Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Louis XVI's Brother-in-Law



Fr. Nicholas has an interesting post on King Charles Emanuel IV of Sardinia, who in 1775 married Louis XVI's sister Clothilde. (Charles Emanuel's sisters were married to Louis' brothers.)
Charles Emanuel was raised in a very religious - almost ascetic - household. His principal tutors were Count Roberto Giuseppe Malines de Bruino and the Barnabite priest (later cardinal) Don Giacinto Sigismondo Gerdil. He studied military science under the noted engineer Alessandro Vittorio Papacino d'Antoni. Charles Emanuel had a weak constitution and was frequently ill. He suffered from violent nervous convulsions; it is possible that he had epilepsy.

For the first part of his life Charles Emanuel's main residence was at the Palazzo Reale in Turin. In the summer his family retired to the castle at Moncalieri on the outskirts of Turin or to La Veneria near the town of Bra some thirty kilometres south of Turin.

In 1773 Charles Emanuel's father succeeded to the throne of Sardinia. From this point serious consideration began to be given to Charles Emanuel's marriage which would be arranged for political reasons. Two of Charles Emanuel's sisters were married to the younger brothers of King Louis XVI of France (Giuseppina to the Comte de Provence, later King Louis XVIII, and Maria Teresa to the Comte d'Artois, later King Charles X). Charles Emanuel's sister Giuseppina suggested a match with her sister-in-law Princess Marie-Clothilde of France, daughter of the late Dauphin Louis and of his wife, Princess Maria Josefa of Saxony. After two years of negotiations Charles Emanuel (represented by the Comte de Provence) was married to Marie-Clothilde by proxy on August 21, 1775 at the Palace of Versailles.

Charles Emanuel and his new wife met for the first time on September 6, 1775, when they renewed their marriage vows in the Chapel Royal at Les Echelles, Savoy. In spite of the political reasons for the union, the couple were well-matched; they shared a profound attachment to the Catholic faith. The fact that they were not blessed with children was treated by them as the will of God to which they should resign themselves. After seven years of married life, they chose to live together as brother and sister.

Charles Emanuel was deeply troubled by the French Revolution whose effects were being felt throughout western Europe. In 1793 his brother-in-law King Louis XVI was executed. The following year his sister-in-law Queen Marie Antoinette met the same fate and the armies of the French Republic stormed into his father's dominions. Charles Emanuel took solace in his faith. In 1794 he became a member of the Third Order of Saint Dominic, taking the name Charles Emanuel of St. Hyacinth. (Read entire article)

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O Adonai

O Adonai and leader of the House of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the fire of the flaming bush, and gave him the law on Sinai, come and redeem us by thy outstretched arm.

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Monday, December 17, 2007

Sacred Art

Some of the greatest masterpieces by Catholic artists sometimes include nudity. Is this appropriate? Christine of Laudem Gloriae explores the issue; here is an excerpt from her beautiful article:
There were four types of nudity recognized in sacred art, each type used to explain various Catholic teachings:
Nuditas naturalis: The natural state of man as he is born into the world. ‘ For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out’ (1 Timothy 6:7). Man’s recognition of this fact should lead him to’...follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness’ (1 Timothy 6: 11).

Nuditas temporalis: The lack of worldly goods and possessions. While this the natural state of man at his birth, it can also be the result of the trials and difficulties of life which cause a man to live in a condition of poverty. This lack of worldly goods can be voluntary, however , and assumed ‘ to the glory of God,’ as in the case of those who have willingly surrendered all temporal things in order to serve God completely.

Nuditas virtualis: This is the use of nudity as the symbol of purity and innocence. It represents those in this world who, though engaged in the activities of life, nevertheless are not overcome by the evil and temptation which surround them. It represents the high and the desirable quality of the virtuous life.

Nuditas criminalis: This use of nudity is the opposite of nuditas virtualis. It is symbolic of lust, vanity, and the absence of all virtues. The difference between these last two types of nudity might be explained as the quest for Eternal Bliss as opposed to the pursuit after Transient bliss.... In portraying truth as a virtue, it is usually represented by the figure of a naked woman.
(From Art Appreciation)

It was only during the onslaught of the Reformation that sacred art was scrutinized, criticized, and condemned by those who thought its nudity was (as were rich vestments, gilded vessels, objects of devotion, and ornate architecture) an expression of Catholic vice. This puritanical zeal led to the stripping of altars, whitewashing of walls, destruction of statues and vestments, pillaging of monasteries, all replaced with plain Protestant temples in which the faithful gathered around the "Table" of the Lord's Supper for purely "spiritual" worship free from Catholic excess. Theirs was a faith that imported Platonic dualism, with its heretical overemphasis on the spiritual and rejection of the corporeal and the created, whether it be food, drink, or the human body. It is this same Platonist, puritanical outlook that led to condemnation of tobacco, alcohol, and dancing for fear that such would lead to intemperance and sensuality. Whereas Belloc could write his Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine, heartily acclaiming the pleasures of that wonderful drink, and seeing in it the matter of the Most Precious Blood; whereas G.K. Chesterton could claim that the "Catholic Church is like a thick steak, a glass of red wine, and a good cigar," himself drawn to the Faith because "the pipe, the pint, and the cross could all fit together" within the world view of Catholic sensibility, none of this would make any sense to the Puritan. It is this same puritanical narrowness that was carried towards nudity in art, with its assumption that it could only lead to sensuality and vice.
Some people might find sacred art which has nudity in it to be distracting. The way I see it is that if a work of sacred art does not help someone's devotion, than it is just not the art for that person. Similarly, I have met people who could not stand to read the Canticle of Canticles in the Old Testament because they found the sensual imagery to be distracting. (Well then, read Isaiah.) The Canticle, however, is the most sublime mystical poetry in the world. The great artists, such as Michelangelo, were giving glory to God and His creation when they showed unclothed people; their art had a strong moral lesson and was not intended to be lewd.

