Chartres en Lumiere, Original Concept by Xavier de Richemont
© Chartres Tourisme
23.5 Degrees: The Hymns of Hierosolyma
By: Stella MarisDate: Saturday, August 02, 2008
After several lackluster circuits around the nave, dutifully squaring the circle evolving a rectangular table transmuting a seven-pointed star illuminated in cobalt clarity, Soph and I began to yearn for the revelation initiated by Saint John the Divine's vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem that is often romantically attributed to Notre Dame de Chartres by historians.
In exasperation, we settled instead for an earthly cappuccino at the evocatively named Le Café Serpente on the south side of the cathedral's cloister square.
Chartres was indeed intriguing, but we couldn't help feeling like we were hitting a dead end for some oblique reason. The property we had viewed in the morning transpired to be completely unsuitable for our MemoryMap recording studio offices and, although we were absolutely sure that we had found a metaphorical manifestation of the Temple of Solomon, it didn't seem to be functioning in Chartres anymore. Solomon had left the building.
In the circumstances, we decided that we had no other option but to give in and go shopping. So, while Soph fortified herself with a pre-mercantile Salade Nicoise, I decided to embark on one final circumnavigation of the cathedral in a last-ditch attempt to access the crypt, despite having been told earlier in no uncertain terms that it was closed for the day.
To my delight, before I even had a chance to properly scrutinize the twelve apostles on the south porch, I caught sight of a small group filing into a nondescript door to my right. Scampering to tag onto the end of the line, I managed to bluff my way onto a private tour of the Crypt of the Underground Mary by deploying my well-rehearsed technique of slipping uninvited into a rock concert VIP backstage party. I was in…
The atmosphere in the crypt was completely different to the cathedral above. Although the sacred Druid well had been filled in by some previous pious prelate, the negative ions were nevertheless gleefully flinging themselves against the damp underground stone walls with such wild abandon that I was immediately overcome by an invigorating wave of euphoria. Hail Mary!
Happily, I managed to surreptitiously break away from the group as soon as the tour guide's attention was diverted. My initial instinct was to work my way westwards in an attempt to find the corresponding subterranean location under the Labyrinth that was cut into the stone cathedral floor above, but the twirling telluric currents had a mind of their own…
Newton Coordinate: Lughnasadh partially intersecting the Solar Eclipse, Gamma Virginis, 1º31' East of the Greenwich Meridian.
More From Mania
23.5 Degrees: The Chant of the Canted Companions
23.5 Degrees: The Song of Solomon
(Saturday, July 19, 2008)
23.5 Degrees: The Labyrinth's Lament
(Saturday, July 26, 2008)
23.5 Degrees: Terribilis Est Locus Iste
(Saturday, May 10, 2008)
Celestial Agriculture
(Saturday, April 5, 2008)
Ab Insomni Non Custodia Dracone
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This will be my last posting (if that is the “mot juste”). I shall exchange one virtual world for another more spiritual one. Sadly, in some ways, I shall have no access to this sterile, but rewarding means of communication in my future retreat. It is my fervent hope that my forthcoming virtual world will be no less rewarding than this one has been.
Finally, however, I want to thank Stella Maris for her insights, her wit and her style. It is to be hoped that she continue (oh, the challenge of your English subjunctive!) to share her talent with her fellow Maniacs and all other illuminati. I share Mr W’s comment that one encounters so many people who one thinks know more than they do and that it is so refreshing when one’s pre-conceptions are not disappointed. I feel a future “saudaje” for her writings not yet written of her adventures and herring-do, which I may never read… even though my dear, learned friend and future guide tells me that he has already read what is to come, how enriching the writings will be, and that he will one day share them with me. (“Writings cannot be burnt”. LoL!)
Now, as for the curious and insightful Mnemosyne, who may or may not be Stella Maris, I hope too that her future encounters with the “Professor” will be as rewarding as mine have been. I hope that when she comes to taste W’s Falernum (as I know she will!), she too may live to tell the tale… As for me, the greatest “secret” I have learnt from my many years of initiation and learning may be summarised succinctly. To cite that holy-fool, Saint Manolo, in the erstwhile Mr Cheese’s Albergo de la Torre Rota, or, for my fellow classicists, Socrates: en oída hoti oudén oída (for the less well-versed: scio me nihil scire – scio nescio). As one of Stella Maris’ no more talented predecessors once said in farewell: “So long and thanks for all the fish!” LoL! Adieu, but most definitely not au revoir!
* * * * * * * * * *
as a parting gift, another mystical poem (this time with notes for Georgian readers!):
“Lille (*) beau pipe
Ocelot serre chypre
En douzaine aux verres tuf indemne
Livre de melons un dé huile qu’aux mômes
Eau à guigne d’air tel baie indemne. (**)
(*) Lille is one of the great industrial cities of France and must be assumed to be the residence of the subject of this little poem.
(**) We are dealing with a chemist or alchemist, since this cannot be anything but a recipe for an ointment or perfume of doubtful magical qualities. The scent sac of an ocelot is squeezed with a quantity of chypre (which ditto) in a dozen containers of flawless volcanic glass. To this is added a pound of melons, a thimbleful of oil (1/2 oz.), a sweet cherry and the fragrance of unspoilt berries, any kind will do. The verse, unfortunately, gives no clue as to its application. We must, of course, suspect an aphrodisiac.”