of Art. New York.1986.
- Gerson, Paula. “Suger as Iconographer:
The Central Portal of the West Façade
of Saint-Denis.” 199-228
- Grodecki, Louis. “The Style of the Stained-Glass
Windows of Saint-Denis.” 273-282.
- Spiegel, Gabrielle. “History as Enlightenment:
Suger and the Mos Anagogicus.” 151-158
- Zinn, Grover A. “Suger, Theology, and
the Pseudo-Dionysian Tradition.” 33-40
Grodecki, Louis. “Les Vitraux
Allégoriques de Saint-Denis.” Art de
France. pp.19-46. 1961.
Grodecki. Les Vitraux de
Saint-Denis: Etude sur le vitrail au XIIe
siècle. Corpus Vitrearum Medii Aevi.
France Etudes, I. Centre National de la
Recherche Scientifique. Paris, 1976.
King James Version. Bible.
de Lubac, Henri. Exégèse
Médiévale: Les Quatre Sens de l’Ecriture.
Aubier. Editions Montaigne. 1959.
Male, Emile. L’art religieux
du XIIe siècle en France. Librairie
Armand Colin. Paris. 1928.
Male. L’art religieux du
XIIIe siècle en France. Librairie Armand
Colin. Paris. 1924.
Panofsky, Erwin. Abbot
Suger on the Abbey Church of St.-Denis and
its Art Treasures. Second edition by
Gerda Panofsky-Soergel. Princeton University
Press. Princeton, New Jersey. 1979.
Raymond, Elfie. Signs of
Plenty: The Altar of Verdun. http://pages.slc.edu/~eraymond/altar/index.html
Schiller, Gertrud. Iconography
of Christian Art. Volume 2. Translated
by Janet Seligman. New York Graphic Society
LTD. Greenwich, Connecticut. 1972.
Snyder, James. Medieval
Art. Prentice-Hall, Inc., Englewood
Cliffs, New Jersey. 1989.
|