Many of our churches have been stripped of the great art which was intended to teach as well as inspire. Yet I will never forget how in one church during Mass, a severe-looking young couple got up and began to cheerfully explain the details of Natural Family Planning. They were so graphic about certain bodily functions that mothers had to cover their children's ears. It was such an intrusion, not only against modesty, but against innocence. I wonder if, when bereft of our great art, we are left with nothing but pornography, with the human person being reduced to a mechanism. Share

Russian Cowboys

Here is an article about how the old Soviets were infatuated with westerns, or the "wild, wild east." (Via LRC) Share

The Great Antiphons-- O Wisdom

Today the "O Antiphons" begin at Vespers. The antiphon for today is "O Sapientia." Don Marco has a beautiful meditation on the meaning of true wisdom. Share

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Louis XVIII: The Other Brother

Louis XVIII , known in his youth as the Comte de Provence, was the other brother of Louis XVI, and often his nemesis. He was not a bad looking man; his eyes radiate intelligence. Later he put on so much weight and had such a problem with gout, but then he was a gourmande, relishing the delights of the table. His chef at Versailles was equal to none.

As Comte de Provence, he was a consummate plotter. It is alleged that he had a private printing press at Versailles which produced pamphlets against Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette. Provence and his wife, Madame, were certainly responsible for circulating the gossip about Marie-Antoinette, slandering her virtue as much as possible. Provence thought that he was better qualified to rule than Louis XVI and so spent his life in a jockeying for power by trying to undermine his brother's rule. Also, Provence often intrigued against Louis XVI during the Revolution, corresponding with revolutionaries. How much his plotting contributed to the fall of the monarchy is explored in the novel Madame Royale.

Louis XVIII was a stickler for etiquette, unlike Louis XVI, who was more easy-going. Even at exile in Courland and England, when they had few resources, Louis XVIII insisted upon the full court etiquette as if they were all still at Versailles. This was beneficial in the long run, because they were able to function as a royal household when restored to the Tuileries. He was clever with money and made certain that all his family were well-provided for when he died. He was a brilliant Latin scholar and could have taught the classics at a university.

Napoleon at one point wrote to Louis XVIII in exile, begging him to renounce his claim to the throne. Louis responded with a "no" saying, "I may have lost my country, I may have lost my possessions, but I still have my honor, and with it I will die." On another occasion he said, "In this century, it is more glorious to merit a scepter than to wield it." In 1814 upon his return to France, the fat, gouty King was introduced to Napoleon's generals. They were so used to being shouted at by Napoleon that the charm and unctuous courtesy of Louis XVIII disarmed them, especially the fact that he knew their names and anecdotes of their exploits in battle. (That was the old-fashioned royal training.) He declared that whatever they had done for France on the field of battle, they had done for him. He won most of them over completely and they swore allegiance to him, although some later rejoined Napoleon during the Hundred Days.

Because of his liberal politics, Louis XVIII was known as "The Crowned Jacobin" and "King Voltaire." After Napoleon's defeat of Waterloo, it was only the intervention of Louis XVIII that kept the allies from totally ravaging France in revenge. The Prussians threatened to blow up the Iena bridge in Paris, until Louis threatened he would come over and sit on it. His favorite author was Horace, whom he quoted extensively. He did not actively practice his faith for over thirty years, which caused his niece Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte to have great anxiety over the state of his soul. The princess prevailed upon the old king's favorite, the attractive brunette Madame du Cayla, with whom Louis XVIII played backgammon, to get him to go to confession. (This was a hard thing for Thérèse since she despised Madame du Cayla.) At the moment he died in 1824, the courtiers ran from the room to greet the new king, leaving the faithful valet of Louis XVIII weeping alone by the corpse of his master.

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The Elusive RSVP

I thought that it was just me, but it's not. Many hostesses complain that people never give an RSVP anymore when invited to a dinner, a party, a wedding, whatever. Some say that it is because that the general public no longer knows the meaning of "RSVP." It simply means "please reply," or, in formal parlance, "the favor of a reply is requested." If you think that the majority of your guests are in the dark about the meaning of "RSVP," then it is better to just write "please reply." Hopefully, they will get the point.

Anyone who has planned a large party or reception is aware of how important it is to have a head count. It is particularly vital when arranging a formal, catered sit-down dinner, in which the caterer expects to be paid per head. And yet, I have friends and relatives who have been greatly inconvenienced by guests who did give an RSVP to a formal sit-down dinner and then never showed up. Why is there such a lack of courtesy? Such gestures are not a matter of having grand, formal manners but of showing basic consideration for others.

Here are a few points to remember:

1) When invited to a function always respond in the time frame designated by the RSVP. If a reply is asked for only if one plans to go, that is fine. (It is always courteous and acceptable to thank the hostess anyway, even if one cannot attend.)

2) If you do not know whether or not you can go to the party, it is better to decline. Otherwise, you give the strong impression that you will accept unless you get a *better* invitation somewhere else. Just say "no."

3)When invited to a party at someone's house, do not respond with "I don't know" and then go on to have your own party, on the same day, inviting the same circle of friends. That is the height of rudeness, to say the least.

4) If you have accepted the invitation, assuring the host and hostess of the pleasure of your company, but then at the last minute find that you are unable to be there, then at least call the host/hostess. Give them your most heartfelt apologies. This will give them time to rearrange the table.

5) After having enjoyed an event, be careful not to talk about it around those who were not invited. There may be reasons unknown to yourself why various persons were not invited to a certain function. It must always, however, be taken for granted that everyone has feelings and may be hurt at hearing about the good time at a party from which they were excluded. Share

Christmas Novena

The novena in honor of the Divine Infant begins today. Let us pray for the unborn, and for all the children in the world, especially those who are suffering abuse or neglect.

It is Gaudete Sunday. Let us rejoice, for the Lord is near. As Fr. Mark says :
Today’s Introit is one of the few drawn from Saint Paul. It is an exhortation to joy, but its mood is quiet and reflective. “Joy to you in the Lord at all times; once again I wish you joy. Give proof to all of your courtesy. The Lord is near. Nothing must make you anxious; in every need, make your requests known to God, praying and beseeching Him, and giving Him thanks as well” (Phil 4:4-6). What the Latin gives as, “gaudete,” and the English as “rejoice,” is astonishingly rich in Saint Paul’s Greek. Any one translation would be inadequate. Paul says, “chaírete.” It is the very same word used by the angel Gabriel to greet the Virgin of Nazareth. “Chaire, kecharitoménè!” “Joy to you, O full of grace!” (Lk 1:28). The word is untranslatable. Just when we think we have seized its meaning once and for all, another door opens inside it. “Chaírete” was the ordinary greeting of the Greeks. It embraces health, salvation, loveliness, grace, and joy, all at once. In the mouth and in the ear of Christians, the taste of the word is indescribable. “Grace to you, and loveliness, and joy in the Lord; again I wish you grace, and loveliness, and joy” (Phil 4:4). Paul’s greeting is not so much an imperative — a command to be joyful — as it is the imparting of a gift in the Lord. “What I wish for you, what I send you, what I give you in the Lord is grace, and loveliness, and joy.”
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Saturday, December 15, 2007

At the Tuileries



Among the many out-of-print books that are now online is Imbert de Saint-Amand's Marie-Antoinette at the Tuileries (1893). In spite of the panegyrics, there are many quotes from original letters as well as day-by-day accounts of the life of the royal family during their life under virtual house arrest from October of 1789 until the end of 1791. The following passages describe the tightening of security around the family after their escape attempt in June 1791. The queen, especially, was closely guarded (as anyone can see, it would have been impossible for her to have entertained Count Fersen, as some authors claim.)
It had been resolved that [the queen] should have no personal attendant except the lady's maid who had acted as a spy before the journey to Varennes. A portrait of this person was placed at the foot of the staircase leading to the Queen's rooms so that the sentinel should permit no other woman to enter. Louis XVI was obliged to appeal to Lafayette in order to have this spy turned out of the palace where her presence was an outrage on Marie Antoinette. This espionage and inquisition pursued the unfortunate Queen even into her bedroom. The guards were instructed not to lose sight of her by night or day. They took note of her slightest gestures, listened to her slightest words. Stationed in the room adjoining hers they kept the communicating door always open so that they could see the august captive at all times. (pp223-224)
The family continued to assist at daily Mass, albeit with difficulty.
The precautions taken were so rigorous that it was forbidden to say Mass in the palace chapel because the distance between it and the apartments of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette was thought too great. A corner of the Gallery of Diana, where a wooden altar was erected, bearing an ebony crucifix and a few vases of flowers became the only spot where the son of Saint Louis, the Most Christian King, could hear Mass. (pp.225-226)

However, their fortitude was admirable.
The royal family endured their captivity with admirable sweetness and resignation and concerned themselves less about their own fate than that of the persons compromised by the Varennes journey, who were now incarcerated....Louis XVI, instead of indulging in recriminations against men and things, offered his humiliations and sufferings to God. He prayed, he read, he meditated. Next to his prayer book his favorite reading was the life of Charles I either because he sought, in studying history, to find a way of escaping an end like that of the unfortunate monarch, or because an analogy of sorrows and disasters had established a profound and mysterious sympathy between the king who had been beheaded, and the king who was soon to be so. (pp. 226-227)
